And so concludes The Folsom Journal, part 3

Folsom Diary, Day 5. Time: Monday 9:21 am, Location: Hotel Room Sofa.

So here I sit. The hotel suite now empted. Kitten and Galahad flew out this morning along with Silk & Kreig. The cases of rope, now empty, lay stacked in a corner. While Tambo sleeps in the next room I sit here, ipod thumping out Public Enemy, with my cell phone in my lap as I wait for Dancer’s call and try to set the events of the last 24 hours to paper.

I suppose I should just start at the beginning and go from there.

We woke on Sunday to the sounds of fire trucks. Lots and lots of fire trucks. This being the large and busy city it is, we were pretty used to hearing sirens wail past in the middle of the night. However this morning we listened to them for 30 straight minutes. Me thinks that this was the gods of kink making sure we got up in time. The last truck roared past our window JUST as the alarm started to go off.

After much cussing, coffee, pastries, and more coffee we made our descent from the room. Six friends ready to take on the world and sell rope to all the wonderful perverts at one of the largest kink events in the world. We must have looked a bit like a cross between rock stars and super heroes as we took to the lobby in our tight leather, PVC, boots, and perverse clerical garb.



Even in the preshow calm that morning, the show site was packed as vendors unloaded case after case of all manner of things that go slap, thud, or otherwise make one’s pink parts pucker. Finding our booth, right in the heart of the action (thank the gods again), smack dab in between the booze vendors and the porta potties. Our neighbors? Some nice ladies from Florida selling rattan canes and a gay porn company with the coolest name ever, “Man’s Hands Films”

The event won’t open for at least an hour and already the streets are filling up. As Kitten and I pose for a photographer working on a coffee table book about the event, dozens of tourists with cameras snap away at us in unison. At first I found it a bit odd, complete strangers walking up and taking our picture. By days end I will have posed for hundreds, Kitten… literally thousands.



I suppose I should stop for a moment and tell you a bit about the event it self. The Folsom Street Fair is now in it’s 21st year. This one day event draws something like 400,000 people to 6 square blocks of downtown San Francisco. Shutting down the streets to cars, all manner of orientation, kink and fetish are welcome here. Cops stand on the street corner next to our booth as naked men and women saunter by. All manner of fetish are represented here, you name it. Just down from our booth, a 10 by 10 cage full of naked men jacking off in public. Further down the way, Carol Queen is demoing her new human powered fucking machine. Only 10 bucks and you can pedal the dildo bike. A bit farther, a booth with a sign that reads “Line for blowjobs starts here” and a queue of men 50 deep. We are now standing smack dab in the middle of Sodom and Gomorra… and loving every minute of it.
It would be simply impossible for me to try and tell you everything that happened there. If I did this diary would resemble a tome and not the light blog reading you enjoy over your mid morning coffee. Rather, let me share some choice moments that I remember from each of my wondrous helpers.



Silk:
Silk has this power. You can’t help but just love her. She just radiates this aura of warmth and friendliness. Also she has the uncanny ability to strike up a conversation with anyone, which makes her a powerful ally to have. Now this also makes her irresistible to gay men.. They just LOVE her. Every time I turned around some boy was giving her a hug or gingerly plucking out a business card from between he ample breasts. She would just lean back and grin as folks placed their noses between her breasts and plucked cards out with their teeth. Also, if I am not mistaken, I think the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence were SO taken by her that they even tried to kidnap her at one point.

Galahad:
What can I say, he IS the gayest straight man I have ever met. He swished for the boys, let me and tie him up in all sorts of strange poses as the big leather daddies looked on in abject lust. Now a lesser man would have guffawed and puffed out his chest to prove his machismo in that sort of situation. No, not our boy. He knew his role today and like the consummate actor he is, he played it to the hilt. He owned it. The boys came in droves to buy rope in the vain hopes of attracting his attention.

Kreig:
Now this is the guy you want in your corner when the shit hits the fan. Un flinching and unflappable. We practically had to kick him out of the booth so he and Silk could go see the rest of the fair. The first one up and ready to go in the morning and the last one out of the booth… carrying the heaviest bag. That man was a rope selling machine.



Kitten:
Where do I start? Every booth needs some eye candy and she was it in droves. Scantily dressed, company logos covering her nipples, she made QUITE a sight. All day long they came and ogled, admired, photographed and propositioned her… and she took it all in stride. Like water off a duck’s back, as they say, she smiled for the camera and played the sex kitten and never EVER let the scummy advances bother her. After one such event when some clod had the gal to offer to buy some rope in exchange for getting to film me spanking her I told her, “Honey when you feel sufficiently exploited let me know and you will be in a cab back to the hotel in 5, no questions and no apologies”
Laughing, this was her response.
“No, you see I’m exploiting YOU. You are my gateway drug into the scene”

Tambo:
Oh my… I would have to say watching the ever delightful Bridgette Harrington tie her up and publicly torment her while the swarm of on lookers stared in amazement would have to be it. Tambo, bound, blindfolded and sporting an absurdly large strap-on giggled with glee as Bridgette tugged her ropes and deep throated the plastic fantastic dildo. Afterwards, as she sat in the back of the booth with a glazed smile on her face, unable to do even simple mathematics she told me this. “You know how you always say that you have a crush on Bridgette? Well that makes two of us.”



Speaking of the darling Bridgette…

She graced our booth several times that day. Hanging out, answering questions, and tying folks up. My highlight would have to be when Bridgette and I took turns tying Kitten and Galahad up, then each other. After months of mutual crushes and flirtation, the opportunity to press rope against each other’s flesh made for some very hot booth action. A mad torrent of binding, flesh pressing, hair pulling and biting…. Later Tambo would comment, “Now I know what it is like when Klingons mate. I did not know if you two were going to kill each other or kiss!”

And just because this is MY journal, I must add one last tale from the event. Towards the end of the show, our stock decimated, a most sweet and pretty girl wanted to desperately buy one of the ropes from my private stash. A unique piece of purple rope from the very first batch of rope ever made by me. Ends worn and frayed, this rope has seen countless uses, hundreds of demos, suspensions, waxings, washings, and all manner of lovers it’s fibers are now baby soft. Long since retired from my regular play kit, I use the rope to show folks how well the rope ages and what they can look forward to. Now I could not *just* sell this rope. This was from batch #1, but no matter how hard I tried to say no, her big brown eyes just begged more. Placing the bundle in her small hands I told her the rope’s history. For the small fee of a kiss on the cheek and her word that she would love and enjoy this rope I sent her on her merry way.



*In that moment it was very good to be me*

Later that night as we all sat around the grand restaurant table, Tambo, Bridgette, Kitten, Galahad, Krieg & Silk all looking very tired and very happy joined me in a toast.
“Next year,” I said as I raised my glass of whiskey, ”we will do a lot of things differently. More stock, more colors, and definitely more sun block. But one thing that will not change is who surrounds me at dinner when we do this again next year”

And with that dear reader does this journal come to an end. Our remaining stock now tucked away and fetish wear packed, the remains of the day are now devoted to my dearest Tambo and to the sublime pleasures of wearing comfortable cotton clothes again.

Monk
SF 9/27/04