A Wanton Woman

by Thomas Henry

  “May I help you?” The voice from the speaker was the one I had heard on the telephone. Salacious, but everyone just calls me “Sally.” I gave my name and said we were there for our interview.

  “Yes, I’ve been expecting you. Come on up and have a seat. I’ll be right with you.”

  The second door’s latch buzzed. On the other side of that door was a narrow and steep stairway, dimly lit by a single bare lightbulb. I led the way as we climbed the creaking steps single-file.

  At the top of the stairs was a waiting area, pretty much like you would expect at a doctor’s office. Nothing fancy, but it was clean and orderly. Half a dozen chairs and a table with some magazines. Basic industrial carpeting and fluorescent lighting. No windows, but there were two doors in the wall opposite of where we came in.

  As we sat down, I noticed a camera near the ceiling. It slowly panned across the room. I assumed that Sally was taking a good look at us to make sure we were what she was expecting. It was a little creepy, but all-in-all, I was somewhat comforted that she was so cautious about admitting new people to her club.

  The camera stopped moving, and a few seconds later, a door opened and Sally appeared. I had really missed the mark when I imagined her as Kathleen Turner. She was much more reminiscent of Frank De Lima in drag as “Tutu” for his TheCab commercials. She was younger and better looking, but her overall appearance was quite similar…minus the five o’clock shadow and the lei.

  She was wearing a flowing muumuu that hung loosely from her broad shoulders and the considerable swell of her breasts. It gave no other hints of the shape of the body underneath. She sported an outrageous black wig that didn’t even pretend to be real hair. Her cheeks were unnaturally rosy, and her lips bright red. She batted some of the longest false eyelashes I had ever seen. For a few long, uneasy seconds I couldn’t help but wonder if we had been sucked into some kind of “candid camera” prank.

  I glanced at the others. Crystal was taking it all in stride. I guess she had known what to expect. Ted was just staring at Sally, like he didn’t know what to think. Karen had her hand clamped over her mouth, but her eyes gave her away. She was doing all she could not to burst out laughing.

  I couldn’t blame her, but I didn’t want to risk offending Sally, so I quickly stood and offered my hand. She was a bit taller than I…maybe an inch or two. I studied her face as she looked me up and down. Her ethnic background was no doubt mixed, but I figured she was largely haole and Hawaiian. I took her to be forty-ish, but with all the garish makeup, I couldn’t be sure. She had great bone structure. With proper makeup, she might actually be pretty. I thought she must have been a striking entertainer in her day. I wondered where she had worked. I immediately thought of the old Glade nightclub on Hotel Street, but quickly realized that she couldn’t possibly be old enough to have worked there. It had closed many years ago.

  Sally continued to hold my hand as she leaned in and gave me a hug. She wore a fresh and delicate fragrance that seemed incongruous with her appearance. Her wig and her dangling earring brushed across my cheek as she whispered in my ear, “Thuy certainly was right about you.”

  I had no idea what she meant by that, but I wasn’t inclined to prolong our embrace by asking, so I just whispered, “That’s good.” She patted me on the cheek with her free hand as she backed away. She gazed into my eyes for a moment before she finally let go of my hand and turned to the others. She briefly shook each of their hands as they introduced themselves. Fortunately, Karen managed not to laugh in her face. I got the impression that Ted was relieved that he didn’t get a hug, too.

  “Okay,” Sally said. She pressed her palms together as if preparing to pray. “I usually do my interviews in my office, but since there are so many of us and we are the only ones here, let’s just do it out here.”

  She sat down facing us. I glanced at her feet. It was no big surprise that she was wearing sandals with plastic flowers on them…or that her toenails had been painted with the same bright red polish as her fingernails.

  Sally said that her club had no formal name. Members just called it “The Club” or “Sally’s Club.” Officially, it didn’t exist. It didn’t own anything, it didn’t keep any written records, and all fees were paid in cash. So far as the government knew, Sally was just the eccentric owner of a very profitable coffee shop.

