Right now I’m not all that comfortable, because I don’t want to sit next to the guy with his dick out, and I don’t want to be next to the blow, and the two small prostitutes are sitting in the middle of the room. This place is smaller than I imagined. And like I said, there isn’t that much in the way of furniture. So I am standing in the corner trying hard not to look at what is going on. It occurs to me that I’m not friends with anyone here. In fact, most of these people don’t work on the floor. T22 is friends with them in some underground way. It looks like he met them all in the personals of the Guardian or maybe at the Power Exchange. I am trying to make eye contact with a pretty girl with purple hair and a lip ring. In spite of her appearance, she is the most normal one here, and appears sober.

Turns out purple hair girl works at Starbucks, a block or two away from the exchange. So this is how she knows T22, and why not? He knows everyone within a 10-block radius from the floor. She grew up in Noe Valley, so she gets the joke. She’s nice. She reminds me of someone from a movie, I can’t place it. Abruptly she takes a small jar from her pocket, unscrews the cap, and takes a big sniff from it, then asks if I want to come in her pretty hair, everyone else does. For a split second I consider this. I then decide that I am not quite wired like T22 and there is some part of my personality that will prevent me from doing fun, but exceptionally weird things.

T22 re-emerges from his cave. He encircles his arm around me in such a way that I have no choice but to follow. “We’re going to do some BIG bumps, bra,” he says, and I don’t know what he is talking about.

We are in a bedroom now. It’s me, T22, and there is Jackson, the King Filipino, at parade rest against the back wall. He looks overtly pissed about something, hands at his crotch, jacket still on. I’ve never seen him off the floor. He actually looks more pissed off here than he does on the floor. So on the dresser there are lines of white powder, and T22 motions towards them with his left hand, waving, saying nothing.

“Come on, man.”

“What?”

“I just got here.”

“All the more reason,” he says.

“Let me ease into it just a little bit.”

“Bra, this will help you ease into it a little bit.”

“I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

“Bra, you’re an outsider in that pit. Loosen up, make some friends.”

“Can’t I make friends without this?”

“You are full of excuses tonight, bra.”

“You know I can’t do this.”

“Yes you can.”

“No I can’t.”

“Just try it. It’s not going to kill you.”