“It’s Latin,” I replied, “It’s a proverbial saying. Rough translation is ‘there are lots more fish in the sea’. So, we’ll keep fishing!! There might even turn out to be a fish in our swimming pool.”
~~~~~
For our first visit to Kupid’s Korner Lily followed Dr. Tran’s suggestion and dressed in a very sexy short black dress, tight-fitting with a plunging neckline that would reveal her bra when she leaned forward — except that she was wearing no bra. Nor panties. If she bent over too far one could snatch a glimpse of her bare shaved pussy. She was dressed to impress. Or to undress. In the deluxe room we had rented in the hotel next door. A pair of black stiletto heels completed her outfit, along with a small clutch purse just big enough for her mobile. We booked into our hotel room and left Lily’s small overnight bag, with necessities for the morning (including toiletries, panties, and a mini-pad) in the room.
As it was our first visit to Kupid’s Korner we had to be photographed, complete our registration and be issued with our identity cards. These, the registration desk explained, contained an identity number that was only visible to their scanning machine. When the card was scanned the member’s photograph appeared on a screen; if there were to be any doubt about the pic, a retinal scan was also taken and could be compared to the cardholder’s. Careful.
“This is all for your protection,” explained the registration clerk. “You check in and check out, and when you check out we’ll have a record of who you checked out with. Everyone here knows that everybody else is here for sex — that’s the whole purpose of the club. Sex. Most people here use pseudonyms, and that’s ok — your identities are confidential with us. With this registration, Lily, if you were to have a bad experience we’d be able to trace the man or woman who caused it, and we would deal with it. You can depend on that.”
Lily and I each had a room keycard. We had decided to enter the club’s main room separately and to sit at the bar at a distance. When I entered the club I could see Lily already seated at the bar, and a dark-haired, good-looking athletic male was offering to buy her a drink. I sat down about ten feet away and ordered a scotch on the rocks, while they drank and chatted. Our game-plan was that when Lily was actively interested in a man she’d take out her phone on the pretence that it was vibrating with an incoming call, which would be my signal to join them. I had emphasised to Lily that I was not there to approve or disapprove of potential lovers, but just to watch her meeting others, having sex with whomever she pleased, however she pleased, whenever she pleased. To enjoy herself doing what I could no longer do with her, for her.