Now presenting: First Zionist swingers club
Pleasure parties in villas at the heart of exclusive neighborhoods? Passé. The newest start-up is the first ever Zionist swingers club, where you first dance to Eighties music, and then scatter away to intensive lust-filled action in dark rooms (which is a good thing, since the view isn't great). Yedioth Ahronoth reporters went undercover and presented themselves as a couple who is looking for something different, and penetrated the sleaziest place in Israel, where carrots are served as appetizers and your neighbors as entrees. Double or nothing
We introduced ourselves as Tzahi, a hi-tech project manager, and Karina, a lawyer. Marital status: friends with benefits. It’s not that we scorch the sheets every night, but lately we were thinking of mixing things up. Recently, we've read in that in order to dust-off the routine in our relationship, it is best to invite another couple to our bed, or perhaps just another partner. Male or female? That’s the thing, we are not really sure. That was our cover when last Thursday when we visited the first ever Zionist swingers club – “No Limit”.
The grayish industrial building on run-down Shvil Hameretz Street in south Tel Aviv gives no hint about what goes on inside its walls at night. In the name of discretion, there is no sign, the windows are sealed and even the interior lighting is dim. But once inside, the commandment “thou shall not covet thy neighbor’s wife” is not in force.
“You must be from Jerusalem,” says the owner, who presents himself as Roni and looks like singer Nissim Garame’s long lost brother. “First time here?” he part asks, part determines, and marks the form he holds with the letter “G”, i.e. green. It is 11 P.M., and we're the first ones to there. No wonder that he thought we were from Jerusalem.
“It’s not bad you showed up early,” Roni comforts us. “We will have time for introductions."
Initiation
His opening lecture, directed at new clients, is interrupted every couple of seconds by occasional screams from the first couple that arrived even before us, and by hysterical phone calls from a Dimona couple who left home three hours ago but somehow missed Tel Aviv and were now at the outskirts of Kfar Saba.
“First of all – relax,” Roni tries put them at ease. “First drive up to the Ayalon and in fifteen minutes you are here. No, Ayalon is not a river; it’s a highway (he rolls his eyes in despair). Don’t worry, the night is young. We haven’t begun yet.”
Roni spent all his encouraging energy on the southern couple, because he prefers to stress us with predictions of imminent impotency. “Look,” he turns to Tzahi. “You will probably have trouble getting an erection. Don’t stress, it happens to men who show up here for the first time. Every man thinks with two heads. He can want it very much, conceptually, but his second head does not always cooperate.”
Really? Why does that happen?
“The herd mentality,” he states, “is that we men always check out the size of the guy next us and how long he is in action. But each person is a separate entity, and you don’t have to compare yourself to anybody.”
Tell us, how should we behave if we meet couples we see here out in the street?
“We have a clear directive – you cannot greet each other outside. That’s out of the question! The rationale behind this is that we are all in the same boat. So let’s make sure the boat doesn’t sink.”
Entrance to the sleazy Noah’s Ark costs NIS 300, of which NIS 100 is a one-time club member’s fees. The price includes light beverages and phallic snacks, like miniature corn and carrots. The business is based on sexual entertainment, but so the decent bourgeoisie will not be put off, the place has a soft look – much like a dance bar.
The central hall includes a bar, a dance floor and sofas. Only a careful tour reveals the rooms dispersed around the corridor, each with a large bed, a vase full of condoms and that’s it, frankly. Every room is also fitted with a round submarine-like window, through which one can look at the action inside.
Since the bar was still empty, we peeped into the rooms. They were all empty, but for one – where a large woman was bent over a man who was lying on his back like a zombie, and looked like he might need some medical treatment at the end of the night.
Of the two of us, one should note, it was the male who nearly fainted. The female actually displayed some self-control, and dragged him away before his second head suffered irreversible damage.
The barwoman immediately recognized we were fresh meat. “You are both really cute,” she tried to encourage us and refilled our drinks on the house. “The amazing thing in this place is that if I were to see you walking down the street, I would never believe you are the type of people to come here.”
And who are the people who come here?
“All kinds of people show up – there are couples from 25 to 40 years old. Don’t worry, you will find here people with class. Here, look – here comes in someone really cute with a woman who is pretty nasty.”
