This chapter from my forthcoming ramblings is dedicated to fans old and new. Special thanks and love to all those who have taken the time to write to me over the years, especially my regulars. I may not have time to reply, but I read and appreciate all mails.
Merry Christmas to you all - and all the very best for 2026
Gillibran Brown
I’ve chosen to share the following chapter because I got criticism for not covering the topic in Revs, so I feel it’s the right one to put out now, if only to silence the whingers.
By way of some context, not just to how ‘Mayday’ starts, but how Bits & Bobs is loosely compiled, let me give you the final paragraph of the preceding chapter.
Okay, job done, so where shall we go to next, I wonder? Let’s toss a coin and see what side up it lands on, bit or bob. Here goes. Flicks coin in the air...
By way of some context, not just to how ‘Mayday’ starts, but how Bits & Bobs is loosely compiled, let me give you the final paragraph of the preceding chapter.
Okay, job done, so where shall we go to next, I wonder? Let’s toss a coin and see what side up it lands on, bit or bob. Here goes. Flicks coin in the air...
Bugger. I didn’t want my coin to land this side up, but it had to at some point I suppose. It was a mean business.
So what’s this bit about? It’s about Vince’s payback for the prawn prank I pulled on him, as told in ‘Christmas at Leo’s.’ Vince, in case you haven’t read CAL, was one of Leo’s playmate protégés, and a friend of my regular adversary, circus boy Jak.
I don’t actually blame Vince for wanting to pay me back for what I did to his fancy orange leather jacket. The stench of rotting crustacean clung to it despite all effort to expunge it.
A desire for revenge is part of the human psyche. It’s why I nobbled the dickhead’s jacket in the first place. He rubbed me up the wrong way once too often. Revenge is why we have laws, to stop us from revenging willy-nilly and bring some civility to the process.
When and where did payback happen? The horrible anus year, and at Leo’s place, which is kind of appropriate, seeing as the sorry saga had its origins there.
It’s no secret that Leo loves an opportunity to throw a bit of a soirée. You name it and he’ll celebrate it. High-end BDSM bashes, Sunday lunches, high teas, birthday blowouts, festive gatherings, Easter dinners, summer garden parties, card evenings, the monarch’s birthday, Hanukkah and bar mitzvahs, he embraces them all, and he isn’t even Jewish. The early May Day Bank Holiday that year was a perfect excuse for him to pop on his pinny and get busy in his kitchen.
He’d actually had one of his regular bondage weekends prior to May Day Monday. The men folk had attended the Saturday sessions, but without me. They need their playtime, whereas I’m not a scene player. I prefer having my kinky desires served at home in private with less staged, more relaxed, sub protocols in operation.
I was forewarned that Vince and Jak had been in attendance over the weekend and would be staying over for Monday’s do. With one thing and another, I hadn’t seen much of them since the prawn caper, which suited me just fine, and no doubt suited them too.
It was a cold spring that year, which meant the party would be more inside than out. Sadly, it would make it harder to avoid some kind of contact with Barnum and Bailey. On the upside, it was a vanilla event and not a kink affair. There’d be no bulging leather codpieces and bare bums on display. There’d be music and conversation instead of cries of pleasure and pain. Yep, I move in strange circles.
During the journey to Leo’s palace, I spent most of the time looking out of the car window, observing road signs by way of revision for the driving theory test I needed to pass. I wanted it out of the way so I could focus on the practical part of the process. The men folk of course knew nothing about my quest to become a fully licensed driver. It was my little secret back then. (Another downfall in the making.)
A movement glimpsed from the corner of my eye pulled my attention from the external landscape back to the internal one. Shane was driving. Dick was in the passenger seat. I was in the back. The movement was Dick leaning over to gently kiss Shane on the cheek. Shane responded with a quick sideways look, and a smile, followed by a gentle squeeze of Dick’s knee. It was a silent exchange, over in seconds, but it spoke volumes about their love for each other.
The play session they’d enjoyed at the weekend had clearly been fulfilling in more than just a sexual sense. It had nourished their emotional bond too. I’d noticed it before, this post-play affection.
