Up until that point I was rarely the first to dive in to anything without a proper pro and con list, or at least a phone call to mom. But seeing as I was already at a sex party in a secret gambling hall in the Flatiron district, on the precipice of the obligatorily clothing-less playroom, I thought “fuck it” was the most appropriate reaction (literally).
I grabbed my date’s hand and off we went into the playroom to get the party started – which ultimately ended up being the correct decision because by the time we were, um, finished, we were surrounded in a sea of flailing legs and thrusting bodies, and mattress real estate was very difficult to come by.
As I downed the rest of my wine, down went my dress. I could feel the eyes of eager onlookers from the wooden partitions as I was felt up and stripped down. Before long, we weren’t alone as couples, singles, and groups began to hungrily grab up any open surface. I waited for it to get weird. I wanted for that mustachioed gentleman with gold rings on his fingers to approach me and creepily invite himself into our very happy little twosome. But that moment never came.
Instead, we lay vertical on the couch, going through our usual arsenal of moves at lighting speed so we could get to the actual moment of “sex in front of strangers.” The rationale was the faster we got naked and got going, the easier it would be to ignore our audience. Turns out, having voyeuristic sex is not that difficult. If you’re having sex (and great sex, for that matter), the extraneous details matter very little. Even if those details are horny onlookers sipping vodka on the rocks while they get off watching you. It’s kind of sexy to know that you’re inspiring others to feel sexy.
Before we knew it, the beds and couches around us were starting to fill up with other couples who now felt that the ice had been broken for them. After a while, my date looked over my shoulder and whispered to me, “look around us.” We were lost in a sea of flailing flesh, undulating in hedonistic hyperbole.
After we finished (rather, he finished. Sometimes I just can’t.), we scrambled to gather our clothing, which had been kicked around by our naughty neighbors. I slipped my LBD back up over my head and balled my underwear up in my palm, eager to get out of the playroom and debrief with my date about what just went down. I made it out of the playroom first and turned around waiting for him to join me. Out he came, hopping on one sockless foot, shirt collar open and tie around his neck. But much to my relief, a massive smile was plastered across his face.
“That was fun,” he said. “Almost comfortable.”
That’s the real beauty of Behind Closed Doors, besides the beautiful bodies having sex with each other: how comfortable it actually is. It’s like any other club, which is literally defined as an association or organization dedicated to a particular interest or activity. This interest and activity just happens to be sex. It’s not for everyone. Put a Bud Light-swilling, Eagles jersey-wearing bro at a convention of craft beers and vintage typewriters, and he’s bound to be uncomfortable. It’s important to remember that just because you’re curious about sex, that doesn’t make you a pervert or a freak. Being inquisitive and adventurous is often what elevates sex from fine to mind-blowing.
Unlocking your comfort zones is exactly how you elevate sex to the next level. It’s healthy, and, quite frankly, it’s incredibly hot. We’re all on the dating scene for different reasons. But one thing is the same for all of us: at some point there will be sex. But going out to a bar and hunting for sex somehow makes you desperate or thirsty. You have to want it, but not toomuch, even though we all secretly want it. At a sex party, it takes all the guess work out for you. We’re all there for the same thing, and we’re damn proud of it.
As for me, this experience opened a new door. It taught me confidence in my body, confidence in what gives me pleasure, and confidence in trying new things, which has applied to all other areas of my life. That’s not to say I spend my weekends scouting the latest sex parties. It hasn’t become the norm, but it certainly is normal. I don’t go to sex parties hoping to meet the next guy, or to insert myself into as many threesomes as possible. That’s not my style, though no judgments if it’s yours.
I like to go with someone special, someone with whom I’m ready to take our sex to the next level and develop a bond because we’ve raised the bar on our comfort zones together. I like sex parties because if I can handle being my most vulnerable in public, and like it, then there’s really very little that can stop me anywhere else.