Meaning that there aren’t many women to choose from. I’m not surprised more men are signing up for this specific room. Maybe it won’t be as easy to find someone to scene with as I imagined. I’ll have to take additional care in my profile to ensure that I’m someone of interest.
“We also allow couples to book the room if they don’t want the anonymity feature.”
The couples.
They get fucking everything.
I don’t want a relationship, far from it. But it feels like they own everything at this goddamn club. What happened to casual sex?
“We have other nights planned utilizing this room as well, but everything will always be updated on the portal. As you know, cleanliness is of the utmost importance to us here at Avalon, so there will only be 4 sessions available each night. You will receive an access code to the Key Club five minutes prior to your scheduled time.”
“Thank you, Clara.”
“Of course, as always, if you have any questions I’m here to assist. After you schedule and hold a session, we will be sending out questionnaires to see how we can make the Key Club the best that it can be.”
“Maybe a new name,” I say and Clara tries to hold her smile.
“Yes, well. Is there anything else?”
“That will be all. Thank you for taking the time to show me the space. I’ll make my profile tonight.”
She gives me a curt nod, a clear dismissal. I wonder how many of these fucking tours she has to do today. I take one last glance at the room behind me and wonder if maybe it will be the thing to help me get through this lull I’ve been in.
Comingup with an alias and answering eight-hundred fucking questions has me second guessing if I want to be a part of the Key Club, but with nothing to do, I somehow prevail.
I choose Wayne as my stupid alias, because fucking Batman was the first thing that came to mind, and I drone through all the mandatory questions.
No, I, in fact, do not want to get pegged.
Yes, I would prefer music on instead of odd silence on my end of the wall.
Yes, I would prefer to wear a condom.
No, I’m not okay with sounding.Jesus Christ. I scrub my face as I continue clicking check box after check box, somehow feeling vanilla each time I hit no.
Once I finally think I’m done and can hit submit, I’m plagued by the final section where you have to write a little about yourself.
I tap away at the keys, remembering that I somehow need to stand out in a plethora of guys who want to partake in the new club experience. Granted, a huge portion may not even be into women, but I didn’t sit here for nearly an hour clicking through all this shit to not get chosen.
There’s not supposed to be any identifiable information, just a little something about what you want from the experience. How do I write that I want to fuck someone without them looking at me, begging me to kiss them? That I just want thesexual gratification with no other strings attached, just dirty, primal fucking.
So, I write about what I want my experience to be like.
I want you wet and waiting, eager to please, and willing to take what you get. I’ll make it good for you if you deserve it. You’ll be writhing on the other side of the wall, begging for a stranger to fuck you. We might not know each other, but I’m ready to make your fantasies come true.
Fuck it.
I hit submit and wait while the circle in the middle spins and it creates my profile. It automatically compiles a list of women who would be of interest to me.
If I have to read through all these damn profiles, I might just toss the whole idea out the window. This is why I don’t date, why I don’t approach many women at the club. I have no interest in the personal details of these potential women beyond what’s going to happen behind closed doors.
I look at the aliases and they’re all stupid basic food names. I roll my eyes and click on the first one.
Scrolling past all her check marks, I look at her personal note about what she’s looking for.
Looking for a safe space to explore my sexual desires. I want to be used on my terms.
That’s it. Two simple sentences. I immediately submit an inquiry to the stranger who is calling herself Honey.