Jealousy took possession of me like a savage green wraith, squeezing the breath from my body. Never, never, never could I mean as much to them as they meant to each other. Their show of affection would have hurt me at the best of times, and this was far from the best of times. I was riddled with doubts, confused about what I wanted and uncertain about what they wanted with regard to me. Their clear bond seemed to confirm they could move on from me without any trouble at all. I was as I had always suspected, superfluous, just a little extra that you could take or leave.
My day was ruined.
On arrival at Leo’s, when I climbed out of the car, Shane decided to have a few words, putting a hand on my shoulder, not by way of affection, but warning.
“No aggro with Jak and Vince. If you can’t be civil then stay out of their way.”
I pulled away from his touch. “How about telling Beavis and Butt-Head to stay out of my way.”
“Because they’re not my concern, you are.”
“Tell you what.” I dragged my phone from my pocket, waving it under his nose. “I’ll fuck off home and save us all some stress. I’ll call a taxi. I wouldn’t want to drag you away from Dick.”
Shane, frowning, plucked the phone out of my hand. “Where the hell has this unpleasantness sprung from?”
“Come on, hun. It’s a holiday. Be nice.”
“I want my phone back.”
“No.” Shane slipped it into his jacket pocket. “Get inside and behave yourself. We’ll discuss this irrational tantrum later, at home.”
“I’ll stay out here. I didn’t want to come in the first fucking place. I’m sick of being dragged around like cheap luggage.”
Shane didn’t bother with a verbal response. Gripping my arm, he powered me towards the house.
Leo, holding an open bottle of champagne, came to greet us as we entered his hallowed halls. Shane and Dick got a hug and kiss, while I got a critical look.
“And what’s wrong with you?”
“Nowt.”
“Then tell that to your face. It looks like you’ve drunk a cup of cold sick.”
It was typical Leo and usually I’d clap back at him no problem. Not today though. Jealousy had clobbered my fragile self-esteem, leaving me feeling vulnerable and insecure, and on the verge of tears. By way of escape, I declared a need for the loo and headed for the stairs to use the upper deck facility. Leo’s exasperated voice floated after me.
“What’s his problem today?”
I didn’t stick around to hear the reply. I skulked in the bathroom, doing deep breathing exercises by way of composing myself. A jealousy attack leaves me feeling pretty shaken up.
I couldn’t hide in the loo forever, not without the risk of a queue forming outside. Steeling myself, I opened the door and stepped out of the bathroom - coming face to face with Vince, who had emerged from one of the bedrooms. He gave a malicious smirk.
“Leo didn’t say he’d hired a toilet attendant for the day. Hope you’ve done a good job in there. Don’t forget to do the downstairs one.”
The smirk vanished and he had to take a step back, as I thrust my face right into his. “Stay out of my fucking way, Vince, or I’ll drop you.”
I walked off, a little bit shocked by my aggressive reaction to his jibe. An urge to punch him in the face had almost overwhelmed me. I could never forgive him for the way he had treated Pat, an old friend of Leo’s, who might have become a friend of mine if he hadn’t died.
Vince called after me, trying to save face. “Later, bog boy.”
Without turning around I raised my hand and gave him the finger.
I headed for the kitchen, going to the fridge to see what drinks were on offer for me. Bloody Pepsi as usual. Leo had given up on sourcing zero-alcohol beers and wines. They all tasted foul and most of them gave me a chemical induced headache every bit as bad as a hangover. I tossed ice cubes into a glass and poured Pepsi over them, slinging in lime wedges from the cocktail accoutrements on the kitchen island.
Sitting on a barstool, I used a glass stirrer to poke at the lime wedges in my glass. For two pins I’d have tipped in a generous shot of vodka. No one would know. Why shouldn’t I do what I wanted to do for a change? God knows I was getting fuck all by way of compensation for my obedience to house rules - no special looks or tender smiles.
I dwelled on the car kiss, playing it over and over in my mind. It wasn’t the first time a kiss between them had left me discombobulated. The one I’d witnessed prior to their legal union had knocked me for six, and left a wound that refused to heal.
I reached for the vodka bottle.
