A Night at the Pleasure Palace

1

ON THE OUTSKIRTS of Amsterdam, there was a swingers club called Het Plezierpaleis or 'the Pleasure Palace'. It looked nothing like a palace from the outside - this was not picture-postcard Amsterdam with its historic canals, ornate bridges, and beautiful buildings. No, this was a borough of asphalt and concrete, built up in the 1970s by architects who were as committed to construction budgets as the architects of old were committed to grandeur and symmetry. The most colourful thing about Het Plezierpaleis was the neon sign with the name, set up on the side of an otherwise unremarkable grey-and-white building. There was one other thing of note: a visitor car park. Even this far out from the historic city centre, parking fees were close to extortionate and being able to offer free parking to its guests was a major plus point for the club.

It was nine-thirty on the night of this story and there were five cars in the car park. Because it was a Wednesday night, entry was half-price: thirty euros for a male-female couple; sixty euros for a man on his own. A woman alone would get in free, but no woman ever showed up alone. The headlights of a sixth car swung across the other five as it entered the car park and manoeuvred into a space. It was a blue BMW, maybe ten years old but in good condition, sliding silently between two white lines on the asphalt. It stopped a couple of spaces along from a parked silver Porsche, the headlights winked off and the engine went silent. There was a faint clicking sound from under the bonnet, but nothing else happened. The car just stood there. Neither of the front doors opened.

Inside the car at the steering wheel was Lukas van Offeren. He was thirty years old with a boyish face and a quiff of blond hair, although his shoulders and arms spoke of a man who went regularly to the gym. He was tall with strong bones and he got female attention whenever he worked out, but being a married man, he could never act on the flirtatious glances. This had evolved into fantasies of sex with other women and this visit to Het Plezierpaleis had taken many weeks of negotiation with his wife. Now that they were here, his heart thrummed with excitement.

Not so his wife.

Marieke van Offeren sat next to him in the passenger seat, wringing her hands as her heart thumped with something closer to terror than excitement. She was twenty-seven years of age and the daughter of two highly conservative parents who lived in the south of Holland. She had a serious face with clear blue eyes and a forehead that crinkled when she frowned, which was often. Her limbs were long and willowy, her hands had elegant fingers, and her breasts were small but with nipples so clearly defined, they required her to wear thick padded bras. She tended to hunch her shoulders when she got nervous ... and right now she was almost bent double as she stared at the building through the windscreen.

'It looks like a dump,' she said.

'From the outside, perhaps,' said Lukas. 'But the interior photos on the website look amazing!'

' "Amazing"?'

'You know what I mean.'

'Lukas, I'm really not sure about this.'

'Honey, it'll be fine.'

'But Lukas ... it's a sex club.'

'Yes, but nobody's going to force you to do anything.'

Lukas unlatched his seat belt and leaned across to take her hands.

'Look at me, Marieke,' he said. 'Look at me.'

Reluctantly, Marieke turned her head to face her husband. His expression was a picture of sincerity and concern.

'Marieke, I love you very much,' he said. 'And I will personally ensure that nothing happens to hurt you.'

'How will you manage that?'

'Here's the plan,' he said. 'We go in, we have a look around, and we have a drink at the bar. And when we've finished our drinks, I'll ask you a question: "Do you want to stay?" And if the answer is no, we'll leave. No questions asked.'

'Do you promise?'

'I promise.'

'You won't try and talk me out of it?'

'No, I won't. I give you my word.'

Lukas took his wife's head gently in his hands.

'My darling, I want us to have a night to remember,' he said. 'Not a night we'd both rather forget.'

Marieke's face still had anxiety written all over it, but she nodded. Lukas gave her a kiss on the lips, then reached into the back seat for the sports bags with their towels and changes of clothes. He handed Marieke her bag.

'I added that French underwear I bought you,' he said. 'But you don't have to wear it if you don't want to.'

'Okay.' She frowned. 'Thanks.'

'Shall we go?'

Lukas had his hand on the door handle, but his head was turned towards his wife. Marieke took a deep breath, let it out slowly and nodded.

'All right,' she said. 'Let's do this.'

And she opened the car door.

