Tales from the Club: Mom

This is what I envision as the first of a series of stand-alone stories centering on activities at the New Xanadu sex club. It contains at its core the idea that led to the 12-part novella, New Xanadu, as its back-story. You don't need to read the back-story to appreciate what's going on here; but if you like this one, you'll probably like what came before.

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Hi, I'm John, and I'm still a sex addict. Also, I am now the managing partner of New Xanadu, LLC, which runs Chicagoland's newest, classiest, most discreet and by far most expensive and exclusive sex club. Not surprisingly, a sex club sees some interesting things go down. It took no time at all for the first and, for me personally, the weirdest of these to happen. In fact, it occurred on the first night of our promotional opening.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

A lot had happened in the four months since the events chronicled in New Xanadu. On the personal side, Gloria and I had completed our divorce. I continued to attend the orgies of our "core group" of sex addicts on most weekends, though the strain in my relationship with Martha and my inability to get over my annoyance with Salome made these less appealing. Joan and I had continued on very good terms, but her work schedule could be grueling and she wanted to play the field more, so our couplings became less frequent. However, lovely woman that she is, to make up for this she had made a series of introductions to several adventurous young ladies who she had met through performing her EMT duties, including Cindy, a very nice 22-year-old pathology lab tech who was my date on the fateful night.

After the no-holes barred orgies of our rebel SAA group, Cindy was certainly a change for me. While she had had several lovers during her college years, all of them had been young and, like her, relatively inexperienced. She had learned to fuck and suck cock with enthusiasm though not finesse, and one of the charms that dating her presented was a chance to guide her and expand her horizons. I certainly was able to expand her asshole, as she gave me her anal cherry, something Gloria had not been able to do, having given hers away before we met. In spite of all the sex I've had, the memory of the night that she bent over my bathroom vanity top and said, staring at me in the mirror "I want you to fuck my ass now. But be gentle because nobody has ever done that before," is special. Her excitement as I lubed her ass and reamed it with my fingers; her grimaces and moans and brief cry of pain as my cock entered and stretched her; and her look of triumph when she had taken all of me and stopped biting her bottom lip long enough to give me a big smile in the mirror - these still get me hard whenever I think about them.

As for the club, on the legal side we had set up our limited liability partnership with me as managing partner and Mary's interest shielded by a series of front corporations that it would take a lot of digging, here and abroad, to get through to her. On the physical side, thanks to Mary's imagination and Thomas's building skills, our Palladian pile of a "club house" had come together nicely.

Mary had decided that the main floor would be devoted to a number of interest-defined rooms. If you were in one of them, and on the far side of a line dividing the room, you were interested in doing what that room offered. If you were on the entrance side of the line, you were interested in watching. This got rid of the need for things like colored wrist bands that some clubs used to identify guests' openness to various activities, or the need to chat people up to find out what they were in to.

On one wing of the main floor we had Sappho's Island, and on the opposite wing we had the Stonewall Inn. In the long hall of the main floor we had the Zebra Room, the Windward Passage and, in what had been the old ballroom, Union Station, where any couplings were allowed but where we hoped that pulling trains would be popular. Mixed in among these was a small office, men's and women's changing rooms and several bathrooms. The projection behind the long hall that had housed the formal and informal dining rooms was converted to a bar and buffet lounge area and a check room for guests' street clothing.

The second floor housed 12 bedrooms, each with a king-sized bed, which were more or less private depending on whether the occupants left the door and hallway window curtains open, plus three bathrooms, each servicing a quad of rooms.

The 60' by 60'basement now contained our BDSM dungeon, divided into the Domina's Room and the Master's Room, each with appropriate toys and fixtures, a much reduced kitchen, a storage and laundry room and our well disguised security room. We had installed electronic equipment to insure that the guests would not be able to use cell phones, cameras or other recording devices. However, because we wanted to be able to spot trouble before it happened, each of our areas was fully wired for sight and sound. During open hours our security room was manned by one of the people from the security company recommended by Jack Doe and, to keep the Sheriff happy, a local deputy who knew his job depended on keeping his mouth shut about what he saw and heard here.

