"Nope. This isn't totally spooky. Not even the tiniest bit."
I couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit apprehensive as Scott and I's car jumped and jostled along the small, dirt road. It was already dark out, and we were too far in among the trees to really be able to see any lights from nearby streets or houses. But this was apparently the right way to go!
It was just two weeks ago that my husband and I first talked about adding some other participants to our sex lives. Whether it be with full on polyamory or just playing around with another couple, the idea had excited us. Not helped by that stupid sexy show about it that we'd watched that got us all into the idea in the first place. After our initial conversation slash sex on the subject, we'd binged the rest of the series in varying states of dress. And we decided. That was it. We were going to give this thing a shot...
...in a couple of weeks.
It's not that we weren't eager, it's just that...well, we hadn't really considered the dollars aspect. We'd rushed to a lifestyle club website, and checked out the price tag. We had to pay to sign up for a membership and pay extra for the event. It made sense, and part of me was relieved that there was some kind of barrier to entry. However, neither one of us was particularly rolling in it, so it was going to be a sexy, next-paycheck time.
It wasn't all bad, though. The anticipation made for some rather intense lovemaking, with lots of "picture us fucking someone" and "imagine this finger is a cock," that sort of thing. So when the day came to actually make a reservation, we were damn ready. We sent in a payment and our information, and received an email a few hours later with the location of the Secret Sex Club.
Well, maybe not Secret, per se. I was able to find them on Google, but apparently the location of the club was hush-hush. Which is probably why we were here, driving down a dark and spooky road to...supposedly a business of some kind.
After a few more jostling moments, a building finally crept out from the trees. It looked like a couple of buildings, actually. One large and the other more of an in-law house size. There were already a few cars parked out front of the building. Soon, we saw an opening big enough for our car to park.
"Think that's a spot?" Scott asked.
"Definitely," I replied. "Just like you're definitely going to find MY spot tonight!"
I raised up a fist for him to high-five me, but he was turning and I don't think he could see me in the dark. It probably wasn't worth it to bring up how big a social faux pas it was to leave me hanging.
Once the car came to a stop, I turned to my husband. "Okay, before we go in...how are you doing?"
Scott thought for a moment. "I'm good, I think. A little nervous. Pretty excited."
"Me too," I took his hand and squeezed it. "Okay, checklist. While we're in there, we ask before proceeding with anything or anybody."
"Check," he replied.
"And if someone has to tap out or is feeling weird about things, there's no judgement there."
"Yep."
"And that saying you're uncomfortable with something in the moment doesn't necessarily mean 'never.' It just means we should talk about it."
"Agreed."
I took in a deep breath. "Alright, let's do this."
There wasn't exactly a driveway, so, as we trundled through mud toward the house, I was thankful that I hadn't prioritized wearing fancy footwear to this event. Don't get me wrong, I threw on my best low-cut v-neck with the very witchy shawl and the short skirt. We were here to fuck, no doubt about that. But also...like, we never get out of the house to go dancing anymore, and I want to dance to 90's hits, dammit. So sensible, dance-able shoes were in order.
Eventually we reached an unassuming screen front door. Inside, we could see someone waiting at a table, and a few people milling around. After wiping our feet, we entered, and were greeted by a tiny woman in her late 40's.
"Hi, welcome to Persephone's," she said. "Do you two have reservations tonight?"
"We do!" Scott chimed up. "Keane. Not sure if it's under Scott or Marie. One of those."
As she searched on her clipboard, I took a look around the room. The place was decidedly more...rustic, than I was expecting. The walls were wood-paneled in a way I hadn't seen since my grandparents' old fishing trailer back in the 90's, and most of the artwork around the place depicted outdoor leisure activities. There were also various crystals and new-agey paraphernalia lining the room, and, after perusing some of the posters adorning the place, I gathered that this must be a part time yoga retreat or something when it's not being a swingers club.
"Ah! I see you right here," the receptionist said, looking at her clipboard. "First time visitors, I see."
"Heh, yep," I said nervously. Briefly, I considered a joke about being "virgins," but that would probably have been too much. Like saying "it's free" when the register doesn't work.
