Sex and the city

Chapter 3 Slutty sex at a wife-swapping club?Think beautifully!

Any story always begins with "excessive naivety".One day, I was staying at my apartment enjoying a feast of crackers and sardines when I got a call from an acquaintance.A friend of his just went to Ladder Bar - a sex club where only couples are allowed.There he gets his eyes wide open and has a blast, with stripped people having crazy sex right in front of his nose. SM clubs are nothing compared to this place - you will never see real sex scenes in the former.The guy's girlfriend was a little freaked out - but she "seemed to have a feeling" when another naked woman walked right up to her on purpose.Anyway, that's what he said.

The man on the phone was so interested in the place that he didn't want me to put the club's name on it.He feared that this place, like other decent places in New York, had been completely ruined by fashion.

I couldn't help but start to come up with ideas—beautiful men and women with perfect bodies; tentatively provocative caresses; blonde girls wearing nothing but grape-leaf wreaths, their long hair falling like waves on their shoulders; young boys symbolically wrapped around their waists. Grape leaves, teeth are white when I smile; I also wear a short grass skirt made of grape leaves, with fragrant shoulders half exposed.We walked in, well-dressed and apprehensive, and walked out with a smile on our faces and a relaxed look.

The sound of the club's answering machine jerked me back to reality.

"There are no strangers in the ladder bar, only friends you have never met." The gender of the voice was unknown, and I only heard the last sentence in this distraction: "Serve a juice bar, cold food and hot food buffet."——This No matter how the sound sounds, it has nothing to do with sex or nudity.It reminds me of the Thanksgiving celebration, on November [-]th, when there was a carnival theme called "Oriental Night."Sounds interesting, but it turns out that "Oriental" refers to the food, and there is not even a shadow of any exotic oriental guy. It's an "Oriental food night".

I should have killed this idea in the cradle.I shouldn't have listened to Sally Tisdale's horrible, horny stuff.She is passionate about the phenomenon of "public group sex" and says in "Talk to Me About Sex," a yuppie erotic book: "It's a real taboo in the language...if sex clubs get their way development, the road to hell will open... yes, as people fear, the moral boundaries will collapse... out of control." I should have asked myself what this sentence meant .

I had to see it for myself.So, on Wednesday night, I wrote on my schedule: "Nine p.m., fashion designer Karl Lagerfeld's dinner, Bowery; 11:30 p.m., Ladder Bar Sex Club, East 27th Street."

Sloppy Girls and Tube Socks

When it comes to sex, everyone is in high spirits, even the hottest models and influential fashion editors at Karl Lagerfeld dinners.In fact, the few people at the end of our table were insanely excited.A brunette, curly-haired young woman who claims to be a topless nightclub regular has an "out of the box" look on her face - she's only 20 years old.But the only nightclubs she's interested in are Billy's and the like, because the girls there are "the real thing."

So everyone present agreed that it doesn't matter if the breasts are smaller, at least it is much better than breast augmentation. The "truth" begins: Gentlemen here, who has slept with a woman with silicone breasts?None of the men admitted it.But it's far-fetched for an artist in his 30s to deny. "Ha, you must have experience," challenged a round-faced hotel tycoon, "and you must have enjoyed it!"

"I didn't!" the artist argued, "I just don't mind it."

The first main course rescued him from embarrassment.Everyone was too busy pouring wine to gossip.

The second round of on-site investigation has begun—are sloppy women better at bedtime?The hotel tycoon puts forward his theory: "If a woman doesn't have a mess in her house, you can tell she's definitely not the kind of woman who stays in bed all day and orders cheap Chinese takeaway to eat in bed. She Had to get you out of bed in the morning and throw you on toast at the kitchen table."

Hearing this, I feel a little mixed.I'm definitely the messiest person in the world.Under my bed, there is probably a takeaway box of Tso's chicken called hundreds of years ago.What's more unfortunate is that I did all those things by myself.Forget it, I don't want to talk about this.

The steak was served. “Plaid skirts and calf socks drive me crazy,” the artist said. “If I saw a woman in those things, I wouldn’t be able to work at all.”

"I don't think so," objected the hotel tycoon, "I think there's nothing worse than seeing a strange girl in front of you on the street, and when she turns around you find she's as pretty as you thought she was. Do you know what this means? It means that you will never chase her in your life!"

The artist leaned forward and said: "I once didn't think about eating and drinking because of a woman, and I didn't go to work for five years."

There was silence.No one is more ruthless than him.

The chocolate mousse was served, and so was my male companion who accompanied me to the bar.The ladder bar does not allow guests to enter alone, only men and women must accompany each other.So I invited my last boyfriend, Sam, an investment banker.This is a wise choice.Firstly, he was the only one who would accompany me; secondly, he had experience with this kind of place—he had been to Plato's manor many years ago, which was suggested by his girlfriend at the time.As a result, as soon as he entered the door, a strange woman came straight to him, took out his lifeblood and fiddled with it.Seeing this scene, his girlfriend screamed in fright and rushed out the door.

And so, inevitably, a new round of discussions began: Who are the people who go to sex clubs?I seem to be the only one with no insight.Although no one had ever actually been to one of those clubs, everyone in the room was adamant that only "rednecks from New Jersey" went there to have fun.Some people say that sex clubs are not the kind of place where you just go and you have to have a high-sounding excuse - like work or something.Nothing they said made me feel any better.I had to call the waiter and order another shot of tequila to embolden me.