  She went on to explain that her club hosted different activities on different nights. On some nights, “bulls” who worked for the club put on sex shows with female club members while the husbands and boyfriends…or girlfriends…watched.

  In answer to a question from Karen, Sally said that the sex shows weren’t private. Everyone in the club could watch. But the club also had private rooms where members could go to have sex after their show. She said that it was common for the man to be so turned on by watching his woman with the bull…or bulls…that he didn’t want to wait until they got home.

  In answer to a question from Ted, Sally said that some of the bulls were black “of course,” but that she had others of various races to cater to the tastes of the racially diverse members. She noted that white couples from the Mainland often had fantasies about local surfer boys, whereas couples from Asia tended to fantasize about either black or white men.

  I asked if most of the club members were tourists. Sally said that some of them were visitors who had heard about the club from friends or through swinger organizations. But she said that there were quite a few local members as well, all from word-of-mouth sources. She had no web site. She never advertised on Craigslist or Backpage or in the sports section like many of the “relaxation spas” did.

  Karen asked what kind of sex shows the bulls did. Sally said that they had a menu of standard scenarios from which the couples could choose, but that they also accommodated special requests whenever possible.

  Crystal asked who got to decide which bull or bulls would be involved. Sally said that there would be an opportunity to meet the bulls before the show, and that the couples could express preferences. But, they should be a flexible as possible because their first choices might already be taken. She hastened to assure us that the woman always had the final say, and that “no always means no.”

  Sally went on to recite a number of other rules ranging from required health tests to prohibition of illegal drugs and excessive drinking. Of course, all members were sworn to secrecy. No recordings were permitted. All electronic devices had to be checked at the door. And so on…

  Interestingly, memberships…and attendant membership fees…were individual, rather than by couple. Annual membership fees were $100 per person. In addition, there was an attendance fee that varied by type of activity. For what we wanted, the fee was $250 per person for each night. Given the steep price of attending an event, I wasn’t sure why Sally bothered to charge a membership fee. Maybe she thought it was just something people expected from a club, and it probably generated a decent amount of cash for her.

  I asked Sally how she kept track of the memberships if she kept no written records. She tapped her forehead with her finger and said, “Eidetic memory.”

  I wondered if the size of the attendance fee would dampen Ted’s enthusiasm for the club. I decided that I was not going to offer to pay for him and Karen as I sometimes had done in the past for other activities. I guess I was hoping that the cost would change his mind and let Karen off the hook.

  When we had no more questions, Sally offered to take us on a tour of the club. She swore us to secrecy and then led us to the second door across from where we had come in. It opened into what appeared just to be a closet for office supplies and such. She stepped in and pushed at the shelving unit on the back wall. The whole thing swung away into darkness. Sally flipped a light switch and revealed a stairway that led back down to the first floor. Apparently, the club was tucked away behind the coffee shop.

  As we were making our way down the stairs, Sally explained that the main entrance to the club was from the parking lot in the back. But only
approved members knew about it. She had all new applicants come in the way we had come so that, if she decided not to accept them, she could send them away without revealing the club’s location.

  Since she was about to show us the club, I inferred that she had decided to accept us as members. So now, it was just a matter of us deciding if we wanted to take the plunge.

  The main entrance to the club was as nondescript as the door we had come in. There were no signs or numbers on it, and it looked like it hadn’t been painted in years. At first glance, it looked pretty much like any service door at the back of a restaurant. It had some heavy-duty locks, but even that wouldn’t be all that unusual for a door that was out of public view. Even the push button and security camera seemed normal for a rear service door.

  Like the door we had come in, the main entrance door opened into a vestibule closed off by another locked door. There was a camera high in the corner. Members entered the vestibule, and after the outside door had closed and locked, the second door opened and they were admitted to the club.

