I enter the nightclub nervously, and yet tingling with excitement. I’m immediately hit by a wall of noise. The party is in full swing.
I squeeze past a couple who are blocking my passage. They barely notice me. Their tongue piercings are making sweet music together.
Entering the dance floor, I know I’ve come to the right place. This is all that I had expected, and more. It’s full of tight fitting basques and leather outfits; a dominatrix paradise. Strangers gyrate beneath strobe lights, the weird and the bizarre, and I fit right in.
Welcome to the steampunk convention.