Facing Fear & Embracing Liberation
My First Sex Club Experience
-June 2023
On our third date, we stepped out of our comfort zone and into a world I never knew existed - a sex club.
Yep, you read that right… it was the third date.
I didn’t even know sex clubs were real. Yes, I realize how incredibly naive that may sound… but it’s true. I didn’t know there was anything beyond strip clubs.
I really wanted to go, but I was terrified, and if you know me at all, you know that I can become paralyzed in new situations. I come off like a stuck-up bitch when, in reality, I’m just trying to make sure my body remembers to breathe.
Thoughts and questions were bouncing around inside me like a pinball machine.
WTF do women wear to sex clubs? Is everyone there going to be super fit with killer bodies? Do I bring a purse? What do I need to know? Are we really doing this?
I think Google was overheating from all my searching in an effort to be as prepared as I could. Meanwhile, AC appeared as cool as a cucumber as he picked out the outfit I would wear. I ended up in a cropped white tank and army green pants that flowed with slits that cut up the mid-thigh.
I paced and word vomited racing thoughts until it was finally time to call the Uber and go, while he just sat calmly, watching the river from the hotel window.
As we turned down a street that was clearly taking us into an industrial part of town, we pulled up to a large building with no windows and no signs. We couldn’t even find the numbers on the building to verify we were in the right place. And as the Uber drove away, I had an “oh shit” moment… like, is this how I die? Whatever happens, make sure it takes me all the way out, because if it only puts me in the hospital, my mother will finish the job when she finds out.
We took a chance and followed a group of barely dressed people, hoping they knew what they were doing. We found the door. My heart was racing so hard I could hear the thumping. AC pulled the door open and stepped aside. Is he fucking crazy? I'm not walking through that door first. I shook my head and cowarded behind him, my hand on his hip as I pushed him ahead of me. We were greeted by a dimly lit check-in area, where a bubbly blonde checked our IDs and attached obnoxious smiley face bracelets to our wrists so that everyone would know it was our first time in attendance.
After check-in, we stepped into a brightly lit lobby filled with couches, tables, and lockers. There were couches, tables, and lockers. This was the transition space, where people were morphing out of street clothes and into... shall we just call them costumes.
Beyond the next doorway, it was dark. Neon lights were flashing, and the music was loud. We ventured through the door, past the bar that requires you to bring your own alcohol, which we didn't do. At first glance, it looked like a typical club. Booths lined the walls, pub tables were set in the bar area, and beyond that was an empty dance floor and DJ booth. It could have almost felt like my college days up on Clifton Hill if it weren't for the fact that on the other side of the booths there was a dungeon with several St. Andrews Crosses and suspension rigs. Well, that and the fact that the giant screens in the club area were playing porn. There were people of all sorts wandering around, although it wasn't really all that busy. Everyone looked comfortable and at ease. Some were in lingerie, others wearing almost nothing, and still others in only leashes. Then there was us wearing regular, mostly everyday clothes, feeling anything but comfortable or at ease.
“I felt torn between not wanting to watch and being unable to look away”
We slid into a booth, taking everything in as we tried to get comfortable. "You doing okay? Still breathing?" he asked while he squeezed my hand. "Nope, but I'm happy we are here," I smiled, getting lost in his eyes, thinking about how fucking weird life is and how thankful I am that he wandered into my life.
He was busy taking in everything around us—the music, the people, the energy. When he looked over at me and said he would be right back because he had to pee, I squeezed his hand harder and politely declined his invitation to step away from me. "Sorry, but no, please don't leave me." He let out a laugh, pulled his hand away from mine, kissed my cheek, and whispered, "You'll be fine, and I'll be right back."
I awkwardly sat there, waiting for him to come back, praying that someone would come talk to me and also hoping I was invisible and blending into the booth.
We spent most of the night watching what was happening around us from our booth. Eventually, we decided to get up and wander. There was still one more door we hadn't walked through yet... the one that opened to the back area where the playrooms are. This is what we came for, so suck it up, buttercup, swallow those nerves, and let's do this.
Holy Fuck.
I didn’t think I could be more uncomfortable than walking into a bar with porn playing on the big screens, but it turns out I could. Walking through a hallway with rooms on each side, doors open, and seeing people having sex… live porn was absolutely way more uncomfortable than seeing it on the big screen.
I felt torn between not wanting to watch and being unable to look away.
We learned quickly that watching was AC’s thing. He didn’t have the same level of discomfort with it that I did. He stood up against a wall, pulled me in close to him, and kept trying to get me to relax as I wiggled and fidgeted with the discomfort of feeling like I was breaking the rules by looking.
I felt at odds with this version of myself that I was trying to detach from—the one that said sex is dirty, shameful, and above all, private. I wanted to be freer, but this is forty years of conditioning, and it's going to take some time.
I stood uncomfortably in front of him, allowing the weight of his arms wrapped around me to slow my breathing and ground me.
Eventually, he took the lead to pull me away, and we went on to have our own fun for the evening. That’s when we learned that while he may be more comfortable watching, I was absolutely more comfortable being watched.
I had no nerves when we got into our own room. The idea that people could stand outside and watch us wasn't uncomfortable to me—it was a high. My body relaxed, and my brain stopped overthinking. There was a place inside these walls where I was fully comfortable, and it was right here, in this little back room.
The story of our first playtime at the club is one for another day, but I'll leave you with this: it was that encounter in which our golden rule—the answer is never "whatever"—was born.
This was the first time I allowed myself to push through the discomfort and the rules that I had been holding myself to for years on end. It was liberating, it was terrifying, and it was only the beginning. That night, I discovered that pushing through fear wasn't just liberating—it was the path to a whole new version of myself.
