“That could be,” he replied. “But I think we're both talking through the same kind of hat. I'll bet that if you'll admit the truth, your ideas of fun in some departments are just as crazy as mine. Since you can afford it, I'm surprised you have never heard of The Club.”

“What is the club you keep talking about?” I demanded, hoping he had not guessed my secret urges, but also hoping that possibly he might be leading me toward a way to satisfy my off-beat urges. “I can afford almost anything that's fun. Tell me more about it.”

John refused to talk much about it, but after I had promised to maintain utmost secrecy about anything I learned or saw, he offered to take me to this weird place, The Club, as his guest that evening”. He promised me that I'd find it amusing and entertaining in any event, and if I really liked what I found there, he would see that I became a member. We arranged to meet at his office at five.

Not knowing what to expect, I struggled through the afternoon and the hands of the clock on my desk seemed welded in place, so slowly did they move. I didn't know whether to fear what was coming, in the way of a disclosure of my perverted tastes, or to hope that John understood my desires and knew of a way to provide actual satisfaction for me, better than just daydreaming myself into ecstasy.

When I entered his private office, he calmly told me that he had arranged things for my visit at The Club. We casually left the building, as at the end of any normal business day and he led me in a short walk across town toward the east side where the neighborhood was very middle-class, with lots of small stores containing delicatessens, laundries, beauty-parlors, dry-cleaning establishments and similar small businesses.

In front of a row of these nondescript stores, John stopped by a small panel truck, and quietly said, “Here is our transportation. We'll just hop in the back and start on our ride.”