The Maven Convention

The Maven Convention

Dinner

I met Phyllis and Trey over dinner the first night of the convention. I chose to sit at their table out of curiosity. Most attendees showed up at the resort a day before activities commenced to register, get their room assignments and familiarize themselves with the grounds and amenities. The first evening's dinner was a get-to-know-you social event as well as an opportunity for the organizers to welcome attendees and go over the ground rules and events scheduled for the following two days.

There were fifty to sixty women in attendance that night, not counting the organizers and staff. More women attendees were expected either later that evening or the following morning. But scattered in among the women that first evening at dinner were a dozen or so men who had been invited, or brought by their wives or partners.

I understood that there were a good many more men who had been recruited or who had volunteered, some recommended by their local groups based on their performance at local chapter events, who would be made available (that, I learned, was the preferred term, they were 'available') for use at the various scheduled events. But, by the organization's rules, only those 'escorted' by an official attendee (a woman) were allowed to join us for dinner.

I had come to the convention to gather materials for a blog article I was intending to write exploring the newish fad of CFNM (standing for 'clothed female naked male') erotic entertainment. I signed up as an attendee without mention of my writing plans and was hoping to pass myself off as 'one of the girls' and get some candid and casual feedback from participants without making them feel they were being interviewed. It seemed from the brochure there would be plenty of opportunity for this with the women as the weekend progressed. But the posted rules for male 'participation' in the planned convention 'events', seemed to limit opportunities to get a male perspective on things (at least an articulate one) during the events themselves. So, seeing this couple seated together at one of the tables with a place open next to them, I sat down, and introduced myself to Phyllis and Trey.

I'm not sure what I expected, but, to my surprise, at least initially, there were no surprises as we churned through the typical 'get to know you' chatter. They were from Massachusetts, near my own former stomping grounds, and we made some inconsequential small talk while other female attendees joined our table, introduced themselves and settled in.

Phyllis is an expert in software design with a consulting business. Trey an IT specialist for an insurance firm just outside of Boston. They're both in their thirties, look put together and fit; like they actually use their gym memberships. Phyllis is pretty in a mousy sort of way and even though Trey is not a swooner, he's decent looking. Turns out Phyllis had been one of three founding members of her local Boston Chapter and had met Trey when he volunteered for one of the group's early events.

They seemed off hand with this revelation. But even though I had 'known' in my head something of the sort must be true, this first mention of Trey's 'volunteering' to . . . Well, it somehow jars with my sense of how ordinary this encounter seems otherwise. This could have been my opening to pursue my research topic, but instead I find myself recoiling into more small talk and learn that they had been married five years and had a two-year old daughter.

Such pleasantries out of the way, I finally pluck up the nerve to turn to matters of more immediate interest.

"So," I ask Phyllis, "you both still, I mean, you are obviously," just ask! I scold myself silently, "but Trey is still active in the local chapter events and you've brought him to be . . ." I pause not quite knowing how to phrase this, but,

"Available for use this weekend." Phyllis finishes for me. "Absolutely." glances around the table at the other women, some who have joined us as we talked, before turning to Trey. "Why else?" she asks him rhetorically.

"Oh, not for my scintillating dinner conversation?" Trey jokes easily. "Guess I'll have to earn my keep some other way, won't I?"

They both laugh.

"So, you have him available," a woman across from me, Meg according to the helpful name tags, asks, "take him with you to events like this as part of your relationship?"

Phyllis and Trey exchange amused glances at this before Phyllis says, "Well, we have a relationship, obviously, we're married, so I guess anything we do is part of that. But; 'have him'?, 'take him'?" she pauses, raises a skeptical brow, "I guess I'd leave the having and taking of him to you all, depending on what suits your fancy over the weekend. We have a good time doing this together but . . ." she shakes her head, "it's not like I'm leading him around on a leash. He's got his own reasons for being here. He did need my invite to come to dinner, but that's just . . ." she waves a hand dismissively, "convention etiquette, I guess."

"So then, he's not a sub, really." Meg follows up and I make a mental note to keep track of terminology here.

