Ms. Lynch's story began last week.

We had a hard time finding the place, even though I knew how to get there. I made a wrong turn, and then missed the parking lot, which was full. We parked a block away in a supermarket lot. The building was set between two industrial-looking structures -- a used furniture store and an apartment complex. It was lower than the others, with glowing red capitals spelling out its name. The doors were red, and one was propped open next to a large figure. There were a few people milling about outside, smoking cigarettes or making phone calls. Some of them were leaning against the brick walls, writing on clipboards.

Richard approached the figure first. "Hello," said the figure. It was a large pale man wearing a newsboy cap.

"Hello," said Richard.

"Names, please?"

"We haven't ever been here before," I said.

"I'll need your names," he said, staring over my head. We told him. Without another word, he handed us two clipboards from behind him. "Fill these out, please, then bring them back."

The clipboard had four or five pages attached. I filled out my name, address, and phone number; allergies, prescription medications, height and weight, what I had eaten that day, known mental illnesses. I paused, and then left it blank. There was also a place to list people you wanted to be matched up with, and those you didn't. It took me ten or fifteen minutes to fill out the form, and Richard a little longer. We handed them back to the man, I gave him my credit card, and he waved us inside.

We entered a vestibule, dimly lit with dark red velvet curtains sectioning us off from the inside. There was a booth to our left with a young, attractive woman inside. She was wearing what looked like a dark red nightie and had long, shiny blonde hair. In back of her was what looked to be apothecary bottles -- old-looking, dark blue and green glass with powders and pills inside. She handed me back my card, and I signed the receipt.

"Check this out," said Richard, pointing to a bottle that said "Lye."

The woman laughed. "Just for show," she said. "We don't give you poison."

She looked over our forms, and then fed them into a machine connected to a computer. "We're looking at four fifty-five for you," she motioned to Richard, "and a little less for you." I stared blankly at her. "You're smaller," she said. My expression didn't change. "The dose is determined by weight," she said.

"Oh, of course." Richard was still looking at the bottles on the wall. I shifted my feet.

"First off, I have to read you the waiver. Are you of sound mind and body?"

"Yes," we said.

"Are you aware that you will be willingly ingesting an herbal toxin which will temporarily and partially paralyze you? Are you prepared to remain at this establishment until you are deemed fit to leave? Do you consent to taking an herbal antidote prior to leaving which will reverse the effects of the prior herbal supplement?"

"Yes," we said.

"Do you hereby waive this establishment of any liability for any and all injuries sustained within the establishment or afterwards?"

Tiny pause. "Yes," we said.

She produced a small metal scale and some powder. She measured out tiny piles, one by one, on the scale, and then poured them into gelatin caplets. She handed us each one.

"Good luck," she said. "Don't take these until you're sitting down. You'll be partially paralyzed, which means that you will still be able to, obviously, swallow and blink and talk. You won't be able to move your head, or limbs. First, you have to go choose where to sit. And take a picture."

She led us behind the curtain into another vestibule. "This place must be huge," said Richard. There was another red curtain partitioning what must have been the main room. I saw a large black screen in front of us, and a camera off to the side. The woman motioned for Richard to stand in front of the camera.

"Smile," she said, and there was a click. Richard's face appeared on the television screen, then disappeared. Richard stepped back and the camera took my picture. I was blinking. The woman let me take another.

"What're these for, anyway?" I asked.

"You choose whom to sit with," she said. "It's rather difficult to move visitors, though we will."

She touched the screen, and it filled with a colorful grid. Faces. Everyone inside had taken a picture. "Each bed fits eight," she said. "So, for instance, this corner --" she pointed to the upper left hand corner, "has eight people. They're outlined in aqua. They're in the aqua section. There are already eight, so you can't join them, but if you find a group with less than eight you can join them, unless you're on their blocked list."

"Blocked list?" Richard was scanning the pictures. There must have been a hundred faces on the screen.

"There was a part of the form where you could list people you didn't want to be grouped with, or those you did," she explained. "We will not match people who are on someone's blocked list with them, but we'll also match people up based on whether they're on each other's requested lists. Keeps the stalkers away. It works out fairly well."

"I can't really see the faces too well," I said.

"Touch one," she said, and tapped a face on the screen. The screen turned black, then a larger image appeared, taking up the whole screen. It was a pale woman, with red hair and freckles. She had a piercing through her lower lip. She tapped the screen again, and it went back to the grid. "Go ahead, tap it."

Richard touched the image of a blonde woman. Her face popped up. She had short blonde hair and looked to be in her early twenties. "I'll take her bed, I guess," he said.

"Let's make sure she's not all taken," said the woman. She touched the screen again. "She's got six. You two can fit, if you want. Do you want to see the people she's with?"

"Sure," I said.

"She's in maroon," she said, and I touched each of the five other faces outlined in maroon. The first three were men.

