Jim Stewart


At the heart of this story is the slightly mysterious turn-on factor that leather has for some people - sometimes without them realising it? Written at a time before leather was so widely acceptable as a fashion item, today its difficlt now to imagine the time when leather had an air of danger about it.
Before 1960, tough leather was a practical protective material used by aviators and rugged adventurous individuals or for industrial clothing. In Germany it become closely associated with Storm Coats and jack boots.
Then came the era when leather-jacketed bikers were ‘Greasers’ or ‘Rockers’; often iconic men in revolt against society. These were, at the same time dangerous men or heroes?

By the Seventies, the "Leather Scene" in New York developed it's own brand of agressive, in-your-face attiude. This story was first developed at that time of coming out - not necessarily as gay but as individuals. This story/script could have become an off-Broadway play or a Ken Anger movie.

My theme is the sensual, animal appeal of leather - the look, the feel, the sound, the smell and even the taste of LEATHER.

Reactions can be subliminal or a disturbingly potent fact of everyday life for some people. The word ‘fetish’ can still freak out nice everyday people, while others are curious to know more about the excitement it might offer if they risk exploring it.

I've always said; ‘Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it’



Topics: Making 'visualisation' more potent, Theatre of the Mind's Eye and Physical Theatre.
The story begins ...


Not sure how to start this story. It's a personal jerk-off scenario.
Getting it down on paper is something of a self-indulgence. A chance to develop a bit further a collection of visual images and a dramatic situation that involve all my favourite turn-ons.
I can see the two main characters very clearly in my mind's eye as I mentally get them to act out an experience that I would really like to take part in. Not that either character is me - but they're both part of me ... no, I mean there's a little bit of me in each of them.

As I write I'm still trying to work out a way to put onto paper a mental process I follow naturally two or three times a week; that is, imagining stuff that excite me sexually.
I build up the action and visual images step by step, picturing every smallest detail of their clothes and actions, listening in on their private thoughts while they're thinking the opposite of what they're saying; watching them manoeuvre when dealing with somebody they hope to win control over ... or is it to be controlled by? I like to watch and listen and still be a part of it all.

Maybe it's more like watching a movie which I've written. But if you've ever read through a movie script you'll know how confusing that can be.
But, for the purposes of developing this favourite fantasy of the Mind's Eye, I guess that's how it's going to be. That's the basic format.



Age between 28 and 38, masculine in appearance and manner. Compact, athletic body. A successful young attorney but you’d never guess it when you see him away from his office. Untroubled by his love for leather and his male/male sexual preferences. Relaxed and calm personality but not lacking vitality. An experienced gamesman in every area of man-to-man S&M and, in particular, the subtlety of sensual bondage.

Same age, size, weight as the other man (and, secretly, similar interests) but his experience of life has been totally different. Circumstances have forced him to follow the red-neck route of High School jock role models, army buddies and construction-site stereotypic expectations. A red-blooded resolutely blue collar type who has fought against other natural instincts which have haunted him for twenty years or more - and the strain is beginning to show.

Frequenters of a Leather Bar on the West Side of Manhattan, and the streets of New York at midnight .

Scene One: 'REVERIE'

The LEATHERMAN, dressed in well used and lived-in leathers, relaxes on a leather covered bed smoking a hand-rolled cigarette.

His leather shirt and bikers pants with padded knees, the heavy-soled bike boots with metal clasps up to his knees, the Langlitz jacket and the Harley cap may be stereotypic, but they are more than a costume. They are his leisure-wear and sometimes night attire.

Smoke curls from his cigarette as the camera of our Mind's Eye allows us to see the details of his compact form and the way leather strains at the seams and where the weight of his body bites into the leather bedcover.

As the camera of our mind's eye travels lovingly across the mounds and crevasses of his body (and an attendant microphone picks up every creak and stir of leather against leather) an intimate narration "reads" his mind.

We hear a stylised reverie or private train of thought. Perhaps there is a hint of a 'B' movie detective story.

On the floor beside my bed there's a bundle of human meat sweating and straining inside a prison of black leather. As it tries to relieve the pressure on immobilised limbs I listen to the air being dragged in and forced out through the very few breathing holes in a tight-laced hood.

