Part 5 - Swinger Club Intrigue

Daniel's and mine worlds collided like continents, and Andrea and Martin had planted naively the seeds of the ultimate comprehension. Their Hedonism had never felt foreign to me, but the fact of ever actually entering into their swinger's club never occurred to me even as a possibility of something richly indulgent to indulge. But weeks went by, and temptation at Club Rome became increasingly irresistibly tempting.

Andrea flirted with me with Club Rome, her voice a siren's call, beckoning me into the land of darkness and deceit that was some form of a reflection of the insane dance Daniel and I were performing. Andrea had the audacity to suggest it so casually, as if the risk of my husband's cheating could be held within the bodies of strangers. But something within me compelled me to think that perhaps the anarchy and identitylessness of a place like this would be healing for my spirit. So I procrastinated and a little bit of newfound braveness, I agreed to accompany her one Saturday evening away from Daniel after he had left for one of his "golfing excursions."

I consented but only if it would be purely for observation purposes only, that I wasn't going to be part of their partner-swapping lifestyle of being inter-changeable puzzle pieces as a couple. I had to register to get in and was told to dress up like a unicorn when I went. I was hesitant but Andrea reassured me that Geoffrey would be going and she'd be with me.

The color was Cheerleaders and Jogs. Andrea put me into a naughtier outfit than anything I have ever worn during my entire lifetime. It fitted my body tight, was a short skirt, and made me feel like I was a sex toy instead of a partygoer. The fabric stuck to me, and the high heels she put me in made me feel like I was a mannequin.

Club Rome was located on a small farm at the edge of Randburg, On the evening we got there, the air pulsed with anticipation and the thick perfume and frangipani candle and aftershave smell. The house was big, the lights dim that cast a sensual glow that wrapped around the couples and groups of individuals that circulated in a dance of shadows and soft hum. I held Andrea's hand for encouragement, her own excitement betraying that she pushed me into throngs of individuals, all attired in their respective costumes as vibrant as they were enticing.

Geoffrey took my place, tied up, in a black rugby shirt and shorts, his dark eyes yearning as they locked with mine. He pulled me into a blinding kiss that incinerated all the threads of fear or uncertainty I'd held to ash, leaving only smoldering need. The host asked everyone to join him for a compulsory tour, and when we parted, I was assaulted by a jolt of excitement that was new to the icy fury that had made itself home in my heart.

The club was a sensual puzzle, every room with a distinct arrangement of sensuality. The first one open. With that you couldn't refuse, you couldn't exclude anyone. The second one a dungeon of leathers and chains, the third room with an enormous jetted hot tub brimming with steaming water. And then there was the dark room where there was no lighting permitted. There was too much to absorb in one sitting.

Before I knew it, I was amongst Andrea and Martin's crew. I was presented as a reserved new girl, the exact opposite of vixens they were familiar with. But the cover held, and whispers of "unicorn" went ahead of me wherever I went, and I seethed with heat like an added secret spice in a dull soup. Geoffrey was not present, and I felt a burning sense of abandonment at first, but the thrill of the unknown was infectious.

I sat between Andrea and Mercia, her husband and Andrea's husband having abandoned them to mingle with the other couples. Mercia leaned in, her warm breath on the back of my neck. "You know, unicorns are said to be the most elusive animal in Club Rome," she whispered, eyes glinting with amusement. "Everyone desires a bite." I swallowed convulsively, the implication unmistakable. I was the trophy everyone desired to own.

Mercia swept me out onto the dance floor and I trailed after her, the ring of her laughter calling to me like the call of a siren's in the sea of flesh. The rhythm was the thud of the bass that thrummed through me, setting a rhythm that was identical with the thud of my thudding heart. Andrea came with me and we danced together, our bodies in a sexual rhythm that was as much a challenge of control as it was desire. The men gazed, their eyes hungry, and I felt a shiver that was as terrifying as it was exhilarating.

