DO YOU WANT to be an orgy slut? This is a choice. No matter what you might have heard, group sex is not obligatory for open relationships, and we know many fine outrageous sluts who don’t attend orgies or promote three-ways and four-ways in their homes. We also know monogamous couples who frequent public sex environments for the sheer pleasure of playing with each other in a special and sexy place, complete with an appreciative audience.
If you have ever had a fantasy of being made love to by five people, or having an extra pair of hands to make love with, or having lots of hot people to get impulsive with right now, or performing before an audience that will thrill to your thrashing and screaming in delight … in other words, if you are attracted to the idea of sex parties, this chapter is for you. Here we will tell you what you need to know to have a good time and deal with any difficulties that might come up.
We believe that it is a fundamentally radical political act to deprivatize sex. So much oppression in our culture is based on shame about sex: the oppression of women, cultural minorities, and sexual minorities. All these kinds of oppression are instituted in the name of the (presumably asexual) family. We are all oppressed. We have all been taught, one way or another, that our desires, our bodies, our sexualities are shameful. What better way to defeat oppression than to get together in communities and celebrate the wonders of sex?
Going to a sex party presents an exciting challenge. It’s an opportunity to stretch and grow as you deal with stage fright, performance anxiety, and the wonderful and scary tension of planning and getting ready for elaborate sex in an intensely sexual environment. Everyone is nervous, and the shared vulnerability adds to the arousal. We love the giddy feeling of conquest when we succeed in overcoming all these obstacles and creating a hot sexual encounter. There’s not a lot of room for prudery and shame at an orgy, and when we play in a group of people, we get powerful reinforcement that sex is good and beautiful and that we are hot and sexy people.
Your authors both enjoy public sex and regularly attend what we call play parties, environments in which people gather to enjoy a wide variety of sex with each other. In a highly charged sexual atmosphere we feel a synergistic kind of arousal when everybody else’s excitement feeds our own, and we feel connected to and turned on by all this happy sex that is going on around us.
Group sex offers the chance to try out new partners in a safe environment, surrounded by our friends—we even get the opportunity to check out a person we might be turned on to while they make love with someone else (an audition or advertising, depending on your point of view). Group sex offers the opportunity to challenge ourselves, move our sexuality out into the open, banners flying, with lots of support in getting past the fears and bashfulness and lots of friendly people to applaud your ecstasies.
In a group sex environment we can learn new sex acts with lots of support: we can watch someone else actually doing a form of sex that we had previously only seen in our fantasies, and we can ask them, when they’re through, how they do that. We learned many of our safer-sex skills at orgies, where rubber barriers are de rigueur and there is plenty of support for dealing with awkward bits of latex and maintaining everybody’s safety and well-being. Most public sex spaces provide condoms, rubber gloves, and whatever else you may need to play safe.
Play parties can help you get over bad body image. As we have pointed out before, people enjoy sex at all ages and in all kinds of bodies, and at any orgy you will see them doing it. One good way to prepare for your first adventure at an orgy is to visit a nude beach or hot spring, if you never have before, to see what real people look like without clothes and to experience being naked in public yourself. You’ll start to see beauty in a lot of bodies that don’t look anything like the ones in Playboy or Playgirl—this may be a good time to repeat the “Airport Game” exercise you learned in chapter 17, “Making Connection”—and there’s a lot of sensual delight to the feeling of warm sun and gentle breezes on all the parts of your body.
It is amazing to us to think, after many years of practicing sex in public, that most people in our culture have never had a chance to watch another person enjoy sex. We worry about them—it seems like a terrible deprivation. We remember what it was like when we wondered and worried about whether we looked foolish with our legs up in the air and our faces screwed up in an ecstatic scream. Group sex is a great antidote to bad body image. You will feel much better about how you look, how you perform, and who you are when you have a chance to see real people having real sex. Look around you—every single person is gorgeous when they come. Which is why the orgy can be a perfect stage for the consensual exhibitionist: at the sex party, we all get to be stars and shine our brightest.
