–Calypso Grier, Writer/Editor for Wrought Iron Reads
Hello, hello, hello! It’s your girl, Calypso Grier, finally checking back in after my EXPLOSIVE Friday night.
Have I got an experience to tell you! Now, if you’ve been following my blog, then you know I mentioned last week my field work/field trip in honor of Arsen Ward’s The Suburban Wives Sex Club would be a visit to a sex club. I tell you alll about it below.
I took to the city to observe and report back what Julissa Johnson, the main character, might’ve seen walking into Uma’s house on the hill with her nosey neighbors, Christie and Pauline. Hey, I don’t want to ruin the book for you in case you.
[If you haven’t read it, this Week of Freebies* is the perfect time to score your copy.]
Anyway, I digress!
So, I geared up for my trip in a sexy black dress from Forever 21 (cheap but chic) with a tall order of classic black heels, all dolled up with a string of pearls and matching earrings. A spritz of Body by Burberry perfume and some Lush brand Sympathy for the Skin lotion made me feel like a walking freesia blossom dipped in yummy vanilla. Confident I was ready to wow the world, I hit the streets and headed to the vibrant city of New Orleans, Louisiana.
First, I ran into a few mishaps finding the place. I put the address in my GPS, and though it repeatedly told me I had reached my destination, I saw nothing that met my expectations of a sex club. I expected red and purple neon lights, maybe a “Girls! Girls! Girls!” sign. But there was only a big white brick building on the corner of a maze of streets in the busiest party part of the city.
And with traffic backed up behind me and horns honking insistently, slow rolling past the same spot repeatedly just wouldn’t do. So, I found a place to park and shelled out some coins in case the meter cops paid Ms. Calypso’s transport a visit while I was inside.
“Hey, where’s the sex club??” I stopped a local to ask. My guide pointed to the nondescript white brick building I had passed up a few times, and I finally noticed the door man. This dude looked like a super spy. He was dressed to the nines in all black with an earpiece in his ear. He carded me and my crew and let us inside with that Louisiana charm—a nod and a smile—and we moseyed on indoors. *Sideways Gaze*
Upon entering the establishment, the foyer reminded me of a boutique hotel lobby, nothing fancy. I encountered a soft-faced older woman with white-blond hair in nebulous, wispy curls like yellow cotton candy, and she explained the rules and gave us some forms to fill. Word of note, these clubs charge tiered covers. Single ladies get in free, couples pay a few tens and single men drop close to a C-note! Good thing I’m a single lady. *Flips Red Hair*
But, the foyer did nothing to prepare me for what was on the other side. We walked through another door and entered a mellow lounge where pop music pumped from the speakers. Straight ahead was a low stage with free-standing stripper poles. I thought they were for hired entertainers but was quickly corrected. They were for anybody who wanted to give them a spin!
Calypso Grier wanted to grab one of those slick gold cylinders and swing, baby, swing. But I had a job to do. I put on my objective face. It was the one that ignored the interested looks of sexy fellas strolling around the club. I was thinking, “This is pretty much like any other night club.”
There were plush, square sofas and chairs, and a bar took up the center of the floor. Now, they didn’t sale alcohol, but they would serve whatever you brought in with you. I thought that was a nice plus.
Up to that point, I hadn’t seen much action. A few ladies danced sexily on the stage at their leisure. I spotted a couple heatedly kissing against the wall. That was about it for the kink, and just as I was preparing to write the place off completely…
I was directed by the helpful, friendly staff to the stairwell. “Level two?” I squealed in surprise. You know when you level up, things get more and more entertaining. So, I raced up the stairs to the second floor, and this, dear reader, was where I truly encountered my Julissa Experience.
If downstairs was like a cool night club, upstairs was my idea of a SEX club. Let me tell you, the décor was modern with luxe textures in contrasts of black and white, and the aroma of essential oils coated the air with an alluring floral scent. The lights were low, and the mood was right.
Lovers, lovers everywhere! The sounds of sex were unobtrusive, but definitely present. The same helpful, friendly staff member who had pointed out the stairs gave me a speedy tour as I stared shamelessly, baby, SHAME-LESS-LY!
There were private rooms shaded by two sets of gauzy curtains that were almost see-through but not quite, although people in each apartment bedroom-sized duck off had the option to close only one set to give the voyeurs a better look. I naughtily attempted to pull the cover back and was quickly told by the staff that I wasn’t allowed to touch the curtains. That was fine.
Because the truly brazen could choose the massive viewing room that boasted a glass window for observers to stare at leisure, and the shy lovers could choose to do it all behind closed doors without an audience.
There were plenty of rooms to choose from for couples pairing up, sharing up or staring up! But apparently the whole place was a free-for-all because even common spaces like the hallways, stairs and seating areas hosted sex. I locked eyes with an enchanting topless woman strutting her stuff like the corridor was a runway. I spotted two women lustily attacking a very willing gentleman on the sofa.
The rules were ask and respect, and observed how this sort of interaction went down. A lesbian couple engaged in a delightful looking cunnilingus act was approached by a man and his girl. The heteros asked to join, but the lesbians politely declined. They were more than happy to let the others watch, however. Kudos to lesbians! (And, speaking of which, if you haven’t read Sleeping with His Sister, you are truly missing out.)
Just when I thought I had died and gone to hedonist heaven—It. Got. Better! The club had a media center with a cinema-sized screen and a vast library of pornographic films, and there was a reading library with similar material. Reading material? Yes, please!
Needless to say, I stayed out far longer than I intended because the coolest part about the club was the people. They were a fun-loving, open-minded lot who didn’t have a problem chatting about the “lifestyle.” It was almost enough to make a sister want to join the club. Alas, reality called in the form of a desk-load of work and my goodie-girl conscience saying, “No, no, Calypso!”
Now, I’m back to the regularly scheduled show, but I’ve got the memories. My advice? Every grown-up should check a sex club out at least once in your lifetime, and check out Arsen’s The Suburban Wives Sex Club, Sleeping with His Sister and Wi-Fi Freaks this week during our Week of Freebies! Ta-ta, y’all!
*During the Week of Freebies, unannounced select titles will be listed as free on Amazon.com. Be sure to check each day to cop them all.