I walked into the Art Cinema’s Halloween party not quite knowing what to expect. I’d driven by this place a million times but never thought to go in. Given the name, I’d assumed it was a rundown old theatre that played low-budget indie films. I couldn’t have been more wrong. When a friend from work told me it was ground zero for people in the lifestyle, I was shocked. 

What lifestyle? People in open relationships. Swingers, as they are known. Normally a single guy wouldn’t be let in without a date—the male-to-female ratio would be way off—but tonight was Halloween, and that made it a special event. To keep the numbers in check, though, single guys paid four times the couples’ door fee, while single ladies got in gratis. The only other rule was you had to wear a costume. 

As a kid, I always loved Halloween. The one night a year you could be anyone you wanted. Superhero, cowboy, sports legend, Wookiee—I’d been all of them.

I’d only decided to go at the last minute, so I had to throw something together: one of my dark suits, plus a cape and masquerade mask from a pop-up Halloween shop in Avon. Since the club was in an old movie theatre, I went the cinephile route and dressed as an extra from Eyes Wide Shut. Surely there’d be at least one Kubrick fan in attendance who’d get it. 

Looking around, I felt a surge of electricity run through my body. There were beautiful women everywhere, dressed like they were auditioning for an eighties hair-band video: lots of naughty Catholic schoolgirls, devils, and French maids. One woman stood out from the rest, though. She wore an elegant white silk blouse and a modest skirt, her hair tied in a bun with a pencil poking through. Oversized glasses framed her face perfectly. She was the only one who didn’t look like a stripper.

I’m not normally a forward guy, but seeing her across the room took my breath away. Besides, if you couldn’t approach a beautiful woman in a club designed for swapping partners, where could you? 

She smiled as I approached—not with her lips, which were painted burgundy, but with her eyes. Beautiful green eyes. When they met mine, I felt like I’d been hit by a thunderbolt.

“So what are you, the Phantom of the Opera or something?” she teased. “Have you come to share the music of the night?”

Not only beautiful, but quick-witted. And she knew her Andrew Lloyd Webber. I wondered what else she knew.

“I’m Nick,” I said. I didn’t know if it was against protocol to use your real name in a place like this, but making one up seemed silly. Then again, I was wearing a cape and a mask. Maybe I should have gone with Todd or Derek. Or William, like Tom Cruise in the movie. I wondered if her name was Alice.

“Well, Nick, I’m Emma. And since you seem sweet, I’m going to let you buy me a drink.”

“What would you like?”

“Surprise me.”

The bar was only a few feet away, but I had to wait for a Madonna and a Warren Beatty to be served before it was my turn. I got an Aperol Spritz for her and a club soda with lemon for me. I was giving an early-morning lecture at the university and wanted a clear head.

Emma smiled when I returned. “I was hoping you’d bring me something with Prosecco,” she said, taking a sip. “You passed the test.”

“What’s my reward?”

“You get to spend time with me,” she said over the music, adding a giggle. “Say, there’s a quiet place upstairs. Want to follow me?”

Thank God, I thought. If I had to shout over this music all night, I’d have no voice left for tomorrow’s lecture. Plus, loud music just gets to me these days. What can I say? I’m in my old-man era.

She grabbed my hand and led the way down a dim corridor lined with couples making out. We slipped through a beaded curtain and up a flight of stairs into a room with a few couches and oversized chairs. A throuple had already claimed one of them: a Robert Palmer look-alike flanked by two women with slicked-back hair and tight black dresses. He took turns kissing each of them while they rubbed his chest, pausing now and then to make out with each other. It was the closest thing to heaven I could imagine.

“I think they’re addicted to love,” Emma whispered in my ear. 

“Might as well face it,” I replied.

“So have you figured out what I am yet?”

“Hmm, secretary?”

“No. Let me give you a hint. Nick, I have a note here that says your library books are overdue.”

“Ah, a librarian,” I said playfully. “But I don’t have any money on me to pay the fee.”

“Well, kiss me like that and we’ll call it even,” she said, pointing to Robert Palmer, who was now cradling one woman’s face and kissing her passionately.

“For serious?” I asked, like an idiot. Who talks like that?

