Our last night at The Castle…

Well, our last night while we still lived in Florida.  We moved to Missouri in February of 2000, so this must have been January or very early February.

The Castle is a goth/industrial dance club in Ybor City, Tampa, and it was my home away from home during the late 90’s.  I’d work Sunday through Thursday as a night auditor at a Ft. Myers hotel, and then let out my aggression on the weekends at The Castle or concert mosh pits.

The Castle is a great place, or at least it was.  We’ve only been there one other time since moving, so it’s been a while.  You walk in to pay your admission and have two choices:  go through a doorway to the lower bar, which is quiet and has a small area outside that sometimes has a fire going, or you go upstairs where all the action is – loud music, dance floor, and a projection screen showing videos, horror, and anime.  Sometimes the movies are off and someone is dancing behind the screen, offering a cool silhouette.

So I’m there with Robin and our friend, Dallas, a Honduran best friend that reminded me of Hunter S. Thompson’s Dr. Gonzo except thinner and more mellow (he never waved guns at people).  We were drinking black forest martinis and I was on the dance floor  often, and at one point while hanging out in a corner near some velvet furniture, I got the notion to take my belt off and spank Robin with it.  She liked that.

Well, someone approached us and said we may be interested in what was going on at the stage behind the screen.  I say, “Show us the way.”  Dallas was happy in his own world, hitting on the cigarette lady (I didn’t have the heart to tell him the “lady’s” name was Jason), so Robin and I were led to the stage.  We hadn’t even noticed that the screen’s silhouette was now of a woman laying right behind it as she was whipped.  Sure enough, she was on her stomach and getting her back thrashed by a long scourge at the hands of a hot dominatrix.  The scourge was cool, too, with a slit in the handle so blue light could shine through (glow stick inserted).

Robin asked if she could have a turn and the dominatrix allowed it.  Talk about awesome!  The dominatrix really knew what she was doing, and everyone was loving Robin’s reaction to it.  After about fifteen minutes, however, a woman whispered in my ear, “You two need to get out of here.”

“Why?”

“The first girl that was getting whipped got really jealous of your girlfriend, and she told the manager that there’s penetration going on up here.”

“But there isn’t?!”

“I know that, but instead of checking it out for themselves, they called the cops. They’ll be here any second so you guys need to split out the back.”

“Okay, but we need to get Dallas first.”  So we go back to the main part of the club to hunt for our friend, and we found him look out the windows that looked over the front of the place.  He was giggling while fingering ice cubes from his drink and throwing them outside.

“Dallas, what the hell are you doing?”

“Heheh, I’m hitting those cops down there with ice.”

“Um, those cops are here for us.  It’s time to leave.”

“Oh shit, okay then.”

As the cops were walking through the entrance from the right, we were coming out the exit – about ten feet from the entrance – and heading left toward my car.  Well, as last nights at your favorite hangout go, that wasn’t too bad.

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