Thank goodness my shaky Friday night debut had been saved by Suzy Q.  And so I lived to teach another day.  As they say, that which doesn't kill you makes you stronger.  Now alerted to the dangers of the Pistachio Step, things went very well the following week.  My new Monday intermediate class went well and so did my new Tuesday intermediate class.  Wednesday and Thursday were in a slightly different category.  Since both classes had started mid-January, they were not scheduled to become Intermediate till mid-March.  Given the success of Monday and Tuesday, I went ahead and began teaching partner dancing in lieu of further line dancing.  This meant all my classes were on the same page.  

However, the scheduling remained complicated.   How do I explain this?  There were three time slots per night.  There were also three places to teach... Main Floor and two side rooms.  In addition to my group classes, Stevens had a few group classes of his own.  Since he preferred to teach on the Main Floor, he jammed some of my classes into a side room.  That made for a very crowded class.  The major headache was Stevens' penchant for scheduling a new class at random without warning.  God forbid he should ask what I thought.  What this meant was that there was no uniform scheduling process.  Over time, this led to rampant confusion as to which class was which on his part, my part, and the students as well.

And let us not forget my Thursday Jet Set class.  At the end of last week's class I had promised to begin teaching Partner Dance.  Talk about throwing a match on dry timber.  The news ripped through the rumor mill like wildfire.  The result was a giant crowd equivalent to my very first night back in February.  Bernard must really love me.  Now that I had brought Thursday night back to life, I got a big hug each time I visited.  After all this hugging, I wondered if Bernard was gay.  As we shall see, this turned out to be a highly ironic thought.

So how would I describe this den of iniquity?  People were here to trade partners for the night or to set up a date in the near future.  In the gloom, I could see couples sitting in booths located along two and a half walls of the room.  For the most part the occupants seemed engaged in sex talk.  However, often things went further.  Although there was a firm rule against going all the way, the room was kept ridiculously dark to encourage groping.  The booths were so shrouded in darkness, outrageous behavior was the norm. 

There were two techniques to fill the booths.  When a booth came empty, two couples would get up from a table and move to a booth.  Other times a couple would sit alone and wait for another couple to drop by.  If a couple approached that seemed acceptable, they were invited to sit.  Otherwise they were politely informed that another couple was coming, a euphemism for get lost.  Once the second couple joined the first, they ordered drinks and discussed a swap.  As a warm-up, customers liked to sample the wares.  Needless to say, there were Previews Aplenty taking place as a way to warm up the engines.   It was so dark that half the time I wasn't sure if I was seeing what I thought I was seeing, but there were some serious calisthenics going on in those booths. 

Since the tables surrounding the dance floor were more visible, people generally behaved better.  That did not stop the misbehavior completely.  One night I spotted mischief at a table close enough to the stage to see what was going on.  Wife Uno was up on the stage for the dance lesson.  While the Wife One was away, the cats will play.  In the gloom, Wife Two began to play footsies with Husband One sitting across from her.  Husband Two was oblivious to what was going on under the table or more likely he didn't care.  Husband One took the bait.  He shook his loafer off, then moved his chair as close to the table as possible.  The proximity allowed Husband One to stick his shoeless bare foot up the dress of Wife Two to caress her leg. 

I gasped when I saw that.  Several people on stage stared at me because I was so wide-eyed.  I tried to be discrete, but could not stop watching.  I gasped even more when I saw Wife Two squirm closer and part her legs to allow better access.  I was so distracted, I forgot what I was doing and nearly fell off the stage.  The entire time Husband Two spoke to Mr. Barefoot seemingly unaware of the clandestine activity.  When Wife Uno returned to the table, the hanky-panky ended abruptly.

The peep show was over, but not the drama.  Husband Uno whispered something to Wife Uno.  She immediately turned her head to size up Husband Two, the oblivious one.  When Wife Uno smiled and nodded, I had a hunch.  Sure enough, the foursome got up and moved to a booth.  Twenty minutes later they left the building together.  I assumed they had decided to hook up.  I looked at my watch.  10:30.  Don't these people have jobs?  I kept reminding myself these were consenting adults who were old enough to know what they were doing.  What they did was none of my business, but I was shaken nonetheless.  Although the Jet Set was way too weird for me, I admit I enjoyed watching the shenanigans.  As a student of human behavior, this place was one heck of a research laboratory. 

