The Freyja Club

It was two a.m. and I had been playing around with my new toy for the past six hours. Yesterday I purchased a brand new IBM PC and laboriously worked my way through learning about the Disk Operating System that one had to master in order to use it. Today, I installed WordPerfect, a word-processing program that I had been led to believe would replace my trusty typewriter. It was a tough slog and definitely not for the impatient.

Desktop PCs had recently been introduced, and I had been issued one of the fifty that my company had purchased, so I wasn't starting completely from scratch. But unlike at work, technical support wasn't just down the hall. My personal investment in this new technology was for one reason, and one reason only.

In my youth, I had discovered underground erotic literature, mostly from the Victorian Age, that had sparked my teenage imagination and stimulated my teenage libido. Then, many years later, on long flights and in lonely hotel rooms, I recalled those experiences and began to write erotic stories of my own. Some were based on real events, but most were products of a fertile imagination.

First drafts were always written in pencil in one of the black-bound notebooks I always carried in my briefcase. Disorderly, doesn't begin to describe the contents of these dog-eared manuscripts. They had all of the cross-outs, rewrites, smudges, and coffee stains one would expect from an amateur writer still struggling with how best to translate thoughts into words.

Upon returning home, I would transcribe or, more honestly, re-write, the stories on my IBM Selectric typewriter that I had in my home office. I used liquid 'white out' by the gallon and when finished, the stories would be filed away in three-ring binders.

I had discovered a small erotic writers' group in a nearby city where we shared our literary efforts. I was pleased to find that my stories compared favorably with many of theirs considering that almost all of the other members were people who either wrote for a living or were English majors in college.

I was anxious to find a less time-consuming way to pursue my hobby, and as I pushed my chair back from the computer, I believed that I had found it. Typing on the keyboard was just like the typewriter, but the miracle of miracles was the 'backspace key.' With just the press of that little key, the previous word, sentence or paragraph disappeared, and wonderful blank spaces appeared to receive the new thoughts. As I typed, I would periodically instruct to 'save,' and all of my work would be transferred to something called a 'floppy disk.' Instead of shelves of binders, my stories would be in little boxes of floppy disks. It was a definite improvement.

Though I fully intended to start using this new device on the stories I already had in my 'library,' my recent experiences at the Freyja Club were fresh in my mind, and while I had made some 'notes,' I was feeling that I should begin to chronicle some of my experiences while the little details were still fresh in my mind.

In many respects, the Freyja Club's existence was still somewhat of a mystery that, like the proverbial 'pebble in your shoe,' I couldn't let go of until I learned how this unique entity had survived for over ninety years in almost total secrecy. I had applied some of the techniques that I used in my real-life occupation to fill in some blanks, but there was much that I still didn't know. What I did know was that writing it down helped keep the various elements clear in my mind.

By way of background, I had joined a small company in the Mid-Atlantic as an engineer when I returned from Vietnam in 1968, but I had shown an aptitude for being able to analyze businesses and, as a result, I had moved into the field of business development and acquisitions at the age of twenty-eight. Now, twenty years later, that little firm had grown into a Fortune 100 company with subsidiaries around the world, and I like to think that I had a lot to do with that. In any event, understanding what makes enterprises successful is what I do.

Several months previously, I had been at the club and been introduced to a lady named Hayley. It turned out that she was a tenured Professor of English Literature at Georgetown University and, like me, had been stimulated by Victorian erotica from an early age and, also like me, had an abundance of curiosity about the Freyja Club. That evening, we had channeled that mutual interest into a memorable exercise in mutual fornication. Later, during 'pillow talk,' I had learned that, while studying at Cambridge, Hayley had actually met the Chairman of the Freyja Club, Mister Charles MacDonald, and had some insights that I thought might be helpful in my quest. I suppose it would have been easy enough just to call Georgetown and get her number, but I decided to try to contact her through the club.

I didn't immediately recognize the voice that answered, "Hello, F.C." It turned out to be Ann, the very waitress that had served Hayley and me the evening we were together. I knew that the club used its female staff to answer the single line into the club on a rotating basis. It was a job that was employed to give the women a position during that period of the month when it would be awkward for them to work naked.

