After she finished her first beer and started on her second, she began to relax. In a detached, almost objective way, she picked out the women who were attractive to her. One woman in particular stood out from all the rest. She was across the room near the jukebox, standing with several others. About Kyle’s age but slightly taller than Kyle’s five feet seven inches, she was slender, with an athletic body accentuated by tight blue jeans and a denim shirt open between her breasts. Her blonde hair was medium length, brushed back over her ears, and falling to her collar in the back. Her sleeves were rolled up, exposing a thin leather band encircling her left wrist. As she talked she moved her hands, and Kyle imagined the strength in her well-muscled forearms. The strangers gaze flickered about the room, but she seemed to take little note of the women around her. Her eyes glanced over Kyle’s face without stopping.

Kyle felt strangely inhibited. Under other circumstances, she would not have hesitated to introduce herself to someone she found attractive, but tonight she felt uneasy about making the first move. She had a feeling there were rules here she didn’t understand. As the evening wore on, she began to see a pattern emerging. When one woman approached another, a distinct polarity developed which was unfamiliar to Kyle. While one woman was clearly the aggressor, the other appeared passive. Yet Kyle, watching with the objectivity of an observer, soon saw that the interplay was not completely one-sided. Often the woman who had initiated contact would leave, apparently her overtures rejected. Obviously, roles existed, but they were not nearly as clear-cut as they first appeared. Kyle had been there for over an hour before her first experience with this ritual occurred.

A woman materialized from the shadows by Kyle’s side. There was an almost imperceptible pressure against her left thigh as the woman spoke softly to her.

“Are you just looking tonight, or are you playing?” the voice said in her ear.

Startled, Kyle turned toward the woman beside her and replied, “I’m not sure I know what the game is.”

The woman laughed in surprise. “You’d never know that from looking at you.”

“Actually, this is the first time that I’ve been here,” Kyle said, turning slightly to study her companion more carefully. She was an inch shorter than Kyle, with curly dark hair and warm, dark eyes. She was dressed in the requisite leather vest and blue denim shirt.

The woman gave Kyle an obvious once-over, extending her right hand casually. “My name is Chris.”

“Kyle.”

Chris shook Kyle’s hand warmly before turning her back to the bar to face out across the dance floor. “There’s a pretty good crowd for a Friday night, better than I would’ve expected.”

Kyle replied, “I’m not sure what I expected.”

“Are you here by yourself, then?”

“Yes.”

“Well, from the looks of you, probably not for long.”

Kyle laughed. “I think for tonight I’m just watching.”

Chris shrugged. “Will you have another beer?” When Kyle nodded her assent, Chris ordered two and took a long pull on hers before speaking again. Finally, she said, “I’m not much on initiations, but I’ll tell you anything I can.”

Kyle nodded slowly as she sipped at her beer. “Well, I think I get the general idea, but I’m not real sure what the ground rules are.”

“It’s not much different than any other bar,” Chris replied. “It’s just that most of the women here have a certain kind of interest, if you know what I mean.”

“I think I understand that,” Kyle said. “A certain sexual interest.”

Chris continued rather hesitantly. “Well, I guess because of that, things kind of work out in a…a certain way,” she began. “If someone is interested in you, they’re not likely to come up and say, ‘Would you like to dance?’ More likely than not they’re going to stand next to you and maybe not say anything at all. Maybe they’re trying to find out how much you know about what’s going on.”

Kyle shook her head and said, “I don’t think I know exactly what you mean.”

Chris tried again. “Some of the women here will feel most comfortable if they take the lead and you follow. Others prefer it if they are told exactly what to do.”

“How do you know who wants to do what, then?” Kyle asked, genuinely unclear as to what Chris was trying to tell her.

Chris laughed a little and continued. “After a while it’s easy to tell what people are interested in. If you remember what it was like ten or fifteen years ago, it’s not all that different now. You probably remember what it was like when the ‘butches’ always asked the ‘femmes’ to dance. Even if the femmes did turn out to be butches in bed, they never let on in public.”

Kyle smiled as she recalled those times, not unfondly. There had been a certain security in knowing what was expected of you.

“Sure I remember, but it seems that things have changed in the last few years. After all, haven’t we been trying to get away from those old roles?”

