Platos Retreat Ripples Ch 01

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Author's Note:

Plato's Retreat in NYC was the most famous sex club in the country in its heyday. A place where exhibitionists, voyeurs, swingers, nudists, the horny, fetishists, the fill-in-the-blanks, and the just plain curious could meet, play, observe, or otherwise experience a unique fantasy world.

This story is inspired by real experiences at the Club and the subsequent ripple effect a visit had on the sexual inhibitions of a group of friends. However, any relation to actual persons or events is purely coincidental. All involved are over eighteen.

I include some background and descriptions in this first chapter to establish characters, imagery, and context, intending to develop the eroticism and sex naturally. In other words, not a "quick stroker" story. As always, your responses and constructive feedback are welcome.

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Years ago, when I was 19 years old, I spent the summer in NYC while serving an Internship with a small local theater. Due to scant finances and high prices, I sublet and shared a one-bedroom apartment with three women: my girlfriend, Joy, and two mutual friends, Tara and Sadie, who were working at a different theater. Joy was a dancer, taking a summer ballet training course. My relationship with Tara and Sadie was all very proper and platonic--until it wasn't.

Joy was a month shy of 19 years old and was exotically beautiful. She was petite, about 5'3", with a dancer's trim and a perfectly formed figure. Her mix of Asian and Caucasian ancestry resulted in beautiful golden-tan skin, straight jet-black hair, and slightly almond-shaped chocolate-brown eyes. Captivating eyes that twinkled with humor or arousal. Eyes that never failed to draw me into their depth with the suggestion of something just a little more.

We met at a theater where she was dancing in a ballet, and I was an assistant lighting designer. I was instantly enamored by her beauty, grace, athleticism, and, yes, her killer body. A very flexible, strong, and controlled body. We hit it off straight away. Lord knows what she saw in me, that I should be so lucky.

By the summer, Joy and I had been together about six months, long enough to be comfortable using a sleeper sofa in the living room of the apartment with our two friends sharing the single bedroom. Joy wasn't generally self-conscious or modest about her body. Instead, she carried herself confidently, comfortably wearing skimpy bikinis or revealing clothes in appropriate places. But regarding sex or erotic nudity, she seemed to have an ongoing internal battle, with her conservative, "good girl" side usually edging out her adventurous, "bad girl" side.

Before that summer, we had sex at least 4 or 5 times a week. That number dropped dramatically in the apartment, however. The crowded space and the others walking right past our "bed" on the way to the kitchen or bathroom stifled our sexual activities. In our close setting, Joy's cautious side prevailed, so when having sex, Joy always worried that the others would hear us or know what we were doing. As if they didn't already know.

So quiet, discreet, and subtle were the sexual rules for us.

Over the first couple of weeks, the four of us became accustomed to living in close quarters and sharing one bathroom without much discord. We also adapted to the weather. Summers in NYC are hot, and our apartment did not have air conditioning.

So, our shared attitude toward clothing became "less was more" and only worn for modesty's sake. Soon, we became pretty casual and comfortable wearing minimal clothes. Comfortable around each other with little on, but short of seeing each other naked. At least not at first, in the time before Plato's.

It wasn't long before Joy and Sadie started wearing only long t-shirts and panties to and from the bathroom, and a couple of times on particularly hot evenings they would wear that the whole time (in the apartment, that is). Often I could see their nipples vaguely outlined or poking out against the material. I tried my best not to openly stare, but I was probably not very successful at being discreet.

I enjoyed seeing Joy's nipples through her t-shirt almost as much as seeing Sadie's, despite seeing them bare every day. Partly because of the eroticism of seeing something you typically don't, and because I never tired of seeing her sexy body--even if only semi-nude.

Tara was more self-conscious and opted for a silky mid-thigh length kimono-style dressing gown when making bathroom trips or when it was uncomfortably hot. That look was, in some ways, sexier than just a t-shirt. Sexier because much of her legs showed, and the wrap style allowed my mind to easily imagine it gaping or falling open, exposing her hidden treasures. Unfortunately, that never happened, but I never stopped looking and hoping--at least when I could do so unnoticed.

