The Freyja Club

Authors Note: Every chapter in the Freyja Club saga is written to stand alone, and you can puruse them in any order, however if you want a good detective story along with the steamy sex, reading the chapters in order will reveal how I came to know what I know about this secretive organization that has successfully operated in anonymity for the last ninety years. Additional clues and insights are also found in the companion series titled "Other Voices." Check them all out, and let me know your impressions.

I usually start my day with a quick five-mile run, and indeed I had packed expecting that I would, but based on the surprising way the evening went, I was having some second thoughts. I didn't have a key to Tom's condo and there was a code for the front door that I also didn't have. I couldn't hear any rustling and assumed Tom and Charlotte hadn't yet risen. With all of those practical obstacles, it was an easy decision to snuggle back in with Kelly and satisfy myself by first cupping and then fondling her delicious naked breast. When she felt my touch, I heard her murmurmur a soft "ummm," but she didn't open her eyes, so I didn't know if I'd awakened her or not. With the matter of the run settled, I had no trouble falling back to sleep.

I awakened the second time to the sound of the shower running and no Kelly by my side. I sat up and tried to avoid a wet spot on the bed. Soon Kelly, now wrapped in a bath towel, was just coming out of the bathroom as I walked in. She paused long enough to give me a quick kiss and said that she'd saved me some hot water, then I watched her cute butt swish toward her suitcase. I turned and headed towards the sink and took a quick look in the mirror. The face that looked back at me needed some definite work, a twenty-four-hour beard and still bloodshot eyes were an appearance that wasn't ready for prime time. The needle blast in the shower was exactly what I needed, and twenty minutes later, I was dressing when I smelled frying bacon.

Tom, Charlotte, and Kelly were sitting around the circular table in the kitchen drinking coffee when I finally made an appearance. Charlotte had made some kind of egg casserole and was ready to dish it out. We filled our plates and adjourned to the deck to eat. As we walked, Tom nudged me and inquired if I had a pleasant night. I knew his question was spurious and required no answer, so I just smiled and nodded. Behind us, Charlotte and Kelly were engrossed in a private conversation that I would bet centered around the fact that only one guest room appeared to have been used the previous evening.

After breakfast, Charlotte announced that she and Kelly were going shopping for a few hours, and, out of courtesy, she asked if Tom and I wanted to tag along. I looked at Tom, and he looked at me, and we both broke out laughing. I'm sure it was exactly the reaction that Charlotte expected, but she had to put on a little show of how exasperating men could be. She grabbed the keys to the El Dorado from a hook by the door and both girls threw us a kiss as they departed. Tom and I went back out on the deck and just chatted about a lot of inane topics, but mostly about politics and our respective businesses. A little after noon, we walked about a quarter of a mile to the Fisher Island Beach Club and had lunch on the patio that overlooked the shipping channel. So, it was there that I broached the subject of the Auction.

Tom told me that the Miami Club had used the Auction for years as a fundraiser for the United Way, but that he and Charlotte had only begun to participate the previous year. During the event, ten men and ten women would be 'auctioned off,' to the highest bidder, and they would be required to do whatever they were asked, either in private or in some cases, in public. Tom wasn't aware of any instances of men buying men, but the bidding for some of the women got pretty hot with bids from both sexes. The grand finale was when the club's Executive Director, Marley, and her lover Edward, were auctioned off as a pair for a threesome or moresome. The previous year's auction had raised a little over two-hundred thousand dollars. When I heard this, I said that, based on my research, I doubted that the sum was donated in the name of the Freyja Club, Tom laughed his agreement. No, it would be an 'anonymous' donation.

I knew that, according to club rules, the women to be auctioned would be naked, but what about the men? Tom confirmed that they would be naked too and then said something that I hadn't considered. I had assumed that when it became time for an individual to be auctioned, they would stand on some kind of raised das while the bidding was taking place, but Tom informed me that they did when first introduced, but during the actual bidding, they moved through the crowd, where prospective buyers could 'sample' the merchandise. Tom said that he fully expected that his cock would be 'tasted' at least twice and probably more if the crowd was what he expected. Of course, the women would all be fondled multiple times, by both men and other women.

