Daniel's and mine worlds collided like continents, and Andrea and Martin had planted naively the seeds of the ultimate comprehension. Their Hedonism had never felt foreign to me, but the fact of ever actually entering into their swinger's club never occurred to me even as a possibility of something richly indulgent to indulge. But weeks went by, and temptation at Club Rome became increasingly irresistibly tempting.
Andrea flirted with me with Club Rome, her voice a siren's call, beckoning me into the land of darkness and deceit that was some form of a reflection of the insane dance Daniel and I were performing. Andrea had the audacity to suggest it so casually, as if the risk of my husband's cheating could be held within the bodies of strangers. But something within me compelled me to think that perhaps the anarchy and identitylessness of a place like this would be healing for my spirit. So I procrastinated and a little bit of newfound braveness, I agreed to accompany her one Saturday evening away from Daniel after he had left for one of his "golfing excursions."
I consented but only if it would be purely for observation purposes only, that I wasn't going to be part of their partner-swapping lifestyle of being inter-changeable puzzle pieces as a couple. I had to register to get in and was told to dress up like a unicorn when I went. I was hesitant but Andrea reassured me that Geoffrey would be going and she'd be with me.
The color was Cheerleaders and Jogs. Andrea put me into a naughtier outfit than anything I have ever worn during my entire lifetime. It fitted my body tight, was a short skirt, and made me feel like I was a sex toy instead of a partygoer. The fabric stuck to me, and the high heels she put me in made me feel like I was a mannequin.
Club Rome was located on a small farm at the edge of Randburg, On the evening we got there, the air pulsed with anticipation and the thick perfume and frangipani candle and aftershave smell. The house was big, the lights dim that cast a sensual glow that wrapped around the couples and groups of individuals that circulated in a dance of shadows and soft hum. I held Andrea's hand for encouragement, her own excitement betraying that she pushed me into throngs of individuals, all attired in their respective costumes as vibrant as they were enticing.
Geoffrey took my place, tied up, in a black rugby shirt and shorts, his dark eyes yearning as they locked with mine. He pulled me into a blinding kiss that incinerated all the threads of fear or uncertainty I'd held to ash, leaving only smoldering need. The host asked everyone to join him for a compulsory tour, and when we parted, I was assaulted by a jolt of excitement that was new to the icy fury that had made itself home in my heart.
The club was a sensual puzzle, every room with a distinct arrangement of sensuality. The first one open. With that you couldn't refuse, you couldn't exclude anyone. The second one a dungeon of leathers and chains, the third room with an enormous jetted hot tub brimming with steaming water. And then there was the dark room where there was no lighting permitted. There was too much to absorb in one sitting.
Before I knew it, I was amongst Andrea and Martin's crew. I was presented as a reserved new girl, the exact opposite of vixens they were familiar with. But the cover held, and whispers of "unicorn" went ahead of me wherever I went, and I seethed with heat like an added secret spice in a dull soup. Geoffrey was not present, and I felt a burning sense of abandonment at first, but the thrill of the unknown was infectious.
I sat between Andrea and Mercia, her husband and Andrea's husband having abandoned them to mingle with the other couples. Mercia leaned in, her warm breath on the back of my neck. "You know, unicorns are said to be the most elusive animal in Club Rome," she whispered, eyes glinting with amusement. "Everyone desires a bite." I swallowed convulsively, the implication unmistakable. I was the trophy everyone desired to own.
Mercia swept me out onto the dance floor and I trailed after her, the ring of her laughter calling to me like the call of a siren's in the sea of flesh. The rhythm was the thud of the bass that thrummed through me, setting a rhythm that was identical with the thud of my thudding heart. Andrea came with me and we danced together, our bodies in a sexual rhythm that was as much a challenge of control as it was desire. The men gazed, their eyes hungry, and I felt a shiver that was as terrifying as it was exhilarating.
