The Freyja Club

It had been a week since I had returned home from my trip to Paris and the brief stop in New York. I had been busy wrapping up items that had been discussed at the meetings there and hadn't had much time to do anything related to the Freyja Club except think about more questions.

I had discussed the trip with Karen, a woman that I'd started an affair with a year ago, but I couldn't tell her about the club because of the non-disclosure agreement that I'd signed. I knew that I could request that she be vetted and added to my account as a "guest," and I probably would do so, but I was told that it could take a year, so discussions about the Freyja Club with Karen wouldn't be happening anytime soon.

I also had long telephone conversations with Jen, and while she and her husband Steve had helped answer some questions that I had about the club, she wasn't very helpful in answering some of the ones I had left. It was nice though; I told her that I missed her wet, clutching pussy and she told me that she missed my talented tongue. Just a normal conversation between friends.

The nearest club to where I lived was Washington D.C. but even that was a two-hour commute, so a visit, which I planned to make, would require some planning. I took out the wallet-sized plastic card that I was given when I joined Paris and looked up the number and dialed it on a whim.

A female voice answered, "Hello, F.C." Based on the way the phone had been answered when I called the New York club, I knew that I had the correct party. I introduced myself by name, birthday, and a private three-digit number and waited while the woman checked the information that I'd given her. When she returned online, she welcomed me by name, introduced herself as Michelle, and asked how she might be of service.

I explained that I was new to the club has been a member for less than two weeks and I wondered if she could answer a few questions that I had. She told me that she would be happy to field any questions, but that she absolutely couldn't tell me any information about another member that she hadn't been specifically authorized to divulge.

I said that I understood that and my questions were more general. I asked Michelle to tell me exactly what she did since it was my understanding that she was a 'matchmaker' of sorts. She laughed at the way that I'd phrased the question, but she admitted that it wasn't far from the truth, but she said that to put things in perspective, maybe she should begin with a bit broader overview than my initial question implied.

Michelle told me that every club had only one incoming phone line, the number that I'd just called. She said that it was impossible to reach anyone in the Washington club except by going through her, and she was known as the 'public lead.' She might have interrupted our conversation if other calls came in.

Inside the club, there were a few phones, but all of them could only call out, they couldn't receive incoming calls except her. Of course, this strictly limited access, which was the point. If, say, a vendor needed to talk to a purchasing agent, they had to give their number to Michelle, who would then have the club person call them back. She said all calls were monitored, which by the time she got to that point, I had already assumed

So first, the 'public lead,' was the communications gatekeeper for the club, and someone was on duty twenty-four hours a day. I asked if Michelle was physically in the club, or if was she in a call center somewhere else. Michelle laughed and said that, no, she was inside the club. Of course, I had to ask if she was naked and she said "No, I'm in the administration office," and she laughed again. She then went on to tell me that, she, filled the role of 'public lead' only a few days each month, but that there was a regular rotation of women that occupied the position. She said that normally she was a waitress in the bar.

As the light came on in my head, I inquired if these few days a month were the same ones that might make it awkward for someone whose job required them to be nude. Michelle seemed to be enjoying my attempt at the delicacy and, still laughing, said that they were the very same. I then asked if other jobs in the club needed to be done only a few days a month?' and it sounded like Michelle dropped her headset because I could still hear her laughing but from farther away.

When she recovered enough to continue she said that the position of 'public lead' was one of several options that women in the club had when they were 'unable' to work their regular job, but that it was so important that 'public leads' had to go through several weeks of training and were paid double when they were on the job. There was one shift during the day that alternated between two women permanently, so if I happened to call between 2 a.m. and 10 a.m. I would always get either Robin or Dani. Other times it would be one of the other fourteen women who were qualified to lead.

So, in addition to being the club's gatekeeper, Michelle informed me that the bigger part of the job was what she called 'member services.' For example, I might want to know what special events were taking place, or maybe I wanted a hotel reservation, or most likely, I was planning a visit and was seeking some kind of 'special service' that would require help from the 'public lead.' I wanted to learn more about the 'special service' part of her job, so for the next fifteen minutes, I peppered her with questions.