*

The reception area was a small space partially created by a semicircle of floor-length burgundy velvet curtain with a tall ticket desk in the middle. Marieke felt a bit like she was standing in a fortune teller's tent at the fair. A clean-shaven man wearing a bow tie and waistcoat was perched on a barstool behind the desk and he took Lukas's debit card and processed the payment with a handheld device. Behind him was taped a notice in both Dutch and English: All sexual acts are at the visitors' own risk. The management accepts no responsibility for STDs, unwanted pregnancies, slipped discs or broken marriages.

'Right, here are your wristbands,' said the man. 'Pink for the ladies, blue for the gents. The key is for your locker and the locker number is on the wristband.'

'What's the barcode for?' asked Marieke, examining hers.

'Buying drinks,' said the man. 'The barman scans your wristband and you pay your tab when you leave. Saves you worrying about where to put your wallet when you're in the nude.'

'Oh, that's clever.'

'We like to think so.'

'Can we use it to buy condoms?' said Lukas.

'Condoms are on the house. There's a big bowl of them on the bar and another one by the exhibition cage.'

'The what?' said Marieke.

'You'll understand when you see it,' said the man. 'We do ask that you return any condoms you don't use. Any more questions?'

Lukas and Marieke exchanged a look, then both shook their heads.

'Okey-dokey,' said the man. 'Make your way through the curtain. Changing rooms and showers are to the right. Stairs go down to the basement level, where you'll find ... various playrooms. And through the doors to the left is the bar and the gangbang room.'

'Lovely,' said Marieke.

'Have a great time!'

The man gave them the kind of smile a tour guide gives tourists before unleashing them onto an unsuspecting city. Lukas led Marieke through the curtain into an area that looked like an old cinema lobby. It was all burgundy carpet, dark wooden doors and panelling, and gold light fittings and door handles. When Marieke left her husband to go into the women's changing rooms, the plain white walls and battleship grey lockers were actually a relief. She changed into a one-piece blue swimsuit, then took from her sports bag a smaller bag with the name of a lingerie shop on the side. Handling the thin plastic bag with the same delicacy as a letter bomb, she opened it and peeked inside.

A girl walked in, making Marieke jump and clutch the bag in her fist. The girl was petite with tan skin and long, crinkling black hair, and she wore black lace bra and panties. She glanced at Marieke, smiled at the swimsuit, and went over to a locker. Marieke was about to put the plastic bag back into her sports bag when the girl spoke in English.

'First time to a sex club?' she said.

Marieke bristled. Like most Dutch, she spoke excellent English, but it annoyed her when foreigners took it for granted. Still, she probably had bigger worries right now.

'Is it that obvious?' she said, also in English.

'A bit,' said the girl. 'Want some gum?'

'No, thank you.'

The girl was already chewing. She put the packet back into the locker and slammed the metal door. She talked as she turned the key.

'So let me guess,' she said. 'Your boyfriend wanted to come here, and you're going along with it?'

'Husband, actually.'

Marieke raised her left hand, waggling her fingers to show the ring.

'You're married?' said the girl. 'How long for?'

'Two years.'

'Two years? And you already have problems with your sex life?'

Marieke reddened and stuffed her sports bag into the locker.

'That's none of your business!' she said hotly.

'Sorry,' said the girl, walking up to her. 'I'm just bored out of my mind. I've been here since eight o'clock!'

'I'm sorry, but ... do you work here?'

'In a manner of speaking. I'm a hooker.'

Marieke stared at her. The girl smiled back, a look of irony in her eyes. She put her hands on her hips and tilted her head.

'Would you prefer I say "sex worker"?' she said.

'No! I mean ... well ... um...' Marieke shook her head. 'I'm sorry, but ... why does the club have sex workers?'

'Well, you know when you go to a night club and there's that awkward period where the dance floor is empty, but no one wants to be the first?'

'Yeah...'

'Well, it's even worse in a sex club! There's this big plastic bed thing instead of a dancefloor with seating around it so people can watch. But who's going to be the first? That's why me and my friend have the job of "starting the party" so to speak. Plus, if there are more men than women - and that's often the case - our job is to keep the surplus men entertained so they keep buying drinks.'

Marieke looked at the girl and slowly nodded. It actually made sense in a fucked-up kind of way. The girl looked at the small plastic bag in Marieke's hand.

'What's that?' she said.

'Oh...'

Marieke cursed herself. She had forgotten to put it back in her sports bag.

'It's, um ... some underwear my husband bought.'

'Can I have a look?'

