The Parade Ch. 01

Chapter 1 - Nicole Olsen

My heart felt like it was about to burst through my chest. I thought I was about to have a panic attack. Oscar and I had spent so much time planning for this night, just for my nerves to betray me when I needed them most. This morning he was telling me how proud he was of us for the grace and understanding we afforded each other through all the difficult conversations, crying, and arguing that led us here. Spending the last few weeks outside ourselves and our normal routines helped us grow closer to each other in a way I hadn't felt since our wedding night six years ago. Tonight, we were finally going to put all our hard work to the test. All the roleplaying scenes and acting out scenarios we had read about in Google reviews and stories on Reddit would finally pay off. We were prepared for The Parade.

But at the very last moment, just as we pulled into the parking lot, my courage started to falter and my eagerness was subsumed by fear. Logically, I knew The Parade was a safe space. The mission statement on their website the impression that the owners and staff were genuine people with a real passion for what they did. Everything we read about online completely soothed any fears we had about the place. We came prepared, too. Oscar bought plenty of protection, the fancy expensive stuff, so we wouldn't have to worry about any condoms breaking, and I bought some masks on Amazon in the unlikely case we ran into anyone we knew.

But none of it helped stop my mind from inventing worst-case scenarios for our night at The Parade. My brain felt like it was on fire, and I just wanted to drive back to the apartment, back to the safe glow of the TV and the familiarity of our boring routines.

Oscar let the car engine run. He knows me well enough to anticipate that this could quickly devolve into a full-blown meltdown. He wanted to be able to make a quick escape. The air in the car was charged with a nervous energy, but Oscar only maintained his usual cool demeanor. He's such a compassionate man, though I sometimes think he is overprotective of me. I forgive him because I'm dislocating his pinky finger with my iron grip.

"We can go home if you'd like," Oscar whispered. He didn't want to go home and waste another night surfing Netflix's entire catalog of movies only to decide there was nothing worth watching. But he wanted to deal with a panic attack in the middle of The Parade even less. We deserve to have a good time, and I don't want to let my anxiety reign me back into old, comfortable habits.

"No. We're here, and I want to see inside," I was also eager to avoid another night of listlessly perusing Netflix. The whole point of these last few weeks was to try something new and adventurous. Being a homebody had been comforting for a long time, but it was beginning to dull my edges.

I was about to be on the wrong side of thirty and hadn't been to a real party since college. After graduation, I worked tirelessly to attempt to burn through my student loans. Teaching in this state barely pays enough to live comfortably and it will never provide me financial freedom. Plus, it robs you of more than a living wage and the emotional toll of chronic exposure to teenage angst whittles you down to your basic elements. Now, an exciting night just means not worrying about doing the dishes. Or grading. Or DoorDashing for a bit of extra cash. Being tired all the time is exhausting. And I was so tired. I didn't want to just survive anymore. I wanted to live.

I didn't want to spend the rest of my thirties feeling like this. I tried the box breathing technique I learned about from a professional development about de-escalating situations with dysregulated students. At the time, we joked that the staff needed assistants of their own to help regulate us whenever we got too bent out of shape. It was helping immensely now, and I felt a bit bad for being so sarcastic at the training. I pushed the memory down and focused on my breath. After a few moments, I loosened my grip on Oscar's mangled hand. "I'm ready."

The building was an unassuming warehouse behind an abandoned furniture store and caddy corner from the Food Lion. It looked like an extension of the furniture store from the main road. What I couldn't see from the main road was the small metal sign with bold red lettering: "THE PARADE." According to our Google research, it was the largest swingers club in the state. When I first read about it, I was shocked that such a place could exist in plain sight. I'd driven past it on my way to work every day for the past four years without so much as glancing in its direction. It called no attention to itself. A clandestine little fetish club for people like us, people who wanted to experience the taboo fantasies they had only enjoyed through the safety of incognito mode.

Oscar reached into his coat pocket, removed the two black domino masks, and handed one to me. Though Oscar works from home, I have a public-facing job. Despite being an amateur recluse, many parents in town know my face. My face is plastered all over the school website and Facebook page. Being voted Teacher of the Year didn't aid in my desire for anonymity, either. But I had to protect myself from having a publicly recognized sex life. Mrs. Dellinger had had an OnlyFans page, and despite only showing pictures of her feet, the cute little dolphin tattoo on her ankle betrayed her identity to a student. The outrage was swift and harsh. She was fired immediately to keep the school's name out of any major newspapers. I wanted to avoid a similar fate, so I snapped on the mask. Oscar followed suit. I must have looked as ridiculous as he did because he began to laugh.

"All you're missing is a sack with a dollar sign on it," Oscar joked.

"We look like a pair of kinky raccoons," I felt the tension start to wash away. Oscar reached an arm around my waist and pulled me in tight, leaned over, and pressed his lips up to mine. We stepped out of the car and into the night.

Inside the club, I immediately noticed that no one else had taken the precaution of wearing a mask. Given that the town had only recently surpassed a six-figure population, it struck me as incredibly cavalier that no one had bothered to hide their face. Maybe we were the last ones in town to learn about the existence of The Parade. Maybe The Parade had taken out an ad in the neighborhood newsletter that I routinely trashed with junk mail. I had insulated myself from the world for so long that I felt like a time traveler. Whenever I drive out to the Wegmans it seems as though another row of townhouses have sprouted up overnight. The world was growing, and it was about time I did the same.

