I was teaching a creative writing workshop recently and on the break, I asked one attendee what she did for a living, to which she replied, “I own a sex club.”
Not the answer I was expecting. Especially from this woman. She looked like a librarian.
Immediately, I put on my ‘ pseudo sincere’ face.
Its a face I stole from my therapist who no matter what shocking things you told her she could look non-plussed. A confession like ” I killed my boyfriend and cut him up in tiny pieces and put him in a freezer.” would strike her deadpan. She would put a finger to her lips and nod her head knowingly and say, “I see. I see.”
This look does two things. 1) It gives me time so I can figure out what I feel or think. And 2) I can check in with my reality. As a comic I might be making it up.
But, I was not making this up. She told me this over a bran muffin. ( Yes I remember what kind of muffin she was eating.) She told me that this club was where members would come to have sex with people they just met. Some people like to watch and be watched. Some came as a date night. Others came in in on their lunch hours of after work for a “real happy hour”. Most people walk around naked. Most people had fun. After all who didn’t like sex? ( that was a rhetorical question)
As she droned on, my brain tuned her out. I was wildly trying to land on what opinion I had about said club. My left and right brain were having a war. The left was saying its no worse than going into a bar and picking up a stranger. The right was screaming, how could you have sex, sober with someone that you just met?
Both sides had so many questions. Why do you have to be naked? Where is the mystery in that? Then I thought of an old joke my father used to tell, ” Two guys were looking over the fence at a woman in a nudist club and one guy says to the other, ” Wouldn’t you like to see her in a sweater?”
And what if you gotten to the club, and realized you weren’t in the mood, would it be kosher to say, ” I’ve got a headache.” Or would your membership be revoked?
And what exactly would be the membership initiation into a sex club ? Would you have to be able to fake a good orgasm? Because obviously there would be some nights you wouldn’t find anyone attractive in the orgy? What about chemistry? I tried to watch porn but it takes about ten sites before I find someone I find attractive.
I came to, just in time to heard her say, “And one of the fun rooms has a Shaggin’ wagon.”
” A what?”
“You know one of those vans you can ‘get it on’ like you did in your teen?.”
When I was a teen I got it on in a van but my body was young and agile and I had jeans on and so did the guy.. In fact the only one half dressed was my Dad was standing in front of the kitchen window in the underpants, looking out at said van, flashing the lights on and off.
The next thing she said was “There are a lot of older men there, too,”like this was a selling feature for me.
Left brain: Why does she think I would want to see some older men naked?
Right brain: Why does she think older men would want to see you naked?
Together: That’s why people play Bridge.
She continued, “You should come in and check it out sometime. I could leave you a pass.”
“Oh God, no.” I think I yelled this.”No. No. No. I am a prude. I close the curtains when I watch Sex and The City reruns. I shower in the dark.”
” Its perfectly safe,” she added that the staff disinfects the play rooms after each orgy.
“Oh God,” Yup. I was yelling. “There isn’t enough Purel in the world for me to have group sex. Not only am I a prude I’d be walking around disinfecting people while they were “getting it on.”
“You’re funny. Maybe we could hire you to perform.”
“Me? Are you kidding me? Me in a sex club!! That’s hilarious.” I started laughing, hard. I could just see it. Instead of me picturing them naked they really would be naked.
This conversation is still cracking me up. In fact I can lie in bed and write this blog and get as much entertainment value from not walking into a sex club, as I would if I had gone in.
She took her job quite seriously. The way a sexy librarian would. She didn’t crack a smile. In fact, she put her muffin down looking rather hurt that I was chuckling.
” I was serious.”
My face went blank. I put on my neutral face. I put my finger to my lips and said, “I see. I see.”
“You better not tell anybody this,” she added apparently not remembering that a little thing called Google had likely already spilled the beans.
” No. NO. Are you done with that muffin?”
No, I am not a priest. I didn’t take a vow of silence.
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