"Well, our first round of orientation starts over there in just a few minutes," the mousy woman said, pointing with her pen toward a door on the other side of the room. "But you're all signed in, so feel free to wait here, chat with people...we've got a wonderful potluck tonight. Bethany made her famous raspberry feta salad."
Both of us turned in surprise, and, yep, sure enough, there was an array of plates all stacked with food.
"Huh," Scott said. "If I'd known, I wouldn't have eaten before we got here."
"Yeah, wild," I replied. "I want to try that salad. That sounds real good."
Our greeter waved us off as another group entered the building. Scott and I made our way into the front room. Using our best wallflower instincts, we managed to find an unattended corner to perch ourselves in as we took a look around.
"Kind of an older crowd," Scott said. I hadn't wanted to bring it up, but, it was true. Most of the people who were here so far were easily ten years older than us. Which was fine. We knew the realities of this...scene, I guess, and had expected it.
"Yeah, makes sense." I paused for a moment, looking around at the plates of mashed potatoes and broccoli cheese casserole. "It's weird, right? The food thing? Is it weird?"
"I guess we don't know, right?" he replied. "Look, we're just here to try a new thing. Whatever happens, we're still doing that, right?"
"Heh, yeah. We're out of the house after eight! That never happens anymore." He squeezed me close, and I took a moment to feel all warm and fuzzy in his arms.
Just then, the door that the receptionist had gestured to earlier opened, and a tall man in a polo with salt and pepper hair leaned out. "Orientation time, folks! All newbies in here."
I was glad to see we weren't the only ones looking somewhat confused and sheepish as approximately ten people all tried unsuccessfully to go into one door.
The next room was slightly more of what I was expecting. The main decor still said "people who live here subscribe to magazines about fishing and chakras," but the furniture had been arranged with obvious purpose. The room was lined with couches, all facing in toward four mattresses that had been set up in the middle of the floor.
Our host, whose name I would come to find out was David, walked us through the basic rules of the club. The main one they stressed, repeatedly, to my relief, was consent. This was to be a safe space. Nobody was allowed to do anything without getting express permission first, and, if somebody violated that rule, the club would remove them from the situation immediately. It was made very clear that our comfort came first.
The next thing on David's list that gave me a sigh of relief was about the beds. Apparently they had staff to go around and change out the sheets and covers on all of the furniture. Once we were done using a piece of equipment, all we had to do was take the sheets and dump them in a basket, and they would be replaced with clean ones. Scott and I both gave each other approving glances at that. Nothing hotter than hygiene. Aside from that, lube and condoms would be provided on little night stands throughout the room, which was nice.
"Alright," David continued. "Let me give you the tour."
As our small crowd shuffled along behind him, I couldn't help but glance up at a large television that had been mounted over a fireplace. There was currently some of the most stereotypical, I-didn't-know-they-still-made-them-like-that porn that I had ever seen. A couple of blondes unenthusiastically grinding their crotches together. It was just...so obvious. And a little disappointing, really. I supposed they have a certain aesthetic to present, given the nature of the place, but it was still so basic.
"Alright, here's the dungeon room."
That snapped me out of my complaint vision. My cheeks flushed red as we all gazed into a room full of various straps and tables and contraptions that probably all did very fun things if you knew how to use them. There were a few appreciative murmurs from the crowd, and I elbowed Scott in the side, suggestively.
There were a few more, smaller rooms on either side of us, each with a window looking in. David explained that these were for more private play. A curtain could be drawn if you wanted complete privacy, but, otherwise, and open window meant watch, and open door meant possible open participation, but, as always, ask first.
From there, David opened up another door, and the space opened up into a wide, semi-outdoor area. It was all enclosed in glass, with a large swimming pool in the middle, a hot tub off to one side, and, further down, what looked to be a dance floor. On one side, there was a bar set up, with a bartender ready to go. There were tables set up all along the other side of the pool and circling the floor, with a DJ booth set up on the far end of the enclosed structure. Near to the tables was a set of shelves, each adorned with a placard with a number written on it.
