Update: 2:45 AM
I’m home safe and sound.
I will see this man again.
* * * *
Tonight I have an appointment with a fellow who wanted to hire a masochist. I’ve never met him before. I’m not sure exactly what he’s into, but he claims to be experienced and he agreed to my conditions, so I’m going to try it.
I’m always nervous about going to visit them on their home turf, which is why I seldom do it. It’s a little funny that if I met this guy in a bar back when I was drinking and liked him, I’d go to his apartment without a second thought (not too bright, I know. Remember Kiwi Bull Terrier?).
We’re meeting at a restaurant close to his place first so we can assess mutual compatibility. I’ll size him up. If he seems shady or gives me bad vibes, I’ll call it off.
I typed his address into Google in order to get directions. Holy shit! Expensive building. Really expensive.
I reread his email. It’ll take me a while to get back uptown from Wall Street, it said.
Patrick Bateman! Patrick Bateman! My mind screamed.
Here’s to hoping he’s not Patrick Bateman.
Fortune favors the bold. Literally.