I was at a sex club years ago. My wild teens/20s. I was wearing a pouch. Think a thong with no back, butt strip. It was fuchsia.
Yes I was a wild one.
(But this should be considered in the context of I didn’t drink nor do drugs and was a cage dancer at Lime Lite, a converted church where I would sometimes just wear said pouch or one of my many colored velvet things, Timbs, a vest and a raincoat to work that evening….on the D train, from Brooklyn. Wallet and keys in raincoat pocket.)
Around my waist was a fanny pack full of condoms and lube. I was wearing my Red Hot t-shirt where two guys are kissing or one is blowing the other, depends on how you look at it. I was have a Gay Old Time. I was making a memory. I was freely handing out condoms and lube to people who were in a tangle of positions, possibilities and penetrations as if I were an employee. Ingratiate then indulge. Community service. Service the community.
I was completely sober.
The floors and columns were painted in fluorescent paint and there were lots of blue lights so the whole place had this fuzzy glow to it, there wasn’t a smoke machine but this play with lights and such made it like a disco where you could see everything within six feet but not much further because the light would trail, blur…it was some design trippy shit,….and I was sober as a stripper.
There was also lots of couches, cages, cells, wooden boxes, harnesses, hanging straps, chains, cuffs. It was a sex club, okay? It was about 200 people in this full floor loft of at least 4000 sq feet., More men than women. It’s expensive, the penthouse floor of a tower here in Manhattan. There’s music playing and the smell of liquor and sweat but not heavy, it was well ventilated, and in the winter, well heated. You get what you pay for. The door was $100 per person. There was an open bar, a lounge, an area where you could store your clothing in lockers/closets, there was also a space where videos played around a small, intimate lounge. The floors were carpeted or wooden in some places so you could do slippers or bare feet. It was kept very clean.
Actually it was a pretty nice place.
The decorum of such a place is you mill a bit, you don’t just dive right in. You might want to be a whore but you don’t want to be a sex club whore. You want to see what you like, see what’s new, whose new and then take it from there. So I was milling. I stopped at the gyno chair, with full stirrups, I was impressed with the medical exam chair/table too. The cushioned table was designed so that you could lay on it and hands would come through and massage you.
Freaky.
So I climb in and onto the table and suddenly a dozen people are massaging me. Of course your hands are still free so you can politely give the sex club decline, a gentle hand push away for any unwanted touch but no one was being intrusive or graphic. It was just this wild sensation to have so many people purposefully touching you at the same time.
For about twenty minutes quite a few New Yorkers massaged me. It was really nice. Then as I’m lying prone on the table, this man comes over and with intense blue eyes, I’m talking super duper lasers, he locks eyes with mine, he touches my forehead, leans in and kisses me like I had the ring from Lord of Rings around my tonsils. I mean he kissed me like the Titanic was about to set sail, WWII was over, YooHoo was back on the shelves, New Coke was discontinued and Loretta Lynn had written us a ballad. He kissed me like he knew me, not the me I knew but the real secret me that even I didn’t know. He kissed me like you’d pay someone to take their time, make an effort, to kiss you.
He leans back up from this amazing smooch and I gape at him. He was in his early 50s, balding, gray, White guy.
The motherfucker looked like Capt. Jean Luc Picard (Patrick Stewart)!
I gaped, open-mouthed as he melted back into the crowd and I was like——-wait, no????!
It couldn’t have been.
No, no, no.
A doppelganger.
Yes, a doppelganger.
I’ll testify in court that it wasn’t Stewart but in my heart, I’ll just pretend that it was.
But whomever that kisser was, he did mon capitaine proud!
Wild addendum……now wait for it…..
There was another time where I thought I saw her and I was all like….”ok, I’m just Star Trek crazy in this joint, now I think I’m seeing Seven of Nine…ha….ha….ha….”
Oh, Kyle, you so crazy…..Seven of Nine in a sex club……ha ha ha.
News Clip
His (Jack Ryan’s) 2004 campaign for the Senate, against Barack Obama, received widespread media attention for the disclosure of sealed custody documents stemming from his divorce from actress Jeri Ryan. The unsealing of those documents, detailing allegations that Ryan had pressured his wife to perform sexual acts in public (sex clubs), led to Ryan's withdrawal from the campaign.
ha…….heh………ehhhhh.
Wow.
Smile, Kyle
KylePhoenixShow@gmail.com
KylePhoenixShow@gmail.com
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