Once I saw how sex-crazed the clientele was, I could say practically anything dirty I wanted during class and get away with it.  Four years ago I accidentally moved into an apartment project that was 95% gay.  Every now and then I would sit down with the gay residents by the swimming pool and share a beer.  I could not believe the things that came out of their mouth.  Admittedly the humor was raw and sex-oriented, but it didn't bother me.  Although the conversation was unsuitable for polite company, the men were definitely funny.  To my surprise, the sex banter I picked up from the gay crowd came in handy here at the Jet Set.  The more I talked dirty, the more the crowd liked me.  I definitely livened up the place with my on-stage presence.  By injecting sex banter into the mix, the whole room was amused whether they participated in the dance lesson or not.

Do not be deceived into thinking I was genuinely funny.  Most of my humor was sophomoric along the lines of "Well, Jim, based on where your eyes are focused, you are not giving it your breast effort to learn this pattern."  Or how about this.  "Ma'am, you will dance so much better if you will take your hand out his pocket."  The dirtier I talked, the happier they were.  Bernard applauded the loudest.  He loved me.  The more people got worked up, the more booze they drank.  I might add the excessive drinking made me seem a lot funnier than I really was.  Here's the interesting part.  Once upon a time I was extremely shy.  That was starting to change.

One night in March, my raucous quips backfired in a very curious way.  Although I was a babe in the woods compared to this crowd, I talked a good game.  In retrospect, I suppose I gave the wrong impression.  This led to a very awkward moment.

(Before we continue, please be forewarned of some highly offensive language.  I beg your forgiveness.) 

Tonight I introduced partner dancing.  The students loved it and the surrounding crowd enjoyed the spectacle.  After class I stuck around because Karen and several other lady students had asked me to partner dance with them in the practice session that always followed the class.  As I feared, dancing with Karen evoked serious impure thoughts.  The easiest way to handle temptation is to avoid it.  With that in mind, after our dance, I excused myself to visit the restroom. 

As I used the urinal, a guy named Irving came in and walked right up to me.  Without the courtesy of waiting for me to finish, Irving asked if I was married.  Although he was very rude, I checked my irritation and politely answered 'no'.  Irving did not like my answer, so first he frowned, then continued.  Do I have a girlfriend?  No.  Irving frowned again.  Do I have a woman of any sort, an ex-girlfriend or something?  No.

Irving was unsteady on his feet and slurring his words.  Clearly plastered.  In addition, he was desperate about something.  Uh oh.  I had a sinking feeling I knew where this was headed.  Was Irving trying to set up a swap of some sort?  If that was the case, Irving was out of luck.  As usual, I was empty-handed when it came to women.  With two full-time jobs, I was so worn out I barely had the strength to stand up at the end of the night, much less go on hunting expeditions.  Adhering to a concept known as delayed gratification, I figured there would be time once I got a handle on this stressful job. 

Irving followed me to the sink.  Irving was married to Lorraine, the sexiest woman in the club after Karen.  I had noticed Lorraine watching me earlier, so I assumed she was interested.  However, Lorraine had chosen the wrong way to hit on me.  She had sent her loser husband to make the pitch.

"I'm sorry, Irving, but I don't have a girlfriend at the moment."  

Irving was not to be denied.  "Well, what about a sister?  Do you have a sister?" 

"No, Irving, I am an only child."  Was my mother next?  Surely Irving would draw the line.  Mercifully Irving's next question did not include my mother, but it did manage to touch a nerve. 

"Well, damn it, where do you live?   Do you live in an apartment?  Do you have a neighbor who is hot to trot?"

Ouch.  That question reminded me of Gloria, a woman twice my age who had lived upstairs from my apartment.  After I bought my house a year ago, I still returned to see her occasionally.  Sorry to say, the day came when Gloria moved without telling me.  Gloria's departure from my life had led to a prolonged abstinence ever since.  You know what?  Given my long dry spell, ordinarily an attractive woman like Lorraine would have been an enticing partner.  However, my fear was that this jerk of a husband might be part of the package.  Increasingly irritated by this creep's pressure, I was unwilling to take that chance.  Putting the memory of Gloria aside, I said, "Look, Irving, I live in a house in a lousy neighborhood.  I don't even know my neighbors."