Men came, and our dance became a spectacle. Fingers met fingers, and bodies moved as one, the line between love and lust blurring with every beat of the music. I was an object, a beast of beauty and innocence to them, a trophy to be conquered. But power was in my hands, and I reveled in it.

Andrea was swept aside first, engulfed in the rising tides of the dance hall by the arms of a voracious stranger. Mercia drifted off later, smiling slyly and patting my shoulder reassuringly. "You'll love it here!"

"Where am I to find you?" I cried above the tumult of music, but she disappeared from view, lost in a sea of faces, her laugh a vanishing mist.

I sat and was handed a cold-flavored, bitter drink by one hand as an invisible waiter marched past the room. I had not inquired what it was and did not care. It did its job; it seemed to calm me while I looked over the tableau in front of me. The dance floor was an erotic mosaic, where inhibitions were shed like snakeskins and the air hung thick with the scent of trespass.

Two girls approached me, whose names were lost in the noise, and began chatting as if they were old friends. Both were dressed in cheerleader attire, with minimal of their bodies exposed. They giggled like music, a pleasant melody which encouraged the men surrounding us to join. One, with the black hair and face that could illuminate a room, leaned in and whispered in my ear. "Hi, are you new here?" Her breathing had the flavor of peppermint sweetness. I shook my head, not being able to say anything above the beat of the club. "You're going to love it," she told him, her world-weary tone. "Something that you've never had before."

Darkness swept in, sin and lust riding the waves of air. The walls of Club Rome shuddered to the throb of the bass, and I was in the midst of the dance. I danced my body against men whose faces I never saw, our bodies doing a language that needed none. Every touch, every kiss a scream against the lies that had been my marriage.

Piercing blue, fashionably designed man walked over to me. He was dressed in jogger's wear, therefore so abominably short that they only reached up to his crotch level, revealing his amazingly well-muscled legs all the way. Starving grin and eyes portrayed something wicked and delectable. He held out his hand, and I did it before I knew what I was doing, letting him lead me into the insane dance. His hand was electricity, his body a live wire that crackled and sent sparks of pleasure with every motion. We danced until music faded into the distance, until sweat glued my skirt to me and my heart strained for anything other than effort.

At the pounding center of the club, where need was the beat of music, the edges of my life dissolved. The dance was ritual, holy communion between strangers who shared but one truth in common, the passion they were experiencing at the moment. The man's hands moved over me with a knowing that was at once thrilling and terrifying. His fingers traced the lines of my costume, mapping the skin beneath, the way his hands moved making me crazy with hunger for this kind of closeness my life with Daniel never provided.

We danced, our lips kissed, tongues colliding in an old war. He was a flavor of the exotic and the habit-forming, and I was drowning in the sensation, my fingernails buried deep in the muscles of his broad shoulders as if he were the only reality in a world that had melted away into wanting. And then music stopped, and he leaned over my ear and whispered, "Want to see something special?" Velvet soft, a sensual tempter I could not help but react to.

"Yes," I exhaled, my voice lost in the din of laughter and moans that clung to the air. He led me through the web of bodies, step by step into the innermost sanctum of Club Rome. We arrived at the door of the jacuzzi room, a room that promised total anonymity. He looked at me, questioning, and nodded, a silent signal that I would take the leap of faith.

He took me to one of the dressing rooms, where I shed my disguise and into the steamy embraces of the water. The whirlpool bathtub was a witches' pot of lust, the foams covering more than the number of bodies that wound in the bottom. Sex scent and heavy chlorine perfumed the air, the heavy and warm oils being mixed within the water.

The couples in the hot tub didn't even notice us as we slid into the foamy waters, our bodies blending with shadows and steam. The blue-eyed man's hand was hard but gentle, his fingers tracing me as if he had a right to, as if he owned me and could claim me in this secret den of lust. My body welcomed his motions with a dry, desert-like thirst that left me in wonder, a thirst which had developed only in the parchedness of my wedded life.