  The second door opened into a room that was set up like a night club. There were small tables and chairs and a pretty good sized dance floor. One corner was set up as a bar. Sally pointed to it and said drinks were complementary, inasmuch as she didn’t have a liquor license. I figured that, with a $250-per-person attendance fee, she could afford a couple of “complementary” drinks.

  Sally explained that this room was where the “mating dance” was held. During the first part of the party, the women typically would have a few drinks while they mingled and danced with the bulls to get acquainted and decide which ones appealed to them. The husbands usually sat or stood around, drinking and watching their women and deciding which bulls appealed to them. After a while, the couples would get back together and compare notes and decide which fantasy and which bulls they wanted.

  Next, Sally led us into the “Voyeur Room.” It was long and narrow, with opaque glass along one wall. A single row of comfortable-looking chairs faced the glass wall.

  Sally flipped a switch on the wall, and a light came on behind the opaque glass. She flipped another switch, and the glass turned clear, revealing what Sally called the “Showroom.” She explained that the men sat in the Voyeur Room and watched as, one-by-one, the wives and girlfriends acted out scenes with the bulls.

  The Showroom was painted black…and completely empty. There were quite a few light fixtures around the ceiling and walls, so I inferred that the lighting could be tailored to the needs of the scene being acted out.

  There was no direct access to the Showroom from the Voyeur Room, but I could see a set of double doors at the far end of the Showroom. I guessed that provided access for the performers and for furniture and other props that could be brought in as needed, much as a set is changed between scenes in live theatre.

  There also was a door at the far end of the Voyeur Room. Sally explained that it led to the backstage area where there were private rooms and dressing rooms.

  The private rooms were furnished with queen-size beds. She said that couples often used those rooms to have sex after the woman had performed in the Showroom.

  The dressing rooms were where the women and bulls prepared for their scenes and cleaned up afterward. Beyond the dressing rooms was a “backstage” area that led to the entrance to the Showroom. It contained a number of beds, benches, chairs, and other props that could be used as the scenes required.

  “So what do you think?” Sally asked. “Ready to sign up?”

  I looked at Crystal. She winked at me and squeezed my arm. I shrugged my shoulders and nodded at Sally.

  I looked over at Karen. She was gazing at me while Ted whispered in her ear. She turned to Ted and shrugged. He whispered something else, and she nodded slightly. He smiled and said, “We’re in.”

  I couldn’t decide if I was disappointed or relieved.

  * * * *

  Crystal and I sat in my car in the parking lot behind Sally’s Club, waiting for Karen and Ted. Were it not for the other cars parked there, the place would have seemed deserted. There were no lights, other than the street lights. I knew they had to be playing music inside the club, but I couldn’t hear a thing. I figured that Sally must have put quite an effort into having the place sound proofed.

  After about fifteen minutes, Ted and Karen pulled into the parking lot. Crystal and I had waited for them so that we all could enter together.

  We got out of our cars and ambled over to the door. I was about to press the button when I heard the electronic strike retract. Someone had been watching us. I opened the door and held it for the others. I stepped in behind them and let the door swing shut.

  Crystal seemed unruffled as we waited in the vestibule, but Karen clearly was nervous. Ted whispered something in her ear. She nodded and fished a prescription medication bottle out of her purse. She pulled off the cap and tapped the bottle against her palm until a single tablet slid out. She closed her fingers around it and recapped the bottle. I took the bottle and looked at the label. A recent prescription for Xanax in Karen’s name. Nothing illegal, but a bit disconcerting. I dropped the bottle into her purse.

  A few seconds after the outer door’s lock clicked into place, the inner door swung open and we were enveloped by soft, earthy music with a dominant bass line. Like the music, the lighting was low and warm. A group of people gyrated on the dance floor.

  Sally greeted us with hugs and air kisses next to our cheeks. I was thankful that she wasn’t planting big, red lip prints on us.