Michelle gave me the following example. Perhaps I was seeking two women for a threesome, Michelle would survey the membership profiles and identify any women that might have indicated a desire to participate in that 'activity.' If she found a match, she'd contact to see if there was an interest for the period requested. If so, she'd essentially make an 'appointment' with all parties involved, make dinner or hotel reservations if requested, and set things in motion.

I remembered that when I had joined in Paris a week ago that I'd filled out a fairly long form that listed more sexual preferences than I knew existed I had to ask Danielle, the club's managing director to explain a couple to me. I asked Michelle if that was the information that she'd use to match up with people. She said yes, that was a big part of it, but she'd also look at the notes in the person's profile. I hadn't heard about 'notes' before, so I asked her to explain.

Michelle said that she was looking at my profile and she noted that I had visited the club three times, once in Paris and twice in New York and my profile had four 'notes.' I asked if she could tell me what they said, and she said, she couldn't read them to me but she could paraphrase. All were from the staff of the club and I figured that they were probably from Danielle and Ming in Paris and Jenna and Kyree in New York, since they were the only 'staff' that I'd had enough interaction with to deserve a 'note.'

"Um," she said. "All very complimentary. They say that you are a considerate lover, and for your age exhibit notable stamina, hmm." I gathered that was probably from Danielle, but I hoped from Kyree too. "It describes your oral skills as exceptional and enthusiastic...ooh." Michelle paused a moment and added, "it says you offered a clean up and you're dominant without being domineering. You will be popular with the ladies."

"So will you be adding a 'note' after this conversation?" I wanted to know. "Oh yes, indeed," Michelle responded immediately. "I'm going to write that you are very curious and you ask a lot of intelligent questions." Now it was my turn to laugh.

"So let's say I want to meet up with a woman for 'romantic sex' this coming weekend, and I prefer someone who's a mature professional about my age, but who won't be bedded without a seduction. How would you handle a request like that?"

"Oh...well, let me see." For the next five minutes, I could hear Michelle, but it sounded like she was talking to herself, not to me, and from the sounds of it, she was reading profiles because there were a lot of "hmm's" and "no's," with an occasional "perhaps." When she came back on the line, she had a question for me. "How tough a challenge do you want?"

I said that I wasn't sure what she was talking about, and she said that she was looking at a profile that might fit, but in looking at the 'notes,' it appeared that the woman had been set up with three appointments in the last year, but there was no indication that she'd been involved in any 'activities,' which Michelle thought was strange. Why be a member if you were that 'hard to get?'

I've never believed that I was ever "God's gift to women," nor did I believe that I possessed the charm that could seduce any woman on the planet. Over the years, I thought I had gotten reasonable results as my affairs with Jen and, now, Karen indicated, but by training and nature, I was well aware that defeat and disappointment were part of life and another one wouldn't be ego-shattering. I told Michelle to see if something could be worked out. She gave me the address and parking instructions for the club and she said she or another 'public lead' would call me with the results. I thanked her for the information and told her that I'd look forward to meeting her in the bar. It was probably my imagination, but it sounded like she would like that as well.

Two days later I received a voicemail to call "Leslie." I immediately recognized the number of the Freyja Club in Washington D.C. and as soon as I got a free moment, I called.

Leslie answered on the first ring and told me that she had been given my request and was following up. She had just spoken to a woman named Susan, who she said might be interested in meeting with me, but there was a condition.

What's the condition? I wanted to know.

Susan wanted our initial meeting to be at a restaurant a couple of blocks from the Freyja Club, but not at the club itself. Was I willing to accept this condition? It seemed obvious to me that this 'meeting' would be akin to a job interview. A public setting where, if I didn't fit the bill, she could decline in a more ladylike manner than if she was naked sitting across from me in the club. Recognizing it for what it was, I agreed and Leslie gave me the particulars for this upcoming Saturday and said she would confirm after another call to Susan. Three hours later, a voicemail message told me that I had a date.