Oscar chivalrously paid the cover charge and the pink-haired girl behind the desk stamped our hands with a big red bull. She handed us each a laminated membership card and directed us to a large black door in the corner of the lobby.

"Welcome to The Parade," she said through a friendly smile, "ring the bell and show your cards and stamps to the doorman."

We did as she asked us and a small window in the door slid open. A pair of intimidating black eyes appraised us through the slat. After a moment, the window slid closed and a heavy lock chunked. The door swung open. We entered.

I hadn't expected to be given such a comprehensive tour of the club. The Parade provided its newcomers with an introductory orientation complete with a preview of everything it had to offer its members. The tour began with a run-down of all the violations and no-nos that would result in an immediate and permanent ban from the club. Another wave of relief washed over me, the club didn't suffer any misconduct and I felt a lot safer knowing that.

I was also relieved to see that Oscar and I were not the only newcomers to the club. The orientation group was joined by two other couples and an unaccompanied young woman. Oscar and I can't have any kids of our own, but I felt what some might describe as a motherly instinct to protect the lone pretty young redhead from any predatory couples that might be in attendance. Maybe it's the nosy teacher in me. I thought she looked a bit familiar, too, but then considered that perhaps my brain was attempting to invent an easy conversation starter. I suppressed my urge to ask her if she wanted company, I didn't want to come off as nosy or condescending. It was also in my best interest to draw as little attention to myself as possible.

The redhead captured Oscar's attention, too. I caught him giving her the side eye, quickly scanning her up and down. She was very pretty and dressed very attractively. I owned a similar pair of black knee-high socks, but I don't think I could pull off the heavy black Doc Marten's as well as she did. Oscar certainly has a type. It drives him wild when I throw on my goth schoolgirl ensemble. The last time I did, he roleplayed a horny college professor and tore my favorite tartan mini-skirt. Thinking about it made me want to drag him back to the car and pounce on him. I tried to ignore the warmth radiating between my legs and gave my attention to the club tour guide.

The club had a large dance hall with cabana beds tucked against the back wall, several themed bedrooms, a large movie theater, and two glory hole rooms each with floor-to-ceiling viewing windows. When the tour reached the glory hole room, there was a woman, slightly older than me, squatting on her knees vigorously servicing the four erect cocks poking out of the walls. I had never seen anyone naked in public before (let alone having sex with a group of strangers) and, forgetting that I had purposefully chosen to spend my Saturday night at a sex club, instinctively looked away to save the anonymous men their modesty.

Oscar was too infatuated with the orgy to notice my shock. As silly as I felt for ignoring someone having sex at a sex club, I was starting to feel a bit jealous for Oscar's attention. I gave him the benefit of being overwhelmed by the bizarre situation we had thrust ourselves into. I turned around just in time to see the woman slide one of the participants down her throat. She effortlessly swallowed the throbbing shaft to its base. I had never deepthroated anyone before. Shit, I could barely brush my teeth without gagging. The embarrassment of my first time giving a blowjob was so traumatizing experience for both of us that I spent the whole week before our next date studying porn videos and practicing on bananas. The trick, I learned, was to use my hands a lot, especially to tickle his balls. My studiousness had been rewarded with a mouthful of warm cum. It was the first time I had gotten a guy off with oral, and I commemorated the night by gulping down the whole load.

Glory Hole Girl was using her hands, too, but she had the added difficulty of three extra men to satisfy. The tour group watched in amazement as she deftly shifted between sucking and stroking three of the four cocks at once like a perverse game of Whack-A-Mole. None of the four throbbing cocks went unsatisfied for very long. I quickly counted to make sure she didn't have a third arm.

One of the other couples nudged each other playfully. The lone redhead cast a furtive side-eye toward them, then looked back at the rest of the group. Oscar briefly caught her gaze and she smiled, embarrassed. The smile he returned went unnoticed as the redhead's eyes darted to me. Before I could silently mouth the word "Hi," she gave her attention back to Glory Hole Girl, who was licking a thick drizzle of cum from her chin. The satisfied participant withdrew from the hole, and almost immediately, another thick shaft erupted from the hole. Glory Hole Girl's eyes widened in shock as her slender fingers weave themselves around the base of the newcomer's cock. Just as she began swirling her tongue around its swollen tip, a well-dressed man, who had gone completely unnoticed by the group, turned around to face us. He reached up, grabbed a curtain, and drew it closed. The curtains swayed for a moment, and then, sensing that the public show had become a private viewing, the crowd dispersed and the tour continued.

"If there are no questions, I'll leave you folks to enjoy your night," the tour guide said before departing.

The seven newbies stood awkwardly for a moment. Wordlessly, the two other couples broke off. Oscar and I exchanged glances and silently acknowledged that we should probably introduce ourselves.

"Hi, I'm Nicole, and this is my husband, Oscar," I said, "Are you here by yourself?" I immediately realized that I sounded as though I was propositioning her.

"Oh, no thank you, Nicole. But I'll see you around. You two have fun!" She smiled and bounced away toward the Catacombs.

And that's when I realized why the redhead looked so familiar. Her name was Hannah, and I was her teacher.