Dear Dategirl,

In a recent column you wrote, “Who doesn’t like a warm bod and a big dick in her bed once in a while? . . . Wouldn’t it be nice to have some hot guy come over, service me, and then leave?” I thought, “Hmm, she’s not looking in the right place. It’s time to give this woman a few pointers.”

I would like to introduce you to the world of Swingers, and I don’t mean dancing. Here in the Seattle area we have the luxury of two alternative lifestyle clubs that welcome singles: New Horizons (www.horizonsclub.com) and the WetSpot (www.wetspot.org). They both endorse safe sex, have very strict no-drugs policies, and are very female-friendly groups. Single men are welcome, too, with a few caveats.

As with most lifestyle clubs, an orientation session is required to learn the specific rules for each group. My observation is that at lifestyle parties, women pretty much decide what does or doesn’t happen. “No” ALWAYS means no. If a woman isn’t happy about something she isn’t likely to come back, so the men are VERY accommodating. I encourage you to try it out.

Hope you never feel unsatisfied again.

Babe in Sexland

Dearest Readers,

I decided to take Babe’s advice and check these two places out—online, anyway. Don’t bother going to WetSpot unless you really want to join: They don’t have much of a Web site, just an e-mail contact. New Horizons presents a far more complete picture, though I must say their tree-and-mountain logo is more camping-supply store than den of sin.

The virtual tour wasn’t much more erotic. For one, none of the images had photos of any members. Surely they could’ve found one or two swingles exhibitionistic enough to pose for the camera; after all, we are talking about people who have sex in front of strangers on a regular basis! And who cares about the tile work around the hot tub if all of the peeps floating in it leave you cold?

The various rooms are similarly unappealing, in particular the “Leave It to Beaver Room,” complete with a “frog chair.” Much to my surprise, the frog chair was neither reptilian nor French in appearance; instead, it looked like something you women might recall from your most recent Pap smear—albeit covered in bluish furry fabric instead of crinkly white paper. “Ladies, it’s much more comfortable and fun than the one you may have used in your doctor’s office,” the caption reads. The Beaver room also boasts a couple of bunk beds. Color me conventional, but bunk beds and stirrups don’t get me hot. But to each his/her own.

The site contains tons more pertinent information, including this little gem: “To swim and play games in the nude is most enjoyable.” I was unaware that this was the case. Now I know.

While this was an illuminating little excursion into the world of the swinger, it was not exactly what I had in mind when I wrote that what the world needs now is some hot male hookers to come over and satisfy my torrid little urges. The glaring lack of clubgoer photos makes me very, very suspicious. I don’t know about you guys, but I find that nine times outta 10, the people first to off their duds are pretty much last in the line of folks you wanna see nekkid. I could be completely off-base here, but based on the decor (which is tastefully done in a late ’70s ski-lodge kind of way) and the language of the captions—including one room called the “Conversation Pit”—I get the impression that many of these swingers might be, uh, a wee bit past their prime. I keep getting the mental image of a Jerry Garcia type toiling over an aging earth mother, his saggy ass flapping in the breeze as she wheezes and grunts with pure unadulterated old-people pleasure underneath him. But like I said, I could be wrong.

More to the actual point of “Hot, horny, hung hookers wanted!” [2/22], I received this missive:

I read your recent column and would be able to help fill your market niche for you and your friends. You will definitely not be disappointed in my services. I am a professional and will fulfill your every need and desire.

Yours Truly

First off, Yours Truly, if you’re such a pro, where’s my photo! I’m a trusting soul, but I’m not purchasing any stud-muffin sight unseen. Secondly, I am very disheartened to have received only two letters from men volunteering to service me and my horny friends. Is that the best you can do, Seattle? No wonder people in this town are driven to group sex in fake wood-paneled rooms!

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