None of this has happened yet.
It was being called the "second new normal." A vaccine hadn't been developed yet, but the first wave of the virus had run its course, and people were starting to go out again, albeit mostly still keeping their distance. It was the blood test was the real game-changer.
The test was for the presence of the antibody. If you had the antibody (and weren't currently sick), then you had been exposed to the virus and recovered, and were now immune. There was a lot of good science behind that assertion: you weren't just probably immune; you were immune. Knowing who was immune was key to the second new normal -- those that were immune were free to go about business as usual; those that weren't knew that they still had to be careful. Across Canada, about 85% of the population had been tested so far, and of those, about 30% were found to have the antibody.
The antibody was properly known as ncov-spike Ig-A -- or novel coronavirus spike immunoglobin-A, but people were just calling it spike. Spike-positive folks had immunity; spike negative had to be careful. Apparently "spike-positive" and "spike-negative" were too long to say, so people began labelling themselves as "spike-plus" and "spike-minus."
Some businesses had started to cater to the two groups separately. Bars and restaurants started with spike-plus nights -- business as usual for spike-plus patrons and staff. Other nights were spike-minus nights: open, but with reduced capacity and extra precautions to keep everybody safe. Although it was safe for spike-plus patrons to mingle with spike-minuses, they generally kept away so as not to limit the availability to spike-pluses.
My wife Sarah and I were both spike-plus. I had gotten quite sick, but did not need hospitalization. Contact-tracing was well-developed: we found out I had contracted the virus from Sarah (who had developed little more than a sore throat). Sarah had caught the virus while grocery shopping, from an asymptomatic fellow-shopper.
Last year, back in the "old-normal", Sarah and I had visited what can best be described as a sex club, in downtown Toronto, to celebrate our 25th wedding anniversary. I won't name it, but the club is a body-positive adult playground: it has a hot tub, outdoor patio and swimming pool, dance floor, playrooms and a bar. We had never, ever been to anyplace like this before, but we were amazed at how comfortable we were -- wandering around the club naked -- and how much fun we had. We didn't engage in sex with anybody else, but we did meet some wonderful people and thoroughly enjoyed having sex with each other in plain view of whoever wanted to watch.
Now, in the second new-normal, Sarah and I were eager to return to the club. They had re-opened about a month ago, and they had both spike-plus days, in which they operated business-as-usual, and spike-minus days, in which they operated at about 30% capacity, and people were encouraged to "play with your mate, watch and be watched, but avoid close encounters with new friends".
We picked a spike-plus day to return. At the entrance to the club was a new sign: "NOTICE. For admission to the club, government-issued ID is required. We will record your name and contact information, and release it to public health authorities upon request." Sarah and I looked at each other and nodded. This seemed like a responsible policy. We proceeded to the admissions desk and presented our IDs and payment. I asked the clerk if the new policy deterred many people. She replied that it hadn't, which made sense to me as this club was not some sleazy, back-alley dive, where people sneak in and out, afraid to be seen.
We proceeded to the locker room, took off our clothes, hung our towels around our necks, and headed over to the pool. Generally, towels are all that people wear at the club, although some women wear skimpy (I mean really skimpy) bathing suits or lingerie. Many wear the towels around their waists or bodies, but Sarah and I are comfortable without that level of cover-up.
Let me tell you a bit more about us. I am 60 years old, with a fairly lean body. I work out regularly -- more to keep fit and healthy than to develop bulging muscles. I enjoy running and cycling, and my workout routines are designed to maintain my fitness for that. I'm not tall -- five and a half feet -- and although I don't have six-pack abs, neither do I have a paunch. Sarah is 55. She is about an inch taller than me, and a bit heavier than me, but by no means overweight.
At the pool, we hung up our towels. I said to Sarah "look at this!" and gestured down to my crotch. I had as good a hard-on as I ever get! My circumcised cock is about six inches long when hard and sticks mostly straight up. Both Sarah and I keep our genitals fully shaved. Although I suspect some men might be embarrassed to be walking around with an erection, I certainly wasn't. I was excited to be here, amongst all these beautiful naked people, and I didn't care who knew it.
And when I say "beautiful naked people", I happen to believe that any person, no matter what their body type, who is naked and comfortable with their own body, is beautiful. This is the body-positive image promoted by club, and from what I have seen, everybody is comfortable with their own body.
There were about 30 people around the pool, about an even mix of men and women. While all of the people in the pool were naked, many of the folks lounging about on the deck had a towel around their waist or chest.
Sarah and I entered the pool. There is something about going into the water naked that just feels right. There's no awkward sensation of the swimwear getting wet, or holding in air bubbles, or needing readjustment. We each grabbed a pool noodle for flotation, sat on it, and floated about the pool, using our hands for propulsion. We were both very relaxed, and slowly drifted away from each other. I noticed Sarah was in a conversation with some man, but I was too far away to hear what they were talking about.
I looked to my right, and found that I had drifted towards an apparently single woman, standing near the edge of the pool. She seemed to be about 40 years old or so (a young woman!), with blonde hair and a not-skinny body. She was beautiful.
"Ah, this is fabulous," I said to her. "This is only the second time my wife and I have been here. We've been looking forward to getting back here for quite some time, but..." I trailed off, as I then noticed that she was wearing a red wristband. The club provides red or green wristbands for anyone to wear: red means that the person is not interested in being approached for sex, and should generally be left alone, while a green wristband means that the person will welcome an approach.
"I'm sorry," I continued, "I didn't notice the wristband. Excuse me."
She looked down at her wrist as if she hadn't been aware of it either. "Oh, that's alright," she said with a smile. "I put that on out of habit. If I wasn't so shy, I would have started a conversation with you anyway."
I didn't think that this naked woman's assertion that she was shy was in any way ironic. Being naked and initiating a conversation with a stranger are two entirely different things. Now it was up to me to continue the conversation.
"My name's Roger," I said. "Nice to meet you. As I said, this is only our second time here, but I take it you come here somewhat frequently?"
"I'm Natasha. Yes, I used to come here about once a month. But this is my first time back since before the pandemic. Your first time must have been enjoyable. Do you mind my asking -- what was it about your first time here that made you want to come back?"
This was not a place for secrets. "Well," I replied, "we didn't know what to expect or how we'd feel, but we were really surprised at just how comfortable we felt here, being naked with other people and enjoying ourselves. We didn't come here looking to have sex with other people, and we didn't. We weren't ready for that." I thought back to that first time... "although we both met people that we could have had sex with. We did wind up having sex with each other -- twice -- I don't think anybody was really watching us, but we were doing it in public areas, and that sure increased our fun."
My dick had started to lose some of its hardness while I was floating around in the pool, but the memories of the last time, and talking about it with a beautiful naked woman, was getting me hard again. I don't know if Natasha noticed it under the water or not, but we certainly weren't avoiding looking at each other, so she might have. In fact, I hoped she did.
"Nice," Natasha said. "So, for this visit... have you refined your expectations?"
"Well, we haven't ruled out sex with other people on this visit, but, if it happens, we want to be able to watch each other. We still have a mutual-veto agreement: either of us can decide that it's time to go, any time and for any reason. Or for no reason."
"That's nice," she said. "You two seem to have a great relationship." At this, she started to look a little -- not quite sad, but down, just a bit.
"Are you OK?" I asked.
