(no subject)

[xinjinmeng]

:
At first, I thought I would keep this episode to myself. Then I worried that if I kept inside too long, I should burst.  What follows is an anecdote about how I had spent the last day, which I will call "The Potassium-Titanyl-Phosphate Adventure".

Just before sunrise, I managed to catch the accelerated, three-hour performance of the xenopera Fra la roccia ed il posto duro.  The book concerns a silicon-based lifeform who falls in love with a carbon chordate.  Because their metabolic rates differ at about six-thousand to one, they are doomed to forever live apart.  In fact, the entire second act has the silicate singing arias to the great-grandchildren of the lost paramour.  I am told to truly appreciate the work, one has to experience it performed in the original subsonic molto-molto-grave, which has a running time of slightly less than eight months.   

Why would I deign to attend such a tedious and pedestrian performance? Because, dear reader, on the authority of a parthenogenic castrato, I had obtained information that the attending physician was a member of the Irregular Laryngologists and that there was a large gala planned for that very evening.

After the show, I combined stealth and bravado to insinuate myself backstage, where I employed methods not best described in polite conversation to find the location and to obtain a pass for the Laryngologist's irregular dinner party, which I discovered was to be at the Bistro del Conquistador at the hour of the Dog.

Fortunately, I had secured a hotel room hours earlier, where I could clean, dress, and prepare myself; in my excited state at the time, I completely have lacked the wherewithall to secure one.  First, a hot bath and a firm soaking to hydrate my scales. (Those familiar to me know that I am prone to lack hydration, which can lead to awkward discomfiture during relations.)  I considered wearing the crimson cheongsam, but I still find it makes my hips look too mannish and is very unflattering to the cloaca.  However, the only other dress suitable for the visible spectrum was the magenta qipao, and I had been hoping to affect a younger countenance than "grandmother in a sack."   Sighing, I resigned myself to the qipao and the mock lemon cologne.

As the hour drew nearer, I felt my confidence returning.  The Conquistador was modernist decor, with faux wood and genuine wood accentuated by artificial lighting.  One showing of my pass, and I was allowed into the private room.  In all candor, I felt rather like the snake who slithers into an unguarded hare's den.  My face ached from smiling.

It did not disappoint.  Young and old, performer and producer, actor and doctor, gossip and conversation.  The popular beverage was gin and tonic, and I partook in great quantities -- not for the alcohol, which has no affect upon me, but for the hydration.  I was relieved that I had selected the qipao, otherwise the feminine bloat would have made me self-conscious, if not unsightly.

None recognized me, or if they did, they were artful enough not to acknowledge as such.  Of the crowd, none were recognizable to me in the infrared, visible, or ultraviolet spectrum, nor by spoor.  The anonymity was intoxicating, and I allowed myself to bat my eyelashes, to swish the tail, and to generally play the rakehell that I had denied myself for so long.  I have no doubt that every appearance was engineered; after all, there were wealth and surgeons in abundance.  The details remain a blur. I did embarrass myself with one sopranist, only then realizing how neglectful I had become of grooming my claws.

In the late hour, I had finally proved myself worthy of the ultimate goal of the evening -- the invite to a greater intimacy in a more comfortable room.  As you may or may not be aware, the Laryngologists are the masters of the KTP laser.  Its normal use, on normal mammals, is for surgery upon blood vessels, to reduce or to increase flow; the Laryngologists are the leaders of vocal repair and therapy.  However, the rumors are indeed true: the Laryngologists apply their consumate skill to other blood vessels, as well.  The alterations they have performed upon themselves and theirs allowed for couchings of such intensity and duration that it would take a poet greater than myself to describe them.

And if you still had the notion that any sense of shame remained within me, it was at the dawn that I used my remaining charisma upon one of the good doctors for the ultimate in perversity.  A KPT-laser normally confines itself to bursts of a few milliseconds; it took a little coaxing to persuade him to remove the safety restrictions imposing this time limit.  Then it was only a matter of lubrication (hydration, yet again) to work his apparatus inside my feminine mystery.

I wept.

And now it is with giddy disbelief that I relate the tale. Are all medical technicians this enjoyable?

Comments

[frostbytepb.livejournal.com]

I'm speechless! And titanically envious. I should brag about my parties more often, if only to keep up with yours!