"Richard, you go to that table," I said, feeling brave. "I think it would be strange if there were five men and three women. Right?" I asked our hostess.

"There are no rules, just whatever you feel comfortable with." She went back to the main screen. "What about in vermillion?"

There were only three people in vermillion, their faces glowing in their bright orange frames. I clicked on a woman with horn-rimmed glasses and a ponytail. "I'll go here," I said.

Richard raised his eyebrows at me and smiled. "Off we go," he said. She led us through the curtain and into the next room. It was dark, with electric sconces on the walls. It was as vast as a movie theater, but circular. There were about a dozen, or perhaps more, giant beds set up ten feet or so apart. The beds themselves were as large as a small room, my bedroom perhaps. They were recessed inside their frames, so the edges of the bed rose above the mattress. Large pillows separated each propped-up body from the others. It was so dark I couldn't make out the expressions of the people on the beds, but there was a low din of conversation over electronic music. Neon tubing around the base of the bed frames lit them up, each a different color: blue, red, green, orange, yellow. I held the capsule in my hand.

It must have been much past midnight at that point, probably closer to one or one thirty, but I was jittery and even my teeth seemed to buzz and shake in my gums. We dropped Richard off first. He sat down on the bed. I wasn't sure if I was allowed to look at the others, worried I would make them feel like animals in a zoo, but one of them, the blonde, looked up at us and smiled. Her head was propped on one of the big pillows, just as if she was comfortably reclining. She looked very relaxed. "Hello," she said.

"This is Richard," said the host. She reached into a bucket by the side of the bed and produced a bottle of water. "Now you take the pill," she said. He popped it into his mouth, then chased it with a swig of water. "I'll be back in five minutes to check on you," she said.

As she walked me towards the back of the room, I asked what she was going to check. "We like to make sure that people have taken the pill," she said, "just to make sure that no one's a false advertiser. You know, people feel safe here, but only on the condition that there's not going to be any funny business. We want to make sure everyone follows the rules."

"How do you make sure?" I asked.

"Mouth swab. It tests the pH of your saliva, so we can tell if you've taken your pill or not. It only takes a second to show up, it just changes color right on the strip." We passed a bed that was all women, and one that was all men.

"Clever," I said. "Are those single-sex beds?"

"Yes, we try to accommodate everyone," she said.

We were at another bed, which I supposed was mine. The floor around the bed was lit up orange. I scanned its occupants -- two women and a man. The girl with the horn-rimmed glasses, a young man with shaggy black hair and a long, pale face, and a tall woman with short, curly brown hair. They all looked to be around the same age, perhaps five years younger than I, and I wondered if they had come together, if I was interrupting them.

The hostess introduced me, and both women smiled and said hello. The young man gave a slight nod, and I wondered if he felt as though I was intruding. I sat down in between two empty spaces; since there were only four of us, we were each bordered by a vacant spot. I was handed my bottle of water, took my pill, and then watched the hostess disappear back the way we had come, presumably to test Richard's saliva. I was glad she would be coming back soon, in case I lost my nerve. The pale young man's stare was intimidating. I tried to steel myself and waited for the drug to take effect. I wondered what it would feel like, to be paralyzed. I supposed I would soon find out.

"What does it feel like?" I asked the girl in the horn-rimmed glasses. She was small and pale and delicate.

"You'll find out in about a minute," she said. "They dissolve fast."

"Doesn't hurt?" I smiled.

"No, not at all. It's relaxing."

"And if I don't want to be paralyzed anymore?"

"It wears off by closing time," said the brunette. Her voice was a low monotone. "They measure the amount they give you by your weight, but they also figure out how much you'll need to be doped up from the time you get here until you leave. Or you can just take the antidote, which counteracts the effects pretty quick. You can't overdose on it, because it's herbal."

"I don't know if that means you can't overdose," I said.

"Listen, they've got this down to a science. You'd have to take tons of this stuff to have it do any damage to you permanently. Though I guess they do have the waiver," she said. She looked at me, wrinkling her nose. "You might want to get comfortable," she said, so I straightened out my legs in front of me and leaned back against the pillow. I tried to wiggle my toes, but couldn't feel them anymore. So this was what it was like.

The woman in the glasses looked at me. "It's starting, right?"

"This is bizarre," I said. The hostess appeared with a little stick of cardboard.

"Open wide," she said, and stuck it in my mouth quickly, then removed it. She held it up to a little penlight, and waited a few seconds. I was nervous, as if I were taking an exam.

"You're all set," she said. "How do you feel?"

I tried to turn to look at her, but couldn't. She moved over, so I could see her. A moment of panic. My body reacting before my mind could tell it that it was okay, I had done this on purpose. "Well, I can't move," I said.

"That's what we're going for," she said. "Richard is fine, I'll tell him you are too. If you need anything, just say "assistance" and someone will be over right away."