Tara was the youngest of our group, having just turned 18 two weeks before we arrived. She was a bit of an enigma in that she was drop-dead gorgeous--and knew it--but was a virgin with almost no sexual experience.

A statuesque 5'8" tall, with long toned legs that seemed to go on forever, Tara had flawless porcelain skin, full breasts (a "C" cup--I peeked at her bra once), a flat, toned stomach, and a cute perky butt. Her long brown hair, with auburn highlights and a natural wave, created a cascading effect over her shoulders and around her boobs. (I admit that I fantasized about that image, though in my fantasy, the view was unspoiled by clothes.) In addition, she had almost luminescent green eyes.

Tara was easy-going, quick to flirt and smile, but more reserved than the others. And though she would freely join in--or listen to--discussions concerning sex or relationships, she made it clear that she had drawn personal physical lines. She planned to wait until the time was right before doing anything sexual beyond kissing and light petting over the clothes. And sex itself would have to wait until marriage or close to it.

The four of us got along well. We made food, drank wine or cocktails, listened to music, danced, talked, and played games. These included occasional drinking games such as "I never" (say you never did "X," and those who

had

done "X" took a drink).

After the second week, we started taking turns giving each other massages--mainly through our clothes--generally on the feet and backs, sometimes adding the legs. Joy would always want her glutes worked on, no matter who was giving the massage, legitimately claiming her butt would be sore from hours of dance class. She liked to point out that the butt was one of the biggest muscles in the body and needed just as much attention as the back and legs. The rest of us, of course, couldn't argue with her logic. And, of course, we all wanted our butts massaged too.

The massages were not sexual then--rather, they were pleasant experiences with close friends who were comfortable with their bodies and each other. The fact that we were all involved in theater and Joy and I were together as a couple made the close physical contact unthreatening and enjoyable.

All three ladies would usually pull their shirts up high to expose their backs while getting massaged, and I would just take my shirt off. I loved caressing and rubbing their bare skin, running my hands over and kneading their tight muscles, and seeing the slight curve of their breasts from the side as they pressed against the floor while lying on their fronts. (Ok, even though the massages were not sexual, I still peeked. Human + Male = Sex thoughts.) And I also had the delightful pleasure of women's hands caressing my back--smooth, warm, and relaxing.

Sadie was the oldest of us at 24 years old, the most open and casual about her body, and more sexually experienced than any of us. Although slightly taller than Joy, at about 5'4", Sadie was thin, almost bird-like, which made her seem tiny. She had sandy blonde hair and large round blue eyes. Her boobs were small with nipples that had the delightful habit of making their presence known by prominently poking out against her shirt fabric. I often enjoyed that view and imagined how they must look bare. She was always quick to laugh, loved anything "fun," and was free with a joke, comment, or suggestion for things to do.

As for me, everyone calls me Mac, from my last name, MacLeod. I was considered good-looking--not stop on the street and stare handsome--but easy on the eyes and physically fit. I had brown hair, blue eyes, stood 5'11", and had an athletic body back then. I was not bulky but more like a diver or dancer with cut, lean muscles and six-pack abs that I worked hard to maintain. Physically I mainly focused on individual or paired sports like skiing, swimming, Tae Kwon Do, dancing, biking, and some tennis.

One hot evening we were sitting around having cold drinks and chatting. I mentioned a conversation I had with a local friend earlier that day. My friend had pointed out a black and white awning a few blocks from the apartment and told me that it was the entrance to the sex club, "Plato's Retreat." I recognized the name and knew of the Club from--I kid you not--an article I had read in

Psychology Today

magazine.

Sadie instantly perked up and asked, "What do you mean a 'sex club'?"

I explained what I could. "From what I've read, Plato's Retreat is a swingers club for couples and single women. People go nude if they want and have sex in front of others, out in the open, or privately. Guest can stay with their partners, swap partners, or just watch or show off their nude bodies and not do anything sexual."

All three women sat and looked at me as if I'd grown a second head, puzzled and intrigued by the concept.

I continued. "I had no idea it was so close or where it was; I didn't remember it even existed until it was pointed out to me today." I saw fascination and curiosity on every face as I waited for them to process this information and respond.

