by Emilie Collyer
We return to the kink dungeon from a few weeks ago where we met professional Dommes, Dee and Kay. The same props that were in evidence then are here now too – caps, suits, short grey-haired wigs, glasses, generic round pale face masks – but this time the women are packing them away.
DEE: I can’t believe it.
KAY: End of an era.
DEE: And what stupid reason did they give?
KAY: Some bullshit about zoning.
DEE: Do you think it’s locals that complained?
KAY: Nah. They protested the closure, we’ve been getting flowers and gifts and messages of support all day.
DEE: So what’s the real fucking reason?
Kay holds up the generic, pale, round face masks.
DEE: What?
KAY: During the raid⎯
DEE: ⎯which was ridiculous⎯
KAY: ⎯yeah well it’s a thing they do now⎯
DEE: ⎯but they found nothing⎯
KAY: Well yeah, not quite. Beat. One of the feds took one of these (the mask).
DEE: And?
KAY: And that was when the licensing paperwork suddenly developed ‘problems’.
Beat.
DEE: And you think … ?
Kay shrugs.
DEE: Nah. That kind of thing doesn’t happen here. This country’s built on people taking the piss out of politicians.
KAY: Is it?
DEE: So you’re telling me, some doofus showed one of these masks to the Prime Minister and he took it so personally he ordered us to be shut down.
KAY: I have absolutely no way of proving that.
DEE: I mean it’s just stupid, more than anything else.
KAY: An activity that’s perceived to be mocking the highest office in the country could be seen as contravening the national interest.
DEE: Oh fuck off. Not you. That – as a concept. And I mean does he have no idea how kink works? That it could be seen as a giant compliment people want to get off with his round, jolly face leering at them?
KAY: I think some of the nuance might be a little lost on him.
DEE: But they can’t do that. We don’t do that in this country.
KAY: They can. They did.
Dee is crying.
DEE: I really like our clients.
KAY: Me too.
DEE: I’m going to miss them.
KAY: Me too.
A moment where they are just really sad and defeated. Then a kind of rustling sound can be heard, a few gentle thuds and some quiet knocking at a door.
KAY: I’ll go.
Kay opens the door.
KAY: (surprised) Fuck …
DEE: Who is it? Tell them to fuck off. They’ve won. We closed the fucking doors.
KAY: No, no it’s not … Um … Beat. It’s a group of babies.
DEE: What? That’s ridiculous.
KAY: They look real tired.
Kay crouches down to listen to the babies.
KAY: Their child care centre closed. Some of their parents can’t look after them anymore. They need a place to rest for the night. One of them wants a sandwich.
DEE: Fuck.
KAY: Right?
DEE: Well of course they can come in. Of course. This is a safe space. It always has been. Whoever needs it. For whatever reason. Whatever weird shit’s going down out there. If nothing else we can be here for each other. Right?
KAY: Right.
Kay opens the door wide and in come the babies, tired and hungry. One of them is asleep and the others are carrying it. Kay and Dee go about setting up little beds for them, warming milk and making sandwiches.
THE END
The Campaign & After Plays 