Wednesday, July 28, 2010

JUSTIN MONROE and the ART HOUSE - An Adult Fairy Tale

Once upon a time, in a faraway place called Monroeland, people used to whisper about a man named Justin. It was believed that he could create magic. The legend was born because of the power he had over minds. They flocked to him from all over, male and female, desiring nothing more than to be a part of his own unique world. The townspeople were curious about how he managed to do this, for they never saw him with a wand, only a camera that he carried around with him like a talisman.

Every night, when the moon was full, curiosity would get the best of someone and they would sneak down to the corner of Imagination and Creativity where the brightly colored house stood out amongst the rows of simple red brick homes that all looked the same. Not Justin’s house, with it’s one of a kind architecture that everyone seemed to describe in a different manner. Marco went one evening and described it as a castle, but Ambrosia was adamant that it resembled a cave. Old man Bryce told everyone who would listen that this was one of Justin’s magic tricks. He called it Perception.

And then, on that fateful Halloween night, a group of young guys known throughout Monroeland as The Studs because of their beautiful physiques, decided that they were going to sneak over to Justin’s place and snoop around until they discovered the source of his fabled magic. Not to be outdone, a group of girls known around town as The Clique, made up of the beautiful ones, both conventional and unconventional, insisted that they be taken along.

When they finally reached Imagination Lane, they noticed that only a single light was on in front of the house, but its beam was directed upwards, straight to the clouds. They approached with caution, each of them following the shaft of light with their eyes, so they did not notice when the front door opened of its own accord. There, framed in the doorway, with smoke billowing around him stood a broad shouldered man, with muscled legs, torso and arms, wearing nothing but black motorcycle boots and white satin briefs. The Studs and The Clique all turned to look at him and he smiled, spreading his arms wide in greeting.

"Welcome to the Art House," he told them, and then turned and walked back through the smoke.

The Clique hesitated, but after a nod from The Studs, each of them walked up to the door and passed through the smoke. As they crossed the threshold, a strange sensation passed through each of them, a feeling of complete freedom that seemed to melt inhibition, wash away judgment, and clear the senses. It was if they were seeing for the first time…really seeing, not just looking.

Together they walked down a seemingly endless hallway lined with rooms whose doors stood ajar. On the left, only darkness was visible through one such doorway, above which they could see a gold plaque that read THE RABBIT HOLE. On the right, a bluish light could be seen just past the entrance of another doorway. They moved closer and peeked inside. There were two men in the room; one of them was standing in front of the other who was sitting in a chair, with a noticeable erection. Above this doorway another plaque read INTERROGATION, and in the space of time that it took for each of them to read the words, the standing man had punched the one in the chair, so they did not see the blood and spit fly out as his erection became stiffer.

They moved forward, past more doors, seeing the alter with the beautiful dark haired man who stood naked with a large cross in front of his genitals, or the dark corner where a werewolf was mounting a kneeling man from behind with the moon shining through the window, and in yet another door, the two guys frolicking naked in a toilet stall. And then suddenly, he was there in front of them again, framed against the only closed door.

"What is this magic?" One of The Studs had moved to the front of the group to pose the question, but his voice was now full of wonder rather than skepticism.

"Where is your wand?" Asked one of The Clique, while using her index finger to trace a circle around her hardened nipple whose imprint was fully displayed beneath her white blouse.

"I have no wand," replied Justin. "Just this camera. And the magic comes from here," he told them, placing a finger to his head. "I create illusions, scenes of fantasy that I bring to life in my images. I defy convention as I tap into the sexual subconscious in each of my subjects. I free the minds and hidden desires of those like yourself and provide a visual playground for them to explore that which they normally keep hidden."

"And why do they flock to you? What spells have you cast upon these people?" asked another of The Studs, as his hand cupped his own growing erection.

"There are no spells, just opportunity. I offer them a chance to see themselves in the surreal. Far beyond the limitations that they may have placed upon themselves."

"Show us." They all said in unison, taking one step forward and gazing at Justin with unmistakable longing. It was no longer enough to be a spectator, searching for the secrets. They wanted to be a part of this world. They wanted to be crafted into his vision.

"Very well. I shall take you through this one closed door, where I keep my PLAY THINGS, but you must promise to enter only with an open mind and be fearless."

Justin withdrew a large, old fashioned brass key from his pocket, revolved to face the door and placed it in the lock, turning twice to the right and once to the left until there was an audible click. The door began to open inward as if in slow motion. The Studs and The Clique took another step forward, but came to a halt as Justin raised one black gloved hand and pointed to a set of hooks on the wall not far from the door.

"Leave your clothes and inhibitions there," he told them. "I’ll meet you inside."

And then he walked through the door.

To be continued…

©2010 - Sean Dibble

photo: Justin Monroe
(This photo has been edited from it's original version. The true version is included within the interview.)

No comments:

Post a Comment

David Costa