Sadie asked, "So, it's open to the public, and anyone can just go there? Seems like that would be a magnet for pervy drunk guys drooling over not very many women."

"I'm not sure how it works or who's allowed in," I said. "But I know single men aren't allowed, and no alcohol is permitted inside."

Sounding relieved, Sadie said, "Well, that makes more sense. At least that would keep the numbers more balanced. Minimize the creeps and degenerates." She looked at me. "But do you think they're real couples or guys with prostitutes? I've never heard of a place like that."

I shrugged my shoulders and gave a slight shake of my head. "I don't know. But I guess it's really famous and popular--the 'Studio 54' of sex clubs."

Sadie glanced up with her eyes as if imagining something. "Huh. Wild."

We left it at that, and I didn't give the conversation further thought until about a week later--when the seeds of our summer sexual adventures were sown. I was lounging in the apartment late one afternoon when the three women came in with shopping bags, giggling, excited, and practically clambering over each other in their enthusiasm.

I watched them, baffled and amused. "Ok, what have you guys been up to? You all look like cats that swallowed canaries."

Joy stepped forward and asked, "Guess where we just were? And what I have in this bag."

Looking at her unmarked shopping bag, I laughed. "I have no clue--and you are all so strange." Then, pretending to ponder, "Ok, um, you bought... bagels?"

They sighed and shook their heads in pity, telegraphing that it was a rhetorical question I wasn't supposed to answer.

Giving the "correct" response, I replied, "Um, ok, I give up. Where have you been, and what's in the bag?"

The three stood in front of me, giggling and smiling. Joy reached into her bag and slowly pulled out a black t-shirt. As she lifted it out, I was astonished. The t-shirt sported a large logo stamped in white with the name "Plato's Retreat." They all burst into laughter, and Sadie also pulled one out of her bag.

Dumbfounded, I stammered, "What the... what, how? Where did you get these?"

"At Plato's Retreat," all three said, talking over each other, laughing harder.

"You should see the look on your face," Sadie said, tears running down her face from laughing.

Unable to lose my bewildered expression, I waited impatiently for their mirth to subside somewhat, looking from one to the other. Finally, I asked, "Ok, what the fuck--how... you really went to Plato's Retreat? And... t-shirts?"

Joy finally explained. "We thought it would be funny to get t-shirts or something from Plato's Retreat as presents for my and Tara's brothers and Sadie's cousin, so we went there. All of us together." Then they all started talking at once.

Tara interjected, "And they gave us a tour of the place, showed us all around--"

"We told them we were only there for t-shirts," Joy continued.

"They asked if we wanted to look around," Sadie interrupted.

I looked back and forth, smiling, as the three stumbled through their story, interrupting and talking over each other, but I got the gist of things.

Finally, I held up my hand. "Ok, ok, so you went there, asked to buy t-shirts, and they offered and gave you a tour. And you actually got to look around inside the Club, take the tour?" Three smug faces nodded in unison. "Holy shit! So, any people there, like customers? What was it like? Was anyone nude? What did you see?"

They eventually managed to clarify things. Yes, they did get a tour, despite stressing they only wanted to buy t-shirts and were not there as potential guests. Only a few people were around, but no one was nude or having sex. The guy at Plato's explained that it was early on a weekday, and the crowds showed up much later. And it was much more crowded on weekends.

Notably, they all agreed that the Club was clean and reasonably classy. It had a pool, hot tubs, juice bars, private rooms, locker room, public and private lounge areas, and a fireplace in a side area with pillows. Not at all what they expected.

I don't recall who first said it, but all of my senses went on high alert when someone said it might be fun to go back for real sometime. To use the pool and everything--see what it was like when more people were there.

"Huh," I grunted. "Well, sounds like it's pretty nice; I hear lots of famous people go there. Did you happen to notice how much it costs or what the entry rules are?" They all shook their heads "no."

Then, with their story shared, they switched gears, chatted a bit about other mundane things, and drifted off into the bedroom to chat and drop off their shopping. I sat and mentally replayed their description, feeling a little left out that I missed something so intriguing and fun. But more so, I was a little turned on by the image of these three beautiful young women walking through a sex club--and the notion of maybe actually going there.