I explained that I was interested in getting a message to Hayley, and I'd appreciate it if Ann could arrange a date that we could meet again in the club. She said that she'd call her and let me know. Idly, I asked her if she was a dancer. When she had waited on us, I had noticed her lithe figure and I knew someone in the New York club who danced with the Rockettes was similarly built. Ann seemed surprised but pleased and told me that, indeed, she danced at the Kennedy Center and was part of the dance council there, but the Freyja Club paid a LOT better.

A day later, I received a callback. Hayley was more than pleased to meet and suggested the following Friday evening. I knew I'd have to rearrange my schedule, but said that I'd meet her for dinner at seven.

As I've previously chronicled, while the Washington Freyja Club is the closest to where I live, it's still a two-hour one-way commute, so it isn't something that occurs on the spur of the moment. Traffic around Washington on a Friday is horrific, so I left work early. As usual, I was dressed in a white polo shirt, beige slacks, a blue blazer, and brown loafers with no socks. I'd let my hair grow a bit lately and it was getting shaggy. When I arrived early, I 'clicked' myself through the 'Viking' door and walked to the bar.

Michelle saw me coming and immediately turned to draw a Heineken draft which was already sitting on the bar by the time I arrived. "Ann, tells me that you have a 'date' with Hayley tonight," she said. I smiled and sat down on one of the bar stools. "For a place that prides itself on secrecy, secrets are in short supply," I commented.

Michelle was one of the staff bartenders, but over the last year, she and I had developed something of a 'special relationship.' She was the first person I had ever spoken to at the Washington club when she was handling phone duty, and I had fucked her twice, once in the club, and the second time in her bed in front of her husband. I had also documented her journey to the Freyja Club in one of my stories. If the term, 'best friend,' had any meaning, Michelle was it.

"It's purely platonic," I said, "It's just academic research." Michelle may have been a lot of things, but a fool wasn't one of them. She had introduced me to Hayley in the first place, so she just rolled her eyes at the stupid things that come out of men's mouths. Just then, I felt a tap on the shoulder and turned to find Hayley standing behind me. Of course, according to club rules, she was naked, and she didn't miss it when my eyes did a quick up and down.

Even totally nude, Hayley couldn't be mistaken for anything other than the college professor that she was. Her brown hair was held by a clip, she was wearing the same black-rimmed glasses I had seen before, and her slim body and smallish breasts were exactly how you would expect Miss Prim to look.

She leaned forward and gave me a nice kiss, "Good to see you again, I was just thinking about trying to get in touch when I got your message. You're psychic." I nodded and made some comments about being crazy busy, and there was some truth to it. Since I'd last seen her, I'd made an emergency trip to Japan, cuckolded Michelle's husband, gone on a two-week vacation with Karen, and just finished a hot weekend with Jennifer, who hinted she'd like to restart our affair.

We said goodbye to Michelle, and I picked up my half-finished drink and we headed to the dining room. It was only about thirty steps away, but they were an enjoyable thirty steps. Somehow, having a naked woman on your arm just makes any walk that more pleasant.

Leslie was at her normal post and she smiled with what seemed like more familiarity and seated us at one of the smaller tables against the back wall. Lauren was our waitress and I suspected that Ann was still on phone duty. I had a nodding acquaintance with Lauren but didn't know much about her. She appeared to be in her mid-thirties with a nice womanly body; full, ripe tits capped by engorged nipples, wide hips, and a beautiful mound of silky brown hair that accentuated, rather than hid, the lips of her sex. I had heard that she was originally from California, but other than that tidbit, I was clueless.

Hayley was effusive in telling me that she was glad that I'd called. She'd been thinking about our conversation and that I apparently had said some things that piqued her interest in what else I might have learned about the club. I didn't specifically recall what I said, but I found it interesting that she was looking forward to talking to me as much as I was talking to her.