Sounds of breathing grow louder as the camera pans slowly down the LEATHERMAN'S legs and heavy boots to show the trussed-up figure on the floor.
The intimate voice continues as the camera explores in close-up, details of the total leather encasement and immobilisation of the 'victim'.

LEATHERMAN: From the soles of his cleated boots to the top of that eyeless, mouthless featureless helmet, it's leather all the way. Tough hide straps creak and groan - as he would groan if he could through a gag and three thicknesses of solid leather. The sound and smell and sight of his suffering body keeps me awake ... savouring a dream that might disappear if I close my eyes.

Camera holds the picture as the 'Victim' strains to find some relief inside the heavy leather strait-jacket that wraps and straps his arms across his chest. He then subsides to rest and drag in more air. From another angle we see the two figures.

LEATHERMAN: Does he know I'm here? - watching - or is he lost in his own suffocating surreal existence - helpless, totally dependent on me - his every sense distorted; no sight, hearing, tactile contact with the outside world. He can smell ... leather, taste the wedge of leather deep in his mouth. What else is left for him?

Sudden close shot of the featureless tight leather hood.

LEATHERMAN: At least his imagination is free to run riot - or has it already switched off, not able to deal with the situation? How much does he know about the effects of Sensory Deprivation? Has he read about experiments in Mind Bending; techniques for reducing even the toughest human being to a disorganised mess of mental and physical ... insecurity?

Camera begins a new journey across the body of the 'victim', catching a desperate flexing of an aching arm, the useless movement of fingers imprisoned inside the closed ends of the straitjacket sleeves.

Suddenly, the body rolls to reveal for the first time a network of solid straps and heavy buckles. These begin to flex and strain, tugging in different directions. The cleated soled boots jerk powerfully against straps which hold them pulled bent towards his tightly leather-covered ass. After a violent struggle the body subsides.

LEATHERMAN: The anger will soon die. What then? - despair - fear - or just deadening physical tension. His dependence on me is total. His very existence depends on me ... on me being what I pretended to be when we first met three short hours ago.

Camera again includes the LEATHERMAN in the picture. He still smokes what is probably pot. We continue to hear his voice, although he is not speaking - the style becomes slightly more consciously poetic.

LEATHERMAN: I am all he has in the world at this moment. If I reach out my hand and touch him - he will be grateful to know I'm still here. If I smack him - he will bear it - because he will have no choice. I am the cause of his suffering, the controller of his destiny - his only means of salvation. (He smiles down at the 'Victim') His only dread - his only hope. Without me - he would cease to exist.

The 'victim' who has been making yet another vigorous but totally ineffective attempt to gain extra ease or comfort, suddenly seems to stop fighting.

LEATHERMAN: I wonder how clearly he remembers me? Does he have any idea how long it is since I gradually and patiently manoeuvred him into his present situation?
Camera begins to close in on the LEATHERMAN's strong, masculine face.
Can he still formulate a rational image in his Mind's Eye? Who and what am I to him? Am I - any sort of reality?



A familiar New York Leather-Western-Denim bar.  Not a big crowd.  General early evening background atmosphere.  All the stereotypes present.  Camera registers leather hands on leather buns and crotches.  Keys to right and left of bulging denim, cammo and leather baskets.  Cockrings and gloves tucked into shoulder epaulets.  Hankies of various colours. The general sound suddenly fades down as we hear the voice of the LEATHERMAN speaking his private thoughts again.  This time there is a hint of Jack Webb or some TV crime drama.

LEATHERMAN: In a New York Leather Bar nothing is very real.  Everybody putting on a show - stylized costumes - every cliché in the book ...

Camera continues to pick up details - hands caressing leather thighs.  Studded wristbands, handcuffs hanging from a broad belt.

LEATHERMAN: Cliché after cliché, - stereotype on stereotype, - they’ve all read the bible - The Leatherman’s Handbook.  How many of these guys are for real?

Camera pulls back to reveal that the handcuffs belong to the LEATHERMAN.  He stands alone by the bar.  His narration continues but he is not talking as the camera includes him in the scene. He relaxes, a casual observer dressed as usual in full leather but with chaps added over leather pants for this sequence - and the handcuffs there but not ostentatiously displayed.