8 p.m. on Saturday found me standing outside of Filomena's on Wisconsin Ave. in the heart of Georgetown and backing up to the C&O Canal. The club was located on P Street only a block and a half away. I was waiting for a woman who said she'd be wearing a white dress and a red hat. I had said I'd be in a brown herringbone jacket with a green and gold tie. Susan was late.

Ten minutes after eight, I saw her walking from the general direction of the club, and I assumed that she, like me, took advantage of the parking garage there. A few steps away, she waved pleasantly and we made introductions at the entrance to the restaurant. The matre 'd seated us at a table in the back with a nice view of the canal just a few feet away. A waitress lit a candle on the table and took a drink order. Susan opted for a Pinot Noir and I joined her.

"I assume you're wondering why I asked to meet you here?" Susan started. I said I thought it was a good way to get to know a person and I recounted the reasoning that I'd had when I first heard about the 'condition.' Susan sipped her wine and said, "exactly, that's perceptive of you."

Over the next hour and a half, we peppered each other with questions. I told her what I did for a living without identifying the company and a little bit about my life story including a stint in the Army during the Vietnam conflict. She, in turn, did much the same. She was originally from Virginia, had been married and divorced, had worked in several companies and now owned one, which she didn't identify either.

Her business, whatever it was, required her to be on the road a lot and we soon discovered that we shared several experiences in common and it was fun to compare notes. We had both opted for Veal Parmesan and we compared Filomena's version with the same dish we'd eaten elsewhere. It wasn't until well after nine p.m. that the discussion turned to the Freyja Club.

I told Susan about my invitation on a flight over the North Atlantic, my initiation in Paris, and a little about what I'd learned about the club since. She told me that she was in a lesbian relationship with a woman named Alma, who had received the original invitation. According to her. Alma was a free spirit who had embraced the culture of free love with vigor and passion. Susan said that she was considerably more conservative than Alma, but had been persuaded to join. I asked if it was because she was the only one who had enough money to pay for it, and she gave me a surprised nod.

We were well along in finishing up our second bottle of the quite exquisite Pinot Noir when I asked if she was in a lesbian relationship, and why were we meeting. She looked at me sheepishly, and for the first time in the evening, I saw a small chink in the armor that Susan seemed to have wrapped around herself.

She told me that after her marriage, which I inferred started to go south on their wedding night, it had been hard for her to consider another abusive relationship with a man, and that she'd become attracted to women because they were more compassionate and caring and the emotional bond was stronger, but she still found genuine masculinity to be arousing. She volunteered that had probably been her fault that the three previous appointments she'd made at the Freyja Club hadn't worked out.

The first had been with an Italian diplomat. While he was handsome and seemingly kind enough, she thought that unfortunately for him, at that point, she was too scared, that she probably would have rejected almost anybody. She had thought about that a lot before she'd agreed to try again. In the interim, she and Alma had a few lesbian encounters with other women at the club and Susan had discovered that the "iron rule" which initially terrified her, she now found arousing. She said that she was proud of her body, but had been so inhibited that she was unaware of the pleasure it could give. When terror turned to arousal, she discovered that she began to crave the hungry look she received from men.

Susan said that she started having 'wet dreams,' about men laying atop her, thrusting their hard cocks into the softness of her cunt, but she never told Alma, or anyone else. She admitted that she'd bought a dildo that sometimes Alma used on her and she knew that she desired that hardness for real.

The second and third appointments were similar. She had met the men at the restaurant in the club, but both had done nothing but talk about themselves and how hard she was going to be fucked and paid little attention to Susan other than to leer at her naked body across the table. She said that both made her feel so uncomfortable that she'd opted out by feigning an upset stomach. These experiences were her reason for the 'condition.'

The wine was affecting me, as I was feeling a buzz, and I assumed that since Susan weighed fifty pounds less, she should be feeling mellow too. We had been talking for almost two hours, and truthfully I was finding Susan to be a fascinating woman irrespective of the original reason we had a date. When I extended my hand across the table and found hers, I received a nice squeeze in return.

