Countess Diaries Chapter 8 The Palace Welcomes the Dark—and Other Oddities
Oh, what a peculiar week it has been in the palace! The Brighton Arts Club, my regal domain, is never short of intrigue, but this weekend, dear reader, it reached new heights—or perhaps plunged new depths—with an event hosted by a group calling itself DARK. The name, as it turned out, was alarmingly apt, for what unfolded could only be described as a most eccentric spectacle.
The promoters were ecstatic, declaring it the best DARK event Brighton has ever seen. The palace was alive with energy—two floors of booming sound, peculiar attire, and enough leather to upholster a small armada. As the Countess, I felt it my duty to circulate among the guests, ensuring that the evening unfolded with a veneer of decorum befitting my establishment. Naturally, I took this as an opportunity to retreat to the VIP lounge with a bottle of vodka and a pack of Marlboros to steel my nerves.
The attendees were a curious mix: enthusiasts of BDSM, as I came to understand, mingling with newcomers drawn by curiosity. While the crowd was warm and spirited, their enthusiasm occasionally tipped into the theatrical. A dominatrix in six-inch heels demonstrated her craft with what I can only describe as a curtain tassel tied to a riding crop, and a gentleman in a full rubber suit politely requested directions to the bar. I obliged, of course, though his muffled “thank you” through the latex was almost unintelligible.
The tea, coffee, and chocolate offerings provided a touch of civility amidst the chaos. I dare say, the sight of a man with a spiked collar sipping Earl Grey was one of the evening's most surreal moments. I overheard someone liken the event to a Victorian soirée gone delightfully awry, and I found myself quite agreeing.
But, alas, no event is without its mischief. My palace witnessed its first ejection from the VIP area when an overeager guest—perhaps misunderstanding the spirit of consent—attempted to embrace a dominatrix without her leave. She, quite rightly, rebuffed him with a glare sharp enough to slice steel, and the offender was promptly removed, anorak and all. I must confess, I rather enjoyed orchestrating his exit; there’s something terribly satisfying about wielding authority over a miscreant.
In a moment of respite, I wandered to the smoking area, where conversations ranged from philosophy to bondage with a seamlessness that was truly impressive. I was asked for my thoughts on the juxtaposition of pain and pleasure, to which I replied, “Darling, it’s no different than running this palace. Equal parts agony and ecstasy, with just a hint of martyrdom.”
The week has not been all DARK, however. The second-year photography students have brought a touch of earnestness to the palace with their life drawing session. The model, draped across a red velvet chaise longue in the most dignified of poses, caused quite the stir among passersby. One might think these Brightonians had never seen the human form! Peering through the windows, they giggled and gasped as though Venus herself had descended upon London Road.
The students, for their part, were focused and industrious, their pencils flying across paper as they worked to capture the model’s elegance. Their exhibition opens this Saturday, and I’ve been urging everyone within earshot to attend. It’s vital to support young talent, though I must admit my patience with students wanes when they fail to respect my palace’s decorum. Thankfully, this group has proven diligent and well-mannered—qualities I treasure above all.
And so, I look forward to another week in my kingdom. Between photo shoots, mural painting, and the endless parade of events, there is little time for rest. But such is the life of a Countess. Every day brings a new delight, a new oddity, and—more often than not—a fresh bottle of vodka.
©2024 Sarnia de la Mare
