I have written about our “first” lifestyle experience, which was our weekend away in Vegas once we decided we would jump into a full-swap scenario (Two in One). I thought it might be valuable for some to explain how we got to that point. How exactly does one get to deciding to have sex with another couple?

My husband was planning on going to Atlanta for his high school reunion. I was not planning on joining him, but then he discovered Trapeze. This club is pretty well-known in the sex-clubs sphere. They have two locations, one in Atlanta and the other in Fort Lauderdale. We discussed that this club might be a great opportunity for us to dip a toe into this lifestyle we had been reading about, so I booked my ticket. Sex clubs are a common way, of course, to get a taste of swinging. With experience I now think this has a pitfall - it can be too much too soon, depending on the night, so I hate it when I hear couples say they went to a club and then decided it wasn’t for them. Swinging doesn’t have to look like that.

The morning of both the reunion and the sex club visit, we went for a run and I sprained my ankle. We were both bummed about my ankle, but before even saying it out loud, we were bummed about missing the trip to the club. Especially given I had come just for that purpose! We bound up my ankle in ice and compression on and off throughout the day. I could walk on it; I just couldn’t wear the heels I had planned on. I had also purchased a very mini vinyl dress that zipped up all the way up the front just for this occasion. “Let’s take our clothes with,” I suggested, “and see how I’m feeling after the reunion.” Neither of us were very optimistic.

I sat in one spot with my ankle elevated all night chatting with different passers-by who were inquisitive enough to ask me what happened. The hubs was off catching up with those he knew, which I told him to do—no need for both of us to sit in misery. I was busy learning remarkably boring details about people’s lives I didn’t know. Oh, something else to know about me is that I haaaate small talk. I can do that for a short while (small, to me, means, the amount of time you should do it) but then if it doesn’t get deeper, we need to move on. Unless I’m sitting in a chair with my ankle elevated and I am dependent upon you to move on. And then you don’t, and I’m stuck talking small talk all night long. By the end of the evening I had made up my mind. As hubs approached me, thinking the answer was to go home, I surprised him when I emphatically stated, “We are going to that sex club.  We are NOT going to live the boring lives of suburban folks whose only idea of a date night is dinner at their mother’s house on Sundays.” “OK,” he laughed, “if you are up for going, let’s go!”

On the drive there I slipped into my tiny vinyl number. “Do not get pulled over,” I said, “because if you do, for sure the officer will think I am a prostitute.” More laughter, but I was serious. The lifestyle brings with it a whole new wardrobe and this was my first piece.  I was VERY concerned about what to wear to the club. I had chosen this based on what I had read, but I really wasn’t sure, and this dress was definitely out of my comfort zone.

As we approached the building, the valet approached us. What I noticed, however, was that the people milling about the door were dressed in regular street clothes. “Keep driving, keep driving!” I yelled, “We are NOT getting out of the car like this.” My husband slowly pulled away and the valet gave us a confused look. When I explained what I saw, we pulled over and looked back. More people were getting out of cars, and I saw more tiny dresses, bare legs, and patent leather heels. I allowed us to return to the valet and to enter. It turned out that many people wear street clothes into the club and then change in the locker room. This made sense—people leaving their homes, waving to the babysitter, with their minidresses and lingerie tucked inside their bag.

We filled out the forms, we paid the dues. I am positive our wide eyes and jittery hands told everyone that we were new. We got the tour (for the newbies) and then we headed to the bar and dance floor area. By this time, I had stuffed my wrapped-up ankle into my heel, so I was doing pretty well. We even danced for a few minutes. I was very uncomfortable. To this day, approaching strangers is not a strength of mine or the hubs, and on this night with being new and feeling out of place, I could not muster the courage. It was BYOB but we had not brought any because I didn’t want to make any decisions that night that I would regret the next day. The lack of drinking, though, sort of added to the awkwardness and we agreed that it might have been a good idea.

Eventually we decided to escape the awkwardness of the front of house club and visit the back of house, where nudity or lingerie was required and where people went to play. We surveyed the scene and quickly decided to have sex, the two of us in a private room with the door closed. For us, that was already hot. “Oh my god, we are having sex in a sex club!” We did our dance on the red satin sheets while men played pool just outside the room. I thought billiards were a surprising addition to a sex club, but I started to get the sense that this was a place that people came to hang out. It was a vibe . . . not just to have sex.

We then decided to try out the VIP area for comparison. We paid the extra fees and headed back there. It was smaller, nicer. Someone was celebrating a birthday complete with balloons. There were nice couches and loungers all around. We sat on one in the middle of the room for a while . . . the couple across from us was making out and doing some heavy petting. We smiled and sipped on our club sodas. We made out too. There were beds around us too, private and public. We decided to have sex again, but this time leave the door open so people could watch if they wanted. That felt like a very big leap . . . and it was very hot. The same couple that had been groping each other on the couch now moved their groping and moaning to the doorway of our small room. We didn’t know it then, but they were likely waiting for an invitation. They didn’t get one, but they watched for a while . . . it was exciting.

Later we decided for our final act of the night we would have sex on this very intriguing sex chair that was in the middle of one of the public playrooms. Another huge leap. We both felt like, well as long as we are here . . . and each session got more exciting than the last. The chair was incredible. Every angle we found ourselves in hit all the right spots. A couple from another bed was enjoying watching us. I enjoyed the man watching, though I started to feel that he was ignoring his own partner a bit too much (my first indication the role that I would play in many lifestyle situations, making sure everyone is ok).

We ended up closing down the club. At 3:30 the lights were flung on and employees started yelling at everyone that they needed to be out by 4:00. We couldn’t believe the time or how long we had stayed. In the locker room, a woman complimented me on my dress and said she had wanted to buy one like it. You could try it on, I offered. She wanted to so I pulled the dress off and handed it to her, right in front of her husband. None of us blinked an eye. I had no idea who I had become in these four or five hours.

When we got back to our hotel, we were exhausted—it was 5:00 in the morning and we had not slept. The most surprising thing? We didn’t go to sleep - we had sex at least two more times. This was our introduction to the hormone high that comes from lifestyle events and we liked it. We slept for a few hours and then headed to the airport. We stopped for breakfast and recounted our night. We both agreed that this was an incredible experience. OK, so what would our next adventure be? We didn’t know, but we knew there would be one.