Or: How I was seduced by a member of a private club I hadn’t been to before.
We meet downstairs: he has to collect me at reception as non members aren’t allowed on the roof unescorted. He’s not bad looking, but I’m not overwhelmed with lust. I’ve also had a terrible day and definitely not on top form.
We get to the bar and he tells me he’s going to introduce me to the gang. Immediately I lose the plot – what is this place? I assume they are all swingers and “in the know” and they have to inspect me like some sort of cabal. I mean, I have a vivid imagination. I get intrigued to a phalanx of women by the pool (luckily not in swimwear it’s February) one who bears a tattoo of the club.
Am I in a movie? This place just doesn’t seem real. I feel like a dumpy imposter being allowed to look but don’t touch. He told me to bring a bikini but there is no way I’m getting in that pool.
We find a quiet place to sit and chat awkwardly. He does nothing to put me at ease and I really can’t tell the vibe here. We are maybe halfway through the glass of wine when he excuses himself for the loo.
He’s gone so long I am seriously considering leaving. I don’t look at a watch but it’s definitely more than 10 minutes. As he left a trio of power lesbians come and start smoking by our table. They actually look more fun. A woman comes over and starts chatting to me about the view and the sunset. It’s only I realise she’s one of the hostesses and I guess briefed to make me feel comfortable whilst I’m alone.
He returns and makes some apology for being so long. We’ve not even talked about sex or if we are going to have it. It’s almost like a business meeting. And then he shows me some pictures of his sex toys.
He’s a Dom – like most men claim to be these days, but uses interesting language. He says when he’s seeing someone he doesn’t play around. I’m unsure if this is an audition but I start to share some photos of me shibari- tied. The conversation hots up and he goes off for more drinks.
I’m now actually excited, he’s not my usual type but he seems legit. But this time he’s gone so long that the waiter brings the drinks. What the hell is going on?
He comes back and apologises: his son has fallen off his bike and he’s now got to go home. Wow. Talk about a brush off. We have full glasses of wine so I make to quaff it and he stops me.
We chat a bit further about what we are into but the vibe still doesn’t scream sex.
Eventually we go down to the lobby and I try not to look disappointed. And then…and then…he takes my fucking breath away by kissing me. Full tongue in my mouth stuff. Smooching on my neck, biting, pulling my hair. Holding my bum. What the hell?
He leaves by a different door to me and I get the train home.
Another one bites the dust I assume.
Next morning a message comes through “When can I see you again?”