Have you ever been to a party where you did not get an invite? How about a party where the only appetizer being offered was a box of wheat thins? Better yet, a party where everyone was only wearing tiny lion boy shorts and little tiger sweat headbands? Have you guessed what kind of party this is? Um, yeah, it’s a swingers party, a really bad one.
Living in New York, you tend to meet people from all walks of life, rather all walks of differing sexual preferences. I used to hang out with hetrosexual, bisexual, gay, lesbian and yes even swinger crowds. I tried to mix it up. It was more fun that way….
I found myself very drawn to the deviant dark side of the swinger world though, I don’t know why? What the hell are swingers anyway? Do you know? Bi, gay, straight with a dash of bi? Let me tell you a little story about me and a swinger party, then you can decide what way a swinger swings. Tee-hee!
It was a Tuesday night and I had just returned from working out at Crunch. For those of you who are unfamiliar with Crunch, it used to be the cool gym where you could get picked up on pretty quick if you were wearing the hot lulu lemon pants and the cool new tennis shoes, that have never been worn. Get it…lots of girls didn’t really work out there, just climbed the social ladder on the boymaster (stairmaster, for those who don’t get my sarcasm, but as you get to know me through my posts, you will understand and hopefully like it).
Anyway, I think Crunch’s popularity has died down, but 10 years ago, it WAS also the place to jump into the sauna to shed pounds after devouring a salty plate of fries at Pastis.
I had a great workout and was feeling pretty good about myself. I treated myself to a bite of sushi after and ran into a friend as I was walking home. He was a party friend, so I didn’t really know him that well. I would always run into him from time to time at the various lame loft parties that I would frequent with my friends. You know the ones that you would pretend you knew the person that lived there? You would show up and the guy at the door would say, “Who do you know? Or who are you with? What is the password?”
My friends and I were the loft crashers. We always found out where all the parties were that the investment bankers were having on the weekends and we would go all decked out in our H & M flare accented with an expensive bag to cover up how broke we were. Ah, those were the good ol’days.
My party friend asked me what I was doing later and I told him that I was probably going to bed because I had to work early. He said he knew of a fun party that was in the West Village and invited me to go. I thought that would be OK as I lived in the West Village and my party friend was really hot. Wow, I think he was a model or wanna be. What the hell! I can spare a couple of hours.
I went home and dressed up in a hot Diane von Furstenberg dress and trucked over to the party. It was 10:30pm, so I figured it was still early and I could not get into too much trouble. What bullshit!
“Ding Dong” the door opened. I girl in a cat woman outfit opened the door.
I said, “Is John here? I’m Sara, I am supposed to meet him here.”
“Oh,” Cat Woman hissed, “We have been waiting for you.”
I didn’t really like the sound of that. Why would everyone be waiting for me? Is this what Paris Hilton felt like at every party she went to? For a fleeting moment, my party radar went off in red flashing letters above Catwoman’s ears “DON’T GO IN. ABORT MISSION. WALK AWAY!”
So, what do I do? I walk in and smile looking up the stairs for what was to come like a good little kitty.
Catwoman told me to keep walking up to the 4rth floor. She kept eyeing me like I was a little mouse she wanted to eat. Her mouth would twitch from side to side and I don’t believe she blinked once from greeting me at the door to opening the door to the party. She seemed pretty wired. Great, Cat Woman was already snorting catnip!
Come on Sara, I said to myself. This will be fun. So what about the cat suit? This is harmless.
As the door opened, I was greeted by a group of 20 people or so. I found it odd that the ratio of men to woman was 10 men and 9 woman. I realized that I was woman # 10!
I was asked what I wanted to drink and forgot quickly about how the party was configured and stared to socialize.
I greeted the bankers in boxers and the cute little socialites in their mousey lingerie.
Hmm…so I thought this was one of those new jammy parties that I kept hearing about. Perfect, I thought what fun.
Catwoman asked me to go into the other room and pick out a cat outfit to join in the fun for the “costume party.” I told her OK and asked where to go.
Catwoman pointed to the bedroom with her fake cat claws, indicating where the whoredrobe change would take place.
I walked in and put on the tightest outfit I could find….Well, what do you expect. I had to look my hottest! I mean I do work out at Crunch!
So little miss cat meow, me came out and everyone was not socializing!!!! I thought OK, maybe they will be playing spin the cat nip or something theme like.
But no, there were 10 sleeping bags, like the ones my dad bought at Costco when we went camping laid out on the floor.
Tiny lion shorts were on top of the kittens on each blanket. Ahh… but there was one sleeping bag still waiting for its prey….
SHIT!!! So I panicked! Kitty panic! I saw a box of wheat thins on the table and started to walk around asking everyone who was already fucking, if they would like some wheat thins. I actually interrupted them and said like a robot, ” Hi, I have some wheat thins and would you like some?”
They all responded, “Can’t you tell that I am having sex and this is a swinger party, not a bridal shower! Stop passing around food!”
Cat woman looked at me, took away my wheat thins and escorted me to the door with a look of sheer disappointment.
I said, “I tried. Can I keep the cat suit at least!”
She slammed the door.
I have not been invited back since, but laugh everytime I see a box of wheat thins!
Ms. Swinger Kitty, 2001
© Miss NYanonymous, 2011 | Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Miss NYanonymous with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.