As a matter of fact, it'sabout time we traveled cross-town to the studio."Well, to speed up this tale, I need to jump ahead to the session. Thestudio ...was a loft in SoHo. Real big and set up for a still photo shoot.There was a dungeon type room filled with hooks and rings on the walls.Racks everywhere with restraints and all sorts of straps and leather.And then there were the other players, beautiful trans-women. The twowho played the subs were named Staci and Diane.A tall black girl with a. We both know why I'm there with you; we always go through this routine as we watch through the window as most of the remaining staff leave or go elsewhere in the building. Our staged conversation complete, I quietly take you by the hand and lead you to the large cupboard between your room and the next. It's dark inside, but switching on the light soon bathes the wooden shelving, files and folders in a warm, amber glow. Standing over your shoulder, my height advantage so obvious at such close. The room I was in wasn’t lit only by candles. While there were many on the walls and on several small tables, the place was still dim. It was stone, or bricks, aligned haphazardly and not at all symmetrical. There were some tables, more like nightstands, two wooden chairs, and the pod behind me. It looked very strange in these surroundings. It sounded cliché even to think, but it felt like I had stepped back in time. The room wasn’t very large and the dominant feature was the large wooden door. " Ester took a business card from her back jeans' pocket and handed it to the woman. "If you ever decide that you want to kick the drugs and regain your life, give me a call. I'll come and get you, and help you through this hell." Why? You ain't no cop. You some sort of preacher, or something?" Look at the card. That ranch is not exactly a church. No, it's just that us working girls have to stick together. Think about it. We have no names, no history. If you want help, call me. There are no.