Leather Pride

androkles requested this photo. Here is how I dressed to go to the Leather Pride Ball at Toronto on Saturday night. Once I arrived, I doffed the jeans, but I'm not prepared to post photos here revealing the leather pouch underneath.

I was nervous, I have never gone to a leather party alone before. Bob and Mark are my usual companions at such events, but they didn't attend Toronto Pride this year. Like many people, Bob can't bear the daytime crowds.

I hoped to see a certain man named Steve I had met a couple weeks earlier at Kitchener Pride. But I knew he would be working security at the event, which would prevent us from carrying on our flirtation as fully as I wanted. So I felt a little lonely as I changed into my leather and headed out of the Village.

As it turned out, I had an escort for the entire evening.

The Opera House is located away from the gay district, so a bus running from 10 p.m. to 3 a.m. was supposed to shuttle people there and back from the Ramada Hotel on Jarvis Street. I arrived at the Ramada around 10:45 but never saw a shuttle, except two destined for another, larger party going on at the Guvernment.

Standing there on the curb I was first politely watched and eventually approached by another man waiting for the shuttle, a handsome Venezuelan. He wore an elaborate harness with chains and steel studs which he said he had designed himself. We introduced ourselves and ended up spending most of the night together.

When the shuttle still hadn't appeared after more than half an hour, we invited two other men to share a cab over to the Opera House.

If you have never been to a Leather Ball, imagine a crowded night club where 99 per cent of the patrons are male, the majority of them above average build, and most dressed entirely in leather, some in Levi's 501s, and a few in PVC rubberwear. Many are wearing no more than a leather harness and jock strap. There are several strikingly beautiful women, not all wearing leather. The floor is full of men dancing.

Around 1 a.m. attention turns to the stage, and there's a show. In this case, it is a sadomasochistic fantasy involving a master, two assistants and four slaves, a cage, and a table that revolves lengthwise. The performance features a grinder which the master runs on a metal plate to shower sparks on the two men bound to the revolving table.

I took in the performance, but spent less time observing the crowd than I normally would. I wandered alone for only a few minutes after I first arrived. Then my handsome cab companion reappeared and successfully distracted me for the rest of the night.

I did manage to slip away for a few minutes to speak to Steve. He was keeping watch at a door beside the stage and the dance floor. I wished I could steal him away from his post, but instead I went back upstairs to the balcony.

Eventually I invited my Venezuelan friend back to the hotel room, where we arrived around 2:30. It was a thoroughly enjoyable visit, and he didn't depart until 6:30. That alone would have made a fine high point to the weekend. But Sunday had in store other adventures of a different tone.

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Some things about Steve

I first saw him on Sunday, June 15 at Kitchener Pride. He was standing with a group of friends on the island in the park, talking.

Steve is a talker. He has a hilarious sense of humour.

As I passed the group, our eyes locked, and electricity flashed. A lump rose in my throat.

We observed one another across the crowd for an hour. I even smiled, but was too shy to speak to him. He eventually approached and started chatting with the guy who was talking me up. It turned out they were friends. I took the opportunity to introduce myself.

He and my companion compared tattoos. Steve showed me the armband on his left bicep. He mentioned the sexual significance of this, which made my legs go watery. It means we're a fit.

Later he keyed my phone number and email into his cell phone. Steve likes technological toys.

I didn't hear from him until Thursday. We agreed to hook up again at Toronto Pride.

I called his cell phone while eating brunch on Sunday at 1 p.m. and asked if I could watch the Pride parade with him and his friends. He said they would be watching from the west side of Yonge Street near Bloor.

When I got to Yonge Street, it was barricaded. I walked for blocks, but couldn't find anywhere to cross to the west side. I reached Bloor Street without seeing Steve. In a crowd of more than half a million people, I did see Martin and Daniel on the far corner. But with no way to get across, I turned and walked dejectedly down Bloor Street.

Suddenly there was Steve in front of me, hugging and kissing me. They had been blocked by the barricades, too.

His friend John took the picture while we were waiting for the parade to start. The cutie in the cool shades is their buddy Morgan.

We spent the next 14 hours together. The best part was the Beef Ball on Sunday night at Fly.

We discovered we chatted a couple years ago online but never had a chance to meet. I remember his caution. He remembers a photo of me standing with a black dog on the dock at my cottage. He still has it on his computer.

At 4 a.m. Steve had to leave with John to drive home to Cambridge.

He is generous with affection but cautious in other ways. This is a good thing, because Van tends to lead with his heart. If anything happens, it's going to take time.

He is 33. He lives half an hour away. He has a hot tub.

I have never enjoyed Toronto Pride quite so much. Sunday was one of those days I want to remember forever.



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100words.com was down for a few hours, but it's back online. Here is my link:

100 Words - June 2003 - Silvan