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Following dancing and collecting phone numbers of fairly young, hormonal boys,
Candy and I headed over to
Power Exchange. We found parking immediately, right in front of the club. It looked a bit sketchy - it had no sign and was next to a trashy locale called the Bay Bridge Motel. I was excited.
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| "...I befriended a group of fabulous Filipino trannies known as the
'Actica's.' There was Climactica, Erotica, Exotica,
Fantastica, Orgasmica, and the only Caucasian Actica,
Prosthetica..." |
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We walked in, me first, Candy clutching my arm. Right at the entrance was a heavyset man who introduced himself as Greg. Greg was the manager - he told us to read the rules on the wall and let us in for free. He was amused by our presence, particularly by
Candy's deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression. I still remember some of the rules, as they were written. My favorite to this day: "No
f***ing without condoms." Other classics: "No drug selling or buying allowed" and "Touching someone without permission will result in immediate dismissal."
At this point in the story, you may be wondering, "What is the Power Exchange?" The Power Exchange is a fetish club. People can (and do) have sex there. The original Power Exchange was mostly heterosexual and transgender. When
Candy and I went that first night, we were the only two females-by-birth. That's why Greg was so amused. I fell in love with the place - not the concept of sex with strangers, for I am more of a voyeur than an exhibitionist, but with the groovy theme rooms and the interesting, troubled people who frequented the club.
Almost immediately, I befriended a group of fabulous Filipino trannies known as the "Actica's." There was Climactica, Erotica, Exotica, Fantastica, Orgasmica, and the only Caucasian Actica, Prosthetica. I spent many, many nights at the Power Exchange.
In 1998, the Power Exchange had moved to its location at 78 Otis Street. It was 10 times as big, and now had separate floors for gay men and everyone else. It became too big and was less and less fun for me. I stopped going for several years, unless it was to take an out-of-town friend on a visual adventure.
Let's fast forward to present time. I promised the incredible Brian X that I would write about the Power Exchange for my favorite website,
BrianX.com. That required some visits, and two seemed like a good number. So voila, here it is, my symphony of perversion in two parts.
The Power Exchange: Part I
Candy (the very same) and I were bored one Saturday evening. We decided to post a personal ad looking for a couple of cute guys on
craigslist.org. Much to our surprise, we were flooded with responses from equally bored dyads looking to hook up. We chose two guys, Joe and Gary, based on nothing. Their photo was blurry and their email was not particularly fascinating, but alas, they were headed to the
Beauty
Bar, and we figured that if nothing else, we can have an excellent lemon drop on them while gazing at the pretty people.
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We got to
the bar, the guys were there and they were cute. We began drinking,
laughing and chatting. It was fun! As the clock struck midnight, we
were all on the far side of tipsy. I perked up and suggested that we
head over to the Power Exchange. The guys had never been there before,
and Candy was too drunk to care. In a cab we hopped.
We arrived at the Power
Exchange just past midnight. There is a funny rule that is now in place:
men who are by themselves must wear a towel (and nothing else) if they want
to pay half price. Guys who refuse to wear the *ahem* sexy picnic-basket
inspired checkers must pay the entire cover, which is EXPENSIVE. Couples are
allowed in for $5, and the men can wear whatever they want.
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Can
you handle
BrianX Featured Model Madame Archel? |
I began giving Joe and Gary the grand tour. There are two floors that are
mixed and two floors that are strictly for men. As we walked into the main hallway of the first floor, we came across a hot, blond tranny sitting on a short, bald guy's lap. Joe and Gary were confused (and drunk). They got to see everything: the incredible feast room, designed to look like the inside of a medieval palace, with thrones, a huge table, and S&M posts. The main lounge is to the left of the banquet room. In it is a stage with two strip-club inspired poles, several couches, chairs and a snack bar. The décor is surprising - a lot of Elvis memorabilia, and a myriad of black and white checkered tiles, reminiscent of a 50's diner, not a San Francisco sex club.
Further
down the hall are the smaller theme rooms - the jail cells,
hotel rooms, coffin room. People were in various states of
undress. I took the gang downstairs to the dungeon. Here's
where the real action takes place. Women were getting whipped
by men, men were getting whipped by trannies, and Stain, the
resident masochist, was hungrily receiving an ear-shattering
spanking. The smell of lube and sex was surrounding us. We
proceeded to the movie room, where porn plays continuously on
various television monitors whole men jack off and people have
sex.
Joe and I sat down and began making out. In less than 30 seconds, we were surrounded by an audience. This was amusing - we left the room.
Candy and Gary had disappeared, and we did not attempt to find them.
Heading down the hall, we came across three large women sitting on a couch. They appeared exhausted. Joe inquired "What are you ladies up to?" to which one responded "we just gave each other multiple orgasms, now we're tired." My friends, welcome to the Power Exchange.
The Power Exchange: Part II
It was a Friday night. I went to dinner at the Crepe
Vine with Rae, Steve and Lom. Following a mediocre dinner (how hard is it to make a salad???), we went to an equally mediocre musical. Steve and Lom were tired after the show, but Rae and I wanted to continue our evening out.
I had been telling Rae about the Power Exchange for years. She had never expressed any desire to go, but for whatever reason, I was able to twist her arm on this particular evening. I used the excuse of this article. Off we went.
Outside the club we were approached by a cute guy who introduced himself as Theo. Theo was Greek and had a heavy accent. He asked if he could go in with us in order to only have to pay the $5 couples' fee (it's free for women). I told him to come in with us. Once inside, we went our separate ways.
At this time, I noticed the clientele that frequents the Power Exchange. There are three main groups of people who can be found here on any give night. They are as follows:
1. Straight men hoping to score with the women (real or fake) or just wanting to jack off and watch. These men make up the bulk of the clientele.
2. Trannies, some gorgeous, some scary. Lots of them.
3. Large women. Reubenesque. Plump. Big, Beautiful Women.
There are also some couples and a few really hot women, but these comprise a minority. As soon as Rae and I got downstairs, we were approached by a HUGE
black man who introduced himself as George. George was from Trinidad. He asked us our names and Rae made one up - she was Mary. As George proceeded to discuss his fantasy of being with two women (*yawn*), I cut him off and told him that Mary and I are lesbians and are not interested in men. Visibly dismayed, he walked away. George, however, does not give up easy - he came back with a "well can I just watch then?" a few minutes later.
Theo, our Greek buddy from outside, found us and asked our names. I told him mine. A large woman overheard and came up to me. "Melanie," she said, "I'm Ilana. Have you ever been connected to the green electric machine?" Flattered by this woman's desire to connect me to the green electric machine but equally frightened, I replied, "No, Ilana, and I just arrived so I'm not interested. But it's really nice to meet you." Rae and I scurried off.
We saw a few sexy things that night - two hot lesbians were happily involved in pleasing a third girl, this one cute, plump and Asian. One hot woman in black leather chaps and a lime-green thong was walking around with her boyfriend, driving men crazy. Stain, once again, was getting spanked.
We left for home at 1:30 am.
Final
Words
The Power Exchange is a unique place, just as San Francisco is a unique city. I truly feel that everyone should visit at least once, to see the normalization of sexual variations unfold in front of our very own eyes. Its infamy is sometimes earned, other times exaggerated. Personally, as I reach the end of my twenties, I am more content at home with a good book or in a private place with a lover, one-on-one, no audience.
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