Swingers 3 Read online

  The bank manager was young and modern, open necked shirt and sleeves neatly folded back.

  “Please take a seat,” he said. “What can we do for you?” I had gone in there without a plan, nothing rehearsed. I looked across at him, he was smiling, waiting for me to tell him what I wanted, needed, was desperate for. Our whole existence hinged on this man, a total stranger, on whether he would break protocol and hand me £6,000. I decided there and then to come clean, to be totally honest and to throw myself on his mercies. I was all out of aces, this smiling young, modern bank manager was my last hope.

  As I reeled out my story I watched his expression change from disbelief, to incredulity, to sympathy, to business-like. He listened, never interrupting me, always keeping his eyes on mine. When I had finished he asked questions, sometimes hard questions, sometimes he would fall silent while he did calculations on his desk-top calculator. Finally, he looked up and blew out long and hard, leaned across his glass topped desk and looked me in the eyes.

  “You took a chance coming in here, didn’t you? He asked.

  “Yes,” I answered.

  “Do you take many chances?” he asked again.

  “All the time” I said.

  “Will you ever stop taking chances?” He said.

  “It’s my nature,” I replied. “I don’t know if I can.” Slowly, his intense glare softened and a smile crept over his face.

  “I take chances too,” he said, “and I’m about to take one on you.” He held out his hand. “You can have your six grand.”

  I grabbed his hand and shook it vigorously. I had to resist the urge to lean over the desk and kiss him.

  “Thank you so much, you don’t know how much this means to me.”

  “Oh, I think I do,” he replied. “We still have to fill out some forms, of course, and we will need a first charge on your club, but you can collect your money first thing tomorrow morning.”

  As I left the office he called to me. “One last thing, Mr Calvert.”

  “Anything,” I answered.

  ”How much is it to join?” I laughed out loud. “For you sir it’s VIP membership, in other words, nothing.”

  He laughed. “We’ll see,” he said, “we’ll see.”

  As I left the office, I knew I could now finish La Chambre and pay the last two weeks wages. The relief was almost tangible. When I got home and told Marie she was elated.

  “What and I don’t even have to shag him?” she laughed.

  “No,” I answered, “but that was my last card if all else failed.”

  We went down to the club that night, just to look around and soak up the atmosphere. Even before it had been completed it had a good atmosphere. We walked around the place for about an hour. After all the stress, all the bureaucracy, all the problems and all the sleepless nights, La Chambre was about to be born.

  CHAPTER 3

  The First Night

  We had placed adverts in all the contact magazines. We had rung as many swingers as we could think of and Danny, Sue, Rachel and Dave were spreading the word too. This was before the internet had really begun to home in on the lifestyle, so it played no part in the formation of La Chambre in the early years. It was all down to leg work, just getting the word out.

  Remember, the culture of going to a swingers club every week did not exist. Back then, if you wanted to get a large number of people together it was house parties, or at best a room above a pub. By far the most popular form of getting together was each others’ homes. Opening the club was only half the job; we still had to educate swingers that this was the new way to meet people. That’s where the News of the World came to our rescue but that’s for later, for now we just wanted people to come along and see this new and exciting development: a purpose built swingers club.

  Sixteen years ago, many people still believed wife-swapping, as it was still sometimes known, was against the law. The authorities did nothing to dispel this myth, so consequently it was carried on in secret, much of the time. That’s one of the reasons why a high profile club like La Chambre was such a risky undertaking. It took us years to convince people that they were not breaking the law just by being in the club.

  We had set Saturday 20th December as our grand opening, but of course there was still the little matter of the builders’ incentive. They had kept their side of the bargain and got the job done on time, although it was a close run thing. We were still fitting door handles and carpet trims right up to Friday tea-time. When the last bit of trim was fastened down, I cracked open a couple of bottles of champagne and raised a toast.

  “To La Chambre, the vanguard of the new era of swinging, long may she reign supreme.” A loud cheer echoed around the new La Chambre lounge, and the first ever unofficial party was about to begin.