Irving groaned.  "C'mon, Rick, there has to be a woman.  With a job like yours, you gotta have women crawling all over you."

Ouch again.  Although Irving was referring to my dance job, my mind raced to my gorgeous office secretary instead.  I was crazy about Elena.  However, I had a rule against dating co-workers, so Elena was off-limits.  If Irving thought I would share Elena, guess again.  I would far rather keep Elena to myself.  As I washed my hands, Irving continued to pepper me.  He was getting really frustrated.  

"Look, Irving, I came here alone.  I don't have a woman for you."

"What about an old girlfriend?"

If Irving continued this progression, I was tempted to tell Irving about my dog Emily.  However, Irving did not seem sober enough to appreciate my sarcasm, so I bit my tongue.  After drying my hands, I decided to give him my full attention.  

"Look, Irving, I'm sorry, but I have no females to offer you at the moment.  Maybe you can tell me why this is so important." 

I of course knew the answer, but I wanted to hear what Irving had to say.  Irving mumbled something, so I had to ask him to speak up.  That seemed to bolster his courage.  Irving let it all hang out.

"I'm going to lay it on the line.  My wife has a thing for you.  Lorraine wants to party, so she sent me in here to set something up.  You don't need to find me a woman.  I don't care anymore.  Sure, I'd like to have some new pussy, but don't worry about it.  The important thing is Lorraine's satisfaction.  Hey, you're in for a treat.  Lorraine will do anything you ask.  You can put it anywhere you want."

Irving was so crude, I was too shocked to answer.  "Lorraine wants to party?"  "Put it anywhere you want?"  Good grief!  My face turned beet red with embarrassment.  Sensing my reluctance, Irving lost his patience. 

"Aw, hells bells, forget it, leave me out of it.  Lorraine doesn't give a shit about me, she just wants to get off tonight.  She likes to watch you dance, so come home with us and give her a private show.  Do me this favor.  Otherwise she'll turn into a real bitch if I come back empty-handed."

I was still in shock, so I just stared.  Seeing the stunned look on my face, Irving was embarrassed.  He hesitated, then stammered, "Jesus, Rick, will you just come home and fuck her?  Lorraine is a pain in the ass when she gets this way, so don't leave me hanging." 

Talk about being put on the spot!!  Irving was ready to step aside to allow his wife a night of passion with the dance teacher.  A truly noble gesture.  Unfortunately, I did not see this coming.  I had assumed not having a female companion gave me a built-in excuse to decline politely.  Stripped of my expected excuse, I felt really awkward as I tried to decide what to say.  I was being invited to play a game in which I did not know the rules.  The thought of going to Irving's house alone gave me the creeps.  I had no idea what I would be getting myself into.  Being a cautious person by nature, I cringed at the thought of being put in a situation where I had little control. 

If Lorraine herself had approached me, I would have been tempted to invite her to my home.  Much safer.  But her house?  Forget it, especially not with Irving around.  I did not trust Irving one bit.  Just exactly what trick was Irving going to pull on me?  What sort of privacy was involved?  Would Irving try to join us?  Was he planning to watch?  Would he stand there taking pictures to prove to the Jet Set crowd Lorraine had bagged the dance instructor?  I had no idea who I was dealing with and I was not interested in finding out.

All sorts of catastrophic scenarios flooded my mind.  Sex positions I had never seen before.  Handcuffs.  Sex toys.  Drugs.  Venereal disease.  Pregnancy.  Bondage.  Whips and chains.  I shook my head.  There were just too many things that could go wrong. 

"Irving, please tell Lorraine I'm sorry, but I don't think this is my scene." 

I suppose my hesitation sent the wrong message.  When I saw Irving flinch, in his mind, I had insulted his wife.  He got a mean, hostile look on his face and lost his temper.  

"What the fuck is wrong with you, mister!?  My wife's not good enough for you?  Who the hell do you think you are?  No one turns down a free fuck with my wife unless he's a fag!"

Irving suddenly paused.  He had not thought of that before. 

"Hey, that must be it, I bet you're a faggot, a fucking wimp fag.  You don't got a wife, you don't got a girlfriend, you don't got any woman because you're just a stupid, cock-sucking sonofabitch fag!  Get the fuck out of here.  You don't belong in this place, faggot." 

