My days had developed a predictable rhythm, shaped around the contours of being a Tart: I slept in until around noon, then spent my afternoons exploring the City, although I also did some deliveries or an odd job in an office to help pay for the cost of living here. I ate dinner at an earlier hour so I could be in the office by 6:30 pm. When I got to the office, I spent as much time as possible with Felix, cracking jokes, horsing around, all while getting my makeup on and picking out clothes.

I headed out on several runs each night. Honestly, I didn’t mind any of them. They all had different personalities; each required its own level and type of energy. The run that took the most effort for the least payoff was the Castro. I only made money if I was totally loud and ostentatious, almost cartoonish. It was a huge amount of work, since I was not that extroverted, and my mediocre sales brought down what was otherwise a steady climb in profit. Still, Selene insisted it was good practice.

After going out on my runs with either Felix or Thom driving, I cashed out, went home, and collapsed into bed.

Tonight I was out with Thom, who was even grouchier than usual for having had to fix his lemon of a car. We had just dropped off Meredith and a new British girl named Beth, but Thom was just sitting there, silent. Since it looked like he wanted to say something, I gave him a moment.

“Listen. There’s a place that Selene’s been wanting to get our foot in the door, and they told us we could stop by anytime. But it’s not a typical place, and not every girl would be up for it. As a matter of fact, I’m not even sure how it would go, and I wouldn’t be with you, so if anything goes wrong, you have to bail and wait outside while I come and get you.”

I was so perplexed by this speech, and the idea of Thom being with me while I did sales. I had no idea what he was talking about.

“How bad could it be? Is it some sort of kinky leather bar?” I joked, laughing. “Because sign me up, baby! Ha-ha.”

I waited for him to laugh with me. He didn’t laugh.

“Oh. So it is a kinky leather bar?” I said uncomfortably. I mean sure, I was a progressive woman, getting more open all the time, but I was still just a girl from Modesto. I got a thrill when I thought of what I’d tell Jana. I got a sense of dread when I thought how I’d have to keep this from my dad. For the rest of my life.

Thom had never looked so uneasy, and that’s saying something. In two months of working with him, he’d never stopped being grumpy, closed-off at best.

“Noo-o, it’s not a leather bar, exactly.” He sighed heavily. “Actually, I don’t really know. It’s called the Power Exchange, and it’s a kink and fetish place. They have different floors for different things. Like I said, Selene wants us to check it out, but most of the girls don’t want to go in there. If you don’t want to… I’ll just tell Selene….” he trailed off again.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll do it. I mean, if it’s for Selene, then no problem. Any chance I would win points with you over this?” I asked, trying to improve his mood.

“Well, it’s one less thing for me to do I guess,” he muttered. Great. Thanks for the big props there. Don’t strain yourself.

Thom parked us in front of an imposing black façade, not far from Mission. He dug through the glove box, retrieving a wadded-up scrap of paper with a code on it. He pointed out the entrance, and reminded me to call him if I needed anything.

“Remember, we have no idea what kind of sales you’ll do, how long it will take, or anything. Just go slowly, and we’ll meet back here in 30. Don’t be late.”

I headed through the door and immediately climbed a long set of wide black stairs, lit at the top by a cheap, dingy light fixture. I heard distant music.

I didn't see a bouncer, so I stepped through the door that opened to my left. The walls were wood-paneled, and cheap neon lights flickered. A long pool table sat in the middle of a large, open room. There was no bar, no staff, and no food served either. Not even a jukebox. An adjacent room seemed to have dark corners where customers were making out. I didn’t see anything that wouldn’t be seen in a regular bar, but the energy was so different that all the hair on my arms stood up.

I saw a hallway in the far corner of the room, where I discovered a staircase leading to an upper floor. A woman at a small podium stopped me with a sweet smile. She was the first person I saw who seemed to actually work there.

“Men only upstairs, honey.”

“Oh. I can’t even do a walk-through?” She shook her head no.

I was at a loss as to what to do next. Thom had seemed scared to have me go in there, but other than the willies, it was sort of a letdown. If this was the only floor I could work, I wouldn’t be there more than 10 minutes, much less 30.

“Of course, you could always wander downstairs.” She gave me a knowing smile. I smiled back uncomfortably. I’d be damned if I was going to be intimidated now. I was in there already, wasn’t I?

“How do I get there?”

She gestured behind me, and I saw another wide, black staircase leading down into utter darkness.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

I took a breath and walked down the stairs. I reached the bottom, went through the open doorway on my left, and paused a moment so my eyes could adjust to the blackness.

I followed a wandering path past small, open stage areas. Most of the stages were empty, but on some of them I saw…performances going on. The air was thick with sexual tension, both withheld and enjoyed. Most of what I saw was only surprising because it was happening outside of the private bedroom: a couple was engaging in missionary sex on a bed, and a threesome between two women and one man began by making out, though it looked like the second woman wasn’t very into it.

I was baffled as to how to work this area for sales. The people on stage were very…in the zone of what they were doing. The few people watching were also totally entranced, and I certainly couldn’t interrupt them. I tried to discreetly offer some cigarettes to a few couples, but everyone turned me down.

Further along my wandering, adult-Disneyland-like path, I came across something else entirely. Women were on their knees, ball gags in their mouths, getting spanked on the ass. A couple of guys demanded their slaves come over, so they could sit and prop their leather-booted feet up on their backs.