Men came, and our dance became a spectacle. Fingers met fingers, and bodies moved as one, the line between love and lust blurring with every beat of the music. I was an object, a beast of beauty and innocence to them, a trophy to be conquered. But power was in my hands, and I reveled in it.
Andrea was swept aside first, engulfed in the rising tides of the dance hall by the arms of a voracious stranger. Mercia drifted off later, smiling slyly and patting my shoulder reassuringly. "You'll love it here!"
"Where am I to find you?" I cried above the tumult of music, but she disappeared from view, lost in a sea of faces, her laugh a vanishing mist.
I sat and was handed a cold-flavored, bitter drink by one hand as an invisible waiter marched past the room. I had not inquired what it was and did not care. It did its job; it seemed to calm me while I looked over the tableau in front of me. The dance floor was an erotic mosaic, where inhibitions were shed like snakeskins and the air hung thick with the scent of trespass.
Two girls approached me, whose names were lost in the noise, and began chatting as if they were old friends. Both were dressed in cheerleader attire, with minimal of their bodies exposed. They giggled like music, a pleasant melody which encouraged the men surrounding us to join. One, with the black hair and face that could illuminate a room, leaned in and whispered in my ear. "Hi, are you new here?" Her breathing had the flavor of peppermint sweetness. I shook my head, not being able to say anything above the beat of the club. "You're going to love it," she told him, her world-weary tone. "Something that you've never had before."
Darkness swept in, sin and lust riding the waves of air. The walls of Club Rome shuddered to the throb of the bass, and I was in the midst of the dance. I danced my body against men whose faces I never saw, our bodies doing a language that needed none. Every touch, every kiss a scream against the lies that had been my marriage.
Piercing blue, fashionably designed man walked over to me. He was dressed in jogger's wear, therefore so abominably short that they only reached up to his crotch level, revealing his amazingly well-muscled legs all the way. Starving grin and eyes portrayed something wicked and delectable. He held out his hand, and I did it before I knew what I was doing, letting him lead me into the insane dance. His hand was electricity, his body a live wire that crackled and sent sparks of pleasure with every motion. We danced until music faded into the distance, until sweat glued my skirt to me and my heart strained for anything other than effort.
At the pounding center of the club, where need was the beat of music, the edges of my life dissolved. The dance was ritual, holy communion between strangers who shared but one truth in common, the passion they were experiencing at the moment. The man's hands moved over me with a knowing that was at once thrilling and terrifying. His fingers traced the lines of my costume, mapping the skin beneath, the way his hands moved making me crazy with hunger for this kind of closeness my life with Daniel never provided.
We danced, our lips kissed, tongues colliding in an old war. He was a flavor of the exotic and the habit-forming, and I was drowning in the sensation, my fingernails buried deep in the muscles of his broad shoulders as if he were the only reality in a world that had melted away into wanting. And then music stopped, and he leaned over my ear and whispered, "Want to see something special?" Velvet soft, a sensual tempter I could not help but react to.
"Yes," I exhaled, my voice lost in the din of laughter and moans that clung to the air. He led me through the web of bodies, step by step into the innermost sanctum of Club Rome. We arrived at the door of the jacuzzi room, a room that promised total anonymity. He looked at me, questioning, and nodded, a silent signal that I would take the leap of faith.
He took me to one of the dressing rooms, where I shed my disguise and into the steamy embraces of the water. The whirlpool bathtub was a witches' pot of lust, the foams covering more than the number of bodies that wound in the bottom. Sex scent and heavy chlorine perfumed the air, the heavy and warm oils being mixed within the water.
The couples in the hot tub didn't even notice us as we slid into the foamy waters, our bodies blending with shadows and steam. The blue-eyed man's hand was hard but gentle, his fingers tracing me as if he had a right to, as if he owned me and could claim me in this secret den of lust. My body welcomed his motions with a dry, desert-like thirst that left me in wonder, a thirst which had developed only in the parchedness of my wedded life.