This whole process was becoming more and more interesting.

I wanted to know more about this mysterious "Carl" that Charlotte was so paranoid about. Tom told me that he was a local politician in South Miami, who had come on to Charlotte a couple of times at the club. Both times he'd been drunk and abusive and Charlotte understandably wanted nothing to do with him. However, the last time they'd been at the club, the participants in the Auction had been posted, and apparently "Carl" had let it be known that Charlotte not only would be bought, but publicly humiliated. From Tom's description. I could obviously see why Charlotte might be terrified by the prospect. I did ask if the club management could do anything about the situation, but Marley had said that her hands were tied. She couldn't take any action based on rumor and innuendo. That's when Tom thought to give me a call.

At about four in the afternoon, the girls returned with shopping bags on both arms, and Tom and I were forced to endure a display of each and every item purchased along with additional narratives of how the decision was reached to buy that particular item as opposed to other choices that were considered. Tom and I exchanged knowing glances that were fortunately missed by Charlotte and Kelly. I had been subjected to this recently by both Karen and Jennifer and like Tom, we knew when to listen attentively and keep our opinions to ourselves.

Once each and every purchased item had been displayed, commented on, and discussed, Charlotte and Kelly took their booty and got dressed for the evening activities. I did ask Tom why women made such a fuss, given that, once at the club, each would end up being dressed only in heels and jewelry. Tom just shrugged his shoulders at such an inscrutable question.

The Miami Freyja Club is located in the Belle Mead district of the exclusive Upper East Side of the city fronting on Biscayne Bay. That district is almost exclusively residential, and from the outside, the Freyja Club looks like many of the homes in the neighborhood that are located behind high fences, but once inside the compound, it's anything but. Unlike Paris, New York and Washington, the Freyja Club in Miami is a sprawling mansion exhibiting classical Miami architecture. From the driveway, it appeared to be only a two-story structure, but once inside, I discovered that it was terraced into a small dune and had three levels that were stepped, not stacked on each other.

A wide circular drive led to a covered portico where valets took the car to some area that I couldn't see. When we got out, there was a three-step rise to a wide tropical porch with circular fans turning in the ceiling and large double doors open to the foyer. Just inside, there was a beautiful marble statue of the goddess Freyja and an oval reception area that had two murals that I could instantly recognize as reproductions of famous paintings that I'd seen in the National Gallery in Washington. To the left was

John Maler Collier's "Lady Godiva," and to the right, Jean-Leon Gerome's " Venus Rising."

A rich turquoise rug custom fit the room's oval shape. Near the back, was the security desk which was manned not by uniformed security, but by an attractive blonde woman in a low-cut dress, and behind her were the familiar Viking Ship and Swan doors which were the entrances for men and women respectively. Off to the left was a third door which Tom told me led to a small ten-room hotel in a separate structure.

We all extended our left hands and the ID chip reader 'bleeped' its acceptance of each of us. Then Charlotte and Kelly smiled at us and headed for the Swan door, behind which was the women's 'dressing room.' Tom and I entered the club directly through the door carved with a Viking longship under sail with the initials F.C. displayed. Immediately inside, we were greeted by name by an attractive blonde whose name on her tiara said, "Melody." As with all Freyja Clubs, the female staff wear their names on the ornate silver headbands for the simple reason that since they're otherwise naked, there's no place else to put them.

I knew that Melody knew my name because it came up on her computer monitor as soon as I had checked in, but it appeared that she had little need for that with Tom. She gave him more than a casual welcome, and I immediately wondered if there might be some history there. A quick glance around confirmed for me that the Miami Freyja Club was unlike any that I had yet been to. Up until now, all of the clubs conformed to the style of the Gentlemen's Clubs of yesteryear with rich paneling and subdued lighting, but Miami was open and spacious with large plate glass windows that revealed striking views of Biscayne Bay. The entrance foyer, which is what I chose to call it, was relatively small and was dominated by a U-shaped sitting area adjacent to the interior Swan door from which, I knew, the ladies would be emerging momentarily.