Because by this point we had run out of money, the attic was pretty much as it had been, spartan rooms that had been suitable for servants, with a couple of small bathrooms and storage space. We had managed to fit in one LULA elevator that connected the main, second and attic floors, and we had the existing residential elevator and dumbwaiter that connected the basement and the main floors. But, until we got more money, developing the attic and installing even one more elevator was out of the question.

For both financial and security reasons, our staff was minimal. We planned to operate with only 6 regular housekeepers, which we felt would be enough due to an ingenious sheet-changing apparatus that Thomas's son Gareth had invented for us. To honor our pledge to hire local, housekeepers were some of the most sexually-liberated members of the families of the Sheriff, our farmer-neighbor, and the two politicians to whom we had had to extend premier memberships to grease the skids. Their pay and benefits were not exorbitant, but as an added perk they were allowed to participate as club members whenever they were not working. Our bartender was actually one of Mary's bodyguards, usually Ron, Sam or Joyce, which provided us with some extra muscle in the unlikely event that it was needed. The office "staff" consisted of the partners, except for Mary, whose partnership interest was further shielded to honor our commitment to her father to avoid notoriety for her. She would appear in the club only as a paying member. In order to limit our staff, honor our commitment to "buy local" and avoid some licensing issues, food for our buffet was purchased from some local restaurants and held in to our kitchen until it was needed, at which point it was sent up to the buffet via the dumbwaiter. What wasn't used that night was donated to a local charity.

Our clothing scheme required that outside outer clothing be deposited in our check room, leaving members in undergarments of their choice, with outerwear that we provided.. Our main "uniform" was an off the shoulder short tunic of the sort worn by Rosanna Podesta in the 1956 movie Helen of Troy when she found Paris washed up on the beach. For us, this had the advantage of being a simple, easily-laundered unisex garment; loose enough to be worn with one breast exposed if that's what the wearer wanted. For the wearer it had the advantages of leaving something to the imagination, and of being easy to take off and put back on quickly. For those who didn't like the tunic, other choices ran from our nice fluffy robes of the sort that we had used at Mary's and Martha's apartments, their own creations (colorful bustiers and topless corsets were popular with the ladies), or running around butt naked if that's what they preferred. Sandals were provided for anyone not wanting to wear heels or go barefoot.

Another clothing item, on which there was no choice, was a Venetian mask covering the upper part of the face. These were required at all times. For members (and their guests) who had submitted current STI-free health records, these were white or, if they preferred, could be decorated and expanded upon as they wished. (The guy who showed up one night in a faux-Viking helmet gave us a bit of a pause. We had to agree that it qualified since it covered the eyes and nose, though we did insist that he take off the horns for safety's sake. We were very happy when, having made his point, he switched to one of out standard masks instead.) For those who had not established their STI-free status, their mask had to be pink; and any changing of the mask on the premises was a cause for expulsion and forfeiture of their membership. With that crucial bit of information on display, we left it up to the members as to whether they would use condoms, which we supplied in every room.

We got a little lucky for our promotional opening. Christmas fell on a Friday in 2020, giving us 2 weekend nights in the five nights between then and New Year's Eve. And on Sunday "Da Bears" were playing a noon game in Tampa Bay, which resulted in minimal interference for our 6pm opening time.

Ron and Mike's data digging had turned up almost 3000 names of people within a 150 mile radius of Hinckley who had attended swingers' clubs or registered with lifestyle sites in Illinois, Wisconsin, Indiana and Iowa. From these they weeded out about 1000 with red flags such as criminal records and divorces citing mental or physical cruelty, or incomes so low as make them poor candidates for paying our high fees. As to how they got this information, as usual I didn't ask and they didn't tell.