"How can you hear me?" I asked.

"Actually, it's voice recognition -- this thing" she pointed to the side of the bed, which was perforated, "hears you say assistance, and then sends a signal to us."

"Like if you want another water or something," said the brunette. I was a little disappointed that I had chosen her bed. Her voice was grating and she seemed dense. I couldn't picture her animated, un-paralyzed. Perhaps that's why she came.

The hostess addressed the bed. "We close at four, so I'll see you all in two hours, unless you need something before then." She walked past me, and my eyes followed her until she was out of their range. Then there were just the electronic beeps and beats, and none of us spoke for a minute.

"I'm Annie," said the girl in the glasses.

The brunette mumbled her name, and I didn't catch it, but didn't ask. The pale man said that his name was Seth. I told them mine, again, though the hostess had introduced me to them. I felt the brunette's eyes on me; I guess that between the other man and me, I was the more desirable. It felt nice, actually, even though I knew that they hadn't chosen me out of the other people here, that I had chosen them, instead. Really, I'd only chosen the one girl. I looked at her then. She was pretty -- she looked like I imagine girls in Victorian times looked. Very pale, very small. Fragile. Thick glasses, big brown eyes behind them. Transparent skin. She was wearing jeans and a white t-shirt, very simple. Shiny dark hair pulled back. She was talking to the brunette girl about something, maybe where they were from. I wasn't paying attention. I felt more relaxed than I could ever remember having felt, and I wasn't sure if it was the drugs or the fact that I had no option of doing anything but sitting here with these strangers, so close we could have reached out our hands (if we could have moved them) to touch each other. I admired her, but there was no desire. Just the desire to be near. There was no panic, no hot rush, no fear. I wondered if the drugs had paralyzed some part of my brain as well as my body. It probably had. I wondered how the drugs knew where to go, body or brain, foot or sinus.

I tried to move my head to face Annie, and she saw my expression change to fear when I couldn't. She laughed. "You always forget about the head," she said. "I always wondered why it never moved."

"You've been here a few times?" I asked.

"I think four."

I looked at her. Pursed my lips. "Why here?"

From her expression, it was clear that she was trying to shrug -- her eyes darted to one side; one eyebrow raised. We laughed. "Well, why are you?" She smiled at me. I stopped laughing.

"I don't think I can tell you that," I said. I pictured the prostitute. Barbara gripping the doorknob.

"Then don't ask me. Quid pro quo." I tried to cheer myself, but I had grown anxious. Where could this encounter progress from here, I wondered, other than to the same absurd violence as my other intended romances? I looked at her. Her bones were so delicate, like a bird or an insect. I didn't want to crush them.

"I won't ask," I said.

"It's not so bad," she said. "Everyone's here for some reason or another -- clearly liquor is cheaper."

The brunette was talking to the drawn-faced man. He wasn't smiling, exactly, but they seemed to be getting on all right. I couldn't see Richard from where I was since I couldn't turn my head around, but I somehow sensed he was all right. I talked to Annie for the next hour until closing about what Elvis Costello albums we had listened to growing up; when the hostess came with the antidote Annie jokingly pressed her lips tight to avoid taking the pill. "We just got to Get Happy!!" She said. "We're only at nineteen-eighty!"

"Closing time, sorry," said the hostess, and Annie opened her mouth and took the pill. The hostess gave the brunette her pill, and then walked away to another bed.

"Where's she going?" I asked Annie.

"They stagger the beds by five minutes, just so no one tries anything fresh outside."

"Why?"

"Well, getting to know people when you can't move, that's the whole idea, right? The whole plan gets shot if we can leave here and go to my place." She winked. The lights went up. She had some light freckles dusting her nose. What must have been two or three minutes passed, and she stretched and got up. So did the brunette. Annie leaned over and squeezed my ankle before she left. "Next time, I hope," she said. She swung her legs over the stiff pillows and hopped off the bed, out of my field of vision. A minute or so later, the hostess popped a pill in my mouth.

"This one dissolves," she said.

I waited for Richard outside the building. The man who had given us our forms at the entrance shooed my away. "No loitering," he said. "Move on, buddy."

I walked to my car outside the supermarket. Inside a big neon sign flashed "TEN MINUTE PHOTO PRINTS" and reflected in my windshield. I pulled the car around to the entrance of the club. Richard came out as I pulled up to the curb.

He got in. "That was some trip," he said. "The blonde was nineteen years old; she got in with a phony I.D."

"You're a dirty old man," I said.

"Worse has been said of me."

The rest of the drive, we stayed silent. When we pulled up to Richard's house, he hesitated before getting out of the car, and then leaned over and kissed me gently on the cheek before opening his door and walking briskly up the steps. I shifted the car back into drive and sped home, wiggling my fingers all the way.

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