Date: Fri, 19 Feb 2016 20:47:45 +0000
From: Josh C <joshcee2016@outlook.com>
Subject: Aladin's Cave - Part One (Authoritarian)

Any comments please email the author at joshcee2016@outlook.com

Part One

For most pedestrians taking the short cut between Edward St. and Main
St. the sex shop, Aladin's Cave, at most raised a dirty snigger or arched
eyebrow if they happened to notice it at all. Despite its name conjuring
the bright silks of some Arabian Night's fantasy the shop itself had a
decidedly plain frontage with its wooden frame painted in matt black and
its windows blanked out by a sort of glaze or frosting. It wasn't the sort
of shop that could in good taste or, perhaps even legally show off its
product lines in the window anyway.

No, for most pedestrians Aladin's Cave was of no interest at all. But when
Jack Martin first caught sight of it the shop held all the promise of the
entire world. It fascinated him. The thought of its contents, though he
only guessed at its contents, thrilled him and excited him.  He had noting
in his life that seemed to offer such pleasure as what might be within
those walls.

But Jack Martin, at a shy 19, dared not enter those walls. He would just
pass by, when he needed to and look at it, never slowing down and always
out of the corner of his eye but that was enough. It was strange really
that as much as this place fascinated him, he'd never once gone out of his
way to even pass it. But when he did pass it and catch momentary sight of
it, it almost scrambled his thoughts for the day. His mind would drift from
the subject of his lectures to the subject of that place which to be short
was sado-masochism. And this was the subject of his desire.

Growing up in the countryside he'd never really encountered such a
place. Desire for him was abstract, something he felt was wrong and
occasionally permitted himself to look up online. But it was never real, it
was never real until those first few days in the city when he formed the
daily route which took him by Aladin's Cave.

What if here were to go in? This was inevitably his thought after a few
weeks. Well firstly there was that whole layer of youthful insecurity, the
same sort of insecurity that came knowing he'd be ID-ed when he tried to
buy alcohol. Running the risk of being ID-ed in front of friends in a bar
and looking stupid. Would they ID him in the sex shop? Would they ask him
to leave? Would they just look at him uncomfortably or worse ask him if he
wanted anything in particular as they annoyingly do in regular department
stores?

Then there was the second set of questions. What would he want to do if he
went in there? Have a browse? Buy something? What would he buy for years he
had fantasised about whips and collars, cuffs and arab straps and all sorts
of devices. But would he buy such a thing and what? Even he in
philosophical moments thought that the objects for sale would never match
the fantasies.

So after two and half months of thinking about it he decided not to act. He
went home for Christmas, back to the countryside and lived a more or less
normal 19 year old existence. He was in truth too busy to think too often
about Aladin's Cave.

In January however he resumed university and his daily route. The thoughts
came back. The stirrings and fantasies too. A half-second glance of the
shop on his way to class would mean a two hour day dream. He wouldn't even
hear the boring prattle of the economics lecturer and his mind wandered off
on some fantasy which would see him the subject, the victim of whatever it
was they exactly sold in there.

The snow came in February. It was under his feet on Edward St. and on Main
St. but on the little short-cut in between with it's old stone arch
covering, there was no snow. He walked more lightly past Aladin's Cave than
anywhere on his whole route. Then one of those snowy days, with no
pre-planning or no more intention than any other day he plunged straight
through it's doorway.

To be continued...