K called me one afternoon with some news. The previous night he had been to a sex club with one of his buddies. He gave me a brief report (too brief) and then asked me if I wanted to go with him the following weekend. ‘Hell yes. That sounds right up my alley’. The thing was, I didn’t hear from K that week at all (did I mention he is unreliable?) so I decided to do my own research. I knew about the club he had been to Le Trapeze but it had bad Yelp reviews. I dug a little deeper: it turns out there are many groups throughout America that have private sex parties. There are several in NYC like Club Play and Hedonism.
I thought it best if I went alone. I met R for a drink beforehand and she insisted that I tell her where it was and take a car home, texting to let her know I arrived safely. On my way there I felt nervous for the first time. I really had no idea what to expect.
I didn’t expect that I wouldn’t be able to find it.
After trawling up and down a small street in the heart of the financial district, a man approached me and asked if I was looking for the Amsterdam Society. He ushered me to a nondescript entrance which showed an advertising agency on the buzzer. A man in a black suit opened the door for me and I rode the elevator up to the 4th floor with a different man who was clearly there for the party.
This was not someone’s home. It was a venue specifically redesigned for this one purpose. I gave my bottle to the door person (since it’s a private party, every attendee brings a bottle of booze which is added to the bar, then a bar tender serves you ‘free’ drinks all night) and sat by myself. The man who rode the elevator up with me approached me immediately and asked if I’d like a drink. I told him I wanted a whiskey which he brought back to me (with coke!). We moved into the next room which was a bit of an eye opener. I puked in my mouth a little when I saw the black and white checkered flooring, the strange lighting that switched from amber to green to red, the Japanese screen seperating a King size bed from the rest of the room and the strangest furniture I’d ever seen. Like a cross between a hobby horse and a kneeling office chair from the eighties, these ‘benches’ came in all types of configurations to make every sexual position as ergonomic as possible.
I was impressed. Where did they get this stuff?
I had entered a whole new world. There were smaller rooms off this room which had beds and windows/two way mirrors. Along the hallway there were more, smaller private rooms and off the main area where the bar was there was a smoking room for those with cigar fetishes.
We sat side by side on one of the ergonomic benches. It turned out this guy was a carpenter. He was European. He asked to kiss me and I said ‘sure’, the small talk was killing me anyway. I received a bit of a shock when he used his tongue like a propellor. I mean, this guy was a terrible kisser. Regardless of the obvious lack of connection he asked me if I wanted to move over to the bed. ‘Why not?’ I knew why I was there and I figured I may as well dive in. Without emotion we took our clothes off and got started. Whatever he thought he was doing with my face the propellor was a great technique in other areas. He licked my ass a lot. Beside every bed there are a bunch of condoms, lube and wipes so he put on a rubber and we had sex. Vanilla style. A few people stopped by to watch but I didn’t notice them that much. It was over in a few minutes and just as we had taken our clothes off before we put them back on.