“There you are.” Leo bustled in carrying a couple of gin glasses. He stopped in his tracks when he saw the bottle in my hand. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Reading the label that’s all, not that it’s any of your damn business.” I banged the bottle down.
“What goes on in my house is my business, so watch your manners. What’s in your glass?”
“Poxy Pepsi,” I snapped. “Try it, if you don’t believe me.”
He bloody did. Taking the glass he sniffed it and then took a sip before wiping the rim and handing it back.
“Make sure it stays that way.”
“Who do you think you are, Leo?”
“I’m a friend, if you but knew it.”
“Well, you’re not the boss of me. If I want a vodka, I’ll have one.”
“Not under my roof. If I thought for a moment you had, I wouldn’t hesitate to let Shane know, and then you’d be one sorry young sub.”
He popped the lid off the ice bucket and began heaping cubes into the gin glasses. “Talking of Shane, he’s been wondering where you are. Go and show him your face. Try and put a smile on it first. You’re a pretty gift for a man to have on his arm when you’re smiling.”
“Shane doesn’t give a shit where I am, as long as it isn’t between him and Dick.”
“Snarling, yet again. I told Shane to cage and muzzle you when he came in, save us all some grief. Look, foolish child, don’t test Shane today. He’s sick and tired of your strops. From all accounts you’re a difficult boy to live with of late.”
“Shut up, Leo.”
Hopping off the barstool, I walked out of the kitchen, pushing past Vince who was hovering on the threshold, eavesdropping no doubt.
I was in no mood for socialising, but seeing as I had little choice, I took a walk.
Leo has a wide range of friends and acquaintances so there’s always guaranteed to be someone you know at his parties, and equally quite a few you don’t, depending on the kind of gathering.
Most people were already arranged in groups, sitting here and there, chatting, laughing, eating and drinking. I looked for familiar faces, and saw a few I knew enough to smile and nod at in passing, but not well enough to move in on. I just didn’t have that kind of confidence. Rob and Howard were away on holiday and Mike was working in Europe, so I felt pretty much on the margins of this particular gathering.
I recognised a few scene people, leftover houseguests from Leo’s BDSM weekend. Ian was there, resplendent as ever in gleaming black cowhide, though to be fair he was wearing a tight white t-shirt over his trousers, his concession to normal attire. There was no sign of his terrifying wife, Trina, for which I was grateful. I’d met them at a Boxing Day Bondage Bash and we hadn’t, shall we say, bonded well. I wasn’t conventionally sub enough for them.
Jak was sitting next to Ian, close enough for their leather trousers to copulate and produce a calf. I knew from the men folk that Ian had taken Jak on as an acolyte at last. It was an honour, apparently, to serve a grand dungeon master like Ian. To my mind, alien abduction would be preferable to an encounter with Ian and his sadistic missus.
I spotted the men folk talking with a couple of people I didn’t recognise at all. One was an olive-skinned woman who looked, quite honestly, like a goddess. She had black hair styled in a plaited coronet and was elegantly garbed in a tailored white dress. Shane was in animated conversation with her. He had a glass of champagne in his hand. The only one he’d permit himself because he was driving. Still, at least he got one.
I might have joined them, had Shane not placed a hand on Dick’s back, just for a moment, in one of his unconscious gestures of intimate possession. This man was his it said, and he didn’t care who knew it. Jealousy sidled up and dripped poison in my ear: so where does that leave you, mate? You’re just a docking hole for their dicks.
Some sixth sense made Shane aware he was being observed. He glanced around, meeting my eye. There was no intimate gesture for me. He gave a small nod of acknowledgment and then went back to his conversation.
I left the room, doing a bit more wandering, before making my way to Leo’s spacious dining room, where a buffet was laid out. There was hot food in heated serving trays as well as the usual finger food. As always, Leo had provided a feast fit for royalty, but I had zero appetite. I loaded a plate with an Asian-style chicken dish, by way of something to do rather than anything else, taking it back into the kitchen to eat instead of hobnobbing with other feasters.
There was no one in the kitchen, which suited my mood. My Pepsi pint was still on the island counter where I’d left it. I put my plate next to it and climbed back on the barstool. The ice in my drink had melted so I popped in a few more ice cubes. Soft drinks are only palatable when they’re chilled.