  Marie, Rachel and Sue were dressed in skimpy little numbers and as Roy, Death- trap and the rest of the lads drained their champagne glasses, I pushed a music cassette into our new disco deck. “Let the party begin!” I shouted. The girls took the lead by pulling the guys up to dance. Roy said he couldn’t dance, he just wanted to push his face in Rachel’s boobs. I sat back in a chair with a smile on my face and watched the girls turn the guys inside out. The lads had never seen anything like these three. I had to chuckle to myself as I watched Smash and Grab fumbling with zips and bra straps. Meanwhile, Death-trap had been pushed down onto a chair and was being ridden by Sue. Spunky had just shot his bolt after only three rubs and a squeeze from Rachel and Roy was now blowing raspberries into Marie’s tits.

  The girls had soon taken control and in no time the blokes were spent. All except Roy, who was still fondling Marie. I’ve never seen a man so devoted to mammaries as Roy, he seemed mesmerised by them. Sue decided to put him out of his misery by unzipping his fly and giving him a blow job. As he came all he kept saying was ‘oh titties, lovely titties.’ The whole thing was over in about fifteen minutes. It was plain to see that the guys were not swingers, they were all rush and push and had none of the skills that you gain by having sex with many different women. I don’t mean to be disrespectful to non-swingers, that is not my intention, but you can’t help getting better at something when you do it over and over again with different partners. With the building lads, it was messy and grunty and over far too quickly. But the guys had had their bonus, we had our club and in just over twenty four hours the doors would open and the real party would begin.

  Marie and I had hired three-piece suits with bow ties for Danny, Dave and myself. We had roped our friends in to help out. If it was a big turnout we would need all the help we could get. Sue and Rachel would help out behind the bar. We could only serve soft drinks in those days and had piles of Coke, Pepsi, 7up etc stacked behind the bar, as we only had one chiller cabinet. They had to continually fill it up, hoping the drinks would have time to chill before they were sold. The bar itself was only a third of the size of the one we have today and the reception was through a hatch in the wall.

  Our DJ was a guy called Jerry, who was a rep for an insurance company by day and a DJ by night. His equipment was spartan to say the least; two tripods with flashing lights, which Danny said he had nicked from some road works. A couple of tattered old speakers and a tape deck that looked as though it had fallen off the back of a lorry, literally, in fact it was so bad we invested a couple of hundred pounds in a new deck for him.

  So we were all set. As the hour approached I became more and more nervous; What if no one turned up, What if we were raided by the police, What if we couldn’t handle it, What if people didn’t like it, What if, What if? Danny, seeing my apprehension, came over.

  “You ok Bazza?” he asked.

  “No I’m not mate, I’m shaking like a fucking leaf,” I answered. “What have I done Dan, I’ve dropped a right bollock, it’s bound to be a disaster, what was I thinking?”

  Danny grabbed my arm. “Right, listen to me,” he snapped. “Remember that minefield you had to walk through.”

  “Yes,” I answered timidly
.

  “Well, you’re almost through it. A couple more steps and you’re clear.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so. You’ve come all this way and gone through all the shit without getting blown up, now all you have to do is get to the end.” He then leaned closer to my ear, clamped a big, Irish hand on my shoulder and whispered “I’m with you all the way, so I am.” I hugged the big Irishman to me; a better friend would be hard to find.

  At half past nine on Saturday 20th December 1997 we flung open the doors of La Chambre Swingers Club for the very first time, not knowing what to expect.

  There must have been forty to fifty couples queuing up outside. I had never seen so many swingers in one place before. Even if no one else came, I could count this as a huge success. Dave ushered them towards reception, Danny and I went along the queue shaking hands, making jokes and keeping them entertained as they moved slowly forward. I knew some of them, but the vast majority were new faces to me. It hit me even then as I went along the queue, this had to be the way forward for the swinger lifestyle. Meeting new friends like this cut out all the contact magazines and the letter writing, the sending and receiving of photos and the weeks of waiting for a reply. It also cut out the often embarrassing one to one meetings in half-way pubs. What if the chemistry doesn’t work? You can be stuck for hours with someone you’re not attracted to. My confidence came flooding back. Danny’s little pep talk and the amount of people already here had convinced me that we could make this work.

