Secret lives

I’ve always had a fascination for secret lives. What goes on behind the doors of others… Even the people we think we know the most, friends, family and public figures that have their lives scrutinized under the social lens - even their lives are shrouded in mysteries. Sometimes you may catch a glimpse of what is going on behind closed curtains.  More often than not it’s under the influence of some sort of substance may it be foreign or self-induced. Then people let their guard down, if only for a moment. Such were the curious story with a friend of mine, let’s call him John. I met John years ago in a previous company I worked for. He had a similar background to mine, having worked for several conglomerates in program  management positions.  As the organisation we worked for was a far cry from the corporate life we were used to, and totally adverse to change which was our driving force, we quickly became professionally intimate.

It wasn’t until one of our business trips that I got to know John on a more personal level. Over several bottles of sake we connected on so many aspects of life. We were both truly adverse to the management of the company, which we named the Firm due to the supposedly hidden cameras and questionable work ethics conducted.  Once you spill the beans on one level it’s easy to continue. As the sake was flowing through our veins, I opened up in many ways I probably shouldn’t have. By the end of the evening I had found a someone to share my own secrets with. And the secrets were safe, because secrets work quid pro quo.

As time went on I left my job (or were made redundant or fired, whatever you want to call it). A few weeks earlier John had suffered a similar fate. I often wondered if it had to do with him that my job disappeared from one day to another. After all I knew about all the dirty laundry that John had collected over the management and then sent in an open letter to the board. I was on bcc in that mail.

A year after those fateful weeks we met up one evening. Again for sushi and sake. Like old friends that haven’t met up for some time do, we recalled that strange year which had such a profound impact, not just on us, but so many other colleagues, that were now reduced to names and memories.

The night was closing in and John asked if I wanted to check out a club that he knew of. Sure, I was up for some fun. We stumbled into a cab, or I did at least because I was quite tipsy at that point. After about 10 minutes ride we came to this place, which I had no idea were it was. But it was odd because all the windows were blacked out.  Nevertheless, in my naive state I didn’t question it and we went in. We were greeted by a man that could be taken straight out of the Ringer of Notre Dame. He was a hunchback with long, thin hair clothed in black. He asked us if we had been here before and knew the system? My friend said no, although in hindsight he might have been privy to such information. Well the system was that you paid upfront a certain fee, and this entitled you to a certain amount of alcohol. Anything above that you would pay when you got out. We stepped in and the first thing that we were confronted with were a round bar with a naked female bar tender. This was going to be an interesting evening.  I lost completely concept of time and space during the next few hours. As I was drinking my whiskey I succumbed to the atmosphere which was a world apart from my own. Downstairs in the cellar there were dungeons well equipped to cater for any desires or preferences. And people were using them. For a moment I felt like Charlotte York from SATC (I was demurely dressed with a black Jackie O dress, heels and a Tod’s handbag) caught in an S&M dream. Surreal doesn’t come close to describing it. As I was stumbling about in rooms close to being pitch black, I wondered who these people were. Were they business men, with families, wives and children, just like my friend John? Was this their secret lair where their bottled up fantasies got an outlet? It fascinated me and at the same time disgusted me. Perhaps I was most disgusted with myself. What was I doing there, and what if I bumped into a colleague or friend? But that’s what secrets are all about, they are well kept as long as there’s a reason to.

Luckily I did not meet anyone I knew. And no pictures have ever surfaced on Internet from my visit. But my fascination for the strange and what people harbour in those noctunal hours yet remains…

Not so demure?

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