I would like you to believe that was all that happened, but the truth is somewhat more complex. It had been three weeks since I had driven Jennifer to Washington National and watched her return to her home in Connecticut, so my body was feeling the normal 'pressure' that only increases with abstinence.

Hayley was neither voluptuous nor the most beautiful woman in sight, but she carried herself with an understated sexuality that I knew hid a craven cum-slut hidden beneath. During our last meeting, I had accused her of having that Jekyll & Hyde personality, and in response to that shocking comment, she had grabbed my cock through my pants. "You mean that I like my prime rib medium well, but this kind of meat raw?" As she sat next to me, I could see her tongue lick her lips and the look in her eyes reminded me of burning coals. Lust was in the air.

The distance between us was such that my hand easily found her bare thigh and she twitched at my contact. I have always marveled at the smooth softness of a woman's skin and this time was no different. It felt cool, so I knew that my hand probably felt warm and she cooed with pleasure when she felt my touch. The club keeps the inside temperature at a warm seventy-four degrees to ensure that it's comfortable for the women who must be naked. But even so, Hayley's cool skin was evidence that it might not be enough for some. When I asked, Hayley's smiling response was, "Only cool on the outside," leaving me to believe that her inner core was heating nicely.

As all men can tell you, sexual arousal for us, first and foremost, consists of a series of images and feelings in the brain, well before we experience the onset of an erection. While often, these images are pornographic, as often as not they can also be triggered by feminine qualities such as a woman's smile, her aroma, or as in Hayley's case, the softness of the skin of her bare thigh under my hand. I was experiencing great pleasure in just gently caressing her there. I could easily have pushed my hand between her legs in a more aggressive gesture, but I knew that the bonding created by my simple touch was enough for now.

As if to confirm my silent assessment, Hayley's hand covered mine and squeezed it lovingly as she turned her head and said, "I missed you." It was said in such an unexpected way that, for a moment, I didn't know how to respond. We had only been together once before, and while I had enjoyed both her company and her body, our relationship was barely off the ground. What was it about me that prompted her comment?

Fortunately, Hayley continued. "We have a bond, you know. We both want to understand this." As her eyes swept around, I knew immediately that she meant the Freyja Club. My own inquisitiveness about the club was well known and it had even prompted the Executive Director of the Washington club to inquire what I was "up to." At least, for the time being, my curiosity was being tolerated, but for an organization that had existed for ninety years in secrecy, I knew there were bounds. Obviously, Hayley knew this too, and I sensed what she'd really meant by "I missed you," was more along the lines of, "I missed having someone who shares my curiosity." Rather than comment, I squeezed her leg and she squeezed back. We were now devoted co-conspirators.

Who would have thought that just affirming that mutual understanding would have a physical effect? The first signal of male arousal is a tingling sensation in my penis in the shaft just below the helmet that then seems to radiate upwards. I felt this as a jolt of pleasure and reacted by squeezing Hayley's leg again. I didn't think she guessed why since I was dressed, but I was more than aware that if Hayley's expression meant what I suspected it did, I was ready.

Hayley had opted for a simple chef salad, but since the special of the day was prime rib, I had ordered a 'queen cut.' Red meat is always good for my libido, and as we talked I had to shift my position several times to accommodate the growing stiffness in my pants, plus activity around us was contributing to my problem.

Public sex in the main club isn't frequent, but it happens pretty regularly. Fingering seems to be a popular activity, especially in the bar area, and I've observed about a half-dozen public blowjobs outside of the activity suites in the various clubs I've visited. Three tables away from us, two couples had decided to make 'sex' an integral part of dinner.

Both men had their erect penises exposed and the women were eating some kind of pudding. Each would take a spoonful before swallowing and then engulf their partner's member and swirl their tongues around. The one I called 'the blonde' coated both of her nipples and had it eaten off. Strawberries were inserted into the ginger-haired woman's wet vagina before being fed to both the men and the blonde woman at the table. The most bizarre act was when she took her partner's wine glass and added a small amount of pee, which he drank after toasting her contribution.

