My night at a swingers club

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Swinging this way, that way, or not at all.

I’m a curious kitten. Since writing this column, there’s very little in the sexual world that I haven’t seen, heard of, read about or explored personally. I wanted to learn a bit about the swinging scene so going to a club seemed kind of inevitable. And while nothing particularly scandalous happened, it was certainly an experience.

So on a quiet Friday night, my boyfriend and I thought “Fuck it. Let’s check one out. What’s the worst that could happen?”

While researching where we should go, my mind naturally wondered. “Will we have to bang  in a big room in front of other people?”

“Will people be wearing masks like in Eyes Wide Shut?”

“Am I going to be the youngest person there?”

There are several varieties of the so-called ‘swingers club’. On this occasion, our choice wasn’t a private lock and key party with a group of friends and acquaintances. It was a club full of strangers and we had to pay to get in.

A bit of Googling clarified some of my questions. It was going to cost around $75 to $100 per person. Sex must be safe. Going for gold in front of strangers wasn’t compulsory. Nor was it frowned upon. There were semi-private rooms and signals to stop people from joining you. I got the impression these places kept it pretty classy.

Our club of choice was open from 9pm to 3am. We arrived at midnight. I immediately noticed a shady looking dude standing alone on the other side of the road, staring at the building. We pressed the buzzer, went upstairs and were greeted by a woman and a security guard. They told us the price and the rules. It was $200 for couples, with a $50 refund at the end of the night when the locker key was returned. No mobiles. No smoking on the first level. No men alone on the first level (I’ll call it the sex level from here on out). Bringing your own booze was cool.

We went into the locker room and put our bags and valuables inside. I wasn’t opposed to getting stark naked then and there. But we decided to test the waters and stayed clothed.

Upstairs was a bar level with a dance floor. I found myself looking at too many shirtless blokes in bow ties – not a real boat floater for me. The music was loud. Dance club stuff that really suited a room with a stripper pole. We sat back, away from the lap-dancing girls in corsets and took in the scenery.

After half an hour or so we decided to strip off to our undies and head down to the sex level. We explored, towels in hand. A large hot tub added to the humidity. There was a medium-sized room with a shared mattress area for multiple couples. Plus a sex swing. Then there were four rooms with a thick curtain for privacy. And one big room – the floor and walls were covered in mattresses and couples. In front of the main room there was an open space with a small mattress but no curtain.

We stood there for a minute surveying the big room. A man on his lonesome appeared out of nowhere and slapped his hand across my boyfriend’s butt. I stifled my laughter, conscious of the fact that in Level 1, the sex level, all you could really hear was moaning of other people fucking. The slappee stared straight ahead. Our encounter with the butt-grabber was not isolated. When we ditched his company for a private room, I felt a hand reach through a gap and try to hold mine. No thanks mate. He tried again immediately, this time trying to touch my boyfriend’s head from another gap in an adjacent room. I won’t lie – he’s unreciprocated advances kind of ruined the moment. And we weren’t alone in our thinking. The rest of our stay involved us trying to avoid him and hearing other people say “Who the fuck is that dude?”

The club was having a particularly busy night, according to the woman who greeted us. This was code for meaning that by the time we’d arrived and went near any mattress, they’d already been used. If lying among used tissues in someone else’s wet spot is what you’re into, then this place is perfect for you. Not so much for me.

In the end, it turned out okay. I’m assuming the head toucher was kicked out. But like anywhere with red light bulbs and no clocks, you lose track of time. As soon as things started to get interesting, it was time to get out.

A star rating system for this place would be too simplistic. If I could do it all again, I would’ve attended one of their events for newcomers (I could’ve made a joke there, you’re welcome). It wasn’t all older people like I expected and no one wore masks. Next time though, I’ll bring my own sheets.

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