Off a near-silent alleyway in Venice, where only the muffled strokes of gondolas and rowboats is heard, deep into the dark nights, there is a shadowed archway with stairs leading downward. Not too far, for Venice is a kind of floating city and prone to floods.
Within the archway, there is always a lit lantern throwing fitful darknesses and dim glimmers across the edges of the stairs. Standing on the fifth step, the bolder visitors may catch the faint sighs -- or is it wind?; may hear even fainter moans and cries -- or is it the imagination?
At the bottom of the stairs a stone corridor -- the air is damp and thick with indeterminate scents that spark thought and puzzlement. Is that perfume or spices? Wait! The scent is salty; the sensitive and experienced nose may know at once the smell of human sweat and musk. Down the corridor a maze of more walls, twisted turnings, sharp corners and swelling curves until the visitor is confused and yet drawn ever forward by curiosity...and something more.
One almost expects some warning "Beware!" or "Those Who Enter Here..." to be etched over the thick wooden doorway at the end of all the turnings. But the archway is bare, except for age-old pits and the soft steady drip of water down its sides.
In the darkness within, lit only by candles, a man stands, dressed impeccably in formal attire, though from a few centuries ago. Real or imagined? He beckons without moving, his eyes invitations to a seduction and untold pleasures. With a soft smile, he turns his head, and the visitor follows his gaze to what seems an altar or perhaps merely an exhibit of silken coils, old shackles linked by heavy chains. There are also a few items that appear newer and glistening. A polished leather crop, a whip of human hair, a small, obviously sharp, dagger; and other objects too shadowed to be seen clearly. When the man turns his head back to ward the visitor, his smile is broader. In a whisper barely heard, he says: "Come, let us see what pleasures are in store for you..."