Sunday, 12 April 2015

A Diversion At Deviance

Wow - it's been over a month since my last post.  I can't believe it.  I did intend to add some more posts before now, but for two weeks in March I was left exhausted in bed - not from some energetic sex sessions, but rather sadly from the flu.  Proper Northern flu, too.  You see, up here in the north we have girls (like myself) that are battle-hardened in our youth by wearing the skimpiest micro-dresses with no coat in the middle of the toughest weather that the harshest winter can throw at us.  No flinching or complaining allowed in the blizzard-struck northern coastal towns as you totter from bar to bar in your highest heels whilst Jack Frost runs his chilliest hands up your nether regions.  Even when those ice-cold fingers are tweaking your nipples to stand more erect than a Buckingham Palace guardsman and flutter over the gusset of your g-string there is never any need for 'outer-wear'.  See?  Battle-hardened.  However, the flu got me this year, and so March ended with a whimper.  I missed music gigs and long-awaited visits to friends due to it, and disappointed many regular visitors to myself in the mean-time.

So, with April here and the daffodils blooming (yes, even here in grey Manchester) thankfully I'm fully fit and fit to f......, er find some fun.

Friday saw a rare journey to Birmingham with fetish friends.  Not that it's a long way off, of course, but rarely there's much going on there that you couldn't find in Manchester.  However, the return of the Deviance Spring Ball fetish event had me betraying my youth and putting on a coat over some lingerie, stocking and high heels.  The theme was 'Heaven and Hell', but I've never really been one for following themes, and my lovely red catsuit has been worn too much recently anyway.

Dexi Delite - Deviance Spring Ball, Birmingham
We arrived in central Birmingham in good time, miraculously finding the club straight away.  It was actually a good turnout, with some rather fabulous outfits on display and some excellent music to set the mood.  The playroom was kept pretty busy all night, with much of the dungeon and play equipment in use permanently.  I bumped into quite a few friends from the Heresy And Heelz crowd, and it was great to have a good catch-up.  There were a couple of very sexy routines from the gorgeous Fleur du Mal, too (I'll admit to not seeing the other acts!), and it was certainly a delightful night at Deviance.

Dexi Delite - Deviance Spring Ball, Birmingham

By 2.30am it was time to head back north, so I made my goodbyes and we headed out to the car.  Yes, my first night out since I got the flu turned out to be a successful night...

...all up until the point we left the car park.  Then it went to shit.  Firstly, we hit a traffic jam just around the corner from the club on the city's maze of one-way streets - caused partly by a line of taxis sat in the middle of the road waiting for customers, and partly by one man being arrested by a troop of policemen on the side of the street, adding to the general chaos and mayhem.  Maybe he'd got fed up of waiting to move his car and called one of the policemen a pleb or something, but it delayed our return to Manchester.

However, good news was just around the corner - we found the main road out of the city that would take us to the M6!  Woohoo!  Warm bed, here I come!

Oh, but not yet.  The road was closed with a diversion in place.  We dutifully followed the diversion, as it tantalisingly led us alongside the main A38 inner ring road.  "We should be able to get on the road at the next roundabout," said our driver hopefully.  No.  The cones blocked that entry onto the A38 too, with more diversion signs.  Rather excitedly, at first anyway, we shouted out instructions to the befuddled driver - "Diversion, left up ahead!"  "Diversion, right at the next roundabout!"  "Straight ahead, then left - Diversion sign!"  It was like a bizarre fetish recreation of the famous Stirling Moss Mille Miglia victory in 1955 when he got his instructions from navigator Denis Jenkinson... only with more latex and tits, I suppose.  Slowly, but surely, the A38 fell behind us, and as we passed the M6 flyover the signs led us into the depths of Birmingham's Bowels of Hell.

Moss and Jenks, 1955 - they'd have been fucked, too.
There was panic when we hit a junction with no Diversion signs.  Fuck, now what?  A DHL lorry in front of us, also clearly trying to find a way out of the Minotaur's Maze, braked, indicated right, changed his mind, and hastily took a left at the traffic lights, then changed his mind again at the last minute and swerved back through a red light onto the road in front of our car.  I swear I could hear the driver shout "FUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!"  We passed him on the dual carriageway, only to find a roundabout in front of us with no Diversion signs.  By the time we'd gone round the roundabout three times trying to decide on the right exit to take the lorry had passed us again, trundling uncertainly straight on.  We re-passed the lorry and thankfully found a diversion sign at the next junction, with a road-sign saying M6 - North.  Woohoo!  I felt like a winning contestant on The Crystal Maze.  After a few minutes we passed another Diversion sign, then another...  After a further five minutes of driving one of my friends pointed to a big car showroom on the opposite side of the road.  "I'm sure we passed that a few minutes ago coming the other way."  We took a hasty group decision to continue to follow the Diversion and M6 North signs. 

Ten more minutes passed, and the view over the other side of the road looked increasingly grim.  Buildings and shops appeared that looked hauntingly familiar.  Suddenly, like Christ descending from the Heavens, the M6 flyover appeared ahead - it was a Road To Damascus revelation, and the choirs of Angels burst into song at the joyful vision... only to shut the fuck straight up when we realised that as the M6 flyover was above us, we still couldn't actually get on the bastard thing.  "Junction ahead - M6 right" was shouted out a few minutes later.  It led onto another roundabout, the road-sign showing the M6 junction on the right... but the exit was blocked by cones and we realised this was one of the roundabouts that we'd hit earlier.  "BASTARDS!  BIRMINGHAM FUCKING BASTARDS!" wept the driver, as we circled the roundabout aimlessly.  I expected to see the DHL lorry from earlier also circling the roundabout in a strange Twilight Zone episode that featured Birmingham as Purgatory.

We took a road at random, one of the passengers seeing a sign for Walsall.  "It's near the M6... I think," he said.  It was good enough for us, and for our driver, who'd sadly agreed to not drink all night (thus the only truly sober one) and so was even less immune to the trials of the journey home.

After fifteen minutes, passing junctions and roundabouts, we bizarrely found another Diversion sign - M6 North.  And so it was, that over an hour after we left the club, we finally hit the M6 and headed north. 

It was a quiet drive home after that.  It doesn't compare to, say, Shackleton's Endurance expedition, but I can imagine that his crew didn't talk much either after their rescue from Elephant Island.  I'm all for a bit of Deviance, and indeed deviating from the norm, but the diversions at Birmingham have certainly made me think it could be a long time before I go again.

The trials of the night weren't quite over, though - for me, anyway.  The night's supply of Tia Maria and Coke was, after a couple of hours driving, searching it's own way for a diversion out of my body.  "Sorry - I need to pee," I said, as we barrelled our way up the motorway.  Unfortunately, my coat didn't really cover my lingerie, so a proper stop at a service station to use a toilet was out of the question.  By the time we had left the motorway and headed onto the A556 towards Manchester city centre I was fit to burst, so our tired driver found a little side road off the main carriageway and stopped in a secluded lay-by.  The relief I felt when my pulled my panties aside and let out a gushing torrent of pee at the side of the road nearly matched that of finding the M6. 

Apologies for the swearing in the post, but I really wanted to convey, in a literary sense, the sheer desperation and frustration of the night.  More to come in the next couple of weeks, as my little diary is beginning to fill up with events and nights out, so hopefully it won't be as long as this before my next update!

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