What isn’t visible among the multitude of the lampshades hanging from the ceiling are very small but very bright lights that are aimed in a critical fashion on the beds and chaise lounges to provide a spotlight on any action that might occur there. When a couple or group is done with that piece of furniture, the light goes out. It indicates to the staff that the furniture needs cleaned. My job is to sweep in like a ghost to sanitize and dry the furniture. When it’s clean, the spotlight is turned back on and it’s opened for more fucking.
I’d asked Jerico about this last night as my curiosity was going to kill me. I was surprised about the semen. I mean… it’s a public sex club and I assumed people would wear condoms. To his credit, Jerico didn’t laugh at me. He explained that many of the couples here don’t swing. Their pleasure is either having sex with others present or doing fetish stuff and as such, they didn’t use condoms because they were monogamous. But he assured me the bulk of people suited up for protection, which meant I was mostly cleaning up sweat and perhaps lipstick if a woman was pushed facedown or something.
At least, that’s how my imagination works.
But more importantly, no one watches the people who are cleaning the vinyl because they’re busy ogling each other or other couples having sex. It becomes quickly apparent to me I am virtually unnoticeable in this job position, and I am freaking so grateful for it. Grateful to Jerico that he gave me an easy, inconspicuous job on my first night.
On the flip side, it’s not a job that keeps me busy at all times. When there’s nothing to clean, I have to stand at the perimeter of the room in the shadows and just watch the action. Looking away isn’t an option because I have to be ready when a spotlight goes out. I make a mental note to myself to bring extra panties tomorrow.
Jerico has not left my side all evening, even though I’ve pretty much got the job down pat. Let’s face it… it’s not that hard to squirt the cleaner to get the nasty stuff up, and then wipe it away. I carry two towels. One to wipe the cleaning solution up and the other to dry the vinyl. When these towels reach their maximum usage, I go to the supply room and I restock. And thank God latex gloves are provided because otherwise, I would’ve had to politely decline this position.
I’m cleaning up other people’s spunk and sweat and while it is not the most humiliating job in the world, it’s certainly not something I would ever aspire to do for the long term. It makes me wonder why the other cleaners in here are doing this job, and I can only figure they are in desperate times or something.
Jerico and I enter The Orgy Room. We’d spent a fair amount of time in The Waterfall Room—with its circular pool and platform in the center where people can have sex while a waterfall pours from the ceiling down onto them—as well as The Deck—with its acrylic see-through floor that gives the illusion of walking on air—before coming here.
So far tonight, I’ve been able to keep my wits about me. I try to concentrate on the fact that this is just a job. I’ve been pretty much able to tune out the noises, and I try not to keep my gaze focused anywhere for any length of time. Not only would it feel weird to stare at some of the things going on, but I don’t want to inadvertently get drawn into it.
Let’s face it… this club is filled with scenes that most people never see in their lifetime. I honestly can’t imagine a more provocatively interesting place to people watch. While I’m currently single, I do wonder what it would be like to come with a serious partner. I would never consider coming as a single woman, but the thought of being with somebody I trusted in this environment has me curious. It’s simply fascinating to me that many of the members here are in committed relationships with each other and this is a normal part of their sex lives.
I follow Jerico over to a far wall in The Orgy Room. We stand against it, taking an initial assessment of the activities. Jerico casually leans back against the wall, clasping his hands in front of him. Throughout the night, he has been approached by no less than a dozen different women trying to get him to join in their fun. It didn’t surprise me. Jerico is one of the best-looking men I’ve ever seen, and I would imagine he partakes of the benefits of his club quite frequently. But he merely shook his head and politely declined, saying he was training the new employee. Of course, eyes would then turn to me in appraisal. Once they saw I was nothing more than a lowly cleaner, I was forgotten.
While Jerico remains casually posed, I stand ramrod straight, almost at military attention. Armed with a spray bottle of bleach in one hand and a towel in another with my drying cloth hooked into my belt, I’m locked and loaded.
My eyes scan the room and I estimate there are at least thirty pieces of furniture scattered about for people to use. On closer inspection, I see some padded benches and something that looks like a pommel horse in addition to the beds and lounges. There are also areas that are nothing more than an array of large stuffed pillows covered in a special type of vinyl that seems to be very lightweight and silky. Jerico assured me it could be cleaned with my solution.
It’s starting to get busy. Probably half the furniture is in use. As I learned in The Waterfall Room, when a couple—or threesome or foursome or however many people can fit on a piece of furniture—take residence upon it, the spotlight shining down leaves nothing to the imagination.
I nearly jump out of my skin when I hear Jerico’s voice near my ear. He’s leaned over and although he’s not actually touching me, I swear I can feel his lips move as he murmurs, “Tell me the difference between this room and The Waterfall Room.”
I turn my head slightly to look at him and every time I connect with his eyes, I feel a sizzling warmth go through me. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” Jerico drawls as if I can’t understand the English language. “What is the difference between the two rooms?”
“Um…” I stammer as I shrug my shoulders. “One has water and the other doesn’t?”
“That’s a naïve answer, Trista,” Jerico says softly. “This is a sex club. Tell me the difference you have observed between the two rooms.”
For the first time tonight, I allow myself a very slow perusal of the room. I had spent almost an hour in The Waterfall Room and while I didn’t think I was paying that close attention to what was going on, I apparently absorbed more than I realized. Because as I look around The Orgy Room, an immediate difference is clear.
Within The Waterfall Room, there is a much more apparent social aspect to the activities that go on in there. I’m not sure if it’s because there is a pool where many of the patrons just lounge while sipping cocktails and talking, or the fact there are U-shaped seating areas that invite social intimacy. I realize there was less sex going on in there than in The Orgy Room.
From where I stand now as I look around the expanse and take in the activities, I am hit with the blatant realization that this room is for people who just want to fuck. No one is engaged in conversation, and the only sounds are of moaning, screaming, groaning, and flesh slapping.
Turning my head to face Jerico, I can feel my skin flush when I see how intently he is looking at me, waiting for my answer. My voice quavers when I tell him, “This room is only for sex. There’s no socialization.”
I want to look away, but his gaze has me absolutely locked in place. He stares at me a moment before giving a slight nod. Then he pulls back and leans against the wall. I turn around and keep my eyes rotating around the room for the next spotlight to go out and call me to my duties.