As we headed downtown, I commented, "I checked around. I couldn't find anything out on this Consenting place. Are you sure you have the name right?"
Brian grinned and said, "It's a very private place. I got the name from someone who knows someone. I can get us into the back room. It's supposed to be completely debauched."
My husband had managed to talk me into going to the club with a wild reputation, although it didn't take all that much to convince me. I had my own wild side and he'd seen me do more than a few crazy things in the eighteen years we'd been married. He'd told me about this place simply called Consenting and said it drew a wicked crowd. "My kind of people," I replied.
To know us as a couple, you wouldn't think of as a being other than as suburban parents with two teenagers, dogs and a thirty year mortgage. That's why it's so much fun to break out of that mold every now and then, to make us feel alive and sexual. Even in our early forties, we like to explore the unusual.
We drove to a quiet part of the downtown area and parked on a dark side street. My heels clicked on the uneven crumbling concrete sidewalks. A man stood in front of a single battered black door, positioned inconspicuously in a red brick windowless façade. Brian presented him with a slip of paper and a twenty dollar bill. We descended a flight of metal stairs, lit with different colored bulbs.
We entered an old run down tavern that looked as if it hadn't been remodeled since the fifties. There was an old fashioned padded bar with vinyl cover stools upon which a dozen or so men sat conversing and getting drunk. A jukebox in the corner played tinny sounds of hits from a decade ago.
"I think you just tossed away twenty bucks, my friend."
Brian continued toward a heavily padded door toward the back of the establishment. A large man in a vest sat on stool with arms folded and biceps budging. This time Brian handed him four twenties. We entered through that door.
This room couldn't have been more different from the dated front lounge. A white translucent Plexiglas bar lined the length of an entire wall. Colored lights illuminated the panels and rows of multicolored liquor bottles lined the back wall from floor to ceiling as upbeat modern jazz reverberated over the speaker system. A gang of four bartenders busily kept the crowd of men and women well oiled. Most of the women were in their early twenties, a mix of college girls and young urban professionals. The males in the crowd were even more diverse. Most were straight, but some were obviously gay and there were even a few crossdressers milling around.
"I had no idea there was a place where so many different walks of life could mingle," I observed.
"Every now and then, a place comes along where people can just coexist and enjoy themselves. Consenting is all about that," Brain said. He grabbed my hand and pulled me to the bar to buy us drinks. "That's why they have to keep it a secret. The authorities would shut this place down in a second, if they knew what was going on inside these walls.
I scanned the room and observed at least a half dozen women in nothing but their bras and panties. They weren't drawing any special attention.
"You can close your mouth now," Brian said after playfully tapping me on the butt. "This place is way off the grid. People come here from all over the country and they like to cut loose."
"I'm not stripping down to my undies."
"I've seen you win a couple wet T-shirt contests, back in the day. You need a few drinks to lighten up."
We managed to secure a couple of specialty microbrews and milled about observing the crowd. By my second drink, I was feeling more comfortable, despite us being some of the old timers in the room.
Over the house PA system came the announcement, "Welcome to contest night at Consenting. For you titillation we are proud to present fresh from the Isles of Spain, the Mamading Games!"
The crowd cheered loudly. Brian explained, "In Spanish, mamading roughly means blow job."
On a stage to the right of the main bar, a half dozen men walked out in tight Speedo style shorts and nothing else. They were all very well put together physically and the trunks bulged from their erections. Hoots went up as each exposed their impressive unit.
