Wednesday, 26 January 2011

A site visit to a swingers' club

The entrance to Fun For Swingers is obscured by the parked vehicles of the other businesses in the industrial estate. Then we see the LEDs spelling out its name in the blacked-out window. There's an A-frame sign outside too saying 'SWINGERS'. Jenny assures us that at weekends parking's not a problem and that in this area no one cares what you do.

"It's full of arty types," she says. I wonder if the arty types would welcome a local arty sexy party. Why are arty types so unhedonistic about sex?

The pink reception room smells. A man with grey sideburns and huge forearms smoking behind the counter ignores us. Decorative miniatures of Babycham, cherry kirsch and advocaat gather dust on the shelf behind him. Heart-shaped fairy lights are threaded through the security grill over the window. Kris and Paulie, the owners, appear. They must be well into their fifties. She's small and skinny with a blond perm. She shows us the pool table in a room at the side.

"It's mostly for the boys," she says, "So that they can do something else before they go upstairs. Also the men just like to come down, have a smoke and take a break. The women don't use it... well, sometimes they do and then they usually beat the men," she adds unconvincingly.

We walk up a flight of stairs lined with pictures of the dirty postcard variety. I see a drawing of a woman being double penetrated by two enormous black men, their cocks and come exploding out of her mouth. Deb winces behind me. We arrive at the end of a long straight corridor with doors leading off.

The first floor is where the action happens. Kris guides us through a series of rooms painted black. There's a grope box and cage, a dentist's chair, a viewing room with a two-way mirror. There are beds in every room. We come to a largish area at the end of the corridor with a bar in it and wicker furniture. It's Tuesday lunchtime but a couple are sitting in there. They eye us with interest and some amusement. We go to look at the oil room.

"What's an oil room?" I ask.

Deb says that's it's for baby oil, and that people can cover themselves with it and roll around on latex sheets. I still look confused.

"Just like our custard room," says Virgil.

"You can use it for custard if you like," Kris laughs. Then she shows us the TV in the bar where you can put on a porno DVD. "That's just for the men though really. The ladies don't like watching porn, do they really?" We don't answer.

We thank Kris and tell her that we've got a few places to look at but that we'll be in touch. As we walk away we discuss the relative merits of the place. It's not right for us because the main area's not big enough for us and there's no music but in other ways it would be great. I am inspired by the facilities - the interconnecting rooms and the many beds, the washing machine and tumble drier. (We agree with Kris that sex parties involve a lot of laundry.)

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