Coitus Interruptus

Daily newspapers have wasted a lot of ink on a Hollywood swingers club. New Times went inside.

One couple occupied the summit of the arena couches and spent a goodly amount of time on mutual oral sex. While on the receiving end, the man frequently craned his neck, gazing around like a gopher. Behind them, another couple availed themselves of a contraption that's half child's swing and half gynecological table.

A sole couple (let's call them Jack and Diane) was atop the orgy bed, engaged in restrained coitus. Diane's face was obscured by a wild mane of brown hair. Jack had short hair, a cropped beard, and a sizable gut, though he appeared to be youngish, perhaps early 30s. He was behind her, sometimes bending over her, other times bolt upright on his knees scanning the amphitheater. Jack chewed gum slowly.

New Age-type music softly played, and the sound of moans from the other couples waxed and waned. Decidedly unsexy was the crackling of plastic that underlies the sheets of the orgy bed. Occasionally Jack slapped Diane's backside, and the whack echoed through the room.

Mark Poutenis

At one point, Jack and Diane took a break from the big bed and left the amphitheater for a few minutes. Upon their return they noticed the couple on the swing. "Hey, he's just the right height for that," proclaimed Jack, a tall man who probably had less success with the gadget.

Near closing time, the couples from upstairs congregated in the locker room. There was a certain camaraderie in the air, a kind of post-game endorphin high. Jack and Diane have been married a year, he said. "I just kind of brought up the subject of going to a swing club, and she didn't protest," he explained while seated on a wooden bench. They've been visiting the club for months and as yet haven't had sex with others, but he offered, "I like to watch other people having sex. I guess they watch us too."

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