“Well, you’d better think of something,” Nancy said with a surreptitious glance over her shoulder. “Here she comes.”

Brad stopped in front of the pair, appearing to tower over them even though she was smaller than them both.

“Ladies,” she said smoothly. She stood casually, her legs slightly apart, her beer bottle dangling from her fingers, resting against her thigh.

“Hello, Brad,” Kyle said, meeting her gaze evenly.

“Having a good time?”

Kyle nodded. “Thanks for the beer.”

“My pleasure,” Brad said, turning toward Nancy and extending her hand. “Hi, I’m Brad.”

Nancy accepted Brad’s hand easily. “Nancy.”

“I was wondering if you two would like to go to a bar with a little more, ah—action.”

Kyle looked at Brad in surprise. Before she could answer, she felt Nancy’s hand close on her arm.

“Sure, why not?” Nancy said quickly.

“I don’t know—” Kyle said. “There’s a good crowd here tonight.”

Brad continued unperturbed, finishing her beer and placing it on the bar. “I just thought you might be up for a change.”

“Come on, Kyle,” Nancy persisted, “we don’t have any plans.”

Kyle shrugged, intrigued. “Okay.”

Brad smiled. “I’ll drive. It’ll be easier.”

Nancy and Kyle followed Brad out into the night. None of them noticed the woman watching as they drove off in Brad’s Mercedes sports coupe. As Brad maneuvered easily through the downtown traffic, she looked over at Kyle beside her.

“Ever heard of ‘Encounters’?”

“No,” Kyle said.

“You’ll find it interesting. Your friend here is cool, isn’t she?”

Nancy, who had been leaning forward in the backseat, answered quickly. “You don’t have to worry, Brad, my dear. I’ll be just fine.”

Brad laughed and looked over her shoulder at Nancy. “I’m sure you will be.”

They parked on a deserted street in what looked like a warehouse district. The broad, pothole-filled street was empty, and all the factory buildings on each side were dark. There were a few parked cars, but no one on the sidewalks. As they followed Brad down the block, Kyle felt a wave of apprehension. She felt responsible for Nancy, for one thing, and she realized she didn’t know Brad at all.

“Listen,” she said, as they stopped in front of a ground floor door unmarked except for a small sign which said ‘Private Club’, “I don’t know about this.”

Brad smiled at her as she pushed the door open. “Don’t worry. You’re with me.”

There was no time to reply as Nancy followed Brad up the dimly lit stairway toward the light on the second floor. Kyle followed.

“Hi, Brad,” a woman seated behind a small table at the head of the stairs said. “These women with you?”

Brad grinned and handed the woman twenty dollars. “Yes.”

The woman added the bill to a stack in front of her, passed Brad her change, and nodded. “Have fun.”

They entered a large room with a bar off to one side and a central stage ringed with tables. Brad led them to an empty table at the edge of the floor and went for drinks.

Kyle sat down with Nancy and looked around. The room was diffusely lit by soft, red lights, giving everything a surrealistic glow. Directly in front of them was a raised platform of some kind, with stout beams forming a scaffold. Women were seated at most of the tables and leaning against the bar. Everyone was dressed in heavy leather. There were more leather collars, studded bracelets, chaps and boots than she had ever seen in one place before. More than a few of the woman were clearly packing, the outline of synthetic penises evident under tight denim and leather pants.

“Christ, Kyle—” Nancy said in a soft voice, “that woman doesn’t have a shirt on!”

Kyle followed Nancy’s gaze and saw a small, dark woman standing by the bar talking to several others. She wore a thin leather collar around her neck and another on her right wrist. Except for her shimmering leather pants and boots, she was naked. Her well-formed breasts glinted with small gold rings through each nipple.

Kyle swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “You’re right about that, Nance.”

Nancy looked at her, amazed. “And I thought I was liberated!”

Brad returned with their drinks and sat down. “It’s early yet. Things should pick up in a while.”

As she spoke, another woman walked past leading a pale young woman by a short leash connected to wide leather shackles binding her wrists together in front of her. The bound woman’s face was obscured by a hood which entirely enclosed her face except for holes over her nose and mouth.

“You mean there’s more?” Nancy said, with just a hint of sarcasm.

Brad laughed, appreciating Nancy’s aplomb. “Oh, yes—much more.”

Kyle noticed several doorways toward the rear of the long room. Women wandered in and out of the darkened areas beyond.