To the remaining 2000, and the 50 or so people who had gotten the word through James's SNCTM contact in California and people networked through private parties that Mary and Martha had attended, we sent out nicely printed invitations to join us for an evening during our grand opening week, on an RSVP basis. We aimed for a limit of 300 per night, roughly evenly divided between males and females, with couples given priority, followed by single females and then single males for any slots still open. Once a night was full any overflow was offered another night, but never in a way that produced a roster with more males than females. To make it enticing, we offered a "one night membership," either dry for $10 or wet for $30 per person. When people responded we sent them an e-mail with directions, a ticket with their reservation time, and our dress, privacy and conduct codes. In order not to chase off anyone on account of price before they had a chance to see what we offered, we decided to save the regular membership information for a brochure to be given to each person who attended the Grand Opening week.

6pm on Saturday, December 26, 2020 saw Martha and me working the desk at the New Xanadu as people began to arrive. Martha and I were fully clothed, in evening dress no less, to show how up-scale we were. Joan and Matthew were to replace us at 8, so that Matthew could be rested for his Sunday church service. Thomas was scheduled to take the desk from 10 to 12 for late arrivals and, along with James who was on from midnight to 2, we hoped to process applications from people as they left.

Gareth and Gawain, who were home from school for the Christmas break were given the run of the club on alternating hours, on the understanding that they would pitch in anywhere they were needed while not playing. We tucked Mary down in the security center for the first few hours as back-up in case the guys there were needed to solve a problem upstairs, after which she was free to play as if she were a normal guest.

Our 6 housekeepers, 4 women and two men, had been assigned to the changing and clothes-check rooms on the main floor, with one in the basement and one each at either end of the second floor. Those of us not working the desk were expected to mingle, always at least one on each floor, and to help those guests who hadn't bothered to read our information sheet and signs to figure out how things worked. We were a bit thin, to say the least, for what we hoped would be a big crowd, but we figured that since our guests had been selected from a population of club regulars, with potential trouble makers weeded out and gatecrashers turned away, they could be counted on to amuse themselves and each other without too much input from us.

Since our focus at the desk was business rather than sex, Martha and I had no trouble working together. To give her credit, she had been making progress in her effort to see me without flashing back to that guy who had date raped her. Maybe one day we would share a bed, or a kitchen counter or something, again. For the time being, I was too busy with the steady stream of people coming in, and looking forward to Cindy's arrival at 8, to be uncomfortable.

In the two months that Cindy and I had been "dating" (or fucking at any rate), I had occasionally brought up threesomes and foursomes, but those conversations had never gone anywhere. I had intentionally not introduced her to our rebel SAA orgies, out of selfishness, I suppose. It wasn't that, even after her anal defloration and some of the technical refinements I had taught her, she was so deliciously naive that I feared the shock of what went on at Mary's place might drive her away. It was more that she might enter into the group so enthusiastically that I might lose her for myself.

With the opening of New Xanadu on the near horizon, it became clear that the additional time that I would spend there would eat into my time with Cindy unless I combined the two. So, without revealing my relationship to the club I suggested that we try it out.

To my surprise, she didn't need more than 2 seconds to think about it before she agreed. "Yes, sure. I've heard about sex clubs but I've never been to one. I was kind of wondering why you hadn't suggested that we go to one before. You've talked about threesomes and foursomes enough to let me know that you'd like to fuck other people, and watch me be fucked. Right?"

"I can't lie," I said. "The thought has crossed my mind. So why do you want to go to a sex club?"

"Because there are things that I haven't tried yet, and I want to try them. I've never pulled a train. I haven't had a lot of chances to watch people fuck or be watched. And while I've had a couple of experiences being DP'd, now that you've opened my ass I'm ready to try a triple. And," she added as an afterthought, "maybe a woman. I've never had sex with a woman, either. A sex club could give me all of those things, and with you there I'd feel safe."

So, at 5 minutes to 8 there was Cindy, standing at our entryway counter with her e-mail ticket in hand. She gave me a smile that was a combination of excitement and nervousness. I must have shown something because Martha, ever-observant and empathic, took one look at her, then me, and said "You're a special friend of John's aren't you?"

