I initially heard about the club from a friend. A place where anonymous strangers could go for safe, clean, legal sex. Where the rooms were separated by a piece of clear plexiglass and you could get your freak on watching people on the other side doing the same.
At first, I found the idea mildly irritating, like why would people go somewhere to have sex when you can't even touch your partner? But as I lay awake in my bed getting hornier and hornier with each passing night thinking about it, my compulsion to investigate it further became overpowering.
How was it any different from the online webcam chats I'd become addicted to? Those were hands-free too, and I had no trouble getting off watching a whole train of sexy girls jilling themselves while I watched. In fact, this took it one step further. At least at this club, I'd be watching live performances in the flesh, separated mere inches from a real person. As I rubbed out one powerful orgasm after another, I contorted my body into different positions picturing my imaginary partner watching me thrusting my fingers into my wet pussy while I gushed all over the glass.
After three or four restless nights, I'd had enough. I had to at least try this place out to satisfy my curiosity. I was getting tired of having sex with myself and there wasn't exactly a line of hot chicks waiting at my door to jump into my bed. So one lonely night, I threw on a shawl and a headscarf in an attempt to disguise my identity and went down to the club to check it out.
When I pulled up in front of the shop behind a suburban industrial mall, I was mildly surprised. This wasn't some kind of seedy operation tucked away in a dark alley with a burly doorman guarding a graffiti-covered door. The sign above the plate glass entrance read Sightlines – An Adult Adventure Club. Far from trying to hide their real purpose, this place seemed eager to advertise to any passerby what really went on behind closed doors.
I parked my car in a spot furthest from view from the road, then opened the front door noticing a smartly dressed man standing behind the polished counter.
"Welcome to Sightlines," he said, peering up at me with a warm smile.
"Hello," I stammered, awkwardly meeting his gaze as I smiled back at him nervously. "Um, this is my first time. How exactly does this work?"
"No worries," he said, passing a laminated brochure toward me and flipping it open. "You can choose between pay-as-you-go or monthly, annual, or lifetime memberships. The longer the term, the lower the effective price-per-use, but if this is your first time, you might want to choose one of the shorter plans to make sure you're happy with the experience."
"Uh-huh," I nodded, peering at the professional photos of scantily clad men and women looking suggestively across at one another in the spartan but clean-looking studios. "Doesn't everybody leave here happy? I mean, isn't that the whole point of this place?"
"Well, yes," he said, clasping his hands in front of him. "But it can be a little–jarring–at first. It's not everybody's cup of tea."
"These rooms," I said, flipping through the pictures where all of the clients looked like a supermodel who'd just finished a carton of ice cream. "Are they safe? Not just from the person on the other side, but also from outside intruders. I wouldn't want to be interrupted once things start to heat up."
"Absolutely," he said. "The rooms are divided by a solid sheet of two-inch-thick glass that's virtually bulletproof. And each viewing room door is deadbolted from the inside. At least until your appointed time has expired, when they automatically release."
"How long do I have before that happens?" I said, crunching my eyebrows at the thought of the doors releasing in the middle of a hot mutual masturbation scene.
"Most rooms are set for a fifty-minute time release. Although you can choose shorter or longer intervals with the pay-as-you-go plans."
"What about the sanitary aspect?" I said, picturing the glass partition and grimy floor streaked with cum stains and other bodily fluids.
"All of the surfaces are coated in washable vinyl and acrylic laminate. After each session ends, the rooms are locked and receive a two-hundred-degree sanitary cleaning."
"Like in a car wash?" I said, looking up at him with pinched brows.
"A bit like that," he said. "Except we add a few other chemical additives like bleach and chlorine to kill any remaining microorganisms. You could eat off the floor if you chose to once the cleaning procedure is finished."
"I don't know about eating," I said. "But I can think of a few other things I might want to do down there."
The attendant peered back at me and smiled.
"Once you're in there with your partner, what you choose to do with each other is completely your business."
"And this is completely touch-free?" I asked. "I mean, it's just for watching?"
"That depends on how closely you want to engage with your partner. Each glass partition has a foldable portal that is locked on both sides. If you both desire, there are ways for you to engage more directly..."
"How large is this portal?" I asked, picturing some greasy guy reaching through and pinning me against his sweaty body.
"Just large enough to push your erogenous parts through," he smiled.
"You mean like a glory hole?"
"In a manner of speaking," he said. "How you and your partner choose to use it is your business. Many of our clients prefer to stay at a distance and just watch."
As I flipped through the pictures of the hot models and listened to the attendant explaining how everything worked, I could feel my panties beginning to moisten.
"Is this a full unisex operation?" I said, still harboring a few lingering doubts. "I mean, it's not just a bunch of guys showing their meat and jerking off?"
"All of our members have to schedule their visits beforehand, and we try to ensure a fairly even split of men and women between the six viewing rooms."
"What about the walk-ins?" I said, picturing half their clientele comprised of horny businessmen stopping by for a quick wank.
"They're limited to two per hour unless we have extra capacity. But we're normally fully booked at this time of the day."
"Do you have room for one more walk-in?" I said, feeling a trickle of lubrication running down the inside of my thigh at the thought of choosing between six sexy partners.
The man turned to the computer terminal resting at his side and punched a few keys.
"We do indeed," he said. "Would you like to schedule a fifty-minute session to start?"
"That should do the trick," I smiled. "Do I have to sign a waiver or something?"
"No," he said. "We do everything we can to preserve our clients' anonymity. Will you be paying with cash or credit card?"
"I suppose if I want to remain anonymous, I should pay cash," I smiled, opening my purse. "What is your fee?"
"One hundred dollars for fifty minutes or seventy-five for twenty minutes."
"I'm pretty sure I'm going to need more than twenty minutes," I smiled, sliding five twenties across the counter. Something told me once things started to heat up in there, neither one of us would be in a hurry to get out.
The man processed my payment then handed me a plastic passkey and a folded white bath towel.
"This gives you access to the women's washroom where you can change and shower. The locks are on a timer, starting at the top of the hour for exactly fifty minutes. You'll have to vacate your chosen viewing room when you hear the buzzer to allow time for cleaning before the next session."
"Or you'll lock me in there getting a scalding hot shower?" I said, lifting an eyebrow.
"There are motion sensors in each room plus an emergency exit switch. But if you go over the fifty-minute allotment, there will be an additional charge to your account."
"Okay," I said, shaking my head at their rigid protocols. "It looks like you've really got this place locked down. Do you have security if there's any trouble?"
"We have two other attendants on duty, but it's very rare for them to be deployed. They're here more in case you happen to slip or fall, or have some other kind of emergency."
"Like if my partner's double-dildo goes too far up my ass?" I smirked.
"Something like that," he said, pressing a button under the counter and pointing to a door leading to the interior marked with the female cross-and-circle symbol. Before passing through the door, I noticed a third door marked with the transgender symbol.
I smiled, feeling my pussy beginning to tingle as I walked down the long corridor toward the women's change room.
These guys seem to have covered all the bases, I thought to myself.