  For the next hour or so the queue never went down, as more and more couples came across the road from the car park. Craig, my son-in-law, was the car park security in those early days and his gregarious, outgoing nature soon endeared him to everyone.

  We had opened the doors at nine thirty and it was not until around eleven o’clock that the queues started to shorten. We had over 150 couples and the place was heaving. The tiny bar was six deep with Marie on reception booking people in and Rachel and Sue working non stop serving drinks. Jerry, our DJ, was blasting out the music but the dance floor was so crowded it was hard to move. Dave fought his way over to me.

  “Barry!” he shouted. “We have got to do something, everyone is milling about but they’re not sure what to do. They need some direction. You need to make an announcement or a speech or something.”

  “What! A speech, what speech?” I stammered. I had never made a speech in my life. The only time that came near was when I had been best man at a mate’s wedding and I made a right cock-up of that.

  “You have to take charge,” continued Dave, “otherwise it could turn into total confusion.”

  I knew Dave was right; it may sound crazy to you reading this now, but back then no one knew how to use a swingers club. No one had ever been to one before. We had got the people there, now we had to tell them how to use it. I reluctantly made my way over to the DJ booth, which was really a decorating table to put the deck on and a stool for Jerry to sit on.

  “Can I borrow your microphone for a minute Jerry?” I said as I stepped onto the small stage with my back against the dance pole. As I looked out across the sea of faces, a hush seemed to settle amongst the crowd as if in expectation of divine guidance on what to do next. All eyes fell on me.

  “First of all, boys and girls, I would like to thank you all for coming tonight.”

  “We haven’t come yet!” shouted some joker from the back, which brought a laugh from everyone.

  “The night is still young,” I answered. Then without thinking, I hit back with, “anyway, I hear you suffer from premature ejaculation so don’t rush it.” That sent a course of laughter through the crowd. I’m still not sure where that quip came from, but it did the trick. The crowd were on my side and I was on a roll.

  “I realise that this is new to us all, we’re not used to being treated so well. This venue is yours to enjoy. The playrooms are upstairs, the dungeon is downstairs, the pool and sauna are through the changing rooms and the dance floor is just there.” I pointed to the floor in front of me. “Of course you can’t see it because you’re all stood on it.” Although they were all jovial, they just stood there waiting for something to happen. I had to get them animated somehow. Then I had a flash of brilliance - well at least I like to think so. We had installed touch lamps on all the tables, each lamp had three settings; dull, normal and bright. There were about sixteen tables back then, with around four to six people sat around each.

  “Oh, and one other thing,” I said, “the touch lamps can be used as a signal to everyone else. If you have yours on dull, it means you’re not up for it yet, if you have it on normal, that means you’re up for it with a few. But if you have it on bright that means you are ready to fuck everyone in the club.”

  The lamps immediately started flashing like traffic lights on speed. Every time someone touched it to change the setting someone else would touch it again and change to another setting. The crowd were laughing and shouting out encouragement, it was truly funny and set the scene for the evening. My little speech had also set the way we run La Chambre even to this day. I will get up on the mike most weekends, to introduce some entertainment or games or someone’s birthday. It’s become something of a tradition, and, yes, I still get nervous.

  Slowly, they began to disperse a little and explore the club. After half an hour it was even possible to dance. The girls were still working non-stop behind the bar while Danny, Dave and I dressed in our monkey suits, chatted, shook hands, kissed the ladies and generally made sure everyone was happy. Eventually, me and Danny made our way upstairs to the playrooms. They were all packed. The Karma Sutra room was just a sea of bodies. I noticed a cute little blond in the mêlée, her head was sticking out from the tangle of bodies. It was obvious that someone was banging her by the way her head was jumping in and out, but with all the tangle of bodies I couldn’t see who. I bent down and whispered in her ear. “Excuse me, but didn’t I fuck you a few weeks ago?”

