Chapter Twelve
In Sophie’s words…
I had a dinner conversation with the man in charge of my photo shoots. He handed me a business card with the name Black Doors written on its face. He said I’d enjoy what went on there as much as I did the afternoon that I spent with his friends, bound in the photographer’s studio. That day, they hoisted me as high as the rigging and the height of the ceiling would allow me to go. I imagine I was at least six inches off the ground. I could have been six feet or six miles above the earth. It didn’t really matter the way I floated so thoughtlessly in an open space that seemed as expansive as heaven. Even the light they burnished into my eyes had an otherworldly quality to its intensity. Was I being grilled by God?
I knew I’d go to this man’s club as soon