We glance around. He is really cute. She is really nasty. Ok, what do we do now? Do we stare? Or perhaps it is best not to do anything. Playing it hard-to-get works every time. This theory turns out to be true, when Tzahi abandons his chair to deposit his top shirt in the locker each couple gets at the entrance. One should note that taking off your clothes is not a voluntary measure to get into the groove. It’s just that the air-conditioning at the club is on maximum heat, and the breathing difficulties suggest a pleasant day in New-Delhi.
Next to the locker, from a dark room, a hand suddenly rests on his arm. He strains his pupils, and discovers it is the guy who was recommended by the bartender. “We think you are really cute,” he throws an original one-liner. “Would you like to join us?”
On the sofa, near the bar, we discover that he is a 30-year-old bachelor from Tel Aviv, and she is a 28-year-old divorcee from Holon. It’s his third time at the joint, and she is here for the first time.
Turns out that a woman is the entry ticket to the place. Unattached men are not allowed in. To convince the girl to be dragged over here, our friend convinced her there should be mental separation between love and sex. The sucker bought it.
Getting underway
About fifty couples have showed up. Some of them began showing off dance moves to the best hits of the 1980s – not something that would get approval even by open-minded dancer Ido Talmor. They really do look like representatives of the building council. These are people you are more likely to imagine working on the gardening bill, not engaged in oral sex.
While his shy partner remained on a coach at the main hall, our new friend was feverishly touring the humming rooms, his eyes kept looking for the right goods. Because of his young age, he had high aspirations but found it difficult to locate the girl of his dreams. When he did hone on a good-looking woman, dancing in a G-string and drawing the hungry looks of many men, his heart rejoiced.
But his enthusiasm quickly cooled when she made it clear she sleeps with a guy only once. Once she's been with you, you are marked-off for life. “(And) she remembers everyone, so there no way you can fool her,” he explained while enticing Tzahi to try his luck.
Our evasiveness portrayed us as extremely picky and made a good impression with one couple who refused to let us go. In order not to insult them, we explained that we decided not to participate on our first visit to the club. “I, too, was afraid like you during the first time,” the guy whispered to Tzahi. “Luckily, there was a couple who dragged me by the hand and put me with them in the room. If they were not so determined, I wouldn’t have gone ahead with it. I think I will have no choice but to drag you by the hand.”
When we refused, he gave us his home number. Just in case.
Greedy hands
We continued roaming around, when a religious hunchback man in his fifties approached us, and presented himself as the head of a select group, that likes to shut itself in one of the rooms. “You look top quality, like us,” he flattered himself. “I am willing to consider including in our group.” As someone who keeps the mitzvot, he explained, he refrains from orgies on the Sabbath. We said we hope the Almighty appreciates the sacrifice.
We broke loose from his grip, only to discover that after a few drinks, the atmosphere heats up and the “horny-meter” rises. Some of the women take of their top layers and remain in provocative attire: one in a bra, one in garters. What seemed like mingling at first actually turns out to be target marking for later.
At 1:30 the signal is given, and the minimal clothing is replaced by towels, which is, one should note – a real shame. Any remains of sex appeal that the crowd still had while still dressed disappear, replaced by flowing beer-bellies and rugs of curly hair on people’s backs.
Luckily, darkness does wonders to the damages of old age. The guests disperse among the rooms, and begin engaging in sexual activity in ensembles that range from two partners to a group. When a woman is willing to sleep with someone, she must know that she will have to scare off different parasites during the act - the group of men gathered around the couple like hyenas smelling the running blood of a zebra caught in the lion’s jaws. While the man of her choice lies on top of her, the leeches around send greedy hands towards the woman’s exposed body parts. What begins as hesitant stroking that is not put to a halt immediately – is interpreted as an invitation to join in. It could have looked like a porno movie, with one difference – the participants were not blessed by the chiseled look of porno actors.
We walk towards the exit, but run into Roni. “You are leaving already?” he asks, disappointed. “You didn’t even take off your clothes. Too bad. There is a top-quality couple I would like you to meet. The guy keeps the mitzvot.”
'There is a top-quality couple I would like you to meet'
Photo: Visual/Photos
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