‘Ugh, I just really appreciate the fact that they’re not yet bogged down in the politics of the scene. So that’s me … What about you?’
‘Human woman, tired, sad, on a date with you, not wholly sure what a sadist is.’
He nods. ‘Cool, cool.’
He takes a series of turns and the streetscape shifts to being unfamiliar as we drive through an industrial area. Women disappear in places like this; I’ve seen it on prime time. A girl in a crop top wanders into an underground rave, and within two ad breaks she’s carried out rolled up in a carpet. What if he assaults me? I shouldn’t have told him I was tired. I straighten my fingers in my lap, ready to strike. I will aim for the inner corner of his eyeballs. My body, my choice. I think of everything I have on my person. No weapons, nothing. Not even keys or a bag. I only have a credit card in my back pocket. I flex my jaw. I could bite him, I suppose.
I slow my breathing down, so it’s hard for him to tell I’m frightened. I glance over at Leo squinting through the windshield at the numbers on each of the lots, and place a hand over the buckle of my seatbelt, ready to undo it and bolt into the night. I turn in my seat to see whether the lights of the town are still visible. They’re not. I could fling myself from the car now and make a break for it, but I need more of a head start; I’ve never been a fast runner. My only other option is to attack him before he attacks me—or should I wait until the violence has begun? Or is it the fear of violence that starts the violence? Like every other woman, I have spent most of my life trying to avoid sexual violence, yet here I am on the eve of my mother’s funeral, at an industrial lot with a sadist. Interesting to note my spiralling in real time. Strange to bear witness.
Leo stops the car and reverses for about thirty seconds. ‘It’s back here,’ he says, puffing with the effort of twisting his body around.
He appears benign, humming a happy tune while driving backwards. Looking at his profile, I feel some baseline level of attraction. A woman walks past the car wearing a short skirt and a pair of cross nipple pasties. Leo slows to watch her pass. I focus on her boobs bobbing up and down as she jogs across to the other side of the road. She looks back at us and raises her hand in a shaka sign, grinning. My fear and tension ease a little as she continues walking along the dark path alone, her bare back luminous in the dark night. As Leo parks the car between a garbage skip filled with splintered wood and a mound of gravel, I decide I owe it to myself to commit to the experience. That woman didn’t seem scared at all, and I can’t keep running away from things at the last minute.
‘Let’s go!’ he says, switching off the ignition and sliding his seat back.
We get out of the car and he guides me towards the entrance of a warehouse with his hand on my lower back. I can hear the familiar, friendly thud of music, laughter and empty bottles clinking. I walk slightly quicker than Leo as he trots alongside trying to maintain contact between his hand and my lower back. A few times I even dart to the left, to test his resolve, and I feel him lunge to keep contact.
A rotund bouncer stands in front of a wide metal door, texting something urgently with his two thick thumbs. We stand in front of him waiting to be acknowledged until he pauses briefly, looking up and beaming at Leo.
‘Here he is, the master of the single tail.’ His smile drops as he looks at me. ‘And you. You look new.’
I frown as Leo and the bouncer laugh together. I wish people who know more than others would stop doing this. If there are three people, two should not be laughing.
‘Here are the rules—you listening?’
‘Yes,’ I say, still irritated.
‘No drugs, no egos, no means no, we’ve got a slave zone, punishment post and rack that are not to be used for anything other than for tethering slaves, capiche?’ He takes a deep breath in. ‘One of the St Andrew’s crosses is broken so stay away—I’ve got someone in there now trying to rope it off. If you bring your own toys in, please take them back out, because there’s no lost and found here. Do not touch anyone without permission and respect the anonymity of everyone inside.’
He smacks a notice by the door on which the rules he has cited are printed, as two feral cats start yowling and hissing near the bushes around the side of the building. Leo digs in his back pocket for his wallet then hands the man a fifty-dollar note, and they lock fists and bump their forearms together in a very sudden display of masculinity on both their parts. The bouncer opens the door and we are finally let in.
Leo steers me through the door and into the warmth of the club. Techno blares out from a room ahead as Leo pulls me off to the side and unfurls a collar from his pocket. Without a word, he clips it around my neck and then wraps the connecting chain around his knuckles so that we are linked together.
I fix him with direct and unwavering eye contact. ‘No, thank you.’
He tugs on the collar. ‘It’s for your benefit—otherwise you’re fair game and everyone will approach you.’
‘The bouncer said people have to ask me first.’
He shakes his head. ‘A collar means you’re part of a couple.’
‘But I’m not.’
‘I know,’ he says, sounding annoyed. ‘But you and I are here together for the night, so you are not open to
