(Installment 1 of the new Cougar Chronicles series.)
Last Wednesday night was an unseasonably warm night in the Midwest. There was electricity in the air and that hopeful feeling you get when you know Summer is almost here. (Even though it’s really not. Because it’s only February. And then you remember Climate Change.)
The point being this unseasonable weather had me feeling fun and frisky. I was in the mood to get out of my comfort zone and try something new. Plus I needed inspiration for a fresh, non [FM] hotel sex confessional.
The idea first came to me as I was driving into town for my work trip – the idea being that I visit one of the sex clubs, alone.
Frequenting a “lifestyle club” was something I’d talked about doing with a couple FWBs but it had never come to fruition. But that was OK, because I decided that it was an experience I needed to have on my own accord.
I was nervous though. Not about safety. Or having sex with one or more randos. These places operate and exist only because they have very strict consent rules to protect their guests.