Chapter 1

There was a time when I traveled extensively, consulting and teaching. It's a lonely business. This was before social media, but there were chat rooms. I enjoyed one called the San Francisco Dungeon, which wasn't as kinky as the name suggested. It was friendly, and a number of marriages, and even some divorces, came about from its conversations. I certainly formed friendships, and some often hysterically funny interactions that I'm going to share.

Due to my travel schedule, it was quite practical to meet people that I knew through the Dungeon, always having my hotel available as a safe place.

Honorary lesbian in Austin

One of my first meetings was with a submissive lesbian, who also, without being extremely butch, was a powerful athlete. We discovered, in our conversations, that we shared quite a few interests, from emergency medicine to Asian-Southwest fusion cooking.

When we first met in person, in Austin one evening, she reminded me "Austin isn't really in Texas. It's just surrounded by Texas. I'm going to take you to my neighborhood lesbian bar, where, after the Ritual, you'll have a great time."

"Umm, Margie, I'm not quite equipped for the lesbian lifestyle."

We got into her British Racing Green MG, which totally fitted her.

"Maybe, maybe not. From what I've heard from a couple of women that know you in person, they say you make love like a lesbian, which is a pretty high compliment in my book. Nevertheless, no, this isn't going to be at all sexual. Some women there are very attractive, and like being admired -- I'll give you a sign when I know they like that. It's look but not touch, although maybe on some other trip, if they happen to be bi, you can meet. It will help a lot that you've been vouched for, and, of course, have gone through the Ritual."

"Ritual?" Margie's only response was an evil laugh.

We pulled into the parking lot. "Wait here for a moment. I need to go in and set up the Ritual ... heh, heh, heh." About five minutes later, she came back and took me inside.

On entering, I was met by a very big, very leatherdykish woman, in a warrior persona. All uncovered skin was oiled and gleaming. She had a big warhammer over her shoulder, but also a big, welcoming smile.

"Are you prepared for the Ritual?" She inquired, sternly, but not in a hostile way.

"I guess so." She flashed the warhammer and spun towards her target, luckily not me.

BONG! Her target was a Chinese temple gong. That made sense, I suppose, as anyone who wasn't deaf would know that a special guest was arriving.

Another warrior woman came out, and the two guards put me into a leather harness, bedecked with bells of various sorts. Yep, they'd hear me coming all night.

Next, they put a cowbell around my neck. I could see logic to that. With a gleam in my eye, I pointed out "I'm just a Poe boy."

Hear the loud alarum bells --
Brazen bells!
What tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells!

In the startled ear of night

How they scream out their affright!

Too much horrified to speak,
they can only shriek, shriek,
Out of tune,
in a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire,
in a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire,
Leaping higher, higher, higher,

With a desperate desire,
And a resolute endeavor
Now -- now to sit or never,
By the side of the pale-faced moon.

Oh, the bells, bells, bells!
What a tale their terror tells
Of Despair!
How they clang, and clash, and roar!
What a horror they outpour

On the bosom of the palpitating air!
Yet the ear, it fully knows,
By the twanging,
And the clanging,
How the danger ebbs and flows ;
Yet, the ear distinctly tells,
In the jangling,
And the wrangling,
How the danger sinks and swells,
By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells -- Of the bells --
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells --
In the clamour and the clangour of the bells!