“Well, things never change that much,” Chris replied. “The sort of thing that goes on in the leather scene doesn’t really have a lot to do with the old butch and femme roles, but it does have a lot to do with what these women want to express physically. It’s all more up front here.”

Okay,” Kyle said, definitely interested, “That’s clear enough. How do you tell someone else exactly what you’re in to?”

Chris surveyed the crowd before them, and said, “Look at that woman leaning against the pole over there.”

Kyle followed Chris direction and noticed a woman dressed predominantly in leather -leather pants with a wide, studded belt, heavy black motorcycle boots and a leather jacket covered with zippers. She appeared to be alone and yet she looked at no one.

Chris said, “Well, what do you think?”

“She looks pretty butch to me—like she’d be the one to call the shots,” Kyle replied.

“But she isn’t,” Chris said. “If you look more carefully, there’s a few things that tell you just what she’s looking for. For instance, her keys are on the right and she’s wearing a leather bracelet on her right wrist.”

Kyle nodded in agreement, as Chris continued. “She’s a bottom, not a top. That means she wants someone to approach her and to tell her exactly what they would like her to do. She wants someone else to take charge.”

“Does that mean she’s passive, then?” Kyle asked, with surprise in her voice.

“Not necessarily. It just means that in the beginning, at least, she’s willing to let someone else determine how things happen. You’d be surprised how often the bottom actually calls the entire scene.”

“What if someone approaches her that she’s not interested in?” Kyle asked. “Does that mean she has to go anyway?”

“No, not at all. She doesn’t reply with the correct answers or she just says, ‘No’.”

“So she does have something to say about it then?”

Chris appeared startled for a second. “Of course—if she doesn’t agree, nothing can happen.”

Kyle thought about it and then said, “What if I see someone I like and I want to go talk to her?”

“It depends on how you go about it,” Chris answered. “It could mean you just want to get to know them, or you might be letting them know you’re interested in them sexually. It’s all in how you present yourself.”

Kyle reached for a cigarette, slightly daunted. “Certainly seems like a complicated way to get to know people,” she said.

Chris nodded. “It seems strange at first, but I think you’ll find out it’s just another way of saying how you feel.” She finished her beer and turned to face Kyle. “I can’t stay, but I hope you do. Maybe you’ll find what you’re looking for.

Is that why I’m here? Am I looking for something?

Kyle returned her gaze intently. “I’ll be staying.”

As the night grew later, Kyle could more easily recognize the subtle signals passing between those around her. She was so involved in watching the others that she failed to notice the woman approaching until her vision was suddenly blocked by the figure before her.

Kyle was startled by the feeling of another body so close to hers. With a sharp intake of breath, she recognized the woman she had seen earlier at the jukebox. So close to her now, Kyle could see that her hair was indeed blond and her eyes a deep blue. Kyle found she had to look up at the woman, who was several inches taller. The stranger looked back at her intently, her hands thrust deep into the pockets of her jeans, her long legs nearly straddling Kyle’s. Kyle was at once uneasy and intrigued. When she glanced upward into the woman’s eyes she was amazed to see the insolent confidence there. Unaccountably, Kyle dropped her eyes. In that second, she fully realized that she did not know what to expect next.

“Have you figured it all out yet?” a cool voice questioned.

Kyle’s head snapped up, heat rising to her face. “I’m not a tourist!” she replied angrily. She might be out of her element here, but she certainly wasn’t a sightseer!

“Oh my! Touch a sore spot, did I?”

Kyle started to turn her back—she couldn’t believe this woman. Who did she think she was, coming up uninvited and giving Kyle a hard time? She would have told her to “fuck off,” but she had learned a little patience over the years and she knew it wasn’t worth it.

A hand closed firmly on her upper arm.

“Wait a minute! We’re still talking.” There was just a hint of laughter in the voice, as if at a private joke that Kyle had missed.

“I don’t think we have anything to say. Do you?” Kyle answered, reaching for a cigarette. She felt a little cornered, with her back to the bar, and she needed the ritual of lighting a cigarette to give herself time to think. As she pushed her hand into her pocket for her lighter, a match flared before her.