Clichés, genres

The scene takes place abroad, at a course I was taking part in, unrelated to BDSM. It's a summer evening, an evening of celebration halfway through the adventure that binds us, between sea and hills.
On the edge of the dance floor, she and I sit chatting in deckchairs. She's Austrian, athletic, pretty, in her forties... a modern woman.
Suddenly, she asks me:
- And what do you do for a living?
- I am Dominatrix.
- Do... Do what?
- Dominatrix. Key words: Mistress, whip, dungeon, submission.
- Really? Really? I didn't even know that existed! And what do your uh, customers ask you most often? Well, I'm curious!
- Fuck them.
She looked as if she'd swallowed a bitter lemon:
- To fuck them? Wait, wait, I don't understand: you're a woman, you don't have a hum... cock.
Me, puzzled:
- No, but I have belt dildos.
- A what? Dildo belts? Ooh. But, but... if your customers ask you to fuck them, does that mean they're all gay? You only get gay people, right!?
On the dance floor the music was good. I got up without answering. What was the point of trying to explain the male anatomy associated with cerebral pleasure? We'd gone far, too far.

Deconstructing gender clichés was no easy task.
(Sigh.)

Written by Madame Lule, Dominatrix in Paris.
All rights reserved.