I'll admit it. All I wanted that night, was pussy.
My friend Terrell told me all about this party that was going on at this club one night. The kind of party where guys take a male impotency drug, guys who don't need it, and spend the evening having endless, satisfying sex with strange anonymous women. Condoms were handed out like mints.
Sounded like my kind of party. So I went.
I dressed in baggy blue cargo pants, big white sneakers, and a white button down shirt, and quite literally walked down to the club. Seriously, dude, my photo studio was just three or four blocks away from the club.
Terrell Smith met me at the club. He was my boy, he knew how to get me in, knew how to hook me up. He would hook me up with just about anything. When I needed female company for my birthday, he got me a beautiful black girl. When I wanted to photograph my first black model, he hooked me up.
Like I said, he was my boy. He was my buddy. My partner in crime, sort of.
But I knew where I drew the line. I have never done illegal drugs. I've gotten this far in my photography career by being both scrupulous and choosy. I don't work with models who do drugs. It makes for poor photos. It also makes for fussy, moody models.
So anyway, on a still too warm summer night at the end of July, I arrived at the club, to find a long line that spilled into the parking lot.
Terrell came up to me, and we did the male handshake ritual. "S'up, man? How goes the photography biz?"
I looked him up and down. He wore all white, which set off his smooth gleaming chocolate skin -- white shirt, white tank top, white trousers, white sneakers. His bald head gleamed under the street lights.
I said, "Not bad. Could be better, though."
"Still can't find your model, huh?"
I moped. "No."
"Man, I done told you, go to the talent agencies. That's what they're there for."
I said, "And I have."
"And nobody has any ethnic models?"
I grunted. "No, that's the problem. Everyone has ethnic models."
"Just nobody has the kind of look that you're looking for?"
"Right."
Terrell shook his head. "Man, you are just having one problem after another with this book, aren't you?"
"Yeah. Frustrating, to say the least."
Terrell put his arm around my shoulder. "Say no more. Listen, man. I have the cure for what ails you. Your boy will hook you up, dawg."
"You're always my boy."
"Always."
"But what about this line? The club will be closed before we get in."
"Come on, man." Together, we went up to the door. The bouncer was as big as he looked from the street, six feet tall and ten feet wide, and dark as the night. Looked like he could play offensive line for the NFL.
Terrell went right up to him.
"Hey, what's up, Terrell?"
"Not much, my friend, not much, just keeping my game tight, you know what I'm saying, right?"
The two black men exchanged deep chuckles. My friend Terrell was a would be rapper. But he's had to settle for working as an agent in the music industry instead. But he's happy with it. Which is good, because I've hooked up Terrell a time or two myself, doing headshots for his talent, and on occasion, shooting the cover art for an album.
"So, you come for some action tonight, my friend?"
"For sure, player, for sure." Terrell put his arm around the bouncer's massive shoulders -- with an effort -- and turned to look at me. "But I brought a friend with me."
The bouncer nodded at me, in a friendly way. He extended one huge hand to me. "Thomas Mitchell."
I took his hand. "Ryan Cabrera."
Thomas looked at Terrell. "So, what can I do for your friend this evening?"
Terrell looked at the bouncer, then at me, with a pretend grave expression. "Dawg, we need to hook my friend up here. He is going through some serious issues right now."
The bouncer cracked a broad grin. "Not to worry, my man, not to worry. You gentlemen just come right on in." He lifted the velvet rope for me. "You have yourself a nice evening."
I said, "Thank you."
We entered the place, and I found myself being pleasantly surprised, that my ears weren't being assaulted by music played at extremely high decibels, sure to blow out the hearing of everyone in the room.
Instead, the music was at a comfortable volume. I could hear myself think.
Terrell grinned at my surprised face. "You were expecting something else?"
"Never mind. Let's find someplace to sit."
Terrell put his arm around my shoulder, and guided me towards the back of the club. "Come with me, dawg. I reserved a private room for us after I called you."
I let him guide me. "Tell me again, how is this going to help me find my model?"
"Listen, dawg -- this club, on any given night, is full of nubile, all too willing young women, willing to do anything, and I mean anything, to get into the modeling biz."
"And this helps me how?"
"All you have to do, man, is just say that you're Ryan Cabrera, the photographer, and you, my friend, are in like Flynn."
I laughed, despite myself. "It's worth a try, I guess."
Terrell mussed up my hair. "That's the spirit! Come on, man."
As we went through the club, I looked around, and what I saw was promising. There were girls all over the place -- hot girls, cute girls, pretty girls -- wearing barely there dresses of various styles. I felt an unprofessional stirring in my groin, that had nothing to do with photography. I felt vaguely cheap, at the thought of sleeping with any of these girls. But it was a two way street -- they knew what they were doing, too. That salved my conscience. A little, anyway.