Sex clubs are very special environments. San Francisco, where we live, has a delightfully wide choice of orgiastic environments to choose from. There are party spaces for women only, men only, couples, S/M enthusiasts, and lovers of drag and costumery, and parties that specialize in just about every sexual practice you can think of—and some that have to be seen to be believed. You may want to check out the website for Cuddle Parties (see our Resource Guide) for some new ideas about getting together and perhaps a safer introduction to connecting in groups: at Cuddle Parties, everyone wears pajamas and snuggles to explore intense closeness, without taking it on into actual sex.
Parties may be openly advertised to the public, advertised only in newsletters or at support groups, or private and by invitation only. There are public clubs, like the gay men’s baths, that are open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, and smaller spaces, perhaps an adapted basement recreation room, whose owners host parties once or twice a month. Other congenial groups sponsor small private gatherings in their members’ living rooms.
San Francisco and many other major cities boast a fair number of party houses, where one or two stories of a building have been dedicated to social areas and play rooms for partying. Party houses may rent space to private groups, who might host a party once a month or so for their particular guest list.
The first group sex parties that Dossie attended were held in a communal flat in San Francisco, under the presiding genius of Betty Dodson. Those who lived there were all dedicated to feminism, gay liberation, and sexual liberation, and their commune was a conscious experiment to radically change the conditions in which we can enjoy sex. They took out all the doors and made the loft space upstairs into one unbroken room by getting rid of the furniture. On a typical day, you could find several people on the deck sunbathing nude, some others organizing dinner, two more playing chess, a couple fucking, and another person across the room vibrating her way to her own orgasm. There were larger parties three or four times a year, full of people making love in groups, in twos, or singly, with lots of massage, and tantric practitioners chanting “Ommmm” in tune with the ever-present hum of vibrators. This space and what happened in it were private, available to the friends and lovers of the six or seven people who lived there.
Public sex environments, whether they’re large public clubs or small party houses, have the common function of providing an agreeable space in which you can be sexual. Although the decor and furnishings of group sex environments vary as widely as the human sexual imagination, there are basics that you will find in most party spaces. There will be a door person to check you in, and you may be asked to sign a waiver of liability. There will be a social area, with places to sit and talk and meet people, usually with a small buffet of snacks and beverages. Sex does not usually take place in the social area, so if you’re feeling shy you can hang out there until you work up your courage. There will be lockers or coat racks or shelves or some place to put your street clothes, then either change into party costume or simply disrobe. Some parties are mostly naked, others feature a dazzling array of costumes for every sexual fantasy. There will be provisions for cleanliness, including bathrooms and showers. Then there will be the play room or rooms.
Play rooms vary from tiny cubicles, often set up in mazes, with a small bed just big enough to fuck on, to large rooms with mirrored walls and upholstered floors for puppy piles, group gropes, and other orgiastic activities. There may be hot tubs, steam rooms, and gardens for you to cruise and relax in. There may be an area for dancing. There is almost always music with a very strong beat, to wake up your natural rhythm and to give a sense of aural privacy so you won’t be distracted by your neighbor’s heavy breathing or squeals of delight. The lights will be low, and often red or orange, so we all can look a little tan and perhaps a little sexier. There may be rooms with furniture imaginatively designed to have sex on, like medical examining tables or slings, mirrored beds or dungeons for S/M fantasies, or perhaps a giant waterbed for those who like to make waves.
In recent years, hotels that host conferences for various groups celebrating their lifestyles have been allowing party spaces, even dungeons, to be built in their ballrooms for the guests to enjoy. These parties are run by the conference and usually staffed by helpful conference volunteers, with cooperation from the hotel staff to keep the space private. Hotels tend to like our conferences—we don’t drink too much, we are polite to the staff, and we wear great outfits. Talk about the radical political act of deprivatizing sex! Major hotel chains now have policies about play parties, policies that support us. Yay.