I don't know how women do it, but Cindy somehow caught vibes in that short comment that caused her to blush a little, and say "Yes, I am. I'm Cindy. Are you his special friend too?"

Martha thought about that and then said "Not now. But we used to be pretty good fuck buddies. Don't let that bother you, though. Now, if you'll go into the ladies' changing room to your left you can get into something more comfortable. John will be off desk duty in 5 minutes and I'm sure he'll show you a good time."

"It's going to take me a little longer to get changed," I told Cindy. "You should leave your cell phone and jewelry in one of the safe deposit boxes here before you change. When you're done changing if you'll take your garment bag to the check room, then head to the lounge next door, I'll meet you there. Now hold out your hand." When she did I stamped it with the little Brighton Pavilion handstamp that we had had made. "This means you have bar privileges, so you can order a drink if you want while you're waiting for me to catch up."

When I got to the bar 15 minutes later I was pleased to see that Cindy had, like me, opted for our short tunic, with heels in her case. Unlike me, she'd arranged it to cover both breasts, while my left nipple was standing proud. Drink in hand, she was already chatting with a couple, both of whom looked like they wanted to eat her on the spot.

"Hi John," she said after I had come up behind her and kissed her neck. "This is Carla and Chuck. They've been here since six and they're taking a little break, but they said that when they'd caught their breath they'd like us to join them in one of the rooms upstairs."

Both were about mid-30s, fit and, in his case, well tanned. Carla had considerably more padding than Cindy, but in all the right places. And while her looks did not match Cindy's, or Chucks, for that matter, just standing there she exuded a sexuality that you could sense from across the room. Oh, yeah, I thought, I definitely want to fuck this woman.

I shook hands with Chuck and started to with Carla, but she reached past my hand and pulled me into a long, deep kiss. When it broke I looked over at Cindy, who seemed a little surprised. But then she brightened up and said, "Hey, what about me?"

Both Chuck and Carla moved forward, then Chuck stopped and said to Carla, "Ladies first." It didn't bother me that Cindy's kiss was even longer that the one that I had gotten from Carla, or that the one Chuck gave her was longer still. I had decided that even if I wasn't hoping to fuck Carla, this was to be Cindy's night, so she should be the center of attraction. Besides, it was good to have found some friends who would take care of her in case something came up and I had to break away. I just took the opportunity to reach up under her tunic from behind and find that, as I had hoped, she had decided to go commando tonight. And also that she was already very wet between her legs.

When Chuck broke his kiss I said, "Um, I think we'd like that, but maybe in an hour if you're still up for it then. Cindy just got here and I'd like to show her around some first." Then I realized that nobody was wearing a watch, so that "let's meet in an hour" was kind of a stupid suggestion.

My chagrin must have shown on my face, because Chuck laughed, held up his bare wrist to show that he understood and said "Not to worry. If our orbits cross later tonight, great. And if they don't, I hope we'll have other chances later."

I couldn't resist the chance that presented to do a little market research. "So, you're thinking of joining up? I saw that it's kind of pricey."

"Yeah, and not exactly a short drive for us, either. But in the two hours we've been here, we both noticed that it's a class act."

Carla joined in, "We've been to a lot of club in Chicago and other places where we've run into what you might all a wide range of people. This looks like the cream that's risen to the top, and that suits us just fine. If the people running this place"

Ah, I thought, the clothes do make the man; they hadn't recognized me out of my tux)

"are as serious about health and discretion as their little booklet says,"

(where had she found the time to read our booklet? I had to wonder)

"I've told Chuck that it's money we can afford for something we should buy."

"Not the premier membership," Chuck was quick to add. "But what's a few grand for something like this with people like you and Cindy and the others we've seen here tonight? I pay a lot more than that each year for my golf club membership, and the best I can do there is play golf with a bunch of old fat guys."