We stumbled upon it looking for something else, somewhere on the lower east side. It was raining and cold, so we went into a doorway to discuss our bearings. In this doorway was a velvet rope, nothing else. I thought perhaps there was something in there, so I twisted the knob (here I have revealed that there was a knob). And the knob twisted, the door opened to the inside, where there was light and warmth, and the shoulders of women.

A little friendly man was sitting on a chair in the tiny foyer. He looked shy and nice, unlike any bouncer I had seen, with spectacles. He took our names and told us where the bar was.

“This is a magic bar,” I said to Eric several hours later before getting into a cab. Our company had been almost entirely beautiful women, sitting on leather cubes, a few of whom would talk to us. “This is a special place, and we will find it again when we need to.”

But Eric remembered the cross streets and when we found it again it was just a bar with some women in it, some of whom would talk to us.

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