Play party spaces tend to form communities. People try out the various parties in their area and usually return to one or two groups that they find congenial. As people get to know each other and share the special intimacy of sexual connection, they often become friends and form extended families. It is not unusual at all to find a sex party club hosting a benefit for a member who has had an accident or a major illness. These are communities, and communities take care of their own.
We know they didn’t teach you in school how to behave at an orgy, and we bet your mother didn’t teach you either.
There is a particular etiquette needed for public sex environments, since everyone in them has let down some of their customary boundaries in order to get closer to each other. Social boundaries usually serve the purpose of keeping people at a predictable distance, so we all feel safe in our own personal space. Group sex poses the challenge of figuring out how to feel safe and comfortable while getting up close and very intimate with a whole bunch of presumably nice, sexy people—so new boundaries must be developed, learned, and respected so that everyone can feel safe enough to play.
Many party houses show you a list of rules as you come in or post them on the wall. Read them. They will make sense. Most places specify the level of safer-sex precautions they require, and provide condoms, rubber gloves, lubricants, dental dams, and so on. Even if you and your partner are fluid-bonded, you may be asked, or feel it is polite, to use latex barriers in a public environment. Ethical sluts obey the rules of the parties they choose to attend.
Responsibility in voyeurism is a must. You may watch what people do in public places, but always from a respectful distance. If the participants are aware of your presence, you are too close. Whether or not it is okay to masturbate while watching varies from place to place, but it’s always polite to keep your own excitement discreet enough that you don’t distract the good folks who are putting on such a nice show—they are probably not doing it for you, anyway. Also be aware that when you are close to people who are playing, they can hear you—this is not an appropriate place to tell your friend all about how awful your boss is or about your recent experiences at the proctologist.
The boundary between social/talk space and play space is very important—when you enter play space, you enter into a different state of consciousness that tends to get you out of your intellect and into your body very quickly. Too much talking in play space can yank you back into everyday, verbal, nonsexual awareness.
Cruising is active but must not be intrusive. Ideally, a respectful request receives a respectful response, which means it’s okay to ask, and if the answer is “no, thank you,” that is okay too. Remember, people who come to orgies are pretty sophisticated, and they are here because they know what they want. If that person you found attractive doesn’t want to play with you right now, take it easy and find someone else. Pestering anyone at a sex party is unspeakably rude and will quickly earn you an invitation to the outside world.
Cruising at group sex parties is not that different from elsewhere, although perhaps more honest and to the point. Usually, you start with introducing yourself as a person: “Hi, I’m Dick, what’s your name?” is way preferable to “Hi, do you like my big dick?” People will talk for a bit, flirt a little, and then ask quite directly, “Would you like to play with me?” When the answer is yes, negotiation follows: “What do you like to do? Is there anything you don’t like? Let’s check that we both mean the same thing by safer sex, and by the way, I have this fantasy …”
Cruising by body language also can work, as long as you are willing to be relaxed about any misunderstandings that may arise. We believe that it is important to learn how to put what you want into words, so you have an option for absolutely clear communication. Then you can pursue nonverbal cruising if you like it, knowing your good communication skills will back you up if you need them.
Body language is about catching someone’s eye, exchanging a smile, moving your body closer—always checking the response. If you catch someone’s eye and they turn away, well, there’s your answer. Don’t take it personally; maybe they have another commitment, maybe they’re just not in the mood—people have as many reasons for not wanting to play as they do for wanting to play. If you move into someone’s personal space and they move closer, there’s another answer. It helps to initiate touch on a relatively neutral part of the body—a shoulder, a hand—and again, does the person move away, or closer? If they freeze, it’s probably a good idea to communicate with words.
