I'm sure you've noticed over the last few years that Orlando has been rebuilt and rebranded as a “PG-13” town. A beautiful, safe place to take the kids out for a good time without anything offensive or remotely entertaining taking place. But a good many of us remember when our city wore a distinctly R-rated mask after the sun went down. A place where if you didn't walk on the wild side, you could at least peek into the window to see what you were missing.

I know. I was there for its last gasp. So I have to ask: where has that piece of our city gone? And how do we take it back?

When I became of age I began stalking the bars and clubs of Orlando. I happened upon a fantastic scene on Halloween in 2003. I was dressed rather lamely in the last minute costume of either Agent Smith from The Matrix or Ellwood Blues… your choice.

I wandered past what was at the time the Knock Knock, a club near the corner of Central and Magnolia, where I came upon the unusual sight of a somewhat nude girl writhing in a cage outside the main entrance. Like any man would, I stopped to admire the scene when she flung her arms out and yanked me in, crashing me against the bars and proceeded to lick me from the buckle of my belt to the top of my face. If I could have mustered anything resembling an utterance, it would have said “SOLD!” at the top of my smoke-filled lungs.

I eagerly paid the door fee and walked into what may as well have been Narnia, as new and mysterious as it was to me. Right away, I almost got a concussion from a half naked girl swinging from the ceiling in front of 15 TVs playing a mix of porn and Nine Inch Nails videos. Shelling out five bucks more than one should for a beer, I forced my way to the front of the crowd to see the mistress taking a violet wand (electrical stimulation device) to a man's nipple as he winced with the mix of pleasure and pain.

I dropped a shot handed to me by a girl with black tape on her tits, just as a co-worker of mine spots me and wraps her gorgeous legs around one of mine, draping me in her Catholic schoolgirl skirt and starts bumping and grinding to the music. By day, she's the most straight laced person you could ever know.

After a few strange purple concoctions, the night goes black. I wake up the next morning safe in my bed, still in my black suit with an unsightly bruise on my ass, a crusty feeling on my naughty bits, and my monthly budget on a sheet of paper next to me. The math is perfect. Strange.

Without knowing it at the time, I had seen (and possibly taken part in) a BDSM/Fetish performance.

For the more sexually naive among us, I'll give a brief explanation of BDSM/Fetish.

A fetish is a person’s psychological preference or dependency for arousal. It can be anything and nothing, going as extreme as needing to hang from the ceiling supported only by large steel rings run through the skin of your back or as simple as a woman’s foot pressing down on a gas pedal (come to find out, many websites are dedicated to that one, including http://www.clips4sale.com/studio/5178).

Bondage Discipline/Dominance and Submission/Sado-Masochism (BDSM) is a pleasurable exchange of power via domination or submission for practitioners thereof. The exchange can take the form of a dominant person fulfilling a submissive's desire for humiliation or discomfort or the pleasure some feel in relinquishing total control of their actions to a dominatrix (female) or dom (male), but as a general rule the practitioners of BDSM are predominantly interested in the service aspects of their lifestyle.

Take all these ingredients, add 12 ounces of voyeurism to a gallon of pure exhibitionism, and you've got the recipe for one hell of a show.

A lovely young woman or man, vertically attached and spread eagle on a Saint Andrews Cross, being whipped gently on the back is the sort of thing that draws a crowd. Beautiful women clad in all the dark colors of the night from head to toe, sporting riding crops under their arms are here to take away the burden of your power—all to the shocked and shouting pleasure of the crown before them. This is something I have paid to see and would pay again.

Orlando no longer has entertainment for sexually curious or expressive adults in a public atmosphere. This I feel is damaging to our reputation as a true metropolitan city. We build ourselves up to the world as a place that has something for everyone, provided everyone is of the mental age to indulge in building blocks and Dora the Explorer, sexy little bitch that she is.

While fetish shows aren't exactly illegal in Orlando, they are restricted to the point that some believe you may as well not even bother holding them at all. Some places in Orlando recently got creative in an effort to drive traffic. Peacock Room welcomed exotic dancers from Miami Pornification to perform in February, and Stardust Lounge has had a steady crowd for their burlesque show for some time now.

In researching this article, we wanted the opinion of someone on the inside. It turns out we needed only to look across the bar as one of our favorite drink slingers used to organize fetish shows at Go Lounge, Kit Kat Club, and Knock Knock. As it happens she zapped my nipples with a violet wand some years ago, and I didn't even recognize her. I gotta stop drinking. (He types with one hand whilst upending his brew.)

The interview itself was a real eye opener, not just on the side of fetish shows, but as a look into Orlando's past from from a woman who stood on the forefront of a friendlier time in Orlando for those with more mature tastes in past times.

“Nearly fourteen years ago Orlando was considered the party capital. Underground Raves, After hours clubs, and only half the police officers you see downtown now. We actually had a few cops roll through the Kit Kat Club to "check it out". A lot of eye candy that included live cage dancing, human body buffet, and lots of spankings!” she shared.

Interviewing “Mistress Tania” gave us plenty of food for thought (and pictures!) on how Orlando can be prosperous for the sexually expressive and profitable for bars once more.

Here's what we feel it would take:

The Right Place – One of the most obvious reasons Tania pointed out for the lack of Orlando Fetish entertainment was the closures of Go Lounge and The Kit Kat Club. We need a new venue to step up to the plate and be willing to be risqué. It needs the necessary space, a liquor license (sorry Will’s, this ain't really a beer crowd, though your space is perfect), and a not-so-squeamish staff. We feel good candidates for this would be The Peacock Room, The Matador, and Stardust Lounge.

The Right time – As they say, there is no time like the present. There are willing venues to be had. These shows were always at their most successful at Halloween, but summer could also be a great time considering the requirements of the scantily clad and the heavy amount of adult tourists we have in the area at the time.

The Right People – Tania was sad to say most of her fetish team had moved out of state or moved on to other things. While the shows can include volunteers from the crowd, they require people of the dominant or submissive set that have the proper training and experience to make the display truly meaningful. It just so happens that Orlando is one of the few places in central Florida to have a private club that specializes and the proper training and education of fetish performers and enthusiasts. They're called the woodshed, look them up.

There you have it: The Night Owl's recipe for reviving Orlando's sexual performance dark side. To sum up, I will say that you've probably noticed a few of your friends moving out of town at an alarming rate simply because no one wants to be in never-never-land forever. People grow up. Their tastes change, and they seek out cities more willing to accommodate adults.

We will accept the mouse's jobs, the tourists and so on, as we have nothing else going for us right now. What we will not tolerate is the power our economic masters use to keep us living in Candyland and our darker desires being exiled to the back of our minds. We force ourselves to keep our playful and painful spirits confined to our bedroom, and it's up to entertainment such as fetish shows to whip us into shape. Pun intended.