man is just a man. Follow?”
Myron nodded. “Not even a little.”
“That’s why it’s called Take A Guess. You never know for sure. For instance, you might see a beautiful woman who is unusually tall with a platinum wig. So you figure it’s a he-she. But—and this is what makes Take A Guess special—maybe it’s not.”
“Not what?”
“A he-she. A transvestite or transsexual. Maybe it is indeed a beautiful woman who put on extra-high heels and a wig to confuse you.”
“And the reason for this is?”
“That’s the fun of the place. The doubt. There’s a sign inside, TAKE A GUESS: IT’S ABOUT AMBIGUITY, NOT ANDROGYNY .”
“Catchy.”
“But that’s the idea. It’s a place of mystery. You bring someone home. You think it’s a beautiful woman or a handsome man. But until the pants are all the way down, you’re never sure. People come dressed to fool. You just never know until—well, you saw
The Crying Game.”
Myron made a face. “And this is a desirable thing?”
“If you’re into that, sure.”
“Into what?”
She smiled. “Exactly.”
Myron rubbed the temples again. “So the patrons don’t have a problem with”—he searched for the right word, but there wasn’t one—“so a gay guy, for example, doesn’t get pissed off when he finds out he brought home a woman?”
“It’s why you go. The thrill. The uncertainty. The mystery.”
“Sort of the sexual equivalent of a grab bag.”
“Right.”
“Except in this case, you can really be surprised by what you grab.”
Big Cyndi considered that. “If you really think about it, Mr. Bolitar, there can be only one of two things.”
He was no longer so sure.
“But I like your grab bag analogy,” Big Cyndi continued. “You know what you’re bringing to the party, but you have no idea what you’re going to take home. One time a guy left with what he thought was an overweight woman. It turned out that it was a guy with a midget hiding under the dress.”
“Please tell me you’re joking.”
Big Cyndi just looked at him.
“So,” Myron continued, “you, uh, frequent this place?”
“I’ve been a couple of times. But not recently.”
“Why not?”
“Two reasons. First, they compete with Leather-N-Lust. It’s a different crowd, but we still draw from similar markets.”
Myron nodded. “The pervert pool.”
“They’re not hurting anybody.”
“At least nobody who doesn’t want to be hurt.”
She pouted, not a great look on a three-hundred-pound wrestler, especially without her mortarlike makeup. “Esperanza is right.”
“About?”
“You can be very closed-minded.”
“Yeah, I’m a regular Jerry Falwell. So what’s the second reason?”
She hesitated. “I’m obviously for sexual freedom. I don’t care what you’re doing as long as it’s consensual. And I’ve done some wild things myself, Mr. Bolitar.” She looked straight at him.
“Very
wild.”
Myron cringed, fearing she might share details.
“But Take A Guess started drawing the wrong kind of crowd,” she said.
“Gee, that’s surprising,” Myron said. “You’d think a place like that would be a natural for vacationing families.”
She shook her head. “You are so repressed, Mr. Bolitar.”
“Because I like to know my partner’s gender before getting naked?”
“Because of your attitude. People like you cause sexual hang-ups. Society becomes sexually repressed—so repressed, in fact, that they cross the line between sex andviolence, between playacting and real danger. They reach a stage where they get off by hurting people who do not want to be hurt.”
“And Take A Guess attracts that kind of crowd?”
“More than most.”
Myron sat back and rubbed his face with both hands. He started hearing brain clicks. “This might explain a few things,” he said.
“Like what?”
“Why Bonnie finally threw Clu out for good. It’s one thing to have a string of girlfriends. But if Clu was frequenting a place like this, if he
Myron nodded. “Not even a little.”
“That’s why it’s called Take A Guess. You never know for sure. For instance, you might see a beautiful woman who is unusually tall with a platinum wig. So you figure it’s a he-she. But—and this is what makes Take A Guess special—maybe it’s not.”
“Not what?”
“A he-she. A transvestite or transsexual. Maybe it is indeed a beautiful woman who put on extra-high heels and a wig to confuse you.”
“And the reason for this is?”
“That’s the fun of the place. The doubt. There’s a sign inside, TAKE A GUESS: IT’S ABOUT AMBIGUITY, NOT ANDROGYNY .”
“Catchy.”
“But that’s the idea. It’s a place of mystery. You bring someone home. You think it’s a beautiful woman or a handsome man. But until the pants are all the way down, you’re never sure. People come dressed to fool. You just never know until—well, you saw
The Crying Game.”
Myron made a face. “And this is a desirable thing?”
“If you’re into that, sure.”
“Into what?”
She smiled. “Exactly.”
Myron rubbed the temples again. “So the patrons don’t have a problem with”—he searched for the right word, but there wasn’t one—“so a gay guy, for example, doesn’t get pissed off when he finds out he brought home a woman?”
“It’s why you go. The thrill. The uncertainty. The mystery.”
“Sort of the sexual equivalent of a grab bag.”
“Right.”
“Except in this case, you can really be surprised by what you grab.”
Big Cyndi considered that. “If you really think about it, Mr. Bolitar, there can be only one of two things.”
He was no longer so sure.
“But I like your grab bag analogy,” Big Cyndi continued. “You know what you’re bringing to the party, but you have no idea what you’re going to take home. One time a guy left with what he thought was an overweight woman. It turned out that it was a guy with a midget hiding under the dress.”
“Please tell me you’re joking.”
Big Cyndi just looked at him.
“So,” Myron continued, “you, uh, frequent this place?”
“I’ve been a couple of times. But not recently.”
“Why not?”
“Two reasons. First, they compete with Leather-N-Lust. It’s a different crowd, but we still draw from similar markets.”
Myron nodded. “The pervert pool.”
“They’re not hurting anybody.”
“At least nobody who doesn’t want to be hurt.”
She pouted, not a great look on a three-hundred-pound wrestler, especially without her mortarlike makeup. “Esperanza is right.”
“About?”
“You can be very closed-minded.”
“Yeah, I’m a regular Jerry Falwell. So what’s the second reason?”
She hesitated. “I’m obviously for sexual freedom. I don’t care what you’re doing as long as it’s consensual. And I’ve done some wild things myself, Mr. Bolitar.” She looked straight at him.
“Very
wild.”
Myron cringed, fearing she might share details.
“But Take A Guess started drawing the wrong kind of crowd,” she said.
“Gee, that’s surprising,” Myron said. “You’d think a place like that would be a natural for vacationing families.”
She shook her head. “You are so repressed, Mr. Bolitar.”
“Because I like to know my partner’s gender before getting naked?”
“Because of your attitude. People like you cause sexual hang-ups. Society becomes sexually repressed—so repressed, in fact, that they cross the line between sex andviolence, between playacting and real danger. They reach a stage where they get off by hurting people who do not want to be hurt.”
“And Take A Guess attracts that kind of crowd?”
“More than most.”
Myron sat back and rubbed his face with both hands. He started hearing brain clicks. “This might explain a few things,” he said.
“Like what?”
“Why Bonnie finally threw Clu out for good. It’s one thing to have a string of girlfriends. But if Clu was frequenting a place like this, if he
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