My daughter

Author: Katie Andrews

However, there was still one taboo I had not broken, although I didn’t even realize it at the time, and in the way one peels away the many layers of an onion to get closer to the rich core, I realized that there were parts of my sexuality that I still had not come to terms with.

It was late on a chill spring Wednesday night in May when I got to my favorite local haunt, The Chase. It’s your standard leather bar, the kind where the dress code loosely demands leather or denim and most of that can be checked at the door if you so choose. When I entered the bar, the usual rag-tag group of leather-worshippers — rough trade, masters and slaves — was loitering about the place, many enmeshed in a live-fisting sling scene in a dark corner. I quickly surveyed the men as I usually did as soon as I enter a bar to get my bearings, to see what’s available. Most men look twice when I walk by, although its deadly in a place like this one to look too needy.

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