  She was dressed and made-up pretty much as before. She wore the same fresh, delicate fragrance. As she mashed her bosom against my chest, she whispered, “I’m so glad you decided to come.” I remembered reading somewhere that cross dressers aren’t necessarily gay, but that most drag queens are. And transsexual women can be either lesbian or straight. I wasn’t all that clear on how to classify Sally, but I was pretty sure she had a thing for men. And deep down, I had to admit that there was something titillating about that.

  Sally led us over to the lockers where Karen and Crystal stowed their purses and we all gave up our cell phones. “Forgive me,” Sally said, “but I have to make sure. We take our privacy very seriously here.” She then proceeded to pat us all down like she was a cop looking for weapons. .

  Karen and Crystal both were wearing skin-tight dresses, so they didn’t really have much in the way of hiding places, and Sally didn’t put much effort into frisking them. Ted and I were another matter, however. Ted jumped when she ran her hand up his inner thigh. When Sally got to me, she ran her hands up and down my legs and then cupped my jewels and gave a little squeeze. She winked and murmured, “Just wanted to make sure that was all you.” Yep, she definitely had a thing for men.

  My mind flashed on that old “Crocodile Dundee” party scene where Paul Hogan grabs the crotch of the masculine-looking Anne Francine to see if she’s really a woman. I gave fleeting thought to giving Sally a similar gender check, but I managed to resist the impulse. It wasn’t that I was concerned about Sally being offended. I just didn’t want to start anything I wasn’t prepared to finish.

  Once she was satisfied that we weren’t carrying any concealed recording devices, Sally ushered us to the bar. She looked at Karen and said, “You look like you could use a drink.” She smiled and patted Karen on the arm. Then she turned to Crystal and studied her for a minute. “Oh, hell…I guess if you’re old enough to fuck, you’re old enough to drink…” She suddenly looked at the door. “Excuse me a minute.” She sashayed over to greet some new arrivals.

  We ordered drinks. Karen popped her Xanax and chugged her Tanqueray and tonic. She set her glass on the bar and asked for another. Crystal followed suit, chugging her first drink and asking for another. I just sipped my bourbon, and I was happy to see that Ted was doing the same. I didn’t want either of us to be driving drunk when this thing was over.

  We weren’t sure how we were supposed to get the ball rolling, so we decided
we’d sit down and see what developed. We picked out a table for four. It was tall, with barstools for chairs. I got a glimpse of Karen’s panties as she squirmed up onto her chair. Crystal was too short to get up on her chair without help so I grasped her waist and gave her a boost.

  A quick glance around the club established a couple of things. The number of women was considerably fewer than the number of bulls. And Karen and Crystal were the two best-looking women there. I figured there would be a lot of competition among the bulls for them. And in fact, we barely had settled in our seats when two extremely buff young men approached and asked them to dance.

  Karen’s bull was a very handsome black man…so handsome that he bordered on being pretty. His short, kinky hair was jet-black. He had large, wide-set eyes, thick eyelashes, and perfect white teeth. He had the compact, muscular body of a corner back. He was naked except for a G-string that showcased his bulging cock and balls. The uniform color of his expresso skin made him look more African than American.

  He took Karen’s hand and steadied her as she slipped off her stool. The instant sexual tension between them was obvious. I started to get that feeling in my balls.

  Crystal’s bull was a local beach-boy type. He also was quite good-looking, with short, black hair and the well-developed pecs and triceps of a guy who had spent a lot of time paddling a surfboard. His G-string revealed an ass and upper thighs that were noticeably lighter than the rest of his body. He apparently didn’t paddle that surf board naked. Crystal held onto his shoulders as he wrapped one arm around her waist and eased her down from her stool.

  As the bulls led the women to the dance floor, I thought I saw a familiar face out of the corner of my eye. I turned my head and looked. Sure enough. I didn’t know him personally, but I recognized a prominent Honolulu criminal defense attorney. I’d seen him countless times in television news stories about various scumbags he had defended over the years.