OneLegUp – an intimate evening with Charlotte (part 1)

It had been years since I’d been to a sex club or sex party. I’m not sure the last one I went to, but I’m pretty sure it was with Isabel.

Some weeks ago, Charlotte and I had planned to go to a previous party of Palagia’s, the comely hostess of OneLegUp. Because of a variety of things – COVID and some other things – we ended up not going. Disappointed.

On this particular weekend, there were three sumptuous parties available – Chemistry had two, and OneLegUp had one. Both parties have an application process. Chemistry – I wrote about it years ago – is a younger, more sumptuous affair. It was the one we hoped to go to. But we failed to navigate the application process successfully before the parties sold out. OneLegUp, we had previously been approved, so the barriers to attending were lower.

The theme of the party was “Artists and Writers.” We did ourselves up. Charlotte, looking delicious in a black teddy (through which her nipples clearly could be seen), a black jacket, a black skirt with a high slit, black tights, a black beret, and a leather collar. And I wore a shimmering red shirt with a deep lavender/red tie, and a pinstriped vest and slacks. I slid a notebook (in which I actually write) into my left vest pocket, and a pen into my right.

Before meeting Charlotte, I had a drink with an old friend who recently moved away from my neighborhood to a less white one. He’s not white. And he had felt increasingly uncomfortable in my predominantly white area. We met in the whitest neighborhood in the world, it felt. We sat at the bar, and he drank his customary tequila (“the best anejo you have, please”), neat. I had a Johnnie Walker Black. We caught up. An American for two years now, my friend had just gone home to visit his family. We talked about his children. About our lives. He didn’t ask a single question about why I was so done up. (My friend is capable of self-absorption.)

We hugged each other good-bye, and I walked five minutes to the tapas bar where Charlotte and I had planned to meet. It was closed. But next door, there was another tapas bar (owned, it seems, by the same folks). I stationed myself at a little table near the rear, and, moments later, Charlotte sauntered in. Her lips were a deeper red than usual, her face a paler white. I hadn’t expected to see her nipples this early in the evening, but I was pleased to do so. Charlotte looked, I told her, “good enough to eat.” And I added, “And I will.”

Charlotte’s nerves were in full flower. About to go to her first sex party, and without much of a sense of what awaited her, her heart was racing, her stomach a little jumpy. I wanted not to repeat earlier mistakes, wanted to be sure neither of us had too much to drink, or to eat.

I ordered us each a margarita, and the charcuterie plate. “That’s not going to be enough, Charlotte said.” She was half right. It was enough for me. It wasn’t enough for her. So I ordered some garlic shrimp. Charlotte had a second drink (a spicy margarita), and we discussed our relationship to spice, generally. (I don’t seek it out, but I don’t mind it at all, and have a high tolerance. She likes spicy.)

I called the phone number we’d been told to call after 7 for the details on where to go. Palagia’s voice promised an “intimate” gathering. I had the sense this would be a small party. I told Charlotte so. And it sounded as if we were not headed to a loft, but to an apartment.

We finished our meal, and walked about ten blocks north – stopping to buy a bottle of scotch to bring with us. (The proprietor handed my bottle to the cashier and said, “This is for the gentleman.” I looked around the store. “There’s a gentleman in here?!?”) I paid. We left.

We sat ourselves at a Cuban diner/bar two minutes from the party, and had another drink. I had a delicious Gran Paloma (Cazadores Blanco, passion fruit, grapefruit soda, lime juice, tajin rim). Charlotte had a smoky Negroni (Bruxo Mezcal, Campari, sweet vermouth, orange bitters, orange peel). We soothed Charlotte’s nerves, talking about what might await us, about our plans.

And. At a minute or two after the appointed time, we headed to the party…. Read on….

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