I Went To A Brothel With My Boyfriend. It Was Nothing Like What I Expected.

Things flowed effortlessly between Carmen and me, from our intro chatter to getting into the horizontal action, and within minutes Rod enthusiastically joined in, the three of us rotating around in a surprisingly fluid give-and-take. While he nominally took charge ― after all, a threesome needs a little direction ― it was overwhelmingly female-centered sex. I smiled to myself. Threesomes are such trite male-fantasy territory, but Carmen and I were a girl party of teamwork, exploration and celebration. I even joked at one point that we hoped Rod didn’t feel excluded. (He decidedly did not.) The whole experience was fun and sexy ― all I had hoped it would be ― with none of the awkwardness I had feared.

Carmen was unfailingly charming and enthusiastic, but I never once mistook her warmth for actual sexual excitement. There was no pretense on anyone’s part that this encounter was expected to include satisfaction for her. 

I asked her about this later, as we all lounged naked on the bed, sipping Champagne and chatting. She batted the question down with a polished little sidestep ― she explained that she has enough fun just making her clients happy, and it’s too much work to have orgasms all day long anyway. We asked her where she grew up (Venezuela) and how she got into this line of work. (She was initially a stripper but found brothel work safer, with less harassment and more money.) When I wondered aloud whether the post-coital chat was the best or worst part of the job, Carmen assured me she looks forward to connecting with customers and that the old saw is actually true: She often has clients who pay just to talk. 

Way too soon, an intercom buzzer rang and a female voice let us know our time was up. I had wondered about security ― surely there was a network of bouncers and cameras and intercoms and emergency buttons to protect the women, but everything was so discreet, we didn’t notice any of it. We jumped up and bustled around, helping Carmen strip the bed and straighten up (even though she insisted we didn’t have to) and then the three of us spilt out into the hallway.

We returned to the bar where we began our adventure for some final chatter and a drink. We were sitting cozily together at a table and laughing at our own newly made inside jokes, when a young woman who looked fresh off a farm joined us. She clearly had a friendly relationship with Carmen and was eager to know, “What exactly do you do in a threesome?” As we happily shared our insights, she turned to me and said with a wink, “This is what happens to a girl when you raise her in a really strict, controlling religion!” I raised my glass and said, “That makes two of us, girlfriend! Amen!”

A drink suddenly arrived at our table for Carmen. It was sent from a gentleman at the bar, and she smiled and raised a toast to him. She got up immediately and, after squeezing my leg in a little goodbye, strutted over to him. I watched as they chatted for a few moments and then she linked her arm in his and led him over to the big lodge door. The last thing I heard as it swung shut behind them was that warm, bubbly giggle, and I found myself sad to see her go. I guess I was jealous after all.

Melissa Duge Spiers is an award-winning screenwriter and memoirist, whose memoir-in-progress, “The Glory Whole,” won the Book Pipeline 2021 Unpublished Manuscript Non-Fiction award. She is represented by Dani Segelbaum/The Carol Mann Agency. For more from her, visit her Instagram at @mdugespiers.

This article originally appeared on HuffPost in February 2022.