LEATHERMAN: This is a world for playing scenes in, perhaps playing parts we’re not suitably cast for - other times pretending to be somebody we’re not - like chameleons blending into the background waiting to pounce on some unsuspecting insect.

A STRANGER enters the bar, a rugged regular guy.  He doesn’t belong.  Perhaps the action freezes and the camera snatches a series of detailed close-ups of him:  frozen shots from different angles.  Every eye in the bar seems to be drawn towards him - not because of any spectacular good looks.  Is it just because he is out of his territory.

LEATHERMAN: Now he was for real.  Not of this world.  What is it that exposes somebody from the real world when they first walk into a place like this?  Why is he here?  First time in a Gay Bar? - but he’s not strayed in by mistake.  This Leather Fantasy first came alive when he walked through the door.

Background noise and action bursts into life again as the STRANGER crosses to the bar and orders a beer.  The LEATHERMAN stands watching from further down the bar.

LEATHERMAN: I take careful note of every detail, every sign.  Why is he here?

STRANGER notices the LEATHERMAN watching him - and looks away again - without any sign of embarrassment.

LEATHERMAN: Not looking for a Leather Master.  Then what?

Young LEATHER QUEEN brushes close to the STRANGER - but he isn’t buying what’s being offered - pretends not to notice.

LEATHERMAN: He’s here for some purpose - some mission.  He didn’t get that army jacket at a Surplus Store - but the insignia’s been stripped off - including sergeants stripes.  Who or what ... he could be a cop ... no, too obvious. I watch him close as he watches the Scene - like he’s looking in through a window.

The crime-watch type commentary continues.

LEATHERMAN: From out-of-town, definitively blue collar - and married - perhaps divorced - ex-’Nam?  What’s he looking for?  Has one of his buddies strayed from the straight and narrow? - or his son - he could have fathered a sixteen-year-old.  Or is he considering an alternative lifestyle - sexwise?  Or hunting somebody down - a revenge mission?  Let’s hope he’s looking for a few answers to his own questions ... ?

The STRANGER again catches the LEATHERMAN watching him - and this time deliberately doesn’t look away.  He holds the contact.  There is no resentment, no challenge, no invitation.  The STRANGER’s face just registers “I know you’re watching - so what?”

LEATHERMAN: I play a gambit that doesn’t always work.

LEATHERMAN points a gloved hand directly at the STRANGER - and then turns the finger to an unmistakable beckoning motion.  It is a command; ‘Get over here’. The STRANGER considers alternatives - then with deliberate casualness picks up his beer can - and makes his way over.  Obviously this guy can deal with almost any situation.  He stands before the LEATHERMAN. This becomes the first dialogue sequence:-

STRANGER:     You want something?

The question is not belligerent - but carries a hint of warning.  The LEATHERMAN nods gravely.

LEATHERMAN: I want to know why you’re here - and what you’re looking for.

The STRANGER considers the approach and takes his time before asking:-

STRANGER:     You a cop?

LEATHERMAN acknowledges the handcuffs hanging from his belt.

LEATHERMAN: If I said yes - I don’t think it would phase you.  Would it interest you? (STRANGER gives a noncommittal shrug)  These cuffs do not mean that I’m into crime prevention.  Let’s say I’m a student of human nature.  You are a stranger in our midst - I am a native of this scene - but I do have an existence in the Real World.

STRANGER:     School teacher?

This is a challenge, a provocation, a criticism which the LEATHERMAN acknowledges.

LEATHERMAN: Lawyer - but I enjoy teaching.

STRANGER:     OK - Your Honour - or do I have to call you Sir?

LEATHERMAN: I’m, not into Master/Slave relationships - just for the record - Sergeant

STRANGER:     Ex - and you?

LEATHERMAN: Ex ... Sergeant Instructor.

The STRANGER smiles - end of dialogue sequence. The live action around the bar continues as the two men chat and finish their beers and order more.  Instead of hearing them talk - we hear the voice of the LEATHERMAN pick up the narration.  The voice is now more natural - and urgent.

LEATHERMAN: (voice only)  The link is forged - the path is open.  My role-play adjusts to the situation.  I know the key that will open the door that’ll lead to where he’s at.
They take their beers to a quieter corner away from the music.


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