Monday, 9 February 2015

I'll Be Back

Firstly, those who have looked at my website since Sunday will have realised that, as usual, I have a new Picture Of The Week up (OK, a little late as I was late back from London - but more of that later).  That means, for the moment anyway, Hal, who I introduced you to on my last post, has been defeated.

Even just saying that makes me feel a little like George W. Bush in his infamous 'Mission Accomplished' speech after the war with Saddam Hussein's Iraqi army.  Those familiar with news and politics know what a ridiculously pre-emptive statement that was, and I feel a strange premonition that Hal will return.

John Connor, in 'The Terminator' films, is the man that eventually defeats the machines and Skynet.  My own John Connor was of course my trusted ally M, whose attempted rescue of my old computer was doomed after it had sucked up more debris than a F5 tornado.  OK, I know I am mixing and matching my sci-fi film metaphors, but I don't care.  Anyway, after I entrusted Hal to M, it came back a few days later meek and mild and behaving - and with my internet connection back and fully functioning. 

For now.

In the infamous words of The Terminator, I'm sure I had Hal whispering a warning... "I'll be back."

Well, with that unpleasantness out of the way I can at least keep you updated on my latest travels. Way, waaay back in December 2013 I attended the Subversion fetish club in London with friends.  I had a great night, and towards the end of the night played with a very lovely gentleman.  We did promise to, er, bump into each other again, but throughout 2014 the lovely chap was out of the country for much of the time.  In November, at a birthday party, we did finally meet again and managed to have a bit of a catch up.  In January I received a phone call from him... "If you want to go to Rubber Cult, why not stop with me and my girlfriend in our house in London?"

London?  Rubber Cult?  Friends?  What more could a girl (well, a girl like me) ask for?  Suitcase packed, I arrived in the city mid-afternoon on the Saturday.  Unused to travelling south of the River Thames (sorry, sarf of the River Thames), it was a bit stressful as I don't have the best bearings for getting around, but I arrived fairly relaxed (all things considered).  After a lovely long chat and meal, it was time to get ready for Rubber Cult.

The actual journey to Rubber Cult, held at Shillibeers near Camden, wasn't so successful.  Incredibly heavy traffic meant my London-living host had to find a way through some back streets to cross the capital.  Heading off the main, traffic-jammed road we were on he said "I'll just find a little short-cut through this."  Now, don't forget this is London - the city that hates private transport.  The little short cut turned into a challenging one-way, no right turn, no left turn, dead-end, road-blocked maze.  It's a good job we were in the relative comfort of a hulking 4x4 as the size and angle of some of the speed bumps we trundled over would have shattered a smaller car.

Eventually we arrived at Shillibeers.  It was a chilly night, and as I stepped from the car I reached for my coat as there was a bit of a walk to the club.  Ah.  No coat.  Shit.  It's back in the house.  Oh well, I tottered on in my high heels in  the cold night air, pausing long enough for a quick photo outside Shillibeers (this week's Picture of the Week) before getting into the warmth of the club.

Dexi Delite - Independent Escort - Rubber Cult, London

In terms of size, Rubber Cult isn't the biggest club in London.  It's strict 'latex-only' policy keeps some numbers away, but it means the best-dressed fetishists attend, and is therefore not only fabulously sexy but incredibly friendly too.  In the ones I've attended, I think I've made new friends every time.  As usual, Rubber Cult was heaving with outstanding outfits and stunning, mouth-wateringly gorgeous girls.  I met up with old friends, and made new ones.  I began the night, rather bizarrely, with my head buried in the cleavage of some amazing girls - I didn't know them at the time, but I've found it's a great introduction. Best-dressed gentleman of the night, for me, was the American chap who arrived in full Scottish Piper regalia - kilt, sporran, head-dress... the works - and all in intricate, detailed latex.  Best-dressed lady... there were so many that caught my eye.  The Mistress in skin-tight back leggings and white, low-cut top with the Betty Page hairstyle who put up with me unzipping her top before I even got to know her name... the military-attired goddess with heaving bosom that I buried my head in for some official club photos, er, before I knew her name.... the beautiful curves of the young stunning black girl who I'd have loved to take back to bed, her pink mini-dress stretched beyond comprehension in holding in those delicious sexy curves... the stunning girl with the 23-inch waist, head-to-toe in dusky transparent latex, including latex hood (who I found out was the deliciously delectable Latex Lucy... beautiful, beautiful, beautiful...mmmmmm!).  So many girls, so little time.

There was a small stage-show, with a couple of theatrical performances, and a catwalk display from Slaughterhouse Couture, with five young ladies displaying the creations of the company.  Later on, as I wandered through the club, I saw one of the models - she did a double-take when she saw me and cried "It's the Red-Hot Chick from Hard Rock Hell!"  I was a bit surprised until she revealed that some of the girls modelling the Slaughterhouse Couture creations were in fact the girls on stilts at last year's Hard Rock Hell.  Apparently, they all had photos of me and referred to me as "Red-Hot Chick from Hard Rock Hell."  It was lovely to meet up with them all again.

Midway through the evening I was accosted by one of the organisers of the club, who wanted to have pictures taken with me at the pop up photo booth.  It was great fun clowning around with her whilst the photographer proceeded to take some pictures.  I'm not entirely sure where they will end up, but I'll certainly keep my eye open for them.

A stupendous night, and, as per previous visits, a club well worth the travel from Manchester for.  2.00am arrived all too early, and it was time to head back home through the freezing London night.  And so, in full-circle to the beginning of the Blog, as The Terminator would say... "I'll be back."

Dexi Delite - Independent Escort - Rubber Cult, London

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