Irving was really angry.  He stomped out of the bathroom in a big huff.  I was glad he left because my fists were balling up.  Seething at the insult, I wanted to slap Irving silly.  This was without a doubt the ugliest confrontation I had ever faced.  I was boiling mad, but saw no point in following Irving to have it out in public.  Instead I went straight to my car and screamed in anger all the way home.  What a colossal jerk. 

THURSDAY, march 9, 1978, the disco years, Age 28 AN UNEXPECTED CONSEQUENCE

The moment I pulled into the Jet Set parking lot the following week, I noticed the lot was only half-full.  Things were so bad, this time Bernard did greet me at the door.  Hmm.  Where's my hug?  When I got inside, it was a light crowd.  Attendance was way down and so was the energy.  There was barely any laughter.  I looked for Karen.  Nope, not here.  I looked for Irving and Lorraine.  Nope, not here.  There was so much tension in the room I had a feeling Irving was responsible.  Thinking about that ugly incident, I could barely concentrate.  Needless to say, the class went poorly.  I wanted to leave immediately, but a waitress came over to say Bernard wanted a word in his private booth.  I found him in the darkest, most remote corner of the room.  Obviously Bernard did not wish to be overheard. 

Bernard looked me in the eye.  "Rick, there are some serious rumors about you flying around the club.  I have to know something.  Are you gay?"

What!?  I was so flabbergasted I had trouble blurting out "NO!"   Instead I actually stuttered.  "Uh, uh, uh no, no, I'm n-not gay."

I don't think my stuttering helped me win my case.  In fact, it made matters worse.  Bernard definitely did not look convinced.  He just stared at me in the gloom, but said nothing.  The silence gave me time to think.  Obviously this rumor was related to Irving and the ugly restroom incident.  Incensed, I wanted to know the full story. 

"Okay, Bernard, let's talk this over.  What's the story here?  What brought this on?"

"You should know better than I do.  I never spoke to Irving.  All I know is what he told other people.  He said you turned down his wife because you admitted you are gay.  He was furious when spoke.  Irving claimed no one had ever turned his wife down before."

"Did Lorraine say anything to anyone?"

"No, just Irving.  Neither Irving nor Lorraine have been in here since last week.  But I am pretty sure she's angry.  Lorraine can be a real bitch when she feels like it.  Whatever the reason, last week after you left, Irving went from table to table telling everyone that you are gay.  The message spread like wildfire."

I could feel my blood boiling.  "What exactly did Irving say?"

"I don't know.  Like I said, he never spoke to me that night and I haven't seen him since.  I'm just repeating what I heard.  It was something like you turned Lorraine down and blurted out you only swing with men."

"That is absolute bullshit, Bernard.  I never said any such thing.  I turned Irving down because I did not know what I was getting into."

"Maybe so, but you should have come to me.  By leaving so fast, you opened the door for Irving to have a field day.  By the time word got to me, I knew we had a real problem.  I went over to find Irving to get the story first-hand, but he was gone.  Irving's friend said he was hopping mad.  'Who turns down a free fuck with my wife?  Do you wanna know why?  Because he's gay, because he's a butt-fucking fag!'"

The nerve!  I was livid.  Irving was a goddamn liar!  It was a good thing Irving had the sense to be absent tonight.  I do not fight as a rule.  My last fight was 13 years ago.  But right now I wanted to find Irving and strangle him to death. 

While I turned purple, Bernard continued.  "Look, Rick, we can't have fags in here.  That is one very serious no-no in this place.  Big Tab-boo.  Can't have some guy grabbing another guy's cock during a wife swap party and begging him to stick it in the wrong hole."  

I could see Bernard's standpoint.  This was a serious business issue.  Bernard explained that most of the male patrons of this club were supremely homophobic.  More often than not all four participants were in the same bed.  No doubt some men swung both ways, but he would be exiled from the Jet Set if he made a move on the other husband.  I once faced a problem like this.  Three years ago I had a gay friend named Mark with a gorgeous wife named Mariah who was bisexual.  The main reason I never pursued Mariah was my fear that Mark would ask to join the fun.  How was I supposed to let my guard down if there was a man present I did not trust?