Next to the couches was a small bar and Tom led me there and ordered two Heiniken's. Truthfully, I didn't know if he just decided to join me with my favorite beer, or if he chose it on his own, but we got served and then we sat down and waited for Charlotte and Kelly. There were two other men already waiting and Tom nodded in their direction but didn't say anything or introduce me, so he began to talk about how he and Charlotte had become members.

About four years ago, Tom had been working with a client in Dallas, when he got a call in his hotel room that there was a package for him at the front desk. He had no idea who might be sending him anything, but he went and got it anyway. Once back in his room, he opened the box and discovered an invitation to join the Freyja Club in much the same way as I had received mine on a red-eye Air France flight over the North Atlantic, except in his case it was an invitation for both he and Charlotte, and he was to present it to a woman named Marley in Miami. As with me, the mysterious nature of the invitation was enough that his curiosity was piqued, and after a long discussion with Charlotte, they decided to investigate.

Tom was about to tell me more of what happened, but just then, Charlotte and Kelly walked through the Swan door. Of course, I had already seen Kelly naked and she looked lovely as ever in her altogether, but I had not seen Charlotte that way, so my eyes were immediately drawn to her. For someone so diminutive, she had a perfect female body. Firm ripe tits capped by pink nipples and large areolas and a slim waist that rounded into womanly hips. Like Kelly, her delta was adorned with sparse dark hair, and when she saw us waiting she gave us a broad smile. Neither woman seemed to be bothered by their nudity, and I would venture that they loved the ability to exhibit themselves.

Tom took Charlotte's arm and I extended mine to Kelly and we walked down a wide staircase to the second level which was obviously where the restaurant and bar areas were located. I grasped almost immediately that the Miami Club's layout was the opposite of the other Freyja Clubs. Instead of entering on the first level and working up, we entered on the third level and were working our way down. The restaurant faced Biscayne Bay which could be seen through large windows which curved around to the bar which faced outwards to a beautiful turquoise pool surrounded by palm trees. There were about twelve bathers and not a swimsuit among them. Tom led us to the bar and we settled around one of the high tables. A beautiful redhead took our drink order, and I began to learn some more things about the Miami Club.

As I suspected, the lowest level contained both the public room where the auction would take place, but also about fifteen 'activity suites,' that I thought would be like those in the other clubs. The pool was a nice addition and I learned that because of that, the club opened at noon instead of six o'clock. Of course, I wondered how being open for fourteen hours a day versus the eight-hour days in the other clubs was handled, but Tom knew that Miami used two shifts; the first came in at 11 a.m. and worked until six p.m., the second from then until the 2 a.m. closing. So, at least for one club, I had to almost double my staffing assumption.

As I gazed out to the pool area I noticed a young man in turquoise swim trunks emerge from a side door pushing a towel cart. Tom caught my gaze and said that was Juan, one of the "pool boys." To me, "Juan" didn't look much like a boy. He had a well-sculpted body and the gregarious good looks and ever-present five o'clock shadow that some Hispanic men seem to always have. Though I hadn't thought of it before, the sight of Juan triggered the realization that the presence of a pool required pool maintenance, hence, "pool boys." I idly wondered out loud if the "pool boys" had other duties as well and a glance at Kelly was enough to answer that stupid question. So, at least for clubs like Miami, "stewards" weren't the only options.

I had witnessed "public sex" on numerous occasions in all of the clubs I'd visited so far, but nothing like Miami. Poolside, there were plenty of cocks being fondled or sucked and one woman was moaning her pleasure while hanging on the side of the pool as her partner fucked her from behind underwater. Whether he was in her vagina or her ass was unclear, but based on the grunting and grimacing that I could see, the pleasure was obviously mutual. Two tables away, a long-haired blonde had scooted to the edge of her stool and wantonly spread her legs as the man she was with fingered her hole to the beat of the music that was playing in the bar. Closer to home, I noticed Tom had placed his hand on Charlotte's naked thigh and his fingers had slipped into the gap between her legs.

From our table, I had a clear view up the staircase to where the Swan door was located, and I noticed a steady stream of wonderfully naked women emerge. Some were greeted by male members waiting for them, but several obviously lesbian couples walked out, as well as a few seemingly unaccompanied women. In general, the women I saw, irrespective of age, appeared tanned and fit, with only a couple showing the onset of tummy flab that women seem to acquire as they age, but none qualified as "unattractive."

