I think it over for a moment before replying, “It sounds like you need to make peace with that lifestyle just as much as you need to make peace with my brother. You’re conflicted, and something’s bugging you. But have you considered that it could be the nature of the photos themselves? That it’s not even Patrick so much, but what he was doing in those images?”
She starts, looking at me with big eyes.
“You think?”
I nod thoughtfully.
“It could be. I think you may be confusing two things: the shock of Patrick cheating, and the shock of learning about that type of lifestyle. The cheating is one thing, and it sucks, I’ll give you that. But if I had to guess, you’re already over it. What you’re not over could be the fact that people engage in such depraved play.”
Two spots of color appear on her cheeks, and I know I’ve hit it on the head. Then I lean forward and speak in a low voice. “Maybe it would help for you to visit the club yourself. Have you thought about that, Libs? Just to see what it’s like?”
“To the sex club?” Libby blurts out, looking around with flaming cheeks. “No, I can’t! Frisco, that’s insane. Why would I-”
“Honey, I’m not asking you to participate,” I assure her, holding up a hand. “But I think it could be good for you to explore a little, just to get a sense of where my brother was coming from. You’ll see that the people who go to these places aren’t freaks. They’re perfectly normal in fact.”
“You think I should try to see things from his perspective?” Libby asks, sounding incredulous. “But it’s wrong! And crazy!”
I shrug.
“It was wrong of him to cheat on you,” I say, “there’s no arguing with that. But sex is a complicated thing, and all humans are complicated people. It sounds like your religion is conflicting with your perception of a particular lifestyle. What you need isn’t to keep judging it from a distance, but to see it up close and make your own, unbiased conclusions. The people who go to clubs are humans, just like everyone else, no matter what kind of kinky stuff they’re into.”
Libby gasps, already balking. “No, Frisco, that’s… I can’t. No way.” She shakes her head adamantly. “I mean, you didn’t see what they were doing in those photos! People were hanging from hooks, and getting slapped around hard. They were strapped to all sorts of contraptions. There was this one that looked like a giant X-”
I nod. “A Saint Andrew’s cross,” I say. “I know the one.”
She stares at me, eyes wide. “You do?”
I shrug my broad shoulders. “I try to keep an open mind. I think it could benefit you to see what the club’s about. Again, you don’t have to participate.”
Libby chews her lip, looking visibly confused. “I can’t, Frisco,” she murmurs. “I can’t just show up at a place like that. I would be too intimidated. Besides,” she adds, “I don’t even know the name of the place.”
“You’re in luck,” I reply with a game smile, “because I do.”
Her eyes look as big as dinner plates. “You do?”
I nod. “It’s a place called Club Om. I haven’t been there in months - years, actually. I took a step back from that life back when I stopped drinking. But I used to go, and Club Om is the best of the best when it comes to this type of place, so I suspect it’s the one Patrick was frequenting too,” I reveal in an even tone. “Are you surprised?”
She takes a sip of water before putting the glass down slowly.
“A little,” Libby admits. I nod with understanding.
“I’m actually pretty good friends with the owner, Bo,” I explain. “He’s a great guy, he just has some unusual interests, as do most of the people there. That’s the thing I think you need to realize, Libby: there’s nothing wrong with having diverse sexual interests. Maybe if you see first hand yourself, you’ll be able to let go of the trauma that happened more easily.”
I can see the gears in her head turning as she mulls it over, conflict written on her beautiful features. After several long moments, she finally replies, “I guess if you were coming with me…”
“Of course I will,” I say with a smile, even as my heart races. “I wouldn’t let you dive into that culture by yourself. Think of it as an experiment. Nothing more, nothing less.”
That seems to do the trick, and I watch Libby’s shoulders relax as she finally nods. “All right,” she says, taking a steadying breath. “I can’t make any promises, but… okay. Let’s do it. Let’s go to this club and see what it has in store for us.”
Libby doesn’t realize it, but a flame flares in my eyes when she says those words because there’s nothing more that I’d like to do more than to sample my curvy girl while she’s screaming with pleasure.