THE PRIVATE PARTY

2

The address is not far from where you live, in Transfertown, one of the old unnoticeable warehouses that now could be anything – galleries, squats, meth labs, empty. They could be full of creosote-soaked railway ties or they could be full of computer servers. They all look the same, brick or stained concrete; their windows are always blocked out.

            You press the unmarked buzzer at 10 pm as told. A train rattles and roars, close by. A female voice stutters from the intercom. You say your name and look up at the video camera. The door clicks open. “Unit two F,” says the intercom.

            This hallway is not luxurious, not like headquarters: it is still a dirty factory hall, with a wide staircase going up, sheet metal doors studding the walls.You climb stairs, walk down another hall to 2F, knock there and that door also opens magically.

            And still you are in a grubby warehouse: an office with a desk, some lockers. Here are the familiar stacks of wine cases, the mop and pail. This must be the staff entrance. Sadness rises in you: this is what it always looks like, for you.

            You hear a distant thump of dance music, the clicking of hard shoes coming towards you.

            You stand there in your coat.

            A door opens and the Owner is there. He is talking on his phone; he holds up his hand to you. “Good. Good. Did you? You showed her?” He is not looking at you, smiling a different kind of smile from what you saw at his headquarters, a happy smile. “And did she like it? She was proud of you? That’s because you’re so big now. Yes, you are big.”

            You can tell from his careful speech that he is talking to a child.

            “And I’m very proud of you too. All right, I have to go back to work now. Melanie’s going to give you your bath. I love you too. Be nice to Melanie, and you listen to what she says. Okay? All right. I love you too.”

            The Owner is still smiling as he looks up at you, and you smile back. He is happy, but there is something about his manner that tells you you are not expected to ask him about the child. He does not invite personal questions.

            He is wearing another soft and narrow suit, so dark that it reflects no light, a mass with no shine or texture under the fluorescents, like a black hole. He says, “Feeling all right?”

            “Sure,” you say. “I didn’t know what to wear. Your email wasn’t clear. Except for the shoes.”

            He glances at the strappy black platforms you are wearing. “That’s because no clothes will be required. Except the shoes. Which are excellent. And a hospital gown – it’s something like a medical theme this evening. Let me show you through.” He turns and walks down a corridor, towards the thumping beat.

            Your heart is hammering hard now. “A medical theme?” you say, as you follow him. He is walking too fast. “Like medical examinations?”

            He slows. “What is it you are afraid of?”

            “What is it I’m afraid of? What anyone would be afraid of. I’m some kind of experiment? I’m wondering about my safety is what I’m afraid of.”

            The Owner stops. “I’m telling you now – and this is very important – that you will never be subjected to physical pain.” He is staring you in the eyes again. The thumping of the dance music is closer now.  “Ever. I don’t find pain erotic. And you will never be harmed. I am also telling you now that you can believe everything I tell you. Not only must you trust me, but trust is really what this whole game is about. The trust is what makes it erotic. I should also tell you that your fear is unattractive to me. What I require of you, in order for you to receive your full payment, is for you to desire to please me. For you to desire to enjoy whatever will be done for you.”

            “Done for me. You mean done to me.”

            “No. Done for you.” He holds your eye a second longer, then looks at his watch. “This is the moment for you to decide. If you are going to enjoy the experience, you must decide to do so now. If you are resisting, now is the time to leave. And to never return.”