The Bistro now Disgusts Me

CRASH!!! BANG!!! SCREEEEEEEETCH!!!!

My creative resurgence at the Little Red Bistro has come to a screeching halt.

What had become, in these past few weeks, a safe haven for creativity has become a dirty, pornographic, evil place of twisted people working out their issues.

Jeff, my old school friend who runs the place, pleaded with me to come to the Bistro on Monday nights for $10 T-Bone steaks (fantastic) and also, to join in on the life drawing that took place afterward. "Life Drawing" means nude models - I've never done that before but was certainly aware.

The Bistro is the front room of the Little Red Studio, a performance space in the back where an unpaid troupe performs "erotic theater". I know I am not the type of person who enjoys that, so I stayed O-U-T of the back room. The Bistro, however, is (or so I thought) a totally cool restaurant with great French-inspired food and creative and fun performances every night. I sang with the jazz trio there. I danced wildly during Latin Night. I felt like I had found my place. I got on a first-name basis with the wait staff.

Well, last night, my friend Julie and I ate the dinner and watched the crowd pour into the Bistro. It looked like sort of a "hipster crowd" had filled the tables surrounding the platform where the models were to pose. Other artists with sketch pads lined the wall on the other side of the room. Finally the first model appeared.

He was a man in his 40's with a classical sort of figure. Thankfully, his backside was towards me first. I decided to draw shadows. Focused on the hands and underarms. When he turned around, I did my first clinical drawing, ever, of the male organ. So far, so good. I can handle this. What was I so upset about?

About an hour later, a tattooed 400 pound woman, wearing a leather bustier, high boots and a mini skirt sauntered up to the platform. O....K - well, I have been saying, recently, that the most subversive thing a woman can be, in our society, is large and confident. She disrobed. I decided to focus on the shadows created by her breasts and the folds of her belly.

But then, she started to grab her breasts and shake them. She had on a garter belt and stockings and kept those on, while the rest of her body was nude. Clearly sexually suggestive clothing. And THEN she laid down next to the nude man and he placed his penis next to her face and they posed this way for a while.

OH NO THEY DIDN'T!!!!!!! The boundaries of good taste had just been breached. This was no longer a life drawing session. This was now kinky exhibitionist fetish performance art. I DID NOT SIGN UP FOR THAT!!! My face blanched in white-hot rage as I realized my sacred performance space had been taken over by black-hearted sick people who, I felt, were laughing at the joy and freedom I had found in that room.

I felt like my friend, Jeff, the owner, had taken advantage of an innocent soul and played me for his own purposes. I felt completely and totally violated.

I have nothing against sex. I am totally fine with nudity and can even allow the "erotic performance" to exist, as long as it is in a back room where you have to pay admission to enter.

But, don't stick your cock in her face while I'm eating my dinner.

I went home and threw up.