First time to a sex club

Angel's Social Club

ANGELS Social Club, Portland, OR

First thoughts

Nice neighborhood.  No good parking.  Entryway is nice, a middle-aged man with a paunch greets me warmly and has me sign a waiver indicating I'm over 18 years old, I acknowledge that I won't be offended by nudity or sex, and that I accept the health risks of engaging in sexual activity.  Then I'm introduced to Jeff, another middle-aged man, with a healthy mustache, who is nice as can be in a motherly way, making sure I know what I've gotten myself into.  Women rule here, he assures me, since after all, without us this would just be a big wank fest.  

The tour

The first room has a large hot tub with a high ceiling, then around a bend past the stripper pole and the sex swing cage to the hot food area, lockers, restrooms, and changing rooms.  Down another hallway and down a few steps onto a dance floor complete with lights and disco-style black and white tile flooring, empty this early in the night.  Up the other side and through another passage to the bar.  Plastic cups, hand-written menu.  I ask if there's wine and Darryl, the immaculately dressed bartender, searches the refrigerator to find out.  I ask him to start me a tab and tip him in Angel's "Baby Fund" tip jar.  She just had twins.

A few of the regulars are lounging and catching up on the gossip and are friendly.  I follow Jeff to complete the bottom floor loop and head up a set of stairs, peak into some private rooms, some with fish tanks built into the walls.  Jeff shows me where the clean sheets and towels are kept and explains the etiquette, shows me the bins for the used linens and towels.  More lockers and showers, an outside hot tub and smoking area, the big-screen television "Porn Room" with comfy chairs and couches and onscreen a woman on her back against what looks like an office table rubbing her clit furiously as a dick goes in and out with a close-up.  

Subsequent videos all had the male POV with the woman approaching the camera-man, squeezing her boobs together, getting more and more naked, spreading her ass cheeks and bending over, baring a bare pubic area, dripping what looked to be pretty fertile and cervical fluid heavy wetness, and interjecting occasional text about how the man likes this so far, and how he's going to like what's about to happen even more.  One video had a European uncircumcised male, which was kind of cool.  

The other folks in the room with me mostly critiqued the way the actors looked, discussing the potential realism of the boobs mostly.  The man was nothing but a cock or an occasional hand, and the occasional disembodied-sounding voice responding to the woman's questions about what he liked.  I never heard the men make any sexual noises, although there was plenty of goopy audio during the fellacio scenes, and the women tended to be pretty vocal.  [Note: it's funny that the auto spell checker doesn't know the word "fellacio".]  The women all seemed to be pretty horny and did all the initiation and action.

Are you going to play?

I was scheduled to play one set of music at 10 PM and another at midnight.  In the rec room there's a pool table, some circle booths, living room style furniture with some smaller televisions playing silent porn, a gymnasium sized fan, coffee, tea and soda station.  I moved the massage table against a wall to set up my gear and noticed a used dried condom on the floor.  Jeff looked disappointed and got a tissue to pick it up and throw it away.  I did sound check and then waited in the Porn Room till show time.  Jeff went around at ten till ten announcing the show was about to start and gathering the troops.  It was still pretty early, so I was there as an ice breaker.  People only came in and stayed for a few minutes before disappearing to the private rooms.  A fully nude woman loped in with a glazed smile on her face and pushed her hair back in mildly sweaty satisfaction, and then wandered out with several followers.  The smokers came in and out the back door from the outside hot tub.  Towels and sheets accumulated in the baskets.

At break time I wandered around talking to folks.  When I came out of the bathroom into the locker area I spoke with some clubbers about the lifestyle.  A woman told me she'd been coming here for years and when she met her husband, she brought him with her and explained this was a part of her life.  When they talked about it afterward he laughed and said in the old days they called this cheating.  A man in fatigues said he's been back from Iraq three days and he'd been to the competitor's venue the night before.  He was pretty high-strung and seemed to keep alienating people without noticing.  He told us that another woman in the club that night had introduced herself to him and asked him about his service, since her husband was also in Iraq.  He then went on to talk about her with the assumption that her husband didn't know she was here and was barely able to contain his resentment and scorn of her.  People gently walked away from his presence.  Later I heard him saying to another man that if he paid all this money to get in and went home without anything he'd be pretty upset.  I would guess he never got any.  He asked me in another passing if I was going to play that night.  I said yes, I'll be playing another set of music, and he understood what I meant and half-heartedly left me alone.

Any women in there?

In the Hot Tub Room I met a woman and man lounging naked together.  They were curious how I ended up there and told me they were glad to see I was comfortable and non-judgmental. She told me that she'd been coming for four years and had never done anything out in the open; she just wasn't comfortable with it yet.  

I went to the front desk to meet Angel who I knew had come back to the club after her kids were asleep with the babysitter.  A young couple had just come in and the guy was paying for them.  The young woman was curved towards and into him and looking at the back of his neck and fidgeting her toes in a circle on the floor.  Angel asked them with bit of a weary expression if they knew what kind of club this was.  The guy hurriedly nodded and said yes.  She paused and asked, does She know?  The woman looked over quickly with a sheepish look.  Angel went through the paper work with them and they ushered themselves in.

I was curious about Angel.  She had been very courteous and nice during the booking process.  The club has been there for 18 years.  She came for the first time at the age of 22, after several failed attempts where she'd make it to the parking lot, and then the door, and finally in the door.  The first night she entered, the owner, in her description, looked at her like the cartoon wolf with the big hearts bulging out of his eyes; but she was just there to fuck.  Eventually though, they married, and Bobby renamed the club after her.

At midnight it was show time again, and much the same thing happened in terms of the audience wandering in, staying a few minutes, and leaving for a while.  I was mostly a diversion.  A few people gathered to listen though, and several couples said they came that night (ostensibly) to hear the music.  I like to think that my music contributed to people feeling relaxed and sexy.

After the set I packed up and another mustachioed man in a towel came and chatted me up for a bit.  We talked about trucking, the lifestyle, the difficulties of having a family when you're doing long-haul, the CB radio after dark, the ease of escaping your problems by driving away.  He was divorced three years and just recently became a regular at the club because of it.  It was a fun conversation but it was getting pretty late so I excused myself and loaded up the car.  I asked Angel if the economy affected her business.  She nodded a slow affirmative.  She paid me promptly in cash, with an ease that I admire.

On my way out of the parking lot, at 2 AM, I see a woman kneeling in the street under her driver's side dashboard of a big, rugged truck.  I rolled the window down and asked if she needed any help.  She stood up and told me with some exasperation that her taillights wouldn't go off.  I'd had a similar problem with an old '88 Merkur and suggested she turn the car back on and then off.  It did the trick.  She headed towards the club and looked back to ask, "Any women in there?"

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