1 Chapter 1

1

It was a large, dark building in an upscale neighborhood. The houses here were large, on massive tracts of land. You could tell there were lights on somewhere inside, but they were low. Only the light on the front porch was on. There wasn’t anything that said anyone was in there, or if they were, that they were awake. I sat in my car, waiting. It was eight-forty P.M.; I was early. She’d said nine o’clock sharp. I took a deep breath as I sat there nervously. I had no idea what was going to happen. This was totally new to me.

Earl had bragged so much about what a wonderful experience it was. I’d urged him to tell me what had gone down for him, but he said he couldn’t. If I wanted to know, I’d have to go there myself.

Why would anyone go to a prostitute? Sex is out there. Why pay for it? Of course, Ihadn’t had any in a couple years but that was my own fault. I wasn’t looking very hard and I was extremely choosy.

“She isn’t a prostitute,” he insisted. “I didn’t have sex with her.”

Then why did he go there? I really didn’t understand.

“She’s a professional dominatrix,” he tried to explain to me. “You should go to her. You’d find out a lot about yourself.”

“I’ve been to shrinks. I never found out anything,” I insisted. “One even told me everything was all my mother’s fault.”

He’d shaken his head.

“Try her once,” he insisted. “What do you have to lose? You’ve been looking for something. This might be it. It might change your perspective on things.”

“How much does she cost?” I asked him.

“Three hundred and fifty for the first one-hour session.”

“Three hundred fifty dollars?” I was astounded. “That’s preposterous.”

“It’s less expensive than your crazy psychiatrists and it gets cheaper after that. It’s worth every cent. Try it.” The look on Earl’s face showed real concern. Good ol’ Earl. He was like a little brother to me. He was always there,sometimes whether I needed him or not. He knew me better than my real little brother.

I had mulled it over for several weeks. Every time I saw Earl he’d ask if I’d called her. I finally decided that he was right. What the hell! What did I have to lose except three hundred and fifty dollars? I’d spent a hell of a lot more than that on one psychiatrist after another. At one hundred and twenty dollars an hour over more than two years it had added up. Three hundred and fifty in one shot was a lot cheaper; much less than a month’s worth. So I dialed the number Earl had given me.

A young woman’s voice answered.

“I’d like to speak to the Mistress, please,” I said.

“Just one moment,” and I was put on hold. A minute later another voice answered. It was an older voice, but not reallyold,just more mature.

I introduced myself, told her how I had gotten her number, and asked if she had services for women.

“Straight or lesbian?” she asked.

“Lesbian.”

“You?”

“Yes.”

“How old are you?”

“I just turned forty.”

“Do you know the price of a first session?” she asked.

“Earl said it was three hundred and fifty.”

“Correct. In advance, no refund.”

“Can you tell me what I’m paying for first?”

“Not really,” she said with a chuckle in her voice. “Everyone is different. There’ll be a special program designed specifically for you. I’ll interview you before you come here.”

I took a deep breath. “Oh, all right. I guess that’s fair. How do we get this started?”

“Do you want to pay by cash or credit card?”

“Credit card.” I gave her my Visa number.

“Is the number your calling from good to reach you in the next hour?” she asked. “I’ll need to start the interview as soon as we can.”

When I assured her I’d be here for the rest of the evening, she said she’d call me later tonight and hung up.

I sat back and it hit me.

Oh my God,I thought, I’ve just given my credit card number to someone I don’t know and I have no idea what I’ve paid for, if I’d paid for anything at all. What am I? A total idiot? I’d never dare pay for something sight unseen.

I’d been searching for something in my life. I didn’t know what it was. I’d dated several times since my last long-term relationship ended a couple years ago, but no one seemed to be what I was looking for. Some were too young; some were clingy, or unsure of themselves. Some older women were too staid, too set in their lives. One thought I was the answer to her prayers; that she’d found a meal ticket. There just didn’t seem to be anyone out there for me.