Page 57 of Various Intentions
“The place we were going to have it has backed out,” Daphne said breathlessly.
“What? Are you serious?“ I glanced at Juno. “But Juno’s dropped off their artwork and everything.”
Daphne sighed. “I know, I know. They were very apologetic. They said they’d help us relocate Juno’s work.”
“Well, fuck,” I said.
“What is it?” Vincent asked, as his gaze met mine.
“The venue backed out. I’m just going to find out why,” I said, putting Daphne on speaker.
Her annoyed voice filled the room. “Because, and I quote, ‘They didn’t realize it was anything more than an art show. When they understood there was kink involved, they didn’t want to risk holding the event there.’”
“Goddammit,” I groaned, waving my phone in the air. “This fucking city! Sometimes I think we should live in Toronto.”
Vincent put a hand on my shoulder. “We’ll find somewhere else.”
“But it’s only two weeks away!” Juno moaned, while Charles had resumed looking stressed.
“What about the place near the airport? They have the Sexapalooza show there every year,” Matteo suggested.
“The EY Centre?” Taylor said. “Too expensive, and too popular. It’s probably all booked up. We need a less well-known location, but central enough to draw a crowd.
“Yes, but it has to be big enough,” Daphne said.
“I know, I know. I’m racking my brain,” I said, pacing the room while the others looked on.
“What about the church?” Vincent suggested. “Where the play party was.”
“Play party?” Juno said. “Whatplay party?”
I held up my hand to quiet them.
“Maybe… We could see if they’ve been reserved for that weekend.”
Juno looked at Charles. “We weren’t invited to a play party.” Charles shook his head to corroborate.
I considered the space. “That might just work. Daphne, leave it in our hands. I’ll let you know if we confirm anything. Meanwhile, maybe let the caterers know there’s been a change of location and we’ll give them the new address as soon as we can.”
We finished our meal while I fielded questions about the fetish party from Juno, then returned to the living area.
Vincent looked St. Brigid’s up online, and we discovered they had two other rooms available, besides the large one we’d been in the other day.
“I’ll call and see if we can book it,” he said, disappearing into the kitchen with his phone.
Meanwhile, I searched for other possibilities, in case we couldn’t.
The trouble with hosting a sex-positive event in a city like Ottawa was that there weren’t a sizeable number of places that considered kink and kink-expression to be an actual part of healthy sexuality, even though all the recent research demonstrated it to be so. Ottawa was barely big enough to be called a city, but in some ways seemed like a smaller, sedate township. Heavily populated by government workers and their families, it had earned a reputation as a boring and conservative spot.
I knew that wasn’t true, and that there was a vibrant, hidden world of kink underneath Ottawa’s staid reputation. However, when one was looking to go public in a way that pushed boundaries, it presented some challenges. I should have anticipated there would be issues.
Juno had already finished two glasses of wine and was pouring another while Charles looked on with rising anxiety. They put the empty wine bottle on the coffee table.
“I hope you have more of this.”
I sighed and picked it up.
“I’ll check,” I said, taking it into the kitchen where Vincent was involved in a phone conversation. I put the empty bottle on the counter and took a small bottle of San Pellegrino from the fridge, returning to the others.
