It’s taken a year but I finally have a guest post from Stranded! The first, but hopefully not the last. I asked for his thoughts on voyeurism…
Dateline 1979, August…well, August-ish…Calgary, Alberta, Canada
The sun was going down relatively early, which puts the time in late August…Calgary may have more sunny days than any other major Canadian city, but the hours of sunlight dwindle quickly with Rocky Mountains blocking it out.
Our bikes were strewn behind the local Gulf Petro Station on the southeast corner of Fairmont and Southland Drives in the Willow Park section of Southeast Calgary. About ten of us stood huddled, scanning the pages in our hidden lair as though we were hungry dogs that had just been tossed a veggie burger…it looked like meat, but we were not quite sure yet.
One of the boys had found a “nudie magazine”. Playboy, in fact, from April of 1979 that he had stolen from under his brother’s bed and brought for us all to see.
We were not supposed to see that.
We really should look away.
…but we just could not.
That was just before my ninth birthday and, already, voyeurism had me in its clutches. I just had no idea how much of a grasp the concept had on me.
“Quite so. He sees, but he does not observe.” – Sherlock Holmes (played by Michael Caine in Without a Clue)
We all rubber neck at car accidents, natural disasters and Toronto Maple Leaf hockey games…why would seeing the taboo acts of a sensual nature be any different? We all like to watch. We all like a show. The multi-billion dollar porn industry is banking on each of us having a voyeuristic streak to one degree or another.
Let us skip ahead to Mississauga, Ontario, Canada in February of 1991. My friend, Richard, decides he is going to introduce me to something risqué. We drove east along Derry Road to the Northeast Mississauga where Lester B. Pearson International Airport resides, and headed north on Torbram Road. There was housed the Million Dollar Saloon…a strip club, for lack of a better term. That evening, a young woman (older than me) name Teagan danced for me at Richard’s expense…as she danced shockingly close with her look, but do not touch private lap dance.
For the record, the club is still there and has become quite notorious as part of Mississauga’s “trinity clubs” for having a reputation of bawdy houses more than strip joints. The shock of seeing a naked woman, that was one thing…I had obviously seen that before…but the fact she was dancing, trying to get a rise out of me specifically and I did not even have to buy her a drink while I just sat back and watched. I recall very little of the stage show, however…
Looking but not touching…seeing the taboo things that should not be seen…it was exciting. It was exhilarating. It showed a side of myself that I did not understand. Like porn, the entire business of stripping is based upon voyeurism…all these clubs where we go and watch the fantasy of what could be.
Another skip ahead…early 2013…along Lake Shore Blvd. in Southwest Toronto. We park the car and find the glass doors of the club, which open upon steps descending beneath the street level and into the club where dance music booms. Being our first time, the reception desk clerk asked us, “You are aware this is a swingers club, right? I know it sounds silly but I have to ask.” A tour, a few drinks, and a few dances later, the back play area opens up and assaults our senses with the dreams of voyeurs everywhere. To see the actual sex act, not depicted on pages nor fantasized about on a strip club stage…but watching one man we had met at the bar kneeling before his date while she screamed at his tongue work. Watching another couple as she crouched and lowered herself onto his erection for all in attendance to watch.
This place is where exhibitionists come to entertain voyeurs. A meeting of those wanting to watch with those wanting to be watched.
What a glorious concept.
It was the first time I discovered that being watched, for me, is even more fun than watching…at least on this level. Being I write erotica, in one sense, I was already well aware of this, but this place took it to an entirely new level.
I digress, however, as exhibitionism is a discussion for another time.
Voyeurism, however…the thrill of watching others play…others join in…even watching my own lover as she accepted another man’s erection into her mouth…it took 42 years to find the level of voyeurism I wanted. I still want more.
Watching sex is easy…it sells everything, so extremely easy to find. Pushing the envelope to find that level one is most comfortable with, however…that is the adventure.