Marieke wanted to say no, but it seemed petty to refuse. She handed over the bag and watched as the girl drew out the pink satin bra and matching panties. The girl gasped in undisguised admiration.

'Oh, these are beautiful!' she said. 'You have to wear them!'

'No, I can't...'

'Don't be silly! Of course you can!'

'I'd feel uncomfortable with people staring at me.'

'Lady, there are literally four people in the bar! And that's counting the barman! Listen, if you have a problem with shyness, this is the perfect chance to get over it.'

The girl held Marieke's gaze as she pressed the lingerie into her hand. Marieke suddenly realized how pretty the other woman was, with dark eyes and black eyelashes. But there was also a confidence there, a kind of challenge in those eyes. Marieke took the lingerie and nodded as she lowered her own gaze. The girl gave Marieke's shoulder a squeeze of encouragement, then she turned and walked away. She had almost reached the door when Marieke spoke out in a hesitant voice.

'I'm sorry,' she said. 'But can I ... can I ask you a question?'

The girl turned and looked at the woman standing by the lockers. Then she strolled slowly back, looking as though she already knew what the question was going to be. She stopped before Marieke and put her hands on her hips.

'What do you want to know?' she said.

'I, er...' Marieke swallowed. 'I keep picturing this scenario in which my husband is having sex with some woman ... and this woman's husband is expecting to have sex with me. But I don't find him attractive and ... well ... how do I go through with it?'

'Are you asking me because I'm a hooker?'

'Well, um...'

'Hey, it's okay. I get it.'

The girl stepped closer, put her hands on Marieke's upper arms and looked her right in the eyes.

'Let me ask you a question,' she said. 'Let's say you have sex with a man you don't find that attractive, and you end up having a really bad fuck. Will it kill you?'

'No, of course not.'

'Will it scar you emotionally? Put you off sex for the rest of your life?'

'No!'

'Will it give you the ammunition you need to tell your husband that you never, ever want to do this again?'

Marieke's eyes opened wide. The girl smiled and nodded.

'You see?' she said. 'The worst case scenario is that you can tell your husband, once and for all, that you tried it and didn't like it. And unless you married a psychopath, he has to accept going back to monogamy. And all it will cost you ... is one bad fuck.'

Marieke's eyes shone. The girl's smile broadened and she gave the other woman's arm a friendly slap.

'So, come on!' she said. 'Put on that gorgeous underwear and walk tall! You're going to be fine, no matter what happens.'

*

Lukas stood alone in the men's changing room and checked himself out in the mirror. He had worked out that afternoon and thought he looked pretty good. His red designer briefs also did a good job of showing off his bulge. Perhaps too good a job, he thought. Marieke already struggled with the idea that he wanted this at all; it was probably better not to be too blatant about it. He changed back into boxer shorts of a dark checkered blue so standard, it almost qualified as a uniform. Lukas gave himself a nodding sigh, then grabbed his hand towel and walked barefoot out of the changing room.

Entering a fully furnished bar in nothing but his underwear was a strange experience for Lukas. He felt like he'd got changed to go swimming and accidentally wandered into next door's pub. There was firm carpet under his feet and the bar was a great curve of shiny black wood, ringed by chrome metal barstools with black seats. There were three people at the curved bar - one girl at the midway point and a couple on the right-hand side, all wearing underwear and wristbands. Lukas headed for a vacant barstool on the left-hand side, trying to look purposeful. The barman wore the same bow tie and waistcoat combo as the man at reception and he came over as Lukas took a seat.

'Good evening, sir,' he said. 'What can I get you?'

'Er ... could I have a beer?'

'Certainly, sir.' The barman put his hand on the nearest pump. 'You okay with Stofmeyer?'

'Sure.'

The barman held up a scanning device and Lukas presented his wrist. There was a 'beep!' and they were done. As the barman pulled a beer, Lukas sat checking out the other customers. The girl on her own was young and pretty in a slutty kind of way, although he wasn't too keen on the tattoos and overdone eyeliner. Glancing over at the couple, he saw a tall woman in red bikini top who looked pretty sexy, but the man was stocky and had silver grey hair - there was no way Marieke would agree to a wife swap with him. The barman arrived with his drink and Lukas took a long pull of beer, turning his attention to the surroundings.