Genny, Leo’s posh puss came in through the cat flap, her raucous voice crying a greeting. Jumping up on the counter she tried to cadge some chicken from my plate. I shooed her off, worried the chilli in the dish would do her harm.
I tickled her behind one ear. “I’ll get you some plain chicken in a minute, okay?”
“Talking to animals, is that because no one else will talk to you?”
Vince swaggered into the kitchen, putting his empty beer bottle into the recycling box, before going to the fridge to get a fresh one.
Genny gave a small mew of disgust and jumped down from the counter, stalking from the room.
“You’re not exactly drowning in company, Vinny. Even the cat doesn’t like you. From what I’ve heard Jak prefers other company these days too.”
“He plays a set with Ian now and again. I get plenty of action without him.” Vince took a swig of his beer, smacking his lips in an exaggerated display of enjoyment. “You’re still on Coke, I see.”
“Pepsi actually.” I carried on eating the chicken I had no appetite for.
“Watched Shane and Dick play the other night.” He gave a low whistle. “Intense, as always. Leo says Shane is open to a threesome, if they can find the right guy, you know, seeing as you’re not a player. Shibari with Shane would be right up my street.”
He was bullshitting, but it needled me all the same. Reaching for my Pepsi, I took a long drink.
“They never mention you, did you know that? I’ve noticed before. It’s like you don’t exist when you’re not with them. Why’s that I wonder?”
“They never mention you either, Vincent. You’re not even a blip on their radar.”
“We’ll see. Rumour is things aren’t that great between you and them. You’re more high maintenance than you’re worth, and you never were in their league anyway. I’ll be there when it goes shit-shaped for you.” He took another glug of beer. “I’d like to say it’s been nice talking to you, but it hasn’t.”
Fucking twat. I watched him slither out of the kitchen like the snake he is. I finished my drink and then fished out one of the lime wedges and sucked it. It was bitter, like me.
“There you are.” Dick came into the room, walking over to me, caressing the back of my neck with his elegant fingers. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it, but he has beautiful hands. Like the rest of him they’re slender and fine boned.
“What are you hiding away in here for?”
“I’m not hiding. There’s no one I fancy talking to that’s all.”
“Has Vince wound you up? I saw him come out of here looking pleased with himself.”
“He’s an arse. He doesn’t bother me.”
“Then what is bothering you? You were fine when we set off, and now you’re in a dark mood. What triggered it?”
“Won’t Shane be wondering where you are? You’ve been glued to him all weekend. He’ll be feeling a draught in the space you’ve left.”
“So that’s how it is. You feel left out.”
“I don’t feel left out. I am left out.”
“Not true.”
“Yeah, it is. Shane makes time for you more than he ever does for me. He always has and he always will, unless he’s trying to get me out of the way, so you can go behind my back.”
There was a brief pause, and then Dick said quietly. “That’s a low blow, Gilli. I thought we’d made our peace, but clearly not. Are you still bearing a grudge over those trees?”
“No, sorry. I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. I want to go home, that’s all. I’m just not in a party mood.”
“You’re here now, and you’re staying.”
“Course I am, because what I want doesn’t count. As long and you and Shane are having a jolly good weekend, then screw me.”
“This is about us playing on Saturday, isn’t it? You were fine at the time, so what changed to make your nose suddenly go out of joint?”
I didn’t reply. How could I put what I felt into words without it sounding exactly what it was - jealousy? Dick knew anyway.
“This isn’t the time or place for discussing needless jealousy, and it is needless, Gilli. We’ll talk about it later, and about the odious nature of comparisons, a refresher might do you some good. I’m going to get something to eat. Come with me.”
“I’ve had something.”
“Raafik’s in the conservatory, he’s been asking after you. Talk to him instead of sitting in here feeling sorry for yourself. Go on, Gil, before Shane sets you in his sights. He’s...”
“Sick of me, yeah I know, Leo said, not that he needed to. He’s been sick of me since the day he met me.”
“I won’t be hooked into a negative game, Gilli, do you hear me?”
