Angel Bay Underworld Part Two
Angel Bay Underworld
-Shawna Kahn, Investigative Journalist-
Being exposed to the tawdry arena of uncompromising treacherous and often times murky emotional decomposition, the search began at a furries convention. The furries, or people who dress up in animal type costumes for gratification seems exceptionally odd but believe it or not is actually quite tame compared to what else was unearthed. Here, in this lavish downtown hotel, a group of multi aged persons experimented in a weird and different type of fetish.
Squirrels, mice, cats, dogs, and any other critter imaginable were socializing over cocktails and eating cheese boards all the while and in amazing detail explained to one another their likes and dislikes in regard to their preferences while in costume. The “furries” liked being anonymous.
There was no judgement about body image, or hint of disapproval from their selected partner. The costumes always stayed on, though, even when the lights went out and the hotel room doors locked. Imagine mixing cosplay with foreplay and that’s probably pretty close to what this particular convention was like.
Some were open to interview, however they opted for fake names and profiles in order to hide their identities as they feared repercussions from their families or their employers. While “furries” are interesting and ostracized, due to it being new or different, most were open to talk.
When asked how they got to this position with their preferred manor of experimentation, most said they were introduced into the lifestyle by friends. It was an eclectic group of people and was dubbed the new way to swing. To each their own, but the experiences crafted in that hotel room were for almost all participants consensual.
No one was forced to be there, but they were having the time of their lives for a couple of days away from the daunting task of life, job, responsibility, and adulthood. As degenerate as “furries” may appear to the traditional ideas and expectations of normal romantic relationships, it was surprisingly comforting and even alluring if a bit strange. It was here, however, that the introduction to how deep and dark the underbelly of Angel Bay really went.
A man wearing a “furry” chipmunk costume, and his chipmunk female companion, an adult version of chip and dale, explained that in order to see the people behind the curtain, this reporter would have to expand her repertoire and cast away her norms for something that most don’t have the stomach for. He stated there is a convention at this hotel for people who into leather and not leather jackets like I was hoping.
The leather and lace convention were two weekends after the “furries” convention. Getting a ticket to this extravaganza was not easy to come by. If you have ever tried to get tickets to a big social gathering like the MET, that would be more stress-free than getting into leather and lace. One has to know somebody who knows somebody who knows somebody.
If you aren’t approved to be on the list then simply walking in and getting tickets from the door is not going to get you anywhere except thrown out. Security is as strict as if it were a celebrity invite only party. Gaining access was a multi-faceted event in and of itself, but determination and grit, spit, and little bit of wit granted exclusive access for three days.
Better lucky than good. Walking into the area roped off and on the upper floors of the expensive hotel, being escorted by security personnel in dark suits with weapons and radios, and most importantly no cameras, securing my phone and laptop in a locker on the lobby level, the first impression was why is all of this necessary.
Then once the two security guards check your ID and keep it in a bin outside of the roped off area, it becomes clearer. Confidentiality is key as the people who are attending the convention hold positions of great importance. Think of powerful positions in government, law enforcement, courts, hospital administration, business owners, the type of people who make more money exploiting others in one day than most make in a year.
Sport teams owners, car manufacturer CEO’s, major corporate entities, all demand confidentiality, and this convention was more than willing to accommodate. At $1,500 dollars a ticket a day, which does not include a room at the hotel, it’s not like just anyone can attend this event. People with disposable incomes are jammed packed into this convention. The first thing, right inside the door is a male model type of person being hung by his chest with leather straps as on lookers drank expensive champaign and ate imported delicacies. He was one of many spectacles that took my breath away.
Everyone is in some type of provocative leather or lace outfit. There is not a lot left to the imagination in some cases, but surprisingly there is quite a bit of coverage. Leather masks are required, it’s like a wretched masquerade party. Live profane acts are occurring all around the main floor. Torture devices, or pleasure devices for a perception twist, adorn the tables and walls. This was happening, this abomination of everything held dear and intimate was happening in my city.
These people could be my neighbors, live in the apartments across from my office, send their children to public schools in the area, and are here performing unspeakable violence against each other. Talk about a mind trip. The conventions purveyor greeted me warmly with a glass of $3,000 bourbon. He ushered me around, showed me more than I was prepared to witness, and explained the reasons for all the discreet and secrecy.
He pointed out prominent senators having a good time throwing money at a leather clad stripper. The whole place was like being in the middle of a hyena feeding frenzy. After the tour and the explanation, I was free to wander. One area was apparently reserved for people who liked to wear leather diapers and other leather or lace baby attire. They had others who cleaned their messes like they were babies. Another area was reserved for dominatrix and bondage. This hotel was filled with what I could only believe was the deepest darkest pit in this investigation to find the truth about the dark world normal people don’t have access to. I couldn’t have been more wrong as if I put diesel fuel into a gasoline engine. At the leather and lace convention I stumbled into a small group of people playing high stakes poker. Most were only wearing their leather masks, and a small fortune was at one end of the table where a woman who was essentially fully clothed in a beautiful red leather mini dress sat quietly as she studied her cards. I quickly took a seat behind one of the men and watched as this woman took their money and their clothing. When the game was over, she was the only one left. She elegantly scooped her winnings into a leather purse and exited from view. One of the distraught naked men ordered an expensive bottle of bourbon no doubt to drown his sorrows. He offered me a glass and an interview. His name has been changed to protect his identity.