From the outside it was a rundown boarded up building in the part of town where that sort of thing looked normal. So when night came around it was not unusual to see cars parked there.  Any one of the surrounding bars could have been using it for overflow.

The entrance was around the back by the hidden patio so not to attract attention when fancy women and men moved in and out from their cars.  The club required a membership fee plus a door “donation” based on what night it was and how the members were classified.  For example, Friday nights before a certain time was the ‘Early Bird Special,’ couples could get in for, say, $20 where single men had to pay $30. After a certain time during the evening the door “donation” went up $10 each classification and so on through Saturday.

I could not believe how much money moved through that place.  It was bring your own alcohol and absolutely no prostitution.  The money was made simply for occupying the space.  What people will pay out to have sex always amazed me.  The clothes, the food, the drinks, and the baffling high end sex worker; $200 an hour, $500 an hour, or the big pimpin’ Charlie Sheen who paid out $30 grand for a few hours with a porn ‘star.’  What the fuck?

But the patrons here paid for privacy and safety.  No weapons, no cameras; it was a safe haven for sex and to hook up with couples or exchange partners.  And there were rules: dress like a gentleman, no t-shirts, no hats, no torn clothing,  men had to be invited into the group, and by no means could they invite themselves, there were floor limitations for single men, distance limitations, and absolutely  no uninvited touching.