My mouth must have been open in astonishment while the child was talking, and now I looked more closely at her and surveyed the room we were in. “You live here at The Club? All by yourself?” I asked.

“Yes sir. My Daddy was a member here, and he brought me here a few times to watch the shows and things, and I liked them a lot. He died over a year ago, and the other members are sort of my guardians and look out for me and I live here in this room, and go to school, and have lots of nice 'uncles' for friends, and they take me on trips and to shows and out to dinner and buy me nice clothes, and I have a grand life. And since I had learned all about sex and that kind of fun before my real Daddy died, they let me do just about anything I want to with men here, as long as I don't get hurt and get my sleep, and, of course, don't tell anyone outside of The Club about the things that happen here.”

I was so dumbfounded at the matter-of-fact attitude of this cute little child that I could only look about me, trying to get my emotional balance by seeking some kind of normalcy in this crazy situation. The room was large and pleasant, with all the furniture and accessories that one might expect in the bedroom of a ten-year-old girl. The bed was huge and covered with a frilly spread. Dozens of little pillows covered it, and there were many stuffed animals scattered around. A partially opened closet revealed racks of cute dresses, and there was a couch containing many cute and expensive and well-loved dolls. Her bureau was beautifully equipped, and she had her school-books lined up on the little student's-desk where she had evidently been doing some arithmetic homework, for the paper was covered with numbers in neat columns. The main colors were in pastel pinks and blues, with ruffled lamps over the dressing-table, the desk, and the head of the bed. Altogether it was a fit and delightful sanctuary for a girl of her age, — and right in the center of this secret club devoted to off-beat sex.