*AUTHOR'S NOTE: this story won't make much sense unless you've already read Part I.
*****
The fateful day finally arrived.
"Mark, what should I wear?" her text read that morning. I sighed heavily at my phone. The dreaded question. Seriously. Why do girls ever ask guys this question?!? We are just going to shrug our shoulders or say something you don't want to hear, like "I dunno." or "I don't care." or "Doesn't matter." OR, even worse (for us), we might suggest an actual outfit only to have YOU say "Absolutely not!" or "Why would I wear that!" or "That's totally inappropriate for this (insert function or event here)." Vicious cycle. Beyond that, I had not yet given any thought to the matter.
I responded nonetheless "Well, let me check their website and see if there's some sort of dress code. I'll text you back in a second."
Sure enough, their website clearly had a very well defined dress code...for the men. No shorts, no flip flops, collared shirts, no athletic wear, basic understandable parameters like that. The women were just encouraged to "dress sexy". Well, that left a lot of wiggle room there, and Andi would need more than that. Then I clicked on a calendar noting specific events that were happening each evening at Club Fairy Tale, and low and behold, there was a theme! Andi and I had bonded previously over our love of dressing up for occasions, i.e., costume parties, spirit dress up days in our school district, and Halloween of course, so I was excited. The theme that particular Saturday night was "Cowboys and Cowgirls". Jackpot!
I texted Andi back "Babe! You're not going to believe it! There's a THEME at the Sex Club each night! Tonight it's Cowboys and Cowgirls. Does that help?"
"Perfect. Pick me up at 8:30, cowboy. I'll save my horse tonight."
She's always so clever.
I arrived promptly at her house and Andi jumped into my car with her beaming smile plastered all over her face. I was speechless and frozen in the driver seat just staring at her. Andi was wearing a VERY short pair of white, Daisy Duke type shorts, cowboy boots, and a little midriff covered by an opened denim shirt that was tied in a little knot right at her belly button.
"Howdy!" she said.
When I was finally able to make my slack jaw function, I responded "Howdy, ma'am."
You have to understand, we were both born and raised in Southern California. We have very little knowledge of cowboys and cowgirls, and what little we have is garnered from films and TV shows over the years like everyone else, so we probably looked and sounded rather silly as we played with over the top Texas accents. I, myself, managed to dig out the tightest pair of blue jeans from my closet and partnered it with a flannel shirt that I'd left open a bit so everyone could see the white, wife beater tank top I was also wearing underneath. Brown boots adorned my feet as well, but they certainly weren't cowboy boots. Additionally, I trimmed my beard to look more like scruff and left some longer sideburns and even a soul patch (I think that's what that little tuft of hair beneath the lower lip is called). Again, Angelenos. This was the best I could do.
Andi leaned over the consul and planted a huge wet kiss on me, making sure to dart her tongue into my mouth so I knew just how excited she was.
"Giddy up, cowboy! Club Fairy Tale awaits!" And off we went.
During the car ride, I told her I wanted to make sure we were both on the exact same page so as to stave off any potential pitfalls or uncomfortableness.
"Alright, ground rules. We're not going to tell anybody who we really are, right?"
"Heck no!" she responded. "But I don't see any harm in giving anyone our real first names if people ask."
"Cool. Agreed. But they're probably going to ask those same questions people ask at cocktail parties: where'd you meet? what do you do? Stuff like that."
"You're right. I want to be an accountant!" she shouted with unexpected enthusiasm.
I laughed. "Uhhhh. Ok, so you're an accountant. What about me?"
"Well, you always wanted to be a writer, so you're a writer if anyone asks at the sex club!"
I laughed again. "Done! And we met...?"
"Because I'm your accountant! Duh! I do your taxes!" There was that adorable smile of hers again. She was so proud of herself for coming up with our backstory.
"Got it. I can remember that. Now. What else? Do we need to set some guidelines too?" I pressed on.
"People are going to approach us and ask what all we're into. It's going to happen. It happened last time I was there a few times. We will likely be one of the more attractive couples in the club." That was nice to hear from my ego's standpoint, but at the same time, a little worrisome. I didn't want EVERYBODY to be unattractive to us both! "I want to watch people get fucked, and I DEFINITELY want people to watch you fuck the living daylights out of me. So that's what we'll tell them. We're voyeurs and exhibitionists, not swingers."
Whew. That was a relief. "Got it. Glad we're on the same page." I told her. "Let the field trip commence!"
We arrived at the club around 9:30 and after paying a nominal fee to have a membership, we were given the grand tour. Andi of course had been there before, but it had been a couple years, and I hadn't been there at all. The couple leading us around were actually really nice; probably ten or fifteen years older than us, but in great shape, and very friendly. They told us they worked there one or two nights a month just giving tours to newbies in order to maintain a free membership. Seemed like a good deal. She was wearing a negligee and a cowboy hat, so KIND OF sticking to the theme, and he was wearing a black polo shirt with the club's name printed in hot pink in the top left corner, tight black jeans, and black boots. I remember thinking I would not at all mind watching them fuck, or even fucking right next to them.
The club seemed exactly as presented on the internet, which was reassuring. I was immediately struck at how comfortable the vibe was. The music wasn't too overbearing, the people were milling about normally, and the sex rooms were very welcoming in that there were different sizes, different levels of light, some were private, some were open. This was going to work out perfectly, I thought to myself. I looked over at Andi and the giant grin still hadn't left her face. She was holding my hand and swinging her head back and forth to the music as if we were walking through the mall.
The tour concluded, and after stuffing our personal belongings into the club's convenient lockers, we immediately headed for the bar with the bottle of vodka I made sure to bring along. I handed it to the bartender who saw that I'd already written our names on the bottle as per the website's instructions (teachers are usually pretty good about making sure details are covered).
"So...Mark and Andi. Welcome." he said.
We both smiled, grateful for his friendly and disarming nature.
"Thank you, Lamar." I read his nametag. "It's our first time here. Well, together anyway. My first time. She was here a long time ago with an ex."
