Free Playing on the Edge: Sadomasochism, Risk, and Intimacy by Staci Newmahr Page A

everywhere other than within the SM scene itself.
    In this context, community identity becomes important not merely because it represents shared interest in SM, but because it represents shared histories of living on the margins—of having been, for much of their lives and for multiple reasons, what Erving Goffman called “disqualified from full social acceptance” (1963).

    Geeks and Freaks 39

    Chapter 2

    Geeks and Freaks
    Marginal Identity and Community
    In celebration of Raven’s birthday, several of us were meeting at a restaurant in the vicinity of the club before the Horizons party. When I arrived at seven o’clock, twelve people were already seated. I waved to everyone and went to sit beside Elise, who jumped up to hug me as I approached. Four more people entered before we ordered. The place was busy, and the din made it difficult to hear each other. It was not our usual spot. The wait staff seemed slightly contemptuous, perhaps noting the preponderance of black leather—or the popularity of the fettuccine alfredo
    dish with extra garlic bread—in this particular crowd.
    At 8:30, the four of us who were scheduled to set up for the party prepared to head out. As we each rounded the table to give individual hugs to people we would see again in approximately ninety minutes, Sheryl stood up and yelled, “Wait! Wait! I won’t be there!” and rushed all of us to give a proper good-bye.
    Adia, Kim, Larry, and I walked up to the club and set about hanging decorations, putting out prizes, setting up the food—cold cuts and shrimp, candy and cookies. The CDs needed to be queued in the disk player, along with whatever special instructions James needed to cut and cue the music for special events throughout the evening.
    At 9:30, we were nearly ready for the 10:00 start. By 11:00 the place was packed—wall to wall people—and several scenes were underway. I sat at a booth next to Jesse and across from Adam, and we caught up on the day’s events.
    After a few minutes, Jesse asked me, “Do you like knives?” “Sure,” I replied.
    “Close your eyes,” Jesse said. She took my wrist. I felt a dull blade trail along the inside of my forearm. I opened my eyes and saw that it was not a blade at all, but a paper-thin, plastic card. We marveled at how like a blade it felt.

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    Adam began to dig all of his sharps out of his bag. He held out his hand for mine. I gave it to him and watched as he placed a two-bladed finger cuff over his index finger. I had not seen a cuff like that before. It was a new toy for Adam also. He dragged it along the back of my hand. We discussed how to make them, how expensive they were, and where to find them.
    Handing the cuff to Jesse, he said, “Here, try it on her neck.” “Do you mind?” Jesse asked me.
    “No, it’s okay,” I replied, piling my hair atop my head with a hair band so that my hair wouldn’t cause the blades to skip.
    Jesse dragged the blades up and down my neck, softly at first. It gave me goose bumps. When I shivered, Adam wrapped my arms in his. Within a few seconds Jesse was no longer using the blade lightly enough to tickle, and I was no longer shivering. Adam reached into his pocket, removed his pocketknife and flipped it open. Taking my wrists in one hand, he stretched my arms across the table, palms up.
    In soft voices, just above whispering, Jesse and Adam talked as they used the blades on my skin. I kept my eyes closed and focused on the feeling.
    “She marks so nicely,” Adam said.
    “I know. And look at her face. It’s like it’s putting her to sleep,” replied Jesse. “Except when it hurts,” Adam said as he pressed the knife into my skin.
    The three of us played at the booth for a while. When the impromptu scene ended, Adam stood up with his toy bag, gave me a dramatic look and said, “You ready for me?” I smirked and said good-bye to Jesse. As we wandered around, looking for an empty play area, several people called out, “Have