Las Vegas Swinger

All roads eventually come to an end. I was living in Lake Worth, FL and working as associate editor of LottoWorld, an international lottery magazine in Miami when the publisher announced he was discontinuing publication.

“We're broke,” he explained. “I'm sorry. I've poured about $5 million into the magazine and this is the end of the road.”

The publisher, a custom home builder in Florida, graciously treated his employees to a final party at the Dupont Hotel where we were headquartered. That night the other editorial employees and I put away quite a bit of wine and champagne as we wished each other well for wherever life took us.

A small man wearing a well pressed brown suit and a tie sat at the bar nursing a drink. He had a mustache and greying hair. As I discussed my options with one of the editors, he broke into our conversation.

“You are a writer?” he said. His voice had a thick accent and I discovered he was Jewish. “My name is Meyer Bram and I am a publisher of men's magazines. How would you like a job in Las Vegas?”

Bram and I talked for over an hour. When we finished, we shook hands. He had just hired me to be a staff writer on a new magazine he was starting up. The magazine, called “Ferocity” was aimed at blue collar men and the stories would be focused on women and sex.

“What about gambling?” I asked.

Meyer shrugged. “That would be fine. I play poker and keno and a lot of men gamble.”

Two weeks later I drove into Las Vegas. It was April, the temperate was approaching 90 degrees, and it was a perfect day. I found a room at a Budget Suite motel on Tropicana Road and reported for work.

Bram was a fun publisher to work for. He paid well and he loved to spend his lunches in a casino where he played keno while waiting for the waitress to deliver our food. He had a system for keno and on several days we ended up winning a couple of hundred dollars.

One morning he came by my desk smiling.

“I have an assignment for you,” he said. “Have you ever gone to a Swinger's club?”

“Can't say that I have,” I confessed.

“Well, there's one opening up in town and they just bought some advertising from me. It's called the Rooster and I have a ticket for you to attend the grand opening. Everything is on the house.”

That Friday night I drove to the Rooster Club. It was located on Boulder Highway about six miles from downtown Las Vegas. A valet attendant parked my car and I strolled into the club.

It was filled with people. Many of them were attractive women who were extremely approachable. Cocktail waitresses circled the room with trays containing free champagne. Entertainment was furnished by a four-piece band. I accepted a glass of champagne and stood on the sidelines.

“Do you dance?”

The inquirer was a svelte blond in a low-cut blue dress. She looked like Bridget Bardot and said she was there with her husband, a physician from San Francisco.

“With pleasure,” I said. We went onto the dance floor.

As we danced, she looked at me. Finally, she said: “You're new to this, aren't you? Swinging.”

I admitted I was and that this was the first Swinger's event I had ever attended.

“Then let me tell you something,” she said. “Swinging involves sex but it's not just about sex. It's about freedom. At a party like this you can do anything you want as long as the other person is willing.”

I hesitated as I twirled her. “Anything?” I said.

“Anything,” she responded with a smile.

I waited for a few seconds. Then I said, “Like, if I wanted to touch your breast I could do it?”

“Of course.”

“Would you mind if I touched your breast?”

“Of course not.”

And so, I did.

I stayed at the party for a couple of hours. After a while, couples began going to various parts of the club and engaged in certain activities. It got a bit squeamish for me. I had enough material to write a story and so I thanked the host couple and said I was calling it an evening.

“You're leaving?”, the female hostess said.

“Reluctantly, yes. I need my beauty sleep.” She laughed, waved, and blew me a kiss.

As I left the club and gave the valet attendant the ticket for my club, another young woman joined me.

“That was quite an experience,” she said as she waited for her car. “It was fun. This was my first experience at a Swinger's club.”

“Mine, too,” I said.

“Did you like it?”

I hesitated for a long minute. “I think so,” I said. “How about you?”

We both burst into laughter. “I did,” she said, “but not enough to stay.”