We kissed within the veil of bubbles, his tongue exploring my mouth with such wildness and delicacy as made me out of breath. I could feel the pressure of his hand tracing down my back, his fingers tracing the lines of my back to settle on my buttock, his pressure pressing it gently. A gentle moan slipped past my lips, and he took that as his cue. His other hand cupped my breast, his thumb tracing across my rigid nipple. The sensation was a live wire to my very being, and I struggled in his arms.

His eyes gleamed with pleasure in the lightest illumination, and he sighed, "You're so beautiful." His voice was salve to my soul. He drew me into an isolated area of the jetted tub, where we could be alone but yet enveloped by the forbidden sounds of the water's touch. His hands slipped between my thighs, the foamy water hiding the movement from the watchful eye. His caress branded me, a seal of possession that cremated the final shreds of my will. The outside world was a million miles distant, the sole thing that was real the heat between us. The night went on, the hydrotherapy tub a tiny space, bodies curled up around each other like dark spirals. The water was rolling with waves of couples hugging each other in one another's arms, and in the midst of them, I had a godly feeling of belonging. I belonged now, a night bloomer, seeking comfort in strangers' arms. With every touch, every kiss, I was losing a piece of my soul, being reborn as a fiery phoenix of lust.

My hand clenched around his cock, and I could feel him tense underwater, the muscles cord in his neck as his breath was trapped in his throat. His eyes searched for some indication of fear or uncertainty, but found only the reflection of his own desire. Grunting in his throat, he pulled me close to him, our bodies nestling into each other tightly, as though we were attempting to become a single entity. His hand slipped in between my thighs, his fingers reaching out for my clit with an unerringly accurate touch that left me panting. Water churned about us as we settled into our own pace, our bodies swaying in a wordless obscene harmony.

"We can't get the jetted tub," the blue-eyed guy panted in my ear, his warm breath relentless. "But if you'd rather, we can have a private room." I nodded, unable to speak as the pleasure mounted within me. Being naked, being watched, was terrifying and exhilarating. He pulled me through the steam, our skin water and desire slippery, into a hallway with doors. Every door represented a new possibility, a new enigma to solve. Andrea walking past distracted me, the mask gone, her body wrapped in Martin and another's. She gave me a familiar smile, then nodded, then disappeared into a room.

They had left it a little ajar. I couldn't help but take a look. "Want to go with us?" the blue-eyed man panted, his hand resting on the small of my back. I swallowed and nodded, the thrill of the unknown an erotic aphrodisiac.

"Let's watch first," I was able to whisper, my voice trembling with anticipation. He nodded, his own eyes growing dark with desire, and we passed through the open doorway, into the black room. The room was equipped with matrasses and pillows, velvet-covered walls and mirrors reflecting visions of the erotic tableaux being performed before us. The air was heavy with the odor of sex, a sickening mixture of sweat and musk that seemed to drugged everyone who inhaled it.

Andrea was surrounded by Martin and three other men, her body a map of pleasure, her moans a hymn of ecstasy. I was immobile, the scene unfolding in front of me, the blue-eyed man's hand around my waist tightening. My friend's eyes, in a sea of arms and passion, were as exhilarating as they were chilling, a bitter reminder of how far our lives had moved apart. Martin had his hands in her hair as the men all got turns at her, their grunts of satisfaction alternating with hers in a symphony of sex. The learning that I was being given sparked my own fluids, my body responding in ways that I never thought that I would. The blue-eyed one whispered in my ear, "Ready?" A growl low in his throat that had me shuddering.

I nodded, and he led me to a vacant mattress. He lay down beside me, his hand reaching up to my bare cunt his eyes never leaving mine. I had this spinning feeling of being naked. His hands were soft, almost respectful, as he traced the lines of my body, his eyes tracing from my breasts to my belly to my thighs. He kissed me softly, his hand moving down to rest on my hips, his fingers probing into my flesh as he pulled me against him. He unzipped and took a condom from the wicker basket hanging on the wall and rolled it over his cock with rapid intent. "You're so pretty," he was panting now, his face hot against my neck as he nipped down towards my breasts. "I've wanted you since the moment I met you."