Phyllis frowns, "Well, not over dinner anyway. He's plenty compliant when in use, but games don't start till tomorrow."

"So then, tomorrow, you'll have him . . ." another, name-tagged Joan, starts but,

"Jesus, girls!" Phyllis interrupts with a snort. "Why are you asking me this stuff? He's right here. Ask him. He isn't shy."

And, indeed this proves true. But, at least at first, the other women at the table seem somewhat reticent to take the matter of his availability up directly with him rather than through Phyllis' mediation. But I had my own reasons for pursuing this.

I had consulted the on-line registration site for the convention and was aware of the "Maven General Rules and Principles"; a sort of code of expected conduct that supposedly applied to all Maven events:

For Attendees (women)

1) No nudity (full or partial)

2) No sex with the males when in use.

3) Respect for other attendees;

Take turns

Share

Include everyone

4) Participate;

Join in using the males

Encourage others

For the Entertainment (males)

1) Full nudity at any or all times as instructed

2) No approaching, touching or speaking to any female unless directed or invited.

3) Be available for any female to approach, touch or examine in any way she wishes.

4) Perform as directed by any female, including but not limited to;

Achieving and maintaining erection

Assuming any position as directed for display or other use

Masturbating as and when directed.

Masturbating to ejaculation only as and when directed.

Promptly performing any service requested.

Overall, these 'General Rules and Principles' were helpful and reassuring. Even as a complete newbie, I felt fairly safe coming without worrying about ending up in an orgy or being subject to unwanted advances by any of the men. But beyond that, even the very clear instructions for the men left a lot of room for speculation; were they really supposed to do

just anything

or perform

any

service requested? Surely there had to be limits to the 'including but not limited to' expectations. So, when the other women seemed reticent,

"Trey," I get his attention, "you'll be part of the entertainment then, this weekend." I say, really not a question because that's clear already from what went before.

He turns my way and nods. "Yes, Sarah." he says, using my name I notice without having to look down at my name tag. "I hope you'll find it entertaining at least." smiles.

"Yeah, on that. I was looking through the events in the brochure before dinner." I say, "Not really too clear on what's involved in the various events. Is that usual for this sort of . . ."

"We keep it that way on purpose." Phyllis interjects. "We like to keep things general so there's room for surprise, especially for the males. Makes it more interesting when they aren't sure what's next for them."

The 'males'; the term strikes me as slightly odd when used in regular conversation with one of them sitting right here; not 'men' but 'males'.

"So then," I focus back on Trey, "you don't know what you'll be . . ." I pause, unsure of the proper terminology for this, decide to go with Phyllis' earlier, "made available for?" I ask.

"Not exactly." he gives me that smile again. "I mean the event categories are pretty general; they give you a certain set up and type of activity to expect. But," he glances around the table briefly at the other women, "they do like to surprise us with new arrangements and even if they announce one thing, things don't always run to script. The women often have their own ideas to make things more entertaining." his smile broadens as he looks at me more closely. "First time?" he guesses.

"Yes, actually." I admit. Why not, if it helps get me more info. I've read and researched this online to prepare, but I've never attended even a local event or a 'hen party' (as they are sometimes called), let alone a gathering of this size and elaborate set up.

"Oh, darling, you're in for a treat." a slightly older looking woman directly across the table from me (name tag; Amy) says breathily. "What a grand way to start."

Start? Hmmn. I

am

very curious and, okay, somewhat excited about this; seems like it could be fun; some of it anyway. But I'm here to get materials for my blog, not take up a new hobby. Or, at least, I don't think so. But I don't want to tell them that. It's fine they know I'm a newbie. But beyond that I just want to be one of the girls and not get people uptight or ostentatious by thinking they're being interviewed or 'observed' for publication. So, what I say is,

"Yeah. Seems so." and shrug before getting back to Trey with, "But looking at the brochure, it seems like there's a few places where there's two events going on at once, like," I fish into the pocket of my jacket that hangs on the back of my chair, pull the brochure out and spread it on the table, "here," I say, "there's a 'High Tea' and a 'Lounge Act', both at 3:30 p.m. tomorrow. So, different guys will be in different things depending on . . . well, I guess that's my question. Do you know in advance who's in what?"