Bernard was upset.  The way he looked at me, I could tell he was very suspicious.  I remembered our big hug that first night.  We had hugged two more times since.  Thanks to Irving, I assumed I wouldn't be getting any more hugs.  Just then a flash of doubt entered my mind.  Up until now, I had assumed Bernard hugged me because he was gay.  Now I was not so sure.  Hmm.  Maybe those big hugs were a deliberate test of some sort.  Was that Bernard's way of seeing how I would respond?  If so, kudos to Bernard.

Kevin, the DJ, had told me Bernard was a clever guy.  Kevin said that as long as he had been working here, every time the vice squad showed up, they found nothing of value... no bare breasts, no drugs, no underage drinking, no serious intoxication.  Not only that, whenever there was a raid, the female customers always seemed to have more of their clothes on than usual.  Kevin said this place was a zoo most of the time, but never when the vice squad dropped by.  Kevin whispered a rumor that one of the Jet Set waitresses was married to a cop.  Kevin believed Bernard was paying her husband to tip him off with inside information.  Kevin insisted Bernard knew his business inside and out.  As I mulled things over, Bernard's voice turned ominous. 

"I'm sorry, Rick, but I can't take any chances.  I gotta know which way your arrow points, so you need to reassure me.  I want you to fuck a woman for me.  Do it tonight, get it over with.  Pick one of my waitresses and fuck her brains out.  Don't get angry.  Just do it as a favor to me.  Look around and tell me which one you want.  Don't worry, they all know the score.  They'll put out if I tell them to." 

My mouth dropped open.  This was insane, this was way beyond my imagination.  I was so incredulous that I blurted out, "Are you serious, Bernard?  Do you really expect me to go through with this?"

Bernard quietly nodded.  "Actually, yes I do."

Flustered, I responded, "Do you have someone in mind?"

I immediately kicked myself.  That was definitely the wrong thing to say, but I thought Bernard was putting me on.  Wrong.  Bernard was completely serious.

"As a matter of fact, I do have someone in mind.  How about Melanie?  She's done some favors like this before and knows I will reward her.  I cleared it with her earlier.  Hey, man, she even said you're cute.  Go for it!"

Bernard pointed to a well-curved woman waiting on nearby customers.  I glanced up and did an involuntary double-take.  Oh my God, Bernard was talking about the woman Kevin called Melanie Melons.  Melanie was the waitress every man in the building lusted after.  Don't tell anyone, but that included me.  Although I had never spoken to Melanie, I had appreciated her from afar.  Although Melanie was a bit on the chubby side, her low-cut outfits on a full-figured body were incredibly provocative.  I blushed as my quick glance generated a certain involuntary response.  I immediately understood Bernard's logic.  By the standards of any red-blooded man, a night with Melanie was irresistable.  No question about it.  Any guy who would turn down Melanie would have to be gay.  Assuming Bernard was serious, I was really flipping out. 

"Do you mean right now?"

Bernard nodded.  "Yeah, sure, man, just go ask her.  Melanie won't be offended.  I've already cleared it with her.  Don't worry, she'll say yes.  Besides, she could use the money, so do her a favor.  This one's on me." 

Bernard pointed at a door, then added, "You can use my office for a quickie or a blowjob.  Or both.  All you have to do is ask."

I gasped.  Bernard had caught me so totally off guard that for a moment I had been tempted.  In fact, the thought of spending a night with Melanie sounded pretty damn good.  But it never dawned on me that Bernard meant right here in the building.  Bernard's suggestion was so far out of my realm of experience I did not know what to say.  Rendered speechless by his demand, I just stared at the guy incredulously.  Bernard played in a league with rules I could only guess at.  However, the thought of being told to perform a sex act in order to keep my job rubbed me the wrong way.  Feeling my defiance kick in, no one was going to bully me into having sex against my will.  For that matter, I refused to obligate Melanie or some other stranger to have sex with me just to keep her job.

Shaking my head no, I said, "Look, Bernard, I'm not gay.  And I don't have to prove it to you.  If you want me to quit, that's fine with me."

