the bar at the St. Regis in San Francisco at 2 pm

It’s empty. It’s posh. The food is great. The drinks are handsome. There’s service. And there’s not a soul sitting next to you eavesdropping when your date leans in close to say, “So here’s the thing….I’m kinky.”

Several weeks ago I had a first meeting at a Starbucks off a busy freeway exit. It was packed. We were surrounded by ear budded bodies typing away on their lap tops or reading the paper. We happened to sit next to the only gentleman without wires hanging out of his ears. He was very close to us and the guy I was meeting with whispered through almost the whole meeting. I found myself miming without even thinking about it. “I’m ok with…” then pointed to my ring finger…”and”…then crossed my arms to hold my elbows and rock them as if I was holding a baby. I put my thumb to my index and middle finger and rubbed it in a circular motion…”turns me on.”

Have you ever mimed and whispered your way through a potential sugar arrangement before? It’s a challenge.

Well, at St. Regis you won’t have to do that. Go after lunch when everyone’s back to the grind, and go before happy hour. You’ll have the whole place to yourself. The need to whisper might show itself anyhow because there are just certain details about these kinds of relationships that silver backed, blue velvet upholstered klismo chairs don’t need to hear.

Four legs don’t need to know how he wants you on four legs. The roped entrance doesn’t need to know that black braided nylon rope is one of his favorite toys and the Bloody Mary doesn’t need to know how bloody you’re going to be once he’s finished with you.

How is it possible that the stripes on his socks are blending into the stripes on his shoes? Are there pieces of leather missing on his loafers? It’s like I can see through his gently worn Ferragamos.

Every now and then I meet a man with so much conviction that I feel stupid. I completely skip feeling passionless and jump to feeling stupid. There’s something about spending an hour with strong opinions that makes me think, “Do I have any common sense? If I had common sense wouldn’t I be this opinionated as well?”

Why don’t I have anything to say about the healthcare system or tort laws or Italy’s financial crisis? If I had common sense I could take what he’s teaching me and develop opinions regarding these issues, right?

I didn’t do a damn thing yet time still passed with flying colors. I swear men bombard me with subject matters I know nothing about just to see what I’ll say sometimes. I always say the same things: “What you’re talking about is completely new territory for me.” “Explain this as if I was five.” “Ok, so what my simple brain is hearing is…” They don’t seem to mind that I just dumbed down their doctoral dissertation in order to digest it. I guess taking the time to even process the information and season it into something palatable for my taste shows a bit of…who knows what, but they like it.

This has been my third request for kink this week…and it’s only Tuesday.