Dick’s voice had a stern Daddy edge to it. I was on dangerous ground, and sought to deflect. “Anyway, Shane’s too busy chatting up that woman in the white dress to give a shit about where I am. You’d better watch out in case she turns him.”
“Ghila is a corporate lawyer. He’s only interested in her mind. She’s nice, actually, very down to earth. You’d like her if you bothered to try and talk to her.”
“Like she’d be interested in the domestic servant you’re both knocking off.”
“Must you denigrate yourself like that?”
“There is nothing I can say that would be of any interest to a lawyer, so don’t patronise me by pretending any other. I sometimes think you and Shane drag me to these events because you both get off on seeing me out of my depth.”
“That’s enough waspish spite.” Hooking an arm around my waist, Dick swung me off the stool and gave my bum a tap. “Make some effort to be sociable, before we fall out properly, and your bottom becomes the model in a spanking demonstration.”
I might have said something I regretted, if not for leather boi Jak. He came in to the kitchen, looking for a fresh bottle of lager, and I took the opportunity to walk out. We didn’t bother speaking to each other.
I went into the lounge. There was no sign of Shane or the goddess and I guessed they’d gone to partake of the buffet.
Susan, a second cousin of Leo’s, waved me over. She looks unnervingly like Leo and has an equally confident manner, but she’s all right. We share a similar enthusiasm for gardening. I had a chat with her regarding the temperamental nature of camellias. I also took the opportunity to discuss ornamental cherry trees, and was comforted by her take on the matter.
Talking with Susan broke my social ice, so when she went off to score something to eat, I sought out Raafik, one of Leo’s regular players on the circuit. I hadn’t seen him in a while. He was sprawled comfortably on one of the sofas in the conservatory. Genny was sitting on his lap, purring like an engine as he caressed her pointed ears.
Raafik is one of those men who exude a natural grace and style, a bit like a cat. He has a quiet manner until he gets a whip in his hand and his easy elegance takes on a cruel slant. Like Mike, he’s a switch, so happy to play sub or master as the situation demands. I’d watched him play a few times and had rather enjoyed his sets, which had elements of sophisticated artistry about them. Leo described Raafik’s play as BDSM ballet. I thought it was a good description, not that I said so to Leo.
“Long time no see,” I said, as I sat down next to him.
“I’ve been home, my friend. My father died. I had things to take care of.”
“I heard. I’m sorry, Raaf.”
“He was old and not in good health, but still, it was a shock. You’ve had your own grief. Leo told me, about your mother.”
I accepted his kiss of kind sympathy, and then switched the conversation to a less emotive subject - work. Raafik is a photographer by profession with a sideline in erotic shoots for the BDSM community. His portraits are beautiful, more artistic than pornographic, and highly sought after.
We talked about work, and I asked after his wife and children. Yes, he’s married and yes his wife knows about his other life. They had an arranged marriage, and while neither wanted it, they’ve made it work to mutual advantage. She does what she wants to do, and he does his thing, and then they come together and present a unit acceptable to their conservative families.
As we chatted, I became conscious of a vague unease. Raafik was sitting right next to me, but I had a strange notion he was gradually receding. I wasn’t sure if he was moving away from me or the other way around. It was unnerving. I felt uncomfortably hot too, my skin prickling pins and needles. As if all that wasn’t bad enough, Genny’s purring suddenly magnified to an almost unbearable level. It made me want to clap my hands over my ears.
Raafik sensed something was amiss, placing a hand on my knee. “Are you all right, my friend?”
“Hot. It’s just so hot in here.” I tried to smile, but couldn’t. Sweat dampened the back of my shirt. The vague sense of unease morphed into a crippling anxiety. Raafik was saying something else, but I couldn’t hear him above the boom of my own heart. Something bad was happening, and unlike anything I’d experienced before.
I wanted to tell Raafik to get Shane, but I couldn’t speak, my jaw had tightened to the point where my top and bottom teeth felt bonded. An alarm in my brain began clanging a distress call. MAYDAY. MAYDAY.
The next thing I clearly remember is a stranger’s face swimming into view. She asked if I could tell her my name and I nodded, but said nothing. Her face swam away again.