"Did Leslie tell you that I requested a woman that needed to be seduced," I asked.

"Yes, she did tell me that." Susan responded, "Leslie thought it was kind of a funny request. Oh, she didn't say that in so many words, but I knew that's what she was thinking."

"And you didn't regard it as funny?"

"No. It's the reason I agreed to meet you."

"I don't feel like I'm doing a very impressive job of seduction," I offered.

"Au contraire," Susan countered, squeezing my hand. "We've been talking for two hours, and not once have you told me what a stud you are, how much I'm going to enjoy your huge cock fucking me, or how I'm going to scream at the pleasure you'll give me. You've complimented me on my dress and my appearance, you've inquired about and shared some of my interests, and you haven't judged my sexual choices. I even have an impression that should I get up and leave, you'll ask me again. Am I wrong?"

I just looked into her eyes and I shook my head.

"Then, let's see where this leads," Susan said as she picked up her purse and excused herself to visit the lady's room. I took care of the check and gave the waitress a little extra since we'd hogged her table. When Susan returned she gave me a nice smile and we headed toward the Freyja Club.

On the way, we held hands and I thought about the sequence of events that led us here. To say that I had been impressed with the system that the Freyja Club had put in place would be an understatement, but data is only good in the hands of people who could interpret it correctly. When Michelle had suggested Susan as a potential match, her interpretation of Susan's three rejections was that she was somewhat of an ice queen, when in reality, she was a woman trying to come to grips with her desires in her way. As I had found in business, appearances weren't always what they seemed, and so too, was their assessment of Susan.

The Freyja Club in Washington was located on P Street in the Georgetown District, and like Paris and New York, it looked from the street like a small eight-story commercial building with no signage. There was a three-story garage attached, in which both Susan and I had parked. There was no portico, just a lobby entrance off the street. As we approached, Susan pulled on my hand and we stopped in front of the door. She looked at me and said, "thank you," and raised her lips for a kiss. I immediately complied, and found them moist and inviting. A perfect first kiss.

I located the microchip reader and extended my hand. We heard a click, and I pulled the door open, letting Susan enter first. The layout was similar to New York except the room was larger. The security desk was located on the right side and I could see a partition that I assumed hid the two doorways into the club. We both clicked in, but just before Susan parted for the Swan Door, she kissed me again and said that she hoped I'd like what I saw the next time I saw her. Of course, the next time would be in a few minutes and she'd be naked.

I entered the club through what I was beginning to think of as the Viking Door and was met by a pretty brunette whose tiara said her name was Rachel. She greeted me with the knowledge that this was my first visit to the club, and like Kyree in New York asked if I wanted a tour. Rachel was pleasant and carried her not insubstantial breasts with poise. I answered that I was accompanied by a member who I assumed would show me around, but I thanked her for the courtesy. There were three couches near the Swan Door entrance and I sat down and waited for Susan to appear.

A few minutes later she walked through the door, and I got to my feet and looked at her. When she saw me she stopped and seem to pose, letting my eyes feast on her loveliness. For a woman in her forties, she was in great shape. Her 5' 8" height allowed her figure to be borderline statuesque with nice curving hips and flawless skin. Her tits were a tad small, but certainly not boyish and the V of her pussy was gorgeous with silky pubic hair that was just enough to obscure but not hide her slit. In the past, I had been told that I have 'hungry eyes," and they were feasting on Susan at the moment.

She let me stroke my lust meter to a solid ten before she walked straight to me and we kissed a third time. I was effusive in telling her how beautiful she looked and how happy I was to be in her company. For her part, she reached for my hand and asked, "would you like me to show you around?" I nodded and we walked towards the center of the room where there was a circular fountain with a gold statue of Freyja, similar to what I'd seen in New York and Paris, but unlike those, there was a pretty extensive explanation of the Freyja Myth and why the club had come to be named after her. Most of it I already knew, but I thought it was a nice touch.