"That depends." he answers. "Sometimes they'll select you specifically for something because it requires a certain aptitude or" he pauses, smiles a bit sheepishly, "or whatever you want to call it. But that's up to them. For us men it's more about, if there's something you know you're just really not into, you can let the organizers know and they'll work with that, at least usually. But if you sign up for this you can't get too picky or it's just not fun for the women. They want to be in charge and run things; that's kind of the point. The men know that coming in; that's the turn on for us. So, if the women get some idea in their heads about something they want to try . . ." he spreads his hands, shrugs. "I guess you could always just say 'no', but no guy wants to be '

that guy

'. We want the women in charge. That's why we're here."

I'm somewhat surprised by his openness, almost nonchalance on the topic considering what I've read and seen on line. There's certainly a broad range of potential activities within the genre, more than a few of which I suspect would require what Trey casually calls 'certain aptitudes' or, to my mind at least, a certain tolerance for discomfort both physical and psychological. His seemingly casual confession of 'That's the turn on' emboldens me somewhat.

"So where should I be looking for you tomorrow?" I ask, making things a bit more personal by putting myself in the audience as part of the question, "High Tea or the Lounge Act?"

"Don't know yet." he says. "I'd rather be in the lounge. At least I think I would," he and Phyllis exchange what seem to be meaningful glances, "if it's anything like last year."

Phyllis smiles.

He turns back to me. "But, asking around, and what I know from our Boston group, it seems there's been a surge of interest expressed in one feature of last year's Lounge Act so the organizers have made an effort this year to recruit more males with that event and some others like it specifically in mind. Depending on how many they managed to get, they may have enough of us suitable for that, so maybe they won't need me there. But I'm happy to do either. Like I said, the thing is to have the women in charge."

"I'd prefer you in the lounge where I'll be." Phyllis says. Then to me. "High Tea is a little too low key for my taste." she shrugs, then, back to Trey, "If they give you a choice, I'd much rather see you used by these nice ladies that way." she says with a meaningful glance around the table.

The 'nice ladies' smirk knowingly and nod in acknowledgment of Phyllis' proprietary preference for the 'use' of her husband. I nod as well, feigning nonchalance, but feeling as if I'd suddenly stepped through the looking glass. It's one thing to see and read on the internet about men and women who do this stuff. But those knowing, slightly condescending smirks from these women . . .

"What sort of event is it?" I ask Trey. "I mean, what sort of aptitude" I adopt his phrase, "are they looking for, recruiting for exactly? What happens in the Lounge Act?" I'm rambling because I'm feeling out of my depth which always makes me nervous. "I can't tell anything really from the brochure. It just says," reading from the brochure now, "'Back by popular demand from members, a reprise of last year's equestrian competition. A chance to vet and wager on a new set of jockeys as they mount and ride to the finish.' I mean, I know that's code for something, and I definitely get the finish part, but what's the equestrian part? This is a Lounge act, right?"

"Right." Trey confirms. "But I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise for you if you haven't already . . ."

"Oh, no, no, don't!" Amy interjects again from across the table. "Don't let him spoil it darling. It was a new thing they started just last year and they made it just as vague then, and I had all these wild ideas about what might be involved. Trust me, it'll be so much more fun for you to find out once you get there. And besides," she adds giving Trey a meaningful look, "I'm told by reliable sources that there are some refinements this year that allow a lot more audience participation. Hmmmm?" she leans forward and hmmms at him suggestively.

I watch Trey's expression, think I see a slight crack in that smooth, cordial exterior before he says, "Sure. More interesting that way."

"Exciting you mean." the woman beside me - yet another Meg -- interjects.

Trey turns her way.

"More exciting for you," the woman says, "audience participation."

"Yes, Meg." Trey agrees. I note again he does not seem to look at her name tag but still gets it right. "That does excite me. Why else would I be here." he snorts as if rehearsing the obvious.

But the dynamic has shifted.

