pizza to eat. 'Unreal money,' Martin sighed with a slight lift of the eyebrows. 'The best kind.' Was it possible? We were all gathered around the sixteenth-century table to discuss it. A posh club, set somewhere in the world where the laws would in no way intrude, and all the pleasures that Martin Halifax and others like him had so cleverly invented. Think of it ...
'Well, you know, a real getaway,' Alex was saying. 'Deluxe accommodations, food, swimming pools, tennis, the works. And then the sex. Any kind of sex. Something absolutely therapeutic if you think about it. Doctors will send their patients to us.' I winced at the word therapeutic. Martin hated it. And the quiet voice of Mr. Cross, the man at the end of the table, our financier. 'You see, there is this possibility, a Caribbean island. Well, it would be almost as if we were an autonomous country, with our own laws. But we would still have the protection of the government that I've been talking about. I mean like there is no way that we would have to worry about any sort of intervention or any, you know, underworld muscle coming in. I mean where we would be, we would be strictly legit. We would have our own clinic, a decent police force if we ever needed it ...' Stunning sum of money. Everyone silent. 'You see,' Mr. Cross again, 'our research indicates that there are thousands of people, potentially millions, who will pay a great deal to have the sexual vacation of their dreams.
Sado-masochism, kink, discipline, and bondage -- whatever you call it, they want it, especially when it's well done and perfectly safe.' 'And we offer them a clean, well-run place that is absolutely luxurious,' Alex said. 'An experience they can't get anywhere else at any price.' 'It's an atmosphere of sexuality we're talking about,' Mr. Cross continued. 'An atmosphere where it is fashionable for you to act out anything you please.' Martin was uneasy. 'But there is something here you don't seem to understand. The majority of those who want this kind of thing are masochists. They're passive. And that is something they can't even admit to their husbands and wives.' 'They can admit it to us,' Mr. Cross said. 'No,' Martin answered. 'You are talking about people with money, position, the kind who can afford this sort of holiday. What makes you think they will come to an enormous resort like this where they may see others whom they know? In The House our biggest problem is secrecy, keeping one guest from seeing another. People are too ashamed of masochistic desire.' 'But there are ways to make the thing fashionable,' I said. Little silence. The idea was tantalizing me. It was marvellous. 'Yes, but how? How do we make it fashionable?' Alex looked at me. 'How do we staff it, arrange it, offer it to the public so to speak?'
'Okay,' I said. 'We want famous people, rich people, people who don't want to be the butt of jokes about their masochistic habits, the fact that they like to be whipped, tied up. Okay. You make a situation in which they don't have to admit it, in which being a member of The Club doesn't mean that that is happening at all. The members who come to the island are all 'masters' and 'mistresses' to be waited on hand and foot in public and in private by a staff of well-trained male and female slaves. They're guests of Kubla Khan in Xanadu, there to enjoy the dancing boys and girls, and the harem, unless of course they want to retire to the privacy of the soundproof bedroom, and ring the bell for a slave who can serve as 'master or mistress' with all the appropriate flair.' Mr. Cross smiled. 'In other words, all the members are dominant.' 'Macho,' Alex said with a raise of the eyebrows, a dry derisive laugh. 'Exactly,' I answered. 'That's how we sell it worldwide. Come to The Club and live like a sultan, lord of all you survey. Being seen at The Club doesn't necessarily mean anything except that you're there to enjoy the little spectacles, swim, get a tan, be waited on hand and foot.' 'That could work,' Martin said. 'That could work beautifully, I think.' 'But the slaves themselves,' Mr. Cross asked. 'This staff you're talking about.' 'That's no problem at all,' Alex said. 'You're talking now about a different class. Young people from all