We live in a society where people learn some pretty warped ideas about sex. Women learn that they are not supposed to be sexual without falling in love, men learn that sex is a commodity that you get from a woman, men may even learn that women themselves are commodities. Group sex only works when everybody is acknowledged as a person. Nobody likes being treated like a thing. To avoid such problems, most group sex environments that include both men and women restrict the number of single men who are invited or insist that no man is welcome without a female escort. These requirements are a sad last resort for dealing with an unpleasant reality, and we quite agree that it is unfair that men of good will get penalized for the intrusive behavior of men who evidently don’t know any better. But that’s how it is, and the only way we are going to change it is to work on our own behavior and teach our brothers and sisters what we learn. Pansexual environments that make a point of including a variety of people—gay, straight, bi, transgendered—tend to inspire more respect for all, and in such environments we get to learn from a lot of people whose lives and sexualities may be different from our own.
Cruising is different by gender, and those differences become very visible when you compare gay men’s environments to lesbian orgies and see how they are similar to and different from hetero or bisexual groups. Gay men seem to feel safer with anonymous sex, and gay male cruising at baths or clubs is often nonverbal. One man might catch another’s eye, smile, walk across the room, touch a shoulder, and then embrace, with little or no verbal communication. Lesbians are often more cautious and tend to talk for a while before moving into the play room and getting down.
Women in all group sex environments tend to be less open than men to anonymous sex and to prefer some communication and personal connection first. When a woman seeks to realize a fantasy of anonymous sex with a number of people, often one of her friends or lovers will act as emcee, doing traffic control and whispering into a stranger’s ear, “She doesn’t like anything that tickles” or “I think she’d like it if you fucked harder.” The emcee takes the responsibility for safety and limit setting so the star can feel utterly free. This respect for caution is probably because women have had serious reasons to feel less than safe around sex with strangers and need some support to feel safe enough to let down their guard. There are no rights and wrongs to this situation—or what wrong there is exists in our history, which we can’t very well change. What is important is that everyone—male, female, or transgendered; straight, bi, or gay—has a right to feel safe in order to get free to enjoy sex.
Consent is an absolute requirement. Naive people sometimes assume that when two or three or four people are already having sex, it is okay to just join in and start fondling somebody. Well, it isn’t, because you didn’t ask and because you don’t know what these people want or what their limits are. So you might do the wrong thing, and the people you tried to join will have to stop whatever they are having so much fun doing to deal with you, and they will be justifiably angry. At you.
How are you going to get consent from people in the middle of a hot fuck? Tap them on the shoulder and say, “Will you please stop a moment so I can ask if I can join you?” There is just about no way to join a sexual scene that has already started unless you are already lovers with all the people involved, and even then you should be careful. When we wonder if it’s okay to join friends of ours who have already begun to play, we usually watch from a respectful distance till somebody catches our eye and either beckons us over or doesn’t. Respect for boundaries, as we have said before, is mandatory if everyone is going to feel safe enough to play freely and without constraint. Don’t be the person who makes the environment unsafe.
If you are playing at a party and someone invades your space, you are quite right to tell that person to move away. It is also appropriate to let your host know about intrusive people and pushy come-ons—party hosts develop skills to talk with people about appropriate behavior and explain why the etiquette is as it is, and if the person will not learn, the host has the power to remove that person from the guest list.
Most people approach their first group sex party in a mental maelstrom of fears, fantasies, and wild expectations about what might or, worse yet, might not happen. We strongly recommend that you get a grip on yourself, acknowledge that you actually don’t know what is going to happen, and go to the party with the expectation that you will be proud of yourself if you manage to walk in the door. If you stay for an hour and watch, you get a gold star. If you manage to introduce yourself to someone and hold a conversation, give yourself a medal of honor.