For the rest of dinner, as far as Trey and my table companions are concerned, the games have already started. The 'nice ladies' initial reticence had at first made me feel somewhat bold and risqué asking my newbie questions. But it quickly becomes obvious that they had simply been observing a sort of etiquette among dominant women, waiting for Phyllis to signal clearly Trey's status as either dinner companion or 'entertainment'. She had sent mixed signals at first, perhaps to emphasize her proprietary claims. But once Phyllis sets the tone with her 'see you used by these nice ladies' comment, my dinner companions avidly accept the invitation; his wife is making Trey 'available for use' over dinner.

This may not be the proper setting for physical nudity, but the nice ladies proceed to verbally undress and expose him. Every now and again during this process, Phyllis or one of the other women will look my way and ask if I don't have a question for Trey myself. But I am entirely unprepared to wade into the depths - and shallows - of obscene euphemism, casual carnality, and explicit sexuality these nice ladies mix so readily with (to me) disconcertingly ordinary 'get to know you' dinner conversation.

So I learn, among other things and in no discernable order of priority, that Trey is circumcised, is 7 1/2 inches when erect; that Meg missed coming last year because she had to attend her daughter's wedding; Phyllis and Carol knew each other in college; Trey enjoys certain BDSM type activities including, apparently, being tied down on the bed and face ridden by Amy (or, at least he agrees 'that sounds good' when she asks him if he'd like her to); Carol wanted to bring her daughter but she doesn't turn 18 until next month and the organizers wouldn't make any exceptions; the coffee in the dining room is not as good as what you can make yourself in the lobby; Trey thinks his 'come shot' is "pretty good but not a show stopper", which Phyllis confirms adding that, "You may have seen the video sample from last year's equestrian events; got two out of him." then, "He's often good for two or more in a session depending on the use made of him", at which the nice ladies offer their congratulations; to her, not him, and one, eyeing him more closely now; "Oh, I do think I recognize him now. Hard with his clothes on but . . ."

"Multiple cumshots; that must be convenient in smaller groups where there aren't as many males to keep things going." Meg speculates.

Phyllis nods.

Meg's ex (the Meg across from me, not the one beside me) has gone to law school since they broke up, but the 'asshole' never had any ambition when they were together; Trey will sometimes come from anal stimulation alone and

"My, that could be entertaining." Carol says. "Well, as long as he could be prompt with it. I hate it when they just go on gasping and groaning but can't make it happen." Carol rolls her eyes.

"Really," Amy agrees, "as if we had all day just for them."; and so on.

This mix of the mundane and the blatantly sexual strikes me as posturing or role playing; the casual tone seemingly designed to emphasize the entitlement of the 'nice ladies' to sexually objectify Trey while at the same time treating it and him as unexceptional; as if even such (to me) intimate items as his 'come shot aptitude' are of no more significance than the quality of the coffee in the lobby.

They're all clearly enjoying this dynamic, Phyllis in particular, and I guess this shouldn't surprise me given why the nice ladies are here and that they are all evidently fairly experienced at this. But it's entirely beyond me to participate without feeling awkward. So, I retreat into my impersonal 'I need this for my blog' defensive shield and try to focus on getting a clearer picture of upcoming events.

However, to my mild irritation, Amy successfully lobbies the table to keep me in suspense about the content of the various events aside from what I can glean from the brochure. This may be the nice ladies' idea of good-natured fun, but it feels like a form of ritual hazing for the newbie.

To be fair, they don't know (and I still don't want to tell them) that I'm trying to gather info and materials to write an article on this CFNM trend that seems to be migrating from a fetish niche in internet porn to a real world amateur past time with various local groups, clubs and organizations putting together 'events' for their members. People get weird when they think they're being interviewed and given my own ambivalence about having my attendance here made public under anything but my blog nom de plume, I worry they might refuse to talk to me at all.

Ground Rules

Dinner dishes are being cleared by the wait staff and people are grabbing desert and coffee from the buffet when Adriene C. Rhodes, convention coordinator, mounts the small dais at the front of the room and taps the podium microphone.