I don't know if it was because I was watching the parade of newcomers, or she just wanted my attention, but I felt Kelly's soft breast press against my arm and her hand squeezed my thigh. "So, what are you thinking?" she whispered in my ear. Truthfully, I told her that I wasn't really "thinking" of anything since my poor brain was currently being overloaded in such a highly charged sexual environment. "I know," she responded, "I'm already wet, are you aroused?" Not waiting for an answer, Kelly's hand covered my crotch and squeezed me through my pants. "Oooh, you feel good! If we had time, I'd suck this and let you cum in my mouth. Would you like that?" It's hard to imagine the answer to such a blatant invitation could ever be "Nah, I don't think so."

Just then, we heard three chimes interrupt the music and I guessed that it was the signal to convene for the auction. In other clubs, I had learned that when announcing scheduled events, chimes were universally used in place of verbal notices and when Tom slid off his stool and announced "show time," I knew my assumption was correct. Another wide staircase led to the lowest club level and once there I saw that it split into two wings. To the right, I saw what I recognized as the 'board,' where members posted their availability and desires for 'meetups' and where the keys to the private activity suites were dispensed. Behind the 'board' I saw a short hallway that opened into a foyer that I assumed was where the rooms were located. To the left two ten-foot-high double doors opened into a large room which went by different names in the various clubs but was universally called the 'orgy room.'

The room had been arranged around three plinths that had been pushed together in the center to form a raised dais. Around the dias were cushioned folding chairs arranged in a circle with plenty of space between them. I notice several men heading to a door with a cut glass 'stag' window inset. From other clubs. I recognized this as the men's locker and since Tom has said that the male 'slaves' would be naked, I assumed the men I saw were some of the volunteers. There was also a Swan door, but I knew it was just the ladies' bathroom, as their clothes had been dispatched two stories away. In any event, Tom waved and headed to the 'Stag' door and Charlotte and Kelly headed to the 'Swan' door to do whatever women do. Left by myself, I took a chair next to an aisle and watched people continue to file into the room.

Soon, Kelly returned and took a seat next to me. I had been watching a couple in front of me. The man had reached across and was squeezing and fondling his partner's not insubstantial tits, and so when Kelly sat down I reached and filled my hand with her softness and she gave me a rewarding "mmmm" in response. Soon, her hand was back in my lap and I sensed taking her own pleasure. Our mutual fondling was interrupted however when a drop-dead gorgeous blonde stepped up in the dais and used a hand-held microphone to ask for our attention.

"Greetings everyone, and welcome to our annual Auction. My name is Marley Cain, and for those of you who don't know me, I'm the Executive Director of the club and your host for the evenings' activities. For the past ten years, we've hosted this event to support the local United Way campaign and over that time we've donated almost two million dollars to charity. Please give yourselves a round of applause." To their credit, the audience suspended the mutual fondling that was prevalent to applaud.

"Okay, thank you. Now here are the rules. We have ten men and ten women who have volunteered to be available tonight. Most are members, but a few staffers have also volunteered, so I want to recognize their willingness to support such a worthy cause."

(More Applause).

"Starting with the men, and then alternating between the sexes, I'll ask them to come up on the dais, where they'll be introduced. Then as I start the bidding, each participant will walk around the room where you can sample the merchandise and hopefully motivate you to bid. Touching, fondling, and sucking is not only permissible but encouraged, however, for this event, we ask that you refrain from digital penetration."

(This was met with groans of displeasure).

" So, without further ado, let's meet our first participant, please welcome Juan.

Juan was the selfsame "pool boy" that I'd seen earlier, except, of course, sans swimsuit. Naked, he was even more striking than I had observed. I think he had applied some oil to his body which accentuated his bronze skin and the tautness of his muscles, but I'm sure that most people's gaze was drawn to his semi-erect penis that jutted out from a nest of jet-black pubic hair and a pair of fair sized balls that dangled beneath. Juan stepped up onto the dais and raised his arms over his head and pivoted his body in a circle to allow everyone a complete view. Kelly leaned forward and whispered in my ear, "He'll go for twenty-five thousand." I just turned and gaped at her.