This situation violated my Code of Honor.   Under any other circumstances, Melanie could have me anytime she wanted.  However, this was wrong.  No woman should have to put up this.  Nor should I.  Chivalry aside, I preferred willing partners over sex slaves.  If I was going to have casual sex, I preferred to share my bed with a woman who wanted me, not some poor waitress forced to crawl in the sack to keep her job.  Just as I began stand up, Bernard put his hand on my shoulder.

"Hold on, young man, don't be in such a hurry.  How about we just let Melanie come over here and sit on your lap for a moment?  Melanie doesn't mind.  She's cool with it.  You can fondle her tits a little and I bet you'll change your mind.  Or to save time, let's see if you get an erection.  That would be proof enough for me."

Is this guy out of his fucking mind!?!  Bernard wants to see my erection to save my job?  Is he going to pat me down for a bulge or will he order me to take it out and see if it salutes?  I was really angry now.  I had two full-time jobs, so what did I need this crazy place for?  Now I really had my dander up.  I didn't like lies being spread and I didn't appreciate this weird sex preference test.  Bernard had crossed the line.  I wasn't going to let him order me to have sex against my will any more than I would let Irving do the same thing.  With my voice raised due to extreme anxiety, this time I didn't stutter.   

"Bernard, I am not gay!  You have nothing to worry about, you have my word on that.  But I'm not going to prove it to you.  Under different circumstances, I would be thrilled to be with Melanie.  Or even Lorraine for that matter.  But I am not going to sleep with your waitress and I won't let you tell me what to do."

This wasn't easy for me.  I was 28 years old, easily the youngest person in the entire club.  Bernard was 50.  I wasn't good at confronting authority figures, so it took considerable courage to stand up for myself.  Right now I was shaking like a leaf and Bernard could tell.  Bernard looked at me carefully.  Then he smiled and there was a twinkle in his eye.  I couldn't tell whether he was surprised or amused that I had defied him.  Whatever the reason, Bernard did not seem upset.  Instead he backed off. 

"Okay, Rick, calm down.  I like what you said, so consider the matter is dropped.  Will I see you next week??"

I was astonished.  Bernard had just pulled the rug out from under me.  I was positive Bernard was going to tell me to get lost for my defiance, but I had guessed wrong.  Embarrassed, shocked, confused, I sputtered a weak promise that I would be back.

Bernard nodded and smiled.  "No hard feelings?"

"No, we're cool," I lied.  Actually we weren't cool at all, but what else was I going to say?  With that, I got up and stomped out. 

On the way home, I gave considerable thought to our conversation.  I was amazed I had stood up to the boss and still kept my job.  I suppose if I hadn't been making so much money for him, this incident would have had a different ending.  I was proud of myself.  It took more manhood to stand up to Bernard than it would have been to accept his offer to score with the waitress.  I could not get Melanie off my mind.  The moment Bernard had offered her availability to me, I began watching her like a hawk.  And why was that?  Because I wanted to see her face.  Bernard hinted she was 'okay with it', so I wanted to confirm her involvement.  Melanie had gone about her business while we talked.  Not once had she glanced over at Bernard and me.  Since Melanie was obviously unconcerned, this might mean she had no idea what was going on.  That's when I got it.  What if this was all an elaborate test?

Son of a bitch, that was the answer!  Bernard had played me! 

I slapped myself on the forehead at my stupidity.  Duh!  I could not believe I had been so gullible.  Bernard had no intention of sending his waitress into his office with me.  He just wanted to rile me up and see how I would react.  Here I thought the man was completely serious, but I doubt Bernard said a single word to the waitress.  Now I understood.  Bernard had simply picked the nearest voluptuous woman in sight and used her in his entrapment scheme.  Bernard wanted me to believe he was serious and see if I took the bait.  And it worked!  Even though I had said no, Bernard had noticed my definite flicker of interest.  That was all he needed to know.