Going to an orgy is very challenging. Expect to be nervous. Expect to worry. Expect a fashion crisis, and allow at least two hours to get dressed. Helpful hint: build your outfit from fabrics that feel sensual—silk, leather, latex—so you feel sensuous too. Avoid fragile antiques or pricey designer clothes if you want to fuck in them. Dress to feel hot, look good, and be comfortable—it’s bad enough to have your stomach churning, you don’t need your shoes pinching.
Many parties specify when doors are open and when they’re closed, because otherwise all these nervous people will arrive late after spending hours working up their courage and their outfits, and the party hosts will never get any time to play.
If this is your first party, take it easy on yourself. Promise yourself, and each other, that you will leave if either one of you gets too uncomfortable. Establish a signal, perhaps a hand on the elbow, to let your partner know that you need a private place to talk or that you need support. Use another signal—Janet uses “Calgon,” from the old TV commercials that said “Calgon, take me away”—to communicate to your partner that you’d like to leave soon, with the understanding that a partner who’s happily cruising or flirting or fooling around may need some time to wrap up whatever’s going on so that you can leave.
Go with the goal of making a few acquaintances and getting familiar with the scene and your reactions to it. If you do get inspired to play and find someone who wants to play with you, that’s fine, and if you don’t, that’s fine too. Just walking into a play environment for the first time requires a lot of courage, so be proud of yourself. Always remember that this is your first party, potentially the first of many. You don’t need to accomplish a lifetime of fantasies tonight. You have the rest of your life to do that. You just need to take your first steps.
Deal with your relationship before you go to the party. This is important. Are you going as a couple, to show off your incredible sexiness? Are you cruising for thirds and fourths? Or are you going as two separate individuals, to meet people and share sex with them? If one of you connects with a hot number, is the other welcome to join in? Do you need your partner’s agreement before you play with anyone? If you need to pause in a flirtation to check in with your partner, experienced sluts will admire your thoughtfulness and integrity. Are you committed to going home together, or is it okay for one or the other of you to sleep out, and if both want to, what about the babysitter? The reason you decide all this in advance is that it is way too ugly to have a disagreement about this sort of thing in public, where if you do disagree, you are likely to feel embarrassed and angry and make a big unhappy mess.
Two friends of ours got locked in a disagreement about going to sex parties. They both wanted to go, but one wanted to go and play with the other, and the other wanted to play the field. What to do? Well, there are parties at least once a month around here, so they decided to go one month as a couple to do things together, and the next to support each other in separate cruising.
We like to watch couples make love with each other at parties—you can see the intimacy, and how well they know each other’s ways, how beautifully they fit together, how exquisitely orchestrated lovemaking can become with years of practice. We like it as a fine experience for the voyeur and because we can learn a lot from watching people who are experts on each other. We like to point out that showing off your wondrous beauty together is excellent advertising for the next time when you come to the party ready to welcome new partners.
Play parties can also offer you the opportunity to process fears and jealousies about your partner. How does it feel to watch your partner make love with another person? Is it really awful? You might be surprised to find yourself feeling pretty neutral, like “Gee, I thought that would bother me but actually it doesn’t!” You might like the chance to observe your lover, how powerful she looks when she thrusts, how sweet he looks when he comes. It might even turn you on. There is definitely arousal to be found in taking risks. Some couples find that group sex can rev up their sex life at home by providing a lot of stimulus, new ideas to try out, and the motivation and energy to make their home life as hot as an orgy.
Expect to get your buttons pushed. Expect to discover your biases. At a group sex party you will share unprecedented intimacy with a bunch of strangers, and sometimes that will be difficult. You might start into a three-way with your girlfriend and another man, which seems like a hot idea but might turn out to push some buttons. Yeah, we know, you set out to both make love to her, but there you are, with this man, being sexual, and probably in physical contact, and how does that feel?
We like to attend pansexual group sex parties, which means that attendees may identify as gay or lesbian or bisexual or hetero or transgendered but are generally comfortable and happy to play side by side with people whose desires and identities may be entirely different from their own. We are always running into issues about the unfamiliar: the lesbian who has never been naked in the presence of men; the gay man who fears judgment from women or violence from straight men; the transgendered woman who gets to wonder if that person who is so attracted to her knows what she’s got under her skirt, and does she care, and if she cares what is she going to do?