I didn't say anything, my body speaking for me as I moved back against his hand.

Reality crashed over me like a tide and left me shaking with a strange shiver at the prospect of being desired by this stranger from within a crowd of faces. He shoved between my spread legs, his dick hard against mine, and I spread them further in welcome. He shoved into me slowly with a hard, slow thrust that had me whining in ecstasy. It was lost in the moans and sighs of the sounds about us, and we were just another couple in the middle of making love. He crawled with me inch by inch, each inch savored, his eyes never leaving mine.

We rolled together in a sensual waltz from the moment we were together. His thrusts grew harder, deeper, the slapping of skin against skin echoing off the walls of the room. I could feel the tension growing in him, his need to possess me, and it only made mine grow. I would catch a glimpse of the other couples reflected in the mirrors, their faces contorted in ecstasy. It was a silent movie of naked human emotion, a scene of ecstasy that was both fascinating and foreboding. It made me feel all the more, my body responding to the unspoken tension in the air. We switched positions, me on top.

I looked at myself in the mirror, my own face, my own body contorted with need, this new freedom. Blue-eyed man's eyes never left mine as he buried himself in me, fists gripping my hips, mouth demanding me, harder, faster. There was no other world than Club Rome; there only was now, this feeling of living. An orgasm surging up in me, my body turning round him, eyes rolling back in my head. I tossed my head back and screamed out my orgasm, the shout a rough bellow of release. We both fell onto the bed afterward, spent, our breaths slowly returning to normal. He kissed the crook of my neck, "What's your name?" I panted, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Do it matter?" He replied with a touch of sneer in his voice. I too concurred. The anonymity of all things. The fact that he didn't know anything about me, and I didn't know anything about him, other than the naked dance we just experienced. It was liberating.

We lay there for a few more minutes, our hearts pounding as one, the only sound the muffled moans of pleasure coming from the other beds. There was the awkward, intense silence, reeking with the sweat of our sex. The room was a landscape of flesh and desire, where restraint had been cast aside like used clothes.

Geoffrey entered the room, his gaze sweeping around for me before settling on the wreckage in front of him. His eyes sparkled with brilliance at the sight of this excess. His eyes locked onto mine and winked at me in the understanding that he could see through to the change that had taken place within me, peeling away the last layer of innocence. "Here you are, little kitten," he gasped, his voice hot. "I've been looking for you."

The blue-eyed man got up from the floor. "You know this one?" he asked, a challenge in his tone.

"We're. lovers," I gasped, my voice still thick with lust.

The blue-eyed man looked at me, then at Geoffrey, then back at me, his face firm. "I see," he whispered, a hint of something unpredictable in his tone. He nodded once and disappeared into the foggy nothingness of the club.

I felt a strange mix of feelings as I saw him go. There was guilt, but there was also relief, as if something had been lifted off my shoulders. It wasn't the first time that I had cheated, but the first time that I did not feel guilty afterwards. The affair was a declaration of independence, a declaration that I was not going to be defined by my husband's cheating.

Geoffrey sat next to me on the bed, his eyes burning with a flame equaled only by the strobe lights blazing through the fog. "I see you've been busy," he smiled smugly. He hugged me and kissed me ravenously, luxuriating in the blue-eyed man's kisses' aftermath. There was a momentary, temporary feeling of conscience, but this was swamped by the sheer tidal wave of lust that coursed through me. The difference between lust and love had been so absent for so long that there was now only the raw need to survive.

Our eyes met and in the quiet of understanding, I knew what he required. I nodded, releasing him to do his pleasure, to take me as his own. He did not wait, his hands tracing the still-sensitive contours of my form with a hunger that devoured him. We fucked in the night, our bodies fluid in a practiced dance of lust, our groans just another component of the din of sound that filled the air.

The first time in my life that two men had sex with me on the same night was an eye-opener. It was new in every possible sense of the word. It was raw, it was primitive, it was freedom. With each push, each touch, each kiss, I felt something deep within me, burning under the embers of a wretched marriage, being set ablaze once again.