The seating area of the bar was coloured various reds: dark-red walls, burgundy carpet, blood-red round tables and matching chairs. But beyond the bar, down a couple of steps, was a great room entirely black. The walls and ceiling were black, the floor was shiny black tiles, and there was a great raised area - like a dancefloor - with black seating around it. There were a few white spotlights, but most of the faint lighting was provided by wall monitors near the ceiling that played porn movies on a loop.

The bar doors opened and Lukas turned his head to see a girl walk in, petite and cute in black lace underwear. She joined the girl with tattoos, hopping onto the barstool next to her and ordering a lemonade. 'Fuck,' thought Lukas. 'Are they a lesbian couple?' Then he noticed what was on the other side of the main doors.

Moulded into the wall was what looked like a bisected giant chrome birdcage. Visible behind the bars was a padded half-bed with rings and handles hanging above it. The plastic floor in that section, plus the tissue dispensers and bins, left little to the imagination. This had to be the exhibition cage. 'Exhibitionist cage, more like,' thought Lukas with a grimace. What sort of people got off having sex in a cage while other people stood around and wanked?

The double doors opened and Marieke walked in. Lukas's mouth dropped open. She was wearing the pink satin bra and panties with heeled slip-ons, and she looked absolutely stunning. Unlike her usual padded bras, the satin top made her nipples visible from across the room and Lukas had to adjust himself before getting off his barstool. Marieke looked around, a bit lost at first, then she saw her husband and went straight to him.

'Marieke ... you look gorgeous!'

'Thank you, Lukas.'

'I mean it! I've never seen you look so good!'

'Thanks.'

'No ... thank you.'

Lukas stood before his wife and took her face in his hands. He looked right into her eyes.

'You are being so brave and understanding,' he said. 'There is not a wife in a thousand who would do for their husband what you are doing for me. I want you to know that I see how difficult this is for you, and to tell you how much I love you for even trying.'

Marieke's eyes teared up. She moved closer, putting her hands on his arms.

'Oh, my darling,' she said. 'I so appreciate you saying that.'

Lukas kissed her and they hugged, their arms holding tight and squeezing hard. At the bar, the girl in black underwear smiled, while her friend with tattoos rolled her eyes and waved to the barman for a refill.

*

For Marieke, walking across the lobby and entering the bar in her underwear felt like the most terrifying thing she had ever done. This was exacerbated by her knowing just how much her nipples were showing through the fabric. Lukas never stopped telling her how sexy he found them, but he was fighting the many years of taunts and sexually tinted 'compliments' that Marieke had endured since adolescence, from boys and girls. To simply wear a sports bra without padding was enough to draw sneering accusations of narcissism and 'showing off'.

So when Lukas greeted her and said what he said and gave her a big hug in public, Marieke felt deeply reassured. She loved that he still wore his wedding ring. She loved that he brought a hand towel to drape over the seat of her barstool so her bare skin was not touching 'other people's sweat'. And she loved that he wasn't wearing his red designer briefs. Not that he didn't look sexy in his boxers, but at least she didn't get the feeling that he was 'putting himself out there'. Despite his protestations that he loved her, this fantasy of fucking other women got Marieke worrying that maybe he was bored of being her husband. But the way he was treating her now made her feel a lot less afraid.

'Good evening, ma'am,' said the barman. 'What can I get you?'

'Can I have a prosecco?'

'Of course.'

Lukas held out his wristband and there was a beep. The barman went off to prepare the drink and Lukas leaned towards his wife and began to plant kisses on the curve between her neck and shoulder. Marieke chuckled and caught the eye of the girl from the changing room. They exchanged a smile and the girl gave a surreptitious thumbs-up. Then Marieke's gaze went to the couple sat at the other end of the curved bar, facing her at a slight angle. Marieke's first thought was: rich older guy and his trophy wife. He had a full head of silver-grey hair with thick black eyebrows and moustache, making her think of a Mafia don from the movies. His square chest was covered in salt-and-pepper hair and he wore silver chains around his neck and wrist. Meanwhile, his wife was tall, with enhanced breasts in a red bikini top, elegant neck and shoulders, and round, full lips. Her skin was dark from tanning salons and her bleached blond hair was cut short at the back and sides, but with a long curl at the front. She had a tall glass of white wine before her and when she picked it up by the stem to take a sip, Marieke saw long nails painted the same red as the bikini.