The next time I opened my eyes, it was Shane’s face I saw. It looked grim.
Confused and scared, I tried to sit up, but just moving my head made me feel sick and dizzy.
“Lie still. You’ve had a fit. You’re in hospital.”
“Shit,” I said or might have said, I know I thought it before drifting off again.
When I opened my eyes again, I felt more able to keep them open and take in my environment. I didn’t like it. I was in a small room, painted in shades of NHS gream, a kind of cross between dirty green and yucky cream. Shane was still there, sitting next to the bed.
I made a querulous announcement. “I want to go home.”
“All in good time. You’ve had a grand mal seizure. They’re keeping you in for observation.”
It took some seconds for Shane’s words to sink in. I rejected them at once. “I don’t believe you.” I struggled to sit up, but felt too groggy, sinking back against the scratchy pillows.
“It’s true, Gilli.” Dick, sitting on the other side of the bed, looking pale and strained, held out his hand, inviting me to take it, presumably for reassurance.
I ignored it, saying stubbornly, “I don’t have grand mals. I don’t. It’s not my pattern.”
“Nevertheless, it happened.” Shane spoke up again, his voice crisp and matter of fact.
“No. You’re just trying to scare me.” I clutched at Dick’s hand, seeking reassurance, but on my terms. “Tell him, Dick. I don’t have grand mals.”
“That’s why you’re here, because it isn’t normal for you.”
A nurse appeared, accompanied by a doctor. The men folk were shooed away. Questions and lights in my eyes. Pulse taken, blood pressure noted, temperature, the works. More questions and following fingers with my eyes, followed by medical pats on the shoulder meant to convey comfort. I was exhausted and everything blurred out once more. Why was I so fucking tired?
When I woke up, Shane and Dick were still there, sitting on either side of the bed. I remembered where I was and started crying. It was emotional disturbance brought on by whatever seizure had gripped me, and my refusal to accept it had been anything more than my normal brain blip.
Shane took my hand, holding it in silent support until the storm passed. Once I was calm, he cut straight to the chase. “I have to ask this, and I want the truth. Did you drink alcohol at the party? Leo said he caught you holding a vodka bottle.”
“I didn’t touch a drop, and he knows it. Like I told the doctor, all I drank was Pepsi.”
“You didn’t take anything else?”
“Like what?”
“Drugs.”
“Where the hell would I get drugs from, apart from the crap Ryall stuffs down my neck. There weren’t exactly lines of coke lying everywhere.”
“Think, Gilli. Did you do something or take something out of the ordinary? The fit was way out of your usual range. The spasms were so severe you stopped breathing at one point. You turned blue.”
I was shocked, and frightened. “I remember feeling weird, but not like I usually feel before an episode. There was no aura, no smell, and no spider. I just didn’t feel right. Maybe it was something in Leo’s chilli chicken, that’s all I ate.”
“Food isn’t usually a trigger unless it’s lack of it. It has to be something else. Raafik said you told him you felt hot just before it happened. He said you jumped up as if you’d been given an electric shock and then crashed to the floor before convulsing.”
“I must have scared the shit out of him.” I was mortified, and more so when it dawned there’d been others in the conservatory too. I looked at Shane, pleading. “Please tell me I didn’t piss myself in public.”
He couldn’t, because I had, though Dick then tried to sweeten it by saying the room had been cleared before that stage happened, to give me space. It sweetened nothing, certainly not my temper. I lost it.
“Space? What are you saying? I must have been bucking like a demented donkey if I needed space. Christ, what a fucking showing up. I ruined that party for sure. I’m never going back to Leo’s. Never.”
“You have nothing to feel embarrassed about.” Shane gave my hand a little shake. “Nothing at all. People were concerned for you.”
“They probably thought Leo had hired a breakdancer. Did I get a round of applause when I started spinning on my head?”
“Don’t be silly,” said Shane crisply. “You didn’t spin on your head.”
“I performed a golden shower though, and it wasn’t even a BDSM party. I hope I haven’t stained Leo’s rug.”
“Oh, Gilli.” Dick, fighting a battle between laughing and crying, kissed me on the cheek. “You can’t resist being smart even when you’re hurting.”