Damn it!  Bernard's stunt had been a bluff and I fell for it.  For that matter, now I understood those big hugs.  I was convinced Bernard's hugs were his way to see how I would respond to close contact with a male.  I had underestimated Bernard.  He was a lot more savvy than I realized.  I was beginning to see why he was so successful in this sex business.  The guy knew his stuff.  Having fallen for his ruse, I felt sheepish.  This incident had also revealed something about my own attitudes.  I took it for granted that sexploitation was something the women who worked at a place like the Jet Set took for granted.  I thought it was entirely possible that Melanie had been ordered to screw the teacher to keep her job.  That explains why I fell for Bernard's trick.  Chalk up a victory for age and cunning.

the following week

Melanie walked to door, then stopped to offer a sly, come hither glance that screamed for instant action.  Oh my god, did she mean it or was this all part of the game?  Unfortunately, I was still that shy boy.  By the time I got my wits back to respond, Melanie had vanished through the door.  Talk about witchcraft!  Under the influence of a truly voluptuous woman, I was instantly turned on.  Noting the sudden bulge in my pants, I was tempted to go show Bernard.  Or maybe not.

Melanie got me so good, I was certain Bernard had put her up to that.  However, not as another test, but rather as a wicked prank.  No doubt Bernard was somewhere in the darkness laughing his head off.  I was so unsettled, I had to unwind before heading home.  I headed directly for Kevin's DJ booth.  Kevin was the only person in the entire club who seemed somewhat normal.  Kevin was a long-haired hippie about five years older than me.  I knew I didn't belong here and Kevin wasn't sure he belonged here either.  However, Kevin seemed to have adapted better than me.  Whenever the Jet Set got too weird, I would check in with Kevin for a quick reality check.  His DJ booth acted as a sanctuary of sorts.  This is where I could hide long enough to recover from the latest bizarre experience.  Following Melanie's ultra-successful tease, I definitely needed to settle down. 

Behind a closed door, I asked Kevin what he knew about the gay incident.  Kevin laughed.  He had heard the story through the grapevine. 

"Goddamnit, Rick, you must be gay!  I've never heard of a guy turning down a free fuck before.  Not in this joint and especially not with a fox like Lorraine.  Your questionable behavior is unprecedented!" 

Watching me turn red, Kevin laughed his butt off. 

"Seriously, Rick, do you have eyes?  What's the matter with you?  Check out the body on Lorraine!  36-24-36." 

Kevin paused to diagram an hourglass replica of Lorraine's figure with his hands, then resumed. 

"You were out of your mind to turn Lorraine down!  You will never hear the end of this." 

Kevin could not stop laughing.  I was so upset the best I could do was roll my eyes.  After a good chuckle, he had more to say.

"The story of you turning Lorraine down is the funniest thing to happen in this place in a long time.  Unheard of.  These people live to screw and here you get offered a piece of prime pussy and you're too stupid to take advantage.  What's wrong with you, man?  Are you afraid of disease or something?" 

I noticed Kevin had been drinking.  That might help explain why he was having convulsions over my discomfort.  Once Kevin calmed down, I told him the truth.

"If it was just Lorraine, I probably would have said yes.  But Irving gave me the creeps."

Kevin nodded.  "Yeah, I can see that.  I wouldn't want him hanging around."

"I have a question.  Why is turning down a woman such a big deal?" 

"Oh my God, haven't you heard?  The people who come here have sex at the drop of a hat.  It's forbidden to have sex in here or we would have people humping in plain sight.  It's no big deal to hitch a ride on someone's wife, especially a bitch in heat like Lorraine.  Damn, I wish Irving had offered her to me.  I would have let her blow me right here in the DJ booth.  Too bad it'll never happen."

"Why not?  No one would see you."

"No way.  Bernard knows his business too well.  It's against house rules.  No sex on the premises.  I would chance it except no one in this place can keep their mouth shut.  Gotta keep my job, man, gotta keep my job."

"Irving went nuts when I turned him down.  What's the deal?  Doesn't anyone ever say no?"

Kevin looked at me quizzically.  His mood got a bit more serious. 

"Look, Rick, someone needs to explain a few things to you.  Not everyone in this place is the most stable person in the world.  A lot of people in here have really thin skins.  I don't think Irving had the slightest idea why you turned down his wife.  Irving doesn't live in a world of nuance.  I bet it never dawned on him that you were afraid because you were new to this place or because you didn't trust him.  In his mind, there were only two possible reasons why you didn't accept his offer.  One, you didn't want to sleep with his wife because she wasn't good enough for you.  However, since any other man in this bar would jump at the chance to sleep with his wife, the more likely possibility is that you must be gay.  Makes complete sense to me."

Kevin paused for a moment.  "By the way, don't you dare touch me."  

Kevin was only half-smiling.