Whatever your prejudices are—the people at this party are too old, too young, too male, too female, too queer, too straight, too fat, too thin, too white, too ethnic, whatever—it really is good for you to learn to get bigger than your biases. Sexy, too.
In our fantasies, we all come together as smoothly as Fred and Ginger, carried away by the music on a rising tide of passion—and sometimes it will be like that. But you probably will need to practice first, just like Fred and Ginger. Your erection might refuse to cooperate as you near the moment of truth, especially when you suddenly remember you need to put a condom on it. Orgasm might be more difficult to focus on in a noisy environment with an unfamiliar partner. What if you set out to play with someone and you can’t find your turn-on?
If you find yourself internally panicking, we encourage you to breathe. Slow down. Remember that you are not in a race, and you are not in a hurry. This is not the Olympics. You have nothing to prove—you and your new friend are setting out to do things that feel good with your bodies. Touch feels good. Stroking feels good. Taking time feels good. Slow down enough so that you can truly feel what you are doing. Worrying about the future will not help you get there: focus on what you are feeling in the present. Erections and orgasms might come, might go, but you can never go wrong by doing what feels good.
The noise and hectic energy of a party can lead people to rush, when slowing down is the best way to connect with your turn-on. People don’t get turned on by magic, at least not very often, or very reliably. And different people are turned on in very different ways. A very important kind of self-knowledge will come in handy at these times: know what turns you on. Whether it’s biting on the neck or sucking on the backs of knees, when you know what gets your juices flowing you can ask for it, and then your play partner will know what turns you on and feel freer to tell you what turns her on, and before you know it there you all are, completely turned on and floating down the river of unbridled lust.
We’ll end this chapter with a true story of love discovered during public sex, just to give you some inspiration to explore.
June had never been to a play party before. That’s evidently what they call orgies in California, she mused. Well, at least it’s a lesbian orgy. How on earth, she wondered, did I come to be the guest of honor at an orgy?
Actually, she knew how it came about. She was visiting her dear friend Flash in San Francisco, and Flash announced that she had the use of a house in the country for the weekend, and she wanted to throw a party and introduce June to her friends. Sounds like fun, thought June … and then Flash began to talk about having a Chick Rite to celebrate the advent of spring by setting up mattresses and safer-sex supplies in the middle of the living room.
June had argued and at first had refused to attend. But Flash talked her into it, pointing out that she didn’t have to actually have sex with anybody if she didn’t want to. June finally said okay, adding that if she couldn’t stand it she would hike down to the local coffeehouse with a book. So Flash went on setting up the house for the convenience of sexual pleasure, and June hid in the kitchen making dip, one party function that she at least understood.
As the guests began to arrive, June began to wonder whether she’d be able to stay at this event. She was introduced to a parade of the most outrageous dykes she’d ever seen, femmes and butches like birds in bright plumage, sporting exotic garments designed to display a gallery of tattoos, gleaming here and there with jewelry set in body parts that June did not want to think about. And they were all so young! June felt the full weight of her forty-eight years. She figured you can’t go wrong being polite, so she said the same how-do-you-dos she would anywhere else, wondering how she’d respond if one of these enthusiastic orgiasts actually told her how she did do.
In, at last, came a couple of women of unabashed middle age. One of them, Carol, was a dead ringer for June’s Great-Aunt Mary, if Great-Aunt Mary had ever chosen to dress in high butch gear complete with boots and cowboy hat. June felt relieved to have found one woman she could relate to. Then Carol smiled a dazzling smile and announced that she would like to put her hand in June’s cunt.