Over the next several days, the topic would come up now and then. Someone would say something about Plato's, and we speculated about what it would be like to go there. We gradually went from the abstract to contemplating actually checking it out. Finally, I graciously volunteered to gather information "just to see," and I found myself at the front entrance the next day.

I recollect that you had to buy a membership for a set time--a year, I think--plus pay a fee each time you went. I might be wrong on these details, but whatever the specifics, it was expensive, at least to us at the time. Especially the first visit, where you had to pay both the membership and entrance fees. The Club's rules didn't seem onerous. Only couples or single women could enter, no alcohol or drugs were permitted, and no male/male sexual activity was allowed. The rules didn't address Sapphic interactions.

No one offered to give me a tour.

The following evening after dinner and wine, slightly buzzed and bantering, we talked seriously about going. Tara said she wouldn't join us but had no problem with it if we wanted to go--as long as we promised to tell her all the details. Joy, Sadie, and I considered the pros and cons and gradually got excited about the prospect. In a way, we simply talked ourselves into it, each of us having subconsciously decided we wanted to go for it.

Joy's observation that we didn't have to do anything we didn't want to do while there tipped the scales in favor of going. We could just wander and watch, check it out, and see what it was like. We could always leave if it wasn't fun. We looked around with slight grins and mischievous glints in our eyes, then broke into big smiles as we unanimously nodded our agreement.

The following Saturday, Joy, Sadie, and I embarked on our "investigation" of the Club, our excited and nervous energy tempered--or perhaps fueled--by a glass or two of liquid courage. With Tara sending us off with, "have fun, and I want to hear all about it," we headed to Plato's Retreat. We paid and entered.

An attendant gave us towels and locker keys, showed us where the locker room was, and told us that we were free to wear as much or little clothing as we felt comfortable wearing. We decided to look around first while still dressed, feeling nervous and somewhat awkward now that we were finally there.

We walked out into the main common area. We saw men and women everywhere, getting juice, lounging, and wandering. Some were kissing and fondling--all were only wearing or carrying towels. No one else had street clothes on.

We stood, taking in the scene. In under a minute, Joy voiced the thought we were all sharing: "I feel weird being the only ones dressed here. Let's go get changed."

Readily agreeing, muttering cliches like "when in Rome..." we hurried back into the locker room. 'Room' in the singular--one room, no separate areas for males and females. We selected lockers and started pulling off our clothes. Joy and I, of course, had seen each other nude, but Sadie and I never had. I wondered if she would feel shy or nervous, undressing in front of me. I was somewhat apprehensive, so I tried to pace my disrobing to match hers.

Evidently, I was the only one feeling any qualms about getting naked. Sadie promptly stripped off every stitch of clothing as casually and unabashedly as if I weren't there. She was nude even quicker than Joy, who was seconds behind, leaving me lagging in my undressing. Sadie then stood facing me, not attempting to cover anything, and waited for me to finish undressing and lock up my things.

I regarded Sadie as we registered our mutual nudity. Soaking in the sight of her unclad petite body for the first time, she was, in a word, adorable. Even cuter naked than dressed, her slightly curved and toned figure was in perfect proportion. Her small breasts drooped slightly, with pink areolae clearly defined against her lighter skin. Her nipples tipped up somewhat on the slope of her boob rather than straight forward and stood erect in response to their exposure to the air.

Sadie had a tidy patch of light sandy-colored pubic hair nearly the same color as the hair on her head. Her classic 'carpet matching the drapes' confirmed that her blonde hair was likely her natural color. And before my gaze crossed the line to inappropriate ogling, I had time to appreciate the edges of her crinkly labia lips peeking out through her light bush.

Slap! I felt a sting as Joy whomped my arm playfully. "Down, boy, you'll have plenty of women to drool over soon enough!"

We all laughed and wrapped our towels around ourselves--mine around my waist, the women above their boobs as we had seen others do. We headed out into the common area, amazed at the various activities and people.

One of the first sights to greet us was a couple wrapped in their towels having sex on a bench. The woman faced and straddled the seated man and rose up and down in his lap, both making slight grunting sounds. Unfortunately, our view was obscured by their towels, which covered most of their sexual activity and the woman's boobs.