“What’s back there?” Kyle asked.

“Scene rooms,” Brad said, enjoying her role as guide. “There’s space for playing— whatever game you like.”

Kyle nodded, lighting a cigarette carefully. “And privacy?”

Brad laughed. “If you want that, you can go upstairs. Very private. But, that’s part of the fun—getting to watch.”

Three women moved across the floor toward the small stage in front of them.

“I think you’ll get the idea in a minute,” Brad said softly.

Kyle and Nancy watched silently as the woman with the leash stepped up onto the platform. Her hooded companion, led by a third, stood waiting docilely. In response to a quick nod from the woman above them, the “attendant” led the hooded figure onto the stage and carefully secured her ankles with soft loops of leather to hooks protruding from the upright beam. The top then handed her a key with which she released the wrist cuffs. She stretched the younger woman’s arms out, binding each with short lengths of chain to hooks embedded higher up on the frame. She stepped back diffidently, awaiting her next instruction.

Kyle was uneasy. She turned toward Brad, who was following the activity with interest.

“Is this for real?” Kyle asked in a whisper.

Brad looked at her intently for a moment, her face expressionless. “You tell me, Kyle. What is real?”

Kyle stared back, unsure how to reply. The pressure of Brad’s thigh against hers under the table was having an effect. Despite herself, she knew she was wet. The hushed silence of the room and the haunting tableau before them heightened her arousal. She struggled to ignore the pressure between her legs.

“Do you know them?” she asked at last, hoping her voice sounded steady.

Brad nodded, placing her hand gently on Kyle’s tightly muscled leg. As her fingers trailed lightly up and down the rough denim, she answered, “The two on the stage are lovers. The one in jeans, the attendant, is a friend.”

Kyle tried to ignore the presence of Brad’s hand as it sent tiny shivers up her leg. She forgot her next words as the top stepped down from the stage and motioned to the attendant. The attendant opened a large canvass bag, handing the top a short crop with a stout handle connected to many long strands of leather. Just as quickly, the attendant stepped back into the shadows, leaving the two figures alone in the center of the stage. The room was eerily quiet as all eyes focused on the stage.

Suddenly the top arched her arm, and the sharp crack of leather broke the silence. The bound woman stiffened with the blow, but made no sound.

“Jesus,” Nancy breathed in surprise. She grabbed Kyle’s arm. “Let me have a cigarette, will you?”

Kyle handed her one, saying, “You quit.”

The crop arced again, and Kyle had to force herself not to jump. Brad’s hand rested against the material stretched tightly across her crotch, and Kyle felt naked, so intense was the contact. She didn’t realize for several moments that the stinging blows were actually falling against the bound woman’s leather-covered hips rather than her bare back. Still, the effect was overpowering. The act of dominance was real; the act of submission, no matter how staged, was real. The absence of true physical punishment was immaterial. The scene had been set, the roles defined. The stark declaration of power exchanged was inescapable and compelling. Kyle stared, transfixed, her mind clouded with lust. With every fall of the lash her pulse quickened; her clitoris twitched in response to the rhythmic pressure of Brad’s hand upon her. Finally, unable to bear the enticing pressure of Brad’s touch any longer, she pulled back in her seat, removing herself from the exquisite torment. She looked into Brad’s face, knowing Brad was aware of what she was feeling.

Brad reached over and softly stroked her face with one long, delicate finger. “You all right?” she said softly.

Kyle nodded, wanting nothing more than for Brad to continue touching her. Just the exquisite pressure of the rough seam of her jeans felt like it might make her come.

Brad leaned back in her seat, her hand dropping back into Kyle’s lap.

“Keep watching,” she said. “There’s more.”

The scene continued for what seemed like hours, the crop falling in rhythmic cadence through the cone of light surrounding the central figures. The bound woman silently endured the blows, her body straining with each contact. Finally, as quickly as it had begun, the punishment stopped. The attendant moved quickly out of the shadows and deftly released the restraints, encircling the woman with her arm. She led her to the edge of the stage and moved away again. The top reached up and released the straps at the back of the woman’s hood. She pulled it off, running her hands gently over the woman’s face. Her hands dropped to the smaller woman’s shoulders, and as she pressed, the submissive went down on her knees and lay her head against the standing’s woman’s crotch. They stood unmoving, statue-like, in the center of the room.