As I approached, one of the dominant men glanced up and saw me. His eyes took in everything about me, and I felt strangely naked, despite my clothes and the distance between us. He nodded for me to come over, and I walked closer, cautiously. He snapped his fingers, and the slave he had his boots on jumped up. I was nervous about what was going to happen, but determined that since I had his attention, I might as well try to make the best of it.

He gestured for his slave to approach me, never taking his eyes off mine. I boldly stared back. His slave started caressing my hair, running his hands up and down the straps of my tray, tugging on it for me to take it off. I shook my head No, and the leader stood up, and leaned into my ear. He whispered, “Take that off.” I shook my head again, No. He slowly pulled a whip from his waist belt, and started snapping it against the floor, lifting his head in a nod, beckoning his slaves to circle me and draw me in. I took a staggering step back, and fled down the corridor. I could hear laughter echo in the dark hallway behind me.

I was starting to get really freaked out. I didn’t really see how my being there was going to help Selene, so I went back up the stairs, and was relieved when I saw the pool table, and a handful of patrons calmly having a game. I hurried across the room to the original staircase I had come up, and sat down on the stairs.

I didn’t really understand how people could find a way to connect through those… games. From the outside it looked so contrived, so expressionless. I didn’t see any tenderness, any love. I wasn’t sure that I got it, but maybe it just wasn’t for me. And I couldn’t imagine doing anything like that publicly. Even if I wanted to try a few new things, it would be at home, never where other people were watching, judging, leeching off the energy of what I was experiencing.

"I can’t believe I just walked through there! I can’t believe I agreed to that!" I thought to myself. I was thrilled I did something new, but it was a bit more of a diving-in than I was comfortable with. I decided to blow off the last ten minutes so I could compose myself.

I checked my phone, and saw that it was close enough to the time to go downstairs to meet Thom. He pulled up a few minutes later and looked at me anxiously.

“Well?”

“It was definitely an experience. I don’t think I’m up for going back. I am not sure we would do well in sales there, either. Everyone was pretty… focused on why they are there.”

“Anything else?”

“Not unless you want to talk about ball gags and slaves,” I said, laughing nervously. Thom was silent on the way to Fiddler’s Green.

Fiddler’s Green was a refreshing change after the Power Exchange. A classic Irish pub, the downstairs was bright, cozy and cramped. Several of the older patrons beamed when I walked in the door, and started playing with my various lights, toys, and Pez dispensers. They were all good sports, laughing, telling jokes, and even buying a few things just to help me out.

In a much better mood, I walked up the back stairs to a large, dark, mostly open dance floor. There was a second bar up there, and two older ladies sitting in front of a bored bartender immediately waved me over. Two older gentlemen sat at a table nearby, but they were intent on their conversation. Two younger men stood out on the breezeway, laughing and clinking their beer bottles over some personal triumph.

The two ladies tittered and giggled, slightly tipsy. The elegant, chignon-wearing one on my right pulled out a flower, a pack of cigarettes, and a pack of gum. “Dear, I will buy these from you, and will even tip you well, but you must do something for me.”

I nodded yes enthusiastically. She was so adorably cheerful, and the thought of doing something for this sweet older lady was washing away all traces of my lingering apprehension.

“Take this rose over to the gentleman in the hat at that table. Tell him it’s from his lighthouse love. Will you do that, dear?” She looked up at me, smiling.

“Of course. Any other message?”

“No, dear, that’ll do quite nicely.” She cackled with her girlfriend, slapping her knee and waving her victory fist in the air, as if my doing this would make her evening complete.

I made my way over to the two older gentlemen and waited patiently for them to pause in their conversation. They barely noticed me, but when they did look up, they both looked astonished; their jaws hinged open and they sat there, gaping.

“Hi there. Sorry to interrupt. I’m not here to sell you anything. Unless, of course, you need something. But mostly I’m here because I have a gift and a message for one of you.”

They looked back and forth to each other, gesturing with their fingers as if to say, "Who, me?"

I didn’t want to draw out the suspense, so I said, “This rose is from your lighthouse love.” I handed the rose to the man in the hat, and even gave a small curtsy. I wasn’t sure why I added that. It just felt right.

His face froze for a moment, and then softened, as he got lost in a memory. His friend looked totally puzzled, so he must not have known what the reference meant.

The man with the rose looked up at me, his eyes gleaming. “That rascal of a woman. I thank you, love. I know exactly what to do about this.” His face crinkled up into a smile, and he pushed back his chair, and stood staring past me to the woman at the bar.

I stepped back, not wanting to interrupt their moment. He did a little jig across the floor, finishing with a flourish in front of her and her friend. Both ladies clapped their hands in encouragement. He held out his hand, which she took, and despite the modern music playing, they started a slow waltz. He caressed her cheek with the rose; she gave his jacket’s pocket handkerchief a tug, freeing it into the air. He handed her the rose; she tore off the bottom, placing the bloom in his top pocket.

I smiled and headed towards the breezeway. The boys on the balcony, who caught the whole thing from outside, purchased a few items quietly. They too were blown away by the romance and grace they had just witnessed. We shared a moment of appreciation. Light-hearted, I floated downstairs and stepped back into the night.