June, swallowing a gasp but resolutely polite, said that she didn’t really feel quite ready for that, and Carol replied cheerily, “Okay, then, I’ll check in with you later.” Great Goddess, thought June, there’s no escape. June knew about fisting, had learned to do it with a lover who liked it, knew it was safe when done properly—but it seemed an odd way to get acquainted with someone whose name she’d only learned in the last half hour.
Then Lottie came in—close to June’s age, but not dressed like it. Lottie’s obviously dyed, flaming red curls set off a black chiffon dress through which could be clearly seen long black stockings, a black leather corset, and a great deal of voluptuous pale flesh. How does she balance on those heels, June wondered, as Lottie hugged, kissed, and chatted her way through the progressively less clothed mass of partygoers. June overheard Lottie thanking various women for their participation in a previous orgy held in celebration of Lottie’s fiftieth birthday. Do these people ever get together and not have sex, wondered June.
Puppy piles began to form on the floor in front of the couch where June was sitting—untidy heaps of women necking and petting, smiling and laughing, Lottie and Carol conspicuously among them. June decided to retreat to the deck, where she could perhaps soak out her terror in the hot tub.
The hot tub was quieter, and June managed to chat with a few women and began feeling marginally more comfortable. Then Lottie reappeared. Off came the dress, the stockings, the shoes—June found herself wondering what it would feel like if she could see Lottie’s pussy and instantly wondered if anyone else had noticed her looking. Lottie slipped into the warm water and immediately asked June if she would rub her neck, because it felt stiff. “Sure,” June heard herself say, “I’d be happy to.” Oh, no, she thought, what have I let myself in for?
Lottie’s skin felt warm and silky under her fingers, and June rubbed and soothed. June felt relaxed by the rhythm of massage and reassured as Lottie conversed about perfectly normal things: her work and June’s, their philosophies of life, June’s Buddhism, Lottie’s paganism. Eventually, Lottie’s neck relaxed, and the hot tub began to feel too warm, and Lottie brightly suggested they find out what was going on inside. She climbed out of the tub, pulled on her stockings and heels, and darted inside. Holy Minerva, thought June, can I follow her in there? No, she decided firmly, I can’t. June found a table in a corner on the patio and determinedly admired the stars.
Lottie, meanwhile, was finding she had a thing or two to think about as well. In the living room, her friends were happily disporting themselves on couches, in armchairs, and in front of the fire, but Lottie was thinking about June. What is it about her that turns me on so much? Does she like me? Will she play with me? Doesn’t look like she’s used to playing at parties—ah, well, there’s always a first time. Now where did that girl go?
Lottie scanned the living room, but there was no June to be found. The living room was actually pretty interesting, and Lottie contemplated giving up the chase and finding a friend to play with, but intrigue triumphed. She made her way toward the kitchen, stepping over various happy people and lingering here and there to appreciate some particularly exciting activity. Pausing to check out the dip and replenish her blood sugar, Lottie looked out the window and there was June, hiding out on the patio.
Ah, here’s the opportunity, thought Lottie as she arranged a few goodies on a plate and trotted outside to share them with June. But, although they were chatting quite amiably, Lottie felt she wasn’t connecting. Her most flirtatious sallies were met with no response whatsoever: June, petrified, would only breathe deep and consciously hold as still as she could. Lottie, frustrated, decided on the direct approach. “I think you’re really attractive. Would you like to play with me? What sort of things do you like to do?” June, cornered again, stammered, “I don’t think I’m ready to have sex in public, so sorry.”
Just then, Carol, sans cowboy hat but still wearing her boots although she seemed to have lost her shirt somewhere, sauntered up to the table and sat down. While June wondered how she could disappear into the bushes without appearing gauche, Lottie greeted Carol by placing her thigh—which Carol, being a woman who knew how to act, promptly stroked and admired—in Carol’s lap. Lottie, not out of revenge but simply from a desire not to waste a perfectly good party, asked Carol: “How’s your dance card tonight? Got room for me?”
