Our First Trip to a Swing Club – Dinner and Drinks

This is Part 3 of Andy & Michelle’s first trip to a swing club, please head on over to read Part 1 and Part 2 if you haven’t already.

Dinner and Drinks – Michelle’s Point of View

After the tour was over we were ushered to the cashier station to decide if we going to pay the fee and stay for the party, or leave the premises. Had it just been the two of us, I would most likely have opted for the latter. Since however, we were meeting 4 other people, we paid our hefty sum of around $160 and went in to the dining area to meet our friends.

There were still a few minutes before the buffet-style dinner was served so we sat down to chit-chat and have a glass of wine. Dinner commenced shortly thereafter and for our $80 each we were treated to a meal of salad, roast beef sandwiches, and tater tots. Somewhat less than swanky. During dinner we were entertained by a surprisingly good band, and the dance floor was soon full of scantily-clad women in various states of undress gyrating with their stereotypically white male partners. It was entertaining, but I couldn’t help feeling like I was sitting at a frat party. I was waiting for the appearance of a beer bong and for someone to shout “TOGA!” The only person who held my interest at all, other than Andy, was the lead singer of the band. None of the other men or women I saw got my juices flowing.

The six of us sat at our table and continued to talk, laugh and drink wine. During dinner Jane kept repeating over and over how she looked at Andy as a brother and how it was best that they never got involved romantically. All I could think of was Shakespeare, “Me thinks thou doth protest too much.” Andy wasn’t catching on, but I’m pretty sure that Jane’s boyfriend was, and I couldn’t tell how that was making him feel. Personally, I was entertained. Eventually Jane and her boyfriend went up to the play space as well as the other couple we’d dined with. Andy and I remained to watch more dancing and decide whether we were going back to the hotel or heading upstairs.

Dinner and Drinks – Andy’s Point of View

We re-entered the main hall, where all the tables were now set for dinner, and the band was getting ready. We made our way over to the table. The tables seat six – three couples – and our table was us, our sponsoring friends, and their friends, who we’d met briefly the evening before. We chatted for a few minutes, and each couple related stories about going through their orientation… a little group bonding over a shared interesting experience. At that point, I was still slightly uneasy at what was going to happen after dinner. Was M going to feel completely uncomfortable, and we’d just sit at the dinner table for the evening? I decided that I, for one, was ready for a glass of wine. This had been a busy day, and I was here to relax and have fun, so I was going to have a glass of wine, and try not to overthink it. Que Sera, Sera. Whatever will be, will be. So we broke out the bottle of Pinot Noir that we’d brought, and M and each had a glass before dinner.

Dinner was unremarkable. French Dip sandwiches, veggies, tater tots, salad. It was good enough, but seemed, frankly, a little “cheap” in comparison with the rest of the surroundings. Perhaps those who run the show realize that attending regularly is already a bit pricey, and if they added fine dining to the mix, the price to attend for the evening would simply become unaffordable for too many of their members. I can forgive them roast beef sandwiches… but tater tots? I didn’t much care for the high school cafeteria the first time around, people. I sure don’t want to go there on a sexy night out. Oh well. A minor annoyance more than anything.

Wine flowed freely over dinner. By the time our plates were empty so was that first bottle of Pinot.

The band struck up while we enjoyed dessert, and my jaw dropped a bit… the band was really good. I didn’t catch their name, but they played jazz, blues, and swing… all with just a bit of a rockabilly edge.

We watched as couples began streaming onto the dance floor. I felt particularly bad at that point. I’m a horrible dancer, and so self-conscious about it that no amount of wine was going to get me out there… so M was stuck sitting with me as the couples all around us moved out onto the floor. (Note to self: take some dance lessons and get the fuck over it, dude.)
Within a few songs, and after a dance or two, our friends were necking and feeling frisky… and not long after that, they announced that they were heading upstairs to climb into the hot tub. I was still a bit nervously trying to get my bearings on the evening. We stayed behind, sipping wine, enjoying the band, and people-watching.

The friends-of-our-friends couple made their way back down after a bit, wrapped in big towels, checking in on us. I think this is where I started feeling the atmosphere, and got into the groove. I can’t speak for all straight guys, but for me, there is something about a woman wrapped in a big, soft towel that just makes me want to… well… unwrap that towel. I licked my lips, and tried not to stare, or think about how we could be naked in the hot tub with them. They stayed for a moment or two, cooling off, then they headed back up, and we went on with our people-watching and wine drinking. And oh, the people watching! It was delightful.

A leggy blond, with makeup and hair straight out of a perfume commercial, wearing high heels and a fur coat, came walking by our table with a gentleman in tow. The length of her coat swayed with her stride, the front hanging slightly open. As they passed, I caught a glimpse of her naked body inside the coat, her small breasts, nipples hard, bouncing just a bit with each step. They headed outside into the cool night air, their destination somewhere out on the grounds. An image of those long legs, heels still on, danced on my mind. They were wrapped around a muscular torso, which was driving back and forth forcefully within their embrace. I smiled, and I described what I’d seen to M, then pulled her close, wanting to feel her body against mine.

As I moved in close to her, the softness and warmth of her adding to my arousal, I saw two beautiful raven-haired girls – one in a black bra, back-seamed stockings and garter belt, the other in a leather bustier – both pressed in tightly against a man a few feet to our left. The three of them were standing in a corner where a column and railing came together, the man “trapped” in that corner by the girls. He was a handsome man in his early 30’s, with neat brown hair and glasses. The girls were teasing and touching him easily, whispering in his ear, kissing his neck, and enjoying his reactions.

I began to acclimate, and to feel the energy of the surroundings, and I had a sense that M did too. It was heady, indulgent, decadent. The normal rules of shame and embarrassment didn’t apply here.

M and I began kissing… and making out. Before long her hand found its way between my legs, and she began to massage my cock through my pants. I sank my teeth into the tender flesh at the base of her neck and trailed my lips down to her chest, as my hand slipped between her legs and up her skirt. A graze from my fingertip found the soft lips of her sex wet.

The wine was coursing through my brain, turning off whatever remaining inhibitions I had, one by one. The sights and sounds around us seemed to feed directly into my growing hunger. Fuck! Our tongues danced together, she squeezed and tugged at me through my pants. I continue to touch and tease her under her skirt, and we kissed deeply, for a long while. I swallowed hard, and told myself that I was just going to sit there and let her decide just what was going to happen. This was her game, and the rules were set. If we were going to go upstairs and see anything else, or do anything else, that was up to her. I desperately wanted to go upstairs… to see more… to hear more… to shed our clothes and do what I was aching to do with her. And it was obvious by the wetness of her pussy that I wasn’t the only one who was awash in lust – even if she wasn’t sure, her body was. Whether we went upstairs, or went back to the hotel room, started to make less of a difference to me – as long as we got to fuck like drunken sailors on shore leave, I knew I’d end up happy.

To Be Continued…