I had been asked to sing. I didn’t like it. I much prefer sitting off in the corner, or in a group of friends. Singing quietly to my pint or blending my voice with the rest of the group.
At least it was a noisy night. Not overly crowded, but with enough else going on that I was certain no one other than those in the immediate vicinity would hear.
Until someone realised that there was something worth pausing conversation for, that the lack of fiddle-tune meant something quieter was happening, and with an infectious shushing the room fell silent.
It is odd being the centre of attention. I’m much more used to flying under the radar, working behind the scenes. I work more effectively when I don’t have to deal with onlookers.
I don’t enjoy this sort of attention, though have been getting used to it though a trial by fire of an entirely different kind.
“Maintain a respectful silence around scenes.” That one rule has made me giggle every time I see it posted. Nimhneach is many things, but silent it most certainly is not. Granted, the patrons do follow the rule in spirit. While the music and general noise levels can be quite loud, the play areas tend to be a bit quieter- apart from those with very good reasons to cry out.
The noise seemed incongruous at first, not gelling at all with my mental picture of what a scene of a spanking should be. This was an intensely private activity, not something that could be pursued in an only somewhat-quieter corner amidst the sounds of a roaring party.
But the noise helped. In the din, one had to focus intently on one’s partner to communicate, allowing for a measure of public privacy. And the noise meant there were others nearby, not intimately involved but keeping a watchful eye on things, a measure of safety well worth the loss of privacy.
And, of course, once the spanking started none of this mattered anymore to my mind as it was carried off someplace entirely more peaceful.
The kitchen was oddly silent, for what had been a small but lively party. There was no music; the CD had run its course some while ago and no one had remembered to change it. There was no conversation, any talk having been stifled by the shushers. There weren’t even any cries or cracks from other scenes half-muted by walls and distance. It was the absence of these that I found most disturbing. I’d become used to the odd intermittent noises of others playing while I was spanked. A bit distracting, perhaps, but it was reassuring to know that others were engaged in similar activities. I wasn’t that strange.
Not this night. Everyone seemed to be sitting perfectly still, perfectly quiet. Perfectly focused on my bottom. (Why my bottom?) The silence was broken only by the soft rustlings that accompany group of people trying to keep still. And the crack of the belt. And whatever noises I made in response.
What shocked me the most was the applause afterwards.