Funhouse Party

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  • Orgasm Rating
  • Address Email Master Steelow for Dates and Venues New York, NY
  • Email Steelow@MasterSteelow.com
  • If the gimp scene from Pulp Fiction has special emotional resonance for you, then you might enjoy Master Steelow's Funhouse Party, a monthly alternative dance party with a fetish flavor. This traveling fetish caravan rotates venues monthly, so it's hard to pinpoint its permanent physical attributes, but one thing is for sure-this event attracts some very kooky people. When this intrepid visitor walked into an unlikely location for a fetish soiree-Jekyll & Hyde, a notoriously touristy bar on Seventh Avenue South in Manhattan's West Village-the sparsely populated room seemed like a holding pen for extras from Road Warrior. Clad in leather, chains, and clips attached to various body parts, these urban warriors were a vision of post-apocalyptic angst. As a vague mixture of The Cure and Death Metal pumped out of the speakers, the mostly younger, under-nourished crowd danced around a masked, semi-nude man wearing leather undies and tied to a pole in the center of the room. This must be someone's fetish fantasy, but whoever that man is, these same party-goers must be sitting in a dark room right now reading comic books and taking one too many bong hits. Venturing upstairs, I unearthed a holding pen for the Bridge & Tunnel crowd. Several middle-aged men milled about seeking to experience the vicarious titillation of watching girls with multiple piercings dance to throbbing music and exude sweat; presumably fetish parties do better without AC. Cutting deeper into this jungle, I found a trinket bazaar where a Goth was selling all sorts of accoutrements from neck collars to studded cell phone holders. At this point, I felt like Indiana Jones, and expected the encounter to be with that bald dude who sticks his hand into your chest and pulls out your still-beating heart. While I'm a big fan of that film, I decided I didn't want to re-enact it that evening, so I waded through a shallow sea of wan faces and made it to the exit unscathed. So what was the best part of my evening at the Funhouse Party? Re-emerging into the sweltering Manhattan summer night, and seeing the real drama of kooks, perverts, and voyeurs play itself just outside the door.

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