The group commanded the focus of the room, including us, and their act was becoming infectious. At the table next to us, a fifty-something woman called their waitress over and ordered a bowl of strawberries, and several other diners had exposed cocks that were being stroked by their onlooking partners. Hayley's hand covered my own cock, and discovering the stiffness of the shaft, she gave a start and turned to smile with pleasure. My own hand slipped up her thigh, and Hayley, sensing my destination, opened her legs enough that my little finger easily slipped between her lips and was immediately coated by her 'girl juice.' I didn't have enough leverage to do anything but wiggle it in her crease, but just that little bit of friction in such a sexually charged atmosphere was enough to cause her to moan a long "ummmm."

As you might imagine, by the foregoing account. There is a spectrum of behaviors by club members. Clearly, in order to even be in the room, every member had to embrace a hedonic lifestyle, but some pushed the boundaries. I, myself, would be considered one of the more 'conservative.' I wasn't 'bi-curious,' B&D didn't interest me, nor anal, and I hadn't engaged in any three or moresomes, however, Danielle and Jennifer had posed that as a possibility. Once I had kidded with Paula, who handled postings on the 'Board' wondering if there was a card that read, "Seeking long sensuous straight lovemaking." She'd laughed and had told me that I was one of the few people she knew that would post, or even consider such a ridiculous request.

Hayley, who I now considered my partner in crime, was much more adventurous than me. She regularly participated in the scheduled pussy eating and cock sucking events, and even once in a while enjoyed being ass-fucked while bound and ball-gagged. This latter revelation was a surprise that came out during 'pillow talk' the only time we'd been together.

Apparently, while she was studying for her doctorate in literature at Cambridge she'd become involved in a campus B&D group at the urging of her, then, boyfriend. Based on what she had told me about her time there, it was in keeping with her desire to sample and experience every aspect of sexual pleasure.

This was new information. Of course, Hayley had admitted during our first meeting that she was a slut, but I had taken that to mean in the classic sense of the word. I had relegated B&D to just a form of power rather than sex, so when I asked her about her experience, I wanted to know what it was that attracted her to something that I considered submissive and humiliating.

Hayley cocked her head and it appeared that the professor was thinking about how best to answer a student's particularly thorny question.

After a moment, she took both of her hands and held the one of mine that was still above the table. "You're not a woman, so I doubt that I can explain this in a way you can understand, but I'll give it a go."

"I was maybe about ten when I first learned about sex... oh, not that there were two, but the physical act. Boys had penises that were inserted into girls' bodies to make babies. I used my finger and... (laugh) crayons to try to understand, then I began to have the dreams... "

"Dreams?" I asked.

"Yeah... In my dreams, a boy would come to me and push his penis into... my cunt... but I knew I was dreaming in the dream, so I couldn't move or do anything... I was helpless." Hayley took a deep breath and continued. "As I grew older... and wiser... (another laugh) I recognized that I was dreaming about a rape fantasy... but it was a dream that I longed to have."

"A couple of years later, I began to fantasize about it when I was wide awake. I would imagine a faceless man would tie me on my bed so that I was totally in his power and he would take his beautiful cock and fuck me or put it in my mouth... this was even before I learned about blowjobs." Hayley looked at me to see how her confession was affecting me. I was listening attentively, so reassured that she hadn't yet lost me, she continued.

"Sometimes, I would strip naked and spread myself. I would imagine my wrists and ankles were tied and one night I balled up my soiled panties and put them in my mouth. I got so wet that later, I had my first 'honest to god' orgasm when I rubbed myself off."

"So when Keith... uh, my boyfriend told me about this club, all of those old memories came flooding back. I could be that woman who was in my dreams! Oh, I was really nervous, but the first time was amazing. I was tied up on my back, a ball gag in my mouth, but I was also blindfolded. That was a first, and it really made me feel helpless. I don't know how many men fucked me. I know it was several. One came all over my face and it felt like two came in my pussy. I went back several times, and once I was bent over and fucked repeatedly in my ass, but I think it was like an itch that needed to be scratched. I don't have that compulsion anymore, unless, of course, you like to play master and slave."