Sam and I got up to say goodbye.A pop-culture author hastened his final remarks: "That place sure sucks!" His words sounded like a warning.In fact, he had never been there himself, but he made it sound like it was true. "Unless you can dominate and control the situation. You have to be tough in that situation. Hold yourself!"

zombie night
The Ladder Bar is housed in a white stone building with graffiti all over the walls.The entrance is very hidden and surrounded by a curved metal fence, which looks a lot like a copycat version of the Royalton Hotel.When we were about to go in, a man and a woman just came out of it.As soon as the woman saw me, she turned up her coat collar and hid her face.

"Is it fun in there?" I asked her.

She glanced at me in horror, without making a sound, and rushed towards the taxi in a panic.

In the lobby, a dark-haired young man in a striped football shirt sat in the cramped reception desk, ignoring us.He looks like the most.

"Is it here to pay?"

"$85 a pair."

"Credit card okay?"

"Cash only."

"Can I issue a receipt?"

"No."

After signing the security statement, we were given a temporary membership card.The membership card reads: "No prostitution, no photography, no photographic or video equipment in the club."

I walked in the door, secretly expecting some wild sex, only to be greeted by a steaming table - the hot and cold buffet mentioned on the answering machine.There was no one at the table, only a solitary sign stood on the table, which read "Please do not expose your naked body during meals".Then we see Bob the manager, a stocky man in a checkered shirt and jeans with a mustache who looks like he might be the owner of a country pet store.He told us that the secret to the club's survival for 15 years was to play it safe. “Here we are,” he added, “no, no, no, it’s not negotiable.” He also told us there’s nothing shameful about being a voyeur, and that most people start out as voyeurs.

So what did we all spy on?Well, there is a huge inflatable bed in the room, and a couple of couples are fucking hard on it; there is a lone sex chair next to it, the octopus kind; The fat woman is smoking; there are several couples of men and women with dull eyes, wondering what they are doing (could the theme of today be playing zombies)?Several other men were listlessly doing their own thing.The hottest thing about it, it seems, is those damn buffet tables (what's in them? Miniature hot dogs).

That's all, what a disappointment.In French, the meaning of ladder bar is probably "to lie to you".

At one o'clock in the morning, people dispersed.The woman in the bathrobe told us she was from Nassau County and suggested we come back Saturday night. "Saturday night is a big feast," she said mysteriously.

I figured she meant the buffet, not the men who came here.

Dirty talk in Mortimer's Diner
A few days later, I had lunch with some girlfriends at Mortimer's.The subject of the chat, unsurprisingly, revolved around sex again - which of course was inseparable from what I had seen and heard in sex clubs.

"Don't you like it there?" Charlotte asked me, she was the reporter from London. "I kind of want to go to that kind of place. Seeing so many people having sex in front of you must be so horny, isn't it? "

"Not at all," I say, stuffing a salmon roe taco into my mouth.

"why?"

"I didn't see anything at all!" I explained.

"Is there any handsome guy?"

"That's the worst part," I said, "more than half of the men there look like psychiatrists. I'm going to go to counseling next time. I'm going to have a psychological shadow. Just imagine, those short, fat, full A bearded man, naked, lying on the ground, sluggish as a zombie, fellatio for an hour."

Yes, I confess to Charlotte, we're all stripped too - but still wrapped in towels.No, we didn't have sex.Not really, because I'm not in the least bit interested.At one point, a tall, charming girl in her 30s with black hair came in, causing a commotion in the noisy room.She was naked like a monkey, and within a few minutes she disappeared among a group of naked arms and thighs.This scene was supposed to be very hot and sexy, but I was only thinking of those mating baboons in the National Geographic documentary.

Facts have proved that no matter how much the media news exaggerates, exhibitionism and voyeurism will never become the mainstream, and even SM is a marginal behavior of a few people.The problems with sex clubs come from the people in those clubs.Those who come here are female entertainers who can't get a show, opera singers who can't find a way out, painters and writers who have failed, or small company executives who can never make it through.These are the people who will pester you in bars and corner you to babble on everything from their ex-wives, ex-husbands, to yesterday's indigestion.They cannot adapt to the survival rules of society, and they can only play marginal roles in life and sex.You would never want this kind of person in your sexual fantasies.

To be fair, though, the ladder bar isn't full of squat, pale, mechanically-moving zombies.As we were leaving, Sam and I met the slim brunette again in the dressing room, along with her male partner.This man is a standard American handsome guy, with a clean face and sharp outlines.He told us he was from Manhattan, had recently started his own business, and had worked with the woman.He looked at his female companion—she was hastily putting on a light yellow professional suit, and then added with a smile, "She's finally fulfilled her dream tonight." She glared at him, turned and walked out of the dressing room.

A few days later, Sam called and I complained hysterically to him.He asked me helplessly, "Isn't the whole thing all your bad idea?"

Then he asked me if I had learned anything from it.

I said yes, and I've learned one thing - there's nowhere like home when it comes to making love.

But you knew that from the beginning, didn't you, Sam?Yes or no?
(End of this chapter)