I never really understood the allure of Las Vegas until my first visit to Sin City. Actually, my first visit I moved there after being transferred by my company. Ever since I've been amazed by the power the city has over me. Like a siren luring sailors to rocky shores, Vegas has influenced some of the best and worst decisions of my life.
Having just graduated from my university studies and recently moved to Vegas I had little money and no friends in the "city that never sleeps". And being a twenty-three year old, healthy male I desperately wanted to explore the debauchery that I was sure the city had to offer.
One Friday afternoon shortly after I arrived I picked up a local magazine that focused on the local adult scene. In the back I found advertisements for adult book stores, local strip clubs, escorts and something I was unfamiliar with at that age: swinger's clubs.
I remember carefully looking at the swinger's club ads, trying to figure these places out. The concept looked remarkably honest; a nightclub for the sole purpose of getting laid. After studying the ads for each club in town I decided to call what reported to be the oldest and largest swinger's club in town: The Red Rooster. After all, I've always been a believer in the value of brand and tradition.
I remember nervously thinking about it for a couple of hours before finally picking up the phone. I had a relatively prudish upbringing, being raised to believe sex was dirty, or at the very least something that one should feel guilt about even thinking of. But my curiosity, sense of adventure and (let's be honest here) hormones got the best of me and I finally worked up the courage to pick up the phone and call.
My heart raced and my stomach felt as if I had butterflies in it as the phone rang. I don't really know why I was nervous but I think a small part of me was actually hoping no one would answer. But someone did answer. The female voice on the other end of the line told me that her name was Chris, and that she and her husband owned the Red Rooster. She explained that theirs was the largest club in town, which had a dance floor, game room, swimming pool and guest rooms. They also had a large "group bed", whatever that was. She went on to explain that they offered a safe environment for couples and singles to meet and that no, no one was expected or required to have sex at the club. I was relieved. My curiosity piqued, I told the Chris that I planned to visit that night. Chris told me that she gives tours to new people like me and to let her know when I arrived.
Despite Chris' hospitality and comforting tone, I was anxious as I showered and dressed for the evening. My mind raced with images of the good, the bad and the ugly that I might see or experience that night. More than once I changed my mind completely and decided not to go, only to have my imagination of things to come convince me once again that I shouldn't miss this experience.
The Club
At the entrance I met a familiar voice as Chris introduced herself to me. "Oh good, I'm so glad you came in," she said in a sweet voice. I would estimate that she was in her fifties at the time and wore a shear summer dress, which revealed a very womanly figure. She wasn't my type, but there was something about her that was sexy nonetheless. Holding my hand and pulling me in tow she continued, "Let me show you around and introduce you."
Chris guided me through the facility, showing me the club's various amenities: dance floor, pool table, DJ booth, pool, hot tub, private rooms, and a giant, round "group bed" in a semi-private room of its own. The place was huge, but not very lively.
"When do people usually show?" I asked, hoping this wasn't all there was to see.
"Oh, honey, we just barely opened. The party doesn't really start until twelve or one."
I've always been an introvert and not very good at meeting new people, especially in settings where I don't know anyone at all. I'm not quite Rain Man, but pretty damned close. Really my only redeeming quality at that point in my life was my looks. In fact, I'd always avoided situations where I didn't know anyone in attendance, instead always relying on someone to go with me, like a security blanket. If it weren't for the lure of getting laid that night, I would have left immediately. But I hung in there, wandering around the club trying to look thoughtful as I inspected the amenities, waiting for something to happen, whatever "something" was.
Aside from me, the only other guests in the club were gathered around the pool table. A group of five men watched as a slender, blond woman with an absolutely stunning figure played very naughtily. She wore a skin tight leather mini-skirt and a shear blouse, revealing the body of a Penthouse Pet. Her perky breasts defied gravity and I could see her hard nipples brushing the edge of the table as she bent over again to shoot. As she hiked one knee on the table I couldn't help but notice she wasn't wearing panties.
Nice!
I thought.
Almost as if she'd heard my thoughts, when she was done putting the cue ball in the corner pocket she turned to look at me, then marched directly over to me. But as she approached I noticed something horribly wrong. It was as if I was looking at one of those drawings where first see a beautiful young woman in a fur coat and hat, but if you look long enough you see an old hag with a big nose with a wart on it. Think Heather Locklear's body with Bea Arthur's face.
"You're new!" she exclaimed, looking me over from head to toe with a lecherous glint in her eyes. Then she took another step closer and grabbed my crotch. "Wanna play?"
I felt like I was in an episode of the Twilight Zone. I've let my dick make a lot of decisions (good and bad), but I really didn't know what to do in this situation. It was like an evil Pavlov-ian experiment. She had an amazing body that any twenty-something woman would be proud to have. But when I looked into her face I saw... Grandma.
"Yeah, uh, I just stopped in to check the place out. This is my first time here," I said, turning to grab my drink from the counter in order to break her hold on my package. "Would you care for a drink?" I asked in a feeble attempt to make the move look casual.
"Sure," she said, beaming at me.
This must be how bunnies feel when the fox corners them
. "My name's Aaron," I said, handing her a drink.
"Judy," she replied, reaching for the glass without taking her eyes off mine.
I was intrigued by the contradiction that she was. I couldn't help but let my eyes wander over her body, marveling at her body. Her skirt was so tight it looked painted on, and her shear blouse revealed the most perfect breasts I'd ever seen. She had a stunning body, one that I'd later learn was perhaps an extreme example of the lengths women in Vegas will go seeking youth under a surgeon's knife. But when I got to her face, there was Grandma staring back at me.
"Would you like to go someplace more private?" she asked, moving closer.
God no!
