There comes a time in everyone's life were power, money, or aptitude allows corruption. This is a tale and an example of what lays just under the surface in all of us.
I was in my late twenties and enjoying the wonders of having been a man for almost ten years, holding a job more than 5, being in the same relationship over 2, and thinking I was King Shit of Turd Mountain. It was that pivotal moment when I could have easily found humility after earning so much but instead I chose hubris.
What really set this story in motion was a night out at a bar with friends listening to shitty music. We sat there complaining about each new song that seared into our heads. I kept saying "I could play better music than this!" until finally one of my inebriated friends finally said "Why don't you?". Most likely the intent there was to get me to shut up and move on, instead it was the catalyst for me to get up and approach the bar.
I went to the head honcho (or honchina, since it was a lady) and said something to effect of "This DJ sucks. No one is dancing. I can do a better job." She looked at me for a moment. A cool stare. Then she said come tomorrow and play for free and we'll see if you can do better.
I smiled like the Summer sun and shook her hand. I tried not to skip back to the table of drunken friends awaiting me but I'm sure there was a little fairy kick once on my way back. Once in the circle of adoring friends I told them I was going to right this sinking ship and show my chops. We drank, I talked shit. When I got home I went through every single CD I had and planned my big show.
The next morning books of CDs lay strewn across the floor as I sat cross-legged betwixt my computer popping in CDs and searching for the perfect mix. I did that all day. My set list changed so much that I stopped writing things down until I finally realized that I didn't even know what the hell I liked or planned on doing. I made up my mind to freestyle anyway, what with having replayed almost my entire catalog. I called all my friends and coworkers and told them to call everyone else and show up to my inaugural show.
They did. It was awesome.
I got the job as the DJ for one of the busiest clubs around.
Each time I got behind the booth and played for everyone it was the best feeling in the world. I felt like a doctor curing people's wounds. I felt the power of turning down suggestions and mocking those of inferior tastes. I got to say whatever I wanted while I was up there.
I could get someone laid with the right song and words.
Bored people turned to dancing idiots as I spun on.
Women that never glanced at me would try and use their powers to earn my trust and station. Then I could watch them dance and smile.
It was subversion and service. A blend of power and yielding. Bursts of joy and malignant humor.
Some of my favorite things were to have people come up and say something similar to "I haven't heard this song in forever!", "I love this. You are amazing!", and "I would do anything to hear...". Tips meant nothing to me. Coming up to my mixing board and asking for my talents did, especially if you stroked my ego.
Who doesn't like having their ego stroked? It's a hard thing to admit...for most. I didn't care either way as I didn't think of myself as a bad person per se, maybe somewhat South of selfish and a little East of perverted.
I had a girl at the time and she was pretty damn good. I was happy with my life and wasn't really in want of anything. So, it didn't seem wrong to let girls give me their numbers or ask me to come by later since I never actually did it. I thought of it as a harmless abuse of power. No one got hurt.
Until...
Saturday night and there were tons of people dancing and hanging out in my part of the bar. I had just played a Beastie Boys song to get all the men hype and on the floor. I used a gold standard slutty song to keep the men up and move all the women out too. There were boners and titties flying everywhere. Caligula would have approved of my methods. Hell, I was pretty turned on by the whole scene. The lights spinning. Music blaring. Young bodies sweating and emitting pheromones.
It was just such a night. Everything was turned up past 11 and I had so many requests and people standing at my booth that you could have told me I won the lotto and I wouldn't have listened. I had already found my place.
Then, she came up to the side door. I saw her blonde hair turning shades of green, red, and blue as the lights hit them. She was almost inside the booth before I put out an arm and put it to her shoulder to stop further entry. She looked down at my hand like I had hurt her feelings. She leaned towards me and asked for a song. I asked her to just write it down and motioned to my little clipboard out front. She held her free arm out and stood her ground. All the while smiling...eyes on me...lips wet.
She looked down and let her long hair spill down to cover her face and grabbed my arm that was holding her shoulder. Before I realized what was happening she was pulling herself in to me. I looked at her sidelong as I loaded another song up and yelled "What do you want?" and she dropped to her knees. Now, fully inside the booth the door shut and she was in darkness. I looked down at her barely lit face as she smiled a full set of teeth up at me and grabbed me from behind the knees.
I wish I could say I didn't get hard.
I want to say that I was offended by her forwardness and that I was committed to my partner so just such an aggression would not be tolerated.
What I have to say is I took a step closer to my controls and she shuffled along unzipping my pants.
As I watched the crowd dance, talk, yell, drink, and cavort she opened my pants and pulled them down just to the midway point of my buttocks and shoved my dick down her throat. In the darkness below me there were hands, lips, mouth, moisture, breath, and skin.
I was Dan Aykroyd from Ghostbusters.
When she was finished a song was still playing and no one was looking up at me.
I was flushed and sweating.
She stood up and kissed me quickly and walked back down to the main floor. I remember her looking at the clipboard and not writing a thing. Just picking it up and looking it over then walking back through the crowd.
I pulled my pants back up and played through the night.
My last song was The Band - Up On Cripple Creek.
