Heidi was laughing aloud as she turned the corner, and then stopped in her tracks and gasped.
Vendors lined the street and crowds were thick. Again, the mixture of streetwalkers and families felt like another dimension. Merchants hawked their wares in Thai and in English.
But none of that had caused Heidi’s gasp.
Directly in her vision, less than a block away, flashed a neon sign in purple and hot pink. Super Pussy. A few feet away twinkled another: Pussy Collection.
And the families still walked around the area as if nothing were amiss.
Surreal.
No other word could describe this fantastic flutter of activity and setting.
Her eyes wide, Heidi checked out each vendor. Mainstream DVDs were stacked next to porn. More fake Rolexes and Gucci bags. China, silver, artwork, leathe
r—all under bright fluorescents that caused the night to masquerade as an artificially lit day.
She browsed a while, thinking about what sorts of souvenirs she might take home to Denver. Some of the artwork was exquisite—Asian brush strokes in black and pastels on paper so thin it was almost transparent. She strolled along, imagining how beautiful a few prints would look framed in black, hanging above her sofa.
Something nudged her arm.
“Hey! You watch it!” A woman clad in a red leather bustier and a black mask pushed her.
“I’m sorry.” Heidi averted her eyes from the woman’s bulging breasts. “Did I bump into you?”
“You go to end of the line, like everyone else,” the woman said.
“I-I’m not in line. Sorry again.”
She scurried away and glanced over her shoulder. The line stretched to what looked like a club. She looked up, and another neon sign greeted her.
Tied Up.
A BDSM club.
Her pulse began to race. She’d always been curious about fetish clubs. Always wondered what it would be like to be submissive, completely under someone else’s control. The image of herself naked, tied up with silk scarves while a gorgeous stud pleasured her brought a rush of moisture between her legs.
This is nuts. Completely nuts. Even so, she found herself trudging to the end of the line, which happened to be in front of a jewelry vendor.“Rolex, American lady?” the young merchant asked.
“No, thank you.”
“Real Japanese movement.”
“Yes, I’ve heard. I’ll pass.”
The line moved along fairly quickly. She checked her purse. She had two thousand Baht, about sixty U.S. dollars. That ought to be plenty for a cover charge and enough for a drink or two. Plus she had another five hundred in travelers’ checks and her Visa card. By the time she had secured her money back in her purse, she was near the door of the club.
“You like girls, pretty lady?”
Heidi looked up to see a man dressed in a black tuxedo. Behind him stood several very pretty Thai women dressed in tight leather garb of various colors.
“No. No, thank you.” Dead weight settled in her stomach. What had she been thinking? Coming out here alone?
“They do anything you want. Fifty American dollar.”
“Um, I don’t swing that way. Sorry.”
The gentleman—or whatever he was—moved to the person behind her.