  “Yes,” she said breathlessly, “house party ooh… laundry room aahh… ”

  “Oh yes I remember now, across the vibrating dryer on full spin.”

  “Yes, ahh, good fuck, ohh!” she gasped. I could see she was busy, so I gave her a smile and left her to her fun.

  Meanwhile Danny had been scouring the writhing mass of bodies for anyone he could recognise. Suddenly he bellowed, “I know that backside, it’s slap-arse Mandy.” He then bounded forward and gave one of the protruding rear ends a mighty slap. A man’s voice instantly rang out “Ow what the fuck!” Danny immediately retreated.

  “Fuck me Baz, I thought that was slap-arse Mandy, haven’t seen her and Pete for ages, she always enjoyed a good spank.”

  “It’s a bloke,” I said.

  “Well he’s got a woman’s arse,” said Danny as we hurried out of the room.

  There was a five girl show going on in the mirror room, the partners of the girls were stood around the edge watching, along with about six or seven couples. The girls were really going for it. A couple of them wore strap-ons. Danny and I had to stay and watch, just to make sure no one got hurt, of course.

  All the other rooms were full; in the Boudoir a girl had shoved a big butt plug half way up a bloke’s arse. The crowd stood back in amazement as she took a step back and kicked it all the way in. There was a communal gasp but the bloke just gave a sort of suppressed grunt. “He’s done that before,” laughed Danny.

  When we eventually made our way downstairs, we could see the dance floor was really rocking with some sexy ladies. Jerry was sat on his stool with a pair of knickers on his head. As he stood up he swayed unsteadily to one side. It turned out that he had brought a bottle of vodka with him to steady his nerves and he was now three sheets to the wind.

  “Shit!” I said to Danny, “Jerry’s pissed.”

  “He looks okay to me, Baz,” said Danny, just as Jerry missed the edge of the stage and fell into the crowded dance floor. “Oh, I see what you mean.”

  “Grab him Dan
, we’ll sit him back on his stool and hope no one notices.”

  We hauled him back on his stool and I confiscated what little there was left of the vodka.

  “I’m okay,” he insisted, “just a little tipsy.” His eyes were rolling all over the place and he kept chuckling to himself.

  “Sit there and don’t move,” I said. “Just keep putting those cassettes on.” He saluted me and gave another chuckle. I told Danny to keep an eye on him while I went to see if there was any strong black coffee we could pour down him. If he flaked out I would have a problem on my hands. Little did I know that a much bigger problem was about to occur.

  As I stood at the bar trying to make myself understood against the din, all the lights in the club went out, the music stopped, everything was black, not a flicker of light anywhere. A huge cheer went up and I considered for the briefest of moments just slipping unseen out of the front door and making a run for it. Danny, God bless him, stopped me from absconding by booming from the stage.

  “Is there an electrician in the house?” We could see at least half a dozen hands go up in the light we now had from fifty to sixty lighters. Soon, a posse of electricians were despatched to find the problem. To my utter relief no one complained, in fact it seemed to add to the excitement for them. After about fifteen minutes the lights came back on, the music came to life again and the party continued unabated. One of the hero electricians told me that the main breaker had overloaded and shut down, adding that whoever had fitted that fuse board was an amateur, because it was a death-trap.

  By three o’clock in the morning people were beginning to drift away, we were all shattered. The three girls had not stopped all night and were out on their feet. Jerry, our drunken DJ, had somehow sobered up enough to make it to the end without falling off his stool and myself, Dave and Danny had long ago taken off our dickie bows and loosened our collars and waistcoats. By four o’clock there were only three couples left, still undressed and still up for it.

  “Come on you lot,” said a dark haired girl lounging next to the dance floor, “you’ve been working all night, now it’s time to have some fun.”