“Do I have to do everything?” Emma said in mock exasperation. She grabbed my face and pulled it to hers. Our tongues met, and I melted into the most passionate kiss I’d ever had.

“You’re a good kisser, Nick,” Emma whispered, then began rubbing my shoulders. “My, my, you’re tight. Are you stressed?”

Stressed was an understatement. My life over the past few months had been one thing after another: a sick parent, fighting for my job in the age of AI, and I hadn’t been with a woman in what felt like an eternity.

“I’ve got a lot going on.”

Emma put a finger to my lips.

“This is a party, and a fantasy party at that. No real-life talk. Not here, not now.”

“Is that the first rule of Lifestyle Fight Club?”

“This is your first time at a place like this, isn’t it?”

I nodded.

“Well, you’re going to see a lot of things like that,” Emma said, pointing to where Robert Palmer was now getting a blow job from both women, who took turns licking his hard cock and kissing each other. The look on his face said he was in ecstasy. 

“And no one cares?” I asked.

“Of course people care. There are rules. Consent is a must, and if you’re swapping partners you have to be very clear about what’s allowed. For example, is it a hard swap or a soft swap?”

“What does that mean?”

“Well,” Emma said, undoing one of my shirt buttons and tracing a finger across my chest, “a soft swap means you can fool around with someone else’s partner, but no intercourse. A hard swap means everything is on the table.”

“Thank you for educating me,” I replied.

“Speaking of hard, what do you think we should do about this?” Emma asked, sliding her hand between my legs and finding my erection straining against my suit pants. Being in a public place with a beautiful woman giving me that kind of attention was a thrill unlike anything I’d experienced. 

“Do you want me to do something with that?” she asked.

“What did you have in mind?”

Emma turned my head toward Robert Palmer, who now had one woman between his legs and the other riding his face.

“I will do whatever you want. You just have to ask me nicely.”

“Emma, will you please suck my cock?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Emma stood up, faced me, and then got down onto her knees. I reached for my zipper, but she swatted my hand away. 

“You can’t touch it. That’s the rule. You can’t touch me either. I’m in charge.”

“Okay.”

“No, don’t say okay. Say ‘Yes, Emma.’ I want to hear you say it.”

“Yes, Emma.”

“Good boy.”

She unzipped my pants but didn’t undo my belt. My pants were going to stay on for this.

I was rock hard, and a bead of pre-cum had already formed at the tip. She touched her tongue to it, and when she pulled away a thin string of it stretched from her tongue. She licked her lips, looked me in the eyes, and said, “I like the way you taste, Nick.”

She kissed her way up and down the shaft, teasing me with her tongue. Up and down. Up and down. Finally, she took me all the way in. I’m no porn star, but I’m big enough that she had to catch her breath when she came up. She sat beside me on the couch again and stroked my cock with both hands. It was agony. It was ecstasy. And I was getting close to the point of no return.

“The thing about men is, I always know when they’re about to cum. I can feel it before it happens. I think you’re about to cum, Nick.”

I couldn’t even speak.

“And if you did, you’d make a mess all over this nice suit. We can’t have that, can we?”

I shook my head.

Emma buried her face in my lap and took me in again, sucking hard and fast. She slid a hand between my legs and gently inserted her finger inside me. The sensation was too much, and I came harder than I ever had in my life.

Emma didn’t stop until she’d taken every last drop. When she finally pulled away, she looked me in the eyes and opened her mouth to show me what I’d given her. Then she closed her eyes, swallowed, and giggled. “Thank you, Nick,” she whispered in my ear, and I couldn’t help myself. I kissed her right on the mouth, tasting myself on her lips.

That seemed to excite her. She hiked up her skirt and swung her legs over my lap. She wasn’t wearing panties, and I felt her wetness meet my still-throbbing cock.

“Most guys don’t kiss me like that after,” she said. “That makes me incredibly wet.”

She reached between my legs and guided me inside her.

“I give you permission to touch me, Nick. And if your hands aren’t on my ass in three seconds, I’m going to cut them off.”

I’m an ass man. She didn’t have to tell me twice. 

“How are you still hard?”

“It’s been a while. How are you so wet?”

“Hydration. Stop talking and let me fuck you.”