She smiled proudly, then dragged her work back to her desk.
I watched her go, feeling like I wanted to reach out and cultivate a friendship with her. But I was much too scared to do it… maybe if I stared at her from time to time, she’d come over and talk to me.
All I knew was that I craved what she’d just shown to the class; I craved her emotional strength.
And Dr. Brinkman had asked me about my friend group here in New York. My support network. The only names I was able to come up with were Adam and his cousin Laura, who also went to Parsons. Though, she was so busy in her senior year that I rarely saw her.
Luckily, Lily pulled her stool close to mine.
I watched as she sat on it, her platinum locks pouring over her shoulder. Even from here, she looked strong and sure of herself, like Daenerys Targaryen or something. I couldn’t help but feel a warm sensation of admiration for her.
We sat side by side as the rest of the critiques unfolded in front of us.
Before I knew it, it was my turn.
Even though I loved critique, there was always a small flutter of nervousness that took hold within me before I started speaking. The fear always crested right at that instant; that moment when the other students’ eyes fell on my work for the first time. Though, I couldn’t tell if the sensation that flowed through me was nervousness or thrill.
Maybe a little of both.
I did my best to keep my eyes down as I pulled my mannequin to the front of the room, feeling the eyes of the class on me.
Here I was, a skinny small-town gay kid with a love for the submissive side of BDSM, showing a class of strangers something inspired purely from my kink.
Next to me on the mannequin was a bust of crimson-colored intricate ropes and knots, reminiscent of the Lightning Harness. The bright red ropes zigzagged down the front of the mannequin. Underneath was soft black, almost silk-like fabric that I’d woven into a series of flat braided patterns.
The work-in-progress was a sight to behold. At least I thought so. But the cherry on top of the cake, and the thing I knew the audience would focus on the most, was the telltale sub collar on the mannequin’s neck. A large, shiny metal ring was looped into the black leather, and it sucked in the eye like a magnet.
There was murmuring throughout the classroom as some of the students shifted uncomfortably in their seats.
I felt heat flood into my cheeks as the professor cut me with her gaze. “Description?”
The words tumbled out of me, following the pattern of practice. I’d practiced giving this description to Adam at least five times last night, and despite how many times he assured me it was good, I was convinced it was terrible.
My classmates’ eyes were like the tips of guns, waiting to shoot me down with their criticisms.
I took a deep breath, willing to separate my work from my ego, then dove right in.
“My work is about exploring the taboo.”
Several students leaned forward on their stools, their interest piqued.
I clicked the remote in my hand, and the projector nearby flickered to life. I’d slid The Fool card from my deck on top of the glass, and now its ancient design was dancing on the wall behind me.
“I’ve combined Tarot — something that used to be taboo, with a taboo that’s becoming more and more mainstream: BDSM.”
I drew in a rattling breath, feeling the seeds of my anxiety begin to quiver. But I was still coasting on the inspiration from Lily’s presentation. If she could lay herself open like that, so could I.
She was smiling sweetly from the back of the class, watching me with a keen interest.
“BDSM is about playing with power. It’s about the illusion of giving up the power you have and letting someone else play with it for a while. It’s about being tied up or tying someone up, but also the freedom that it lets you explore.”
Surprisingly, my voice was getting steadier and steadier the more words left my mouth. I liked this — educating the world about the kink. BDSM was the subject most of my thoughts spent the majority of their time hanging out in, anyway. It felt good to open up a part of myself to the world like this, to share a piece of me with others.
“This piece next to me is based on The Fool card, as you can see on the wall behind me. Tarot cards are symbols of a story called The Fool’s Journey. And the Fool itself represents newness and naiveté. I wanted to combine that naiveté with elements of the BDSM kink. Innocence with naughtiness. The beauty that’s at the beginning of a journey — the beauty of getting to discover something taboo for the first time.”
I closed my mouth, realizing that my description was much too long. Though no one had stopped me. The class was all leaning forward, listening on the edges of their seats.
Many cheeks flushed with color.
I smiled nervously, but I hoped it came across as a confident grin.
“Excellent, Luke,” Professor King said, making a note on her notepad.
She seemed utterly unaffected by the sexual nature of my piece, which filled me with a sensation of relief.
My eyes fell on Lily sitting at the back. Her face was beet-red.
Then the smallest suspicion took root within me: Was she involved in the community?
Before I could explore that thought any further, the professor began calling on students to give me critique.
Like Lily’s presentation, I barely got any critical feedback on my work. It was mostly positive, or maybe the students were afraid to say anything.
Once the last person uttered something about wishing there were more studs in my piece, the professor gave another speech.
“Exploring the taboo is essential to art. It pushes the boundaries of what society considers normal, somewhat like a PhD pushes