I was hurting, and not just emotionally. I felt battered and bruised with every muscle aching like they’d suffered an extreme workout. It was horrible.
I was kept in hospital overnight. I might have been allowed home, had I not suffered another seizure. It wasn’t mega, but it was enough to scare the woman who had just handed me a cup of tea and a biscuit. I painted my surroundings in a fine shade of Tetley, and the custard cream has never been found to this day.
Once it was known I was already under the care of a private neurologist, I was discharged, and advised to contact him ASAP for further investigation. Shane was way ahead of them. He had me booked in with Mr Ryall before I even left the hospital.
In the event it didn’t need investigation by Mr Ryall to determine the trigger for my epic episode. Leo told us and it was Jak who told him. No, he hadn’t done a crash course in neuroscience to go with his circus diploma. In short, Vince had slipped molly into my Pepsi, probably when I’d left the kitchen after my row with Leo. He told Jak after the event, thinking it would amuse him to know my spectacular party piece was down to him.
Jak wanted no part of Vince’s trick, perhaps fearful it would destroy his hard-earned respect in his chosen circle if it came out and he’d said nothing. From all accounts, he and Vince almost come to blows over it. Vince couldn’t see Jak’s problem. It wasn’t like I’d died or anything. He subsequently claimed he’d meant no harm and had just wanted to help me ‘chill’ out. He then said no one could prove he was the cause of my fit because everyone knew I was an epileptic to start with. I am not. I refuse to own that label. I have an occasional brain blip that’s all.
It could have been made a police matter. It was discussed. Molly is a class ‘A’ drug and possession of it is a criminal offence in itself, let alone using it to spike someone’s drink. I didn’t fancy police interference. I’d likely end up being more of a suspect than Vince, given he was a posho and I was a pleb. He’d end up with a commendation of some kind, and I’d end up in prison for stealing his private ‘medical’ supplies.
Leo and Shane had other ways of dealing out justice. Vince, just like Dick’s ex, was banished, barred from the elite scene he so loved to pose in. Doors were closed to him and given Leo and Shane’s extensive involvement in the scene that meant a lot of doors over a wide area. He was done. Trust is an important component in hardcore scene circles, so even if he managed to weasel in somewhere else, whispers would follow him.
I wanted personal justice, as in tracking Vince down and kicking his teeth out. I raged for days, exhausting us all in the process. Shane had to resort to discipline methods to calm me down. I was grounded for the sake of public order, and threatened with physical retribution, if I didn’t rein my temper in.
Vince had, as they say, shit in his own backyard and paid a price, but his spiteful revenge also left me paying a price for months to come. I didn’t have another grand mal, but I did have more general episodes including nocturnal ones along with constant headaches. I had to put up with increases in legal medication, something that did not please me one bit. I resisted every step of the way.
The incident heaped coal on the smouldering fire of resentments that helped make that year such a horrible one. It strained relations between us all even further. I felt more and more of a burden. Their attention seemed more focused on my condition than on me as a person. I hated it. It wasn’t the attention I wanted from them. I wanted love, affection, and respect. I didn’t want well-meaning pity that could so easily turn to resentful contempt.
In retrospect, I can see I also wanted my own way, and that was a big part of the problem. As our relationship progressed they expected more of me with regard to obedience to rule, perhaps more than I was able to give at the time. Outside of the playroom, submission doesn’t come easily. In the context of relationships like ours, it’s a work in progress and one that requires not only commitment, but also a good sense of self. In some ways, I was still trying to find out who I was. It made cutting my sub’s teeth that bit harder.
Everything came good in the end, though granted there were obstacles yet to overcome. There are always obstacles to overcome when it comes to relationships.
And here ends the tale of Vince’s dish of cold revenge. He got me good, even if it backfired on him.
I suppose I could have left out the extraneous detail and merely said: Vince spiked my drink with ecstasy and triggered a serious seizure. But then again, what’s life without extraneous detail? Life is extraneous detail, sandwiched between two major events - birth and death.
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Mayday, excerpt from Bits & Bobs, copyright Gillibran Brown 2025.