We finally arrived, at wherever the hell we were going. It was roped off, and elevated from the rest of the club. There were several other areas like this around the back of the club, I noticed.
And, waiting for us, was another bouncer. He was less imposing than the dude at the entrance, but not any less impressive. "Terrell, what's up, dawg?"
"Freddie, this is my boy Ryan. I'm brought him here to hook him up."
Freddie nodded. "Yeah, Thomas gave me the word."
Terrell rubbed his hands together. "So, if you could send over your best waitress, and some girls over this way."
Freddie nodded again. "I am already on it, Terrell. We always take care of you."
Terrell cracked a grin. "Always."
Freddie said, "Although, I'm not going to be back here all night. I'm supposed to be up front with Thomas."
"Really? Who's going to be here?"
Freddie cracked a grin, then. "It's a surprise. But wait till you see her, man. You'll forget all about me, I assure you."
Terrell said, "Well, until then, we're lucky to have you."
Freddie lifted the velvet rope for us. "You gentlemen enjoy yourselves. Your waitress will be with you shortly."
I said, "Thank you."
Terrell and I climbed a short flight of steps, and went inside. I looked around for a second. The area was not only roped off, but glassed off, too -- nice and private. Inside was thick white shag carpeting, and lipstick red overstuffed couches, built in all along the wall, plus a smooth polished oval shaped black coffee table right in the middle of the room. It was even quieter in here than out in the club.
I said, "Wow. Nice."
"Isn't it, dawg?"
I nodded. "You weren't kidding when you said private room. Damn."
Terrell chuckled. "Have a seat, man."
Barely five minutes later, the waitress arrived to take our orders. She was an adorable little hottie, with a semi-Asian look, wearing a tight white t-shirt, an even tighter little black leather miniskirt, the kind that stayed in place and didn't ride up, and open toed black leather sandals with impossibly high heels, carrying a little round tray.
"Hi, gentlemen. My name is Marie, and I'll be your waitress this evening. What are you having tonight?"
Terrell ordered a beer. I got a wine cooler. Terrell laughed at me. "You call that a drink, man?"
Marie smiled at me, then glanced at Terrell. "Let him order what he wants."
I smiled back. "Thank you." I looked at Terrell. "See, she understands."
She took our orders. Then she placed two black ceramic bowls on the coffee table, and withdrew with a smile. "I'll be right back with your drinks, guys."
We said, "Thank you."
Then Terrell said, "Come on, man. Don't be shy."
I said, "What?"
Terrell cracked an evil grin. Then he reached forward, and tilted a bowl towards me. The bowl contained a bunch of little blue pills. "Come on, take one."
I said, "No way, man. You know I don't do drugs. No fucking way."
"Listen, dawg, you take one of these, and fucking is exactly what you'll be doing. All night long."
Then it dawned on me, just what the pills were. "I don't need that kind of help, Terrell, thank you very much."
"But that's the beauty of it, man! For guys that can get it up normally, you take one of these, and it's like super charging your dick, dawg. You'll do a girl, come, and right after that, boom, you're ready to go again."
"And this is where you tell me about how this will help me find my model?"
"I done told you, man, some girls will do anything to get their start -- including giving it up. And in the process, you might just find your model."
I found myself grinning, mostly for his benefit. "First I need my drink."
Terrell didn't say anything. He just sat back. "Told you I was going to hook you up, didn't I, dawg?"
It took just a couple more minutes for the waitress to come back with our drinks. "Here you go, guys. Will there be anything else I can get for you?"
I said, "Yeah. You ever do any modeling?"
She winked at me. "Sometimes, honey. Why?"
I took out my wallet and handed her one of my cards. "My name is Ryan Cabrera. You may have heard of me."
The girl's face went wide. "Oh my god, are you kidding? I have, like, totally heard of you! Everyone knows who you are!"
"Well, if you're interested in doing some modeling for me, just give me a call."
Marie squealed. "Thank you, I will! Oh my god!" And she left.
Terrell nudged me. "See?"
I chuckled. "Yeah."
Terrell reached for two pills, and handed me one. "Bottoms up."
Not believing I was doing this, I reached for one of the blue pills, put it in my mouth, and swallowed it, with a sip of my drink.
I said, "Okay. Now what?"
Terrell said, "Now we wait for the pill to start working. And in the meantime, I suggest you get ready for some beautiful females to come over."
I said, "Hold up."
"What?"
I picked up the other bowl. It was full of condoms. "Nothing." I sat back.
"You didn't think people were having unprotected sex in here, did you?"