Carol asked what was her fancy, and Lottie suggested that she had a yen for a sensitive fist, and Carol said she would be happy to oblige but first needed to check with Susie about a plan they had for later. Both happily trotted off, and June was left to herself. Was she relieved, she wondered? Well … not exactly.
Returning to the living room, Lottie was surprised to see Carol and June both sitting in the window seat, backs to the sides, feet in the middle. Lottie, never slow to leap on opportunity, sashayed across the room, climbed up on both pairs of feet, and proclaimed, “Here I am!” Carol, well versed in the ways of femmes, called for gloves and lube and firmly pushed Lottie into June’s lap: “Will you hold her for me, please?” June opened her mouth, but nobody waited for her answer—and next thing, there she was, holding Lottie’s gently squirming body. Amazing, thought June, just amazing. She got a good grip on Lottie, took a deep breath, and off she went on the ride.
June concentrated on keeping up a good front and trying not to notice several smiling women who had settled down to watch the action on the window seat, while Carol competently went to work to turn Lottie on, lube her up, and get her off. Omigod, thought June, how am I going to get through this? I’m touching this woman’s breast and I hardly know her. Maybe, she thought, I can pretend this is someone I’ve already made love with.
Lottie had braced her foot over Carol’s shoulder against the window frame and was energetically pushing herself down on Carol’s hand. She let out a big groan as the hand slipped in, and they both started fucking hard and loud. June had all she could do to prevent Lottie from writhing out of her grip and falling onto the floor. Lottie finally came—loudly, noticed June, very loudly—and June noticed she hadn’t breathed for a while and took a big gasping breath. All three let their bodies go limp on the window seat and invested a few moments in just feeling good.
Reality eventually asserted itself. Lottie sat up and politely offered to fuck Carol in return. Carol said no, thanks, I already promised Susie, and Lottie and Carol went off in different directions, leaving June alone on the window seat and feeling a bit thunderstruck. I must have fallen into some other universe, marveled June. Who are these women, anyway? Although it was kind of fun, and I think I did okay. But it was still too much. I think I’d better go to sleep.
A day passed. Back at home, Lottie found she could not stop thinking about June. She called Flash and discovered that June had flown out of San Francisco that morning. Two days later, June received this letter:
Dear June,
It’s a beautiful morning up here on my mountain, the sun is streaming through the redwood trees, the sky is very blue with little cloud puffs—yesterday, walking up on the ridge, I saw a huge jackrabbit. The irises are finished, and it’s time for morning glories, rhododendrons, and lots of tiny bright exquisite flowers to whom I have not been properly introduced. Do you live in the city? If I make your mouth water for the mountains, will you come visit me?
Who are you anyway? Write me and tell me about yourself. I am particularly interested in how, as a Buddhist, you deal with desire and passion. I’ve been thinking some about this since we met and realized that I am not a Buddhist because, although I have gotten a great deal from my connections to Zen, including learning a lot about letting go of desire, my spiritual path is about grasping desire (passion might be a more appropriate word here) as if it were the ox and riding it as a vehicle to communion with the Tao. I worry that this might not be an acceptable practice to you: although I am used to being various people’s version of anathema, I would rather that not be the case with you.
I really like you. I really like the connection we made at Flash’s, and I hope we get the chance to explore it further. So write and reveal yourself to me. What are your thoughts about sex, connection, art, nature? What are your fantasies? I really want to know. I bet you dream up some great bedtime stories.
I wish you were here—writing to you is making me nervous and I would like a cuddle. As I read over this letter trying to decide how far to go, I realize I have probably already gone too far—oh well, I always do.
Love,
Lottie
Eight months and approximately three thousand dollars’ worth of phone bills later, not to mention a few impulsive airfares, June put all her worldly goods in her truck, Lottie flew out to meet her, and they drove across the Great Divide to a sweet little house in the country, where they lived together for many happy years.