The CMNF Club (my CHYOA experiment)

They started their trip to the CMNF Club from Workton: much of it two-lane.

Despite the name, the people in Workton didn’t seem to be much more busy, nor as unhappy, as many in the other nearby towns. The eleven meet at a donut shop. They chatted and then got into their vehicles: two cars and two motorcycles. A few other women left a few hours earlier.

A good summer day was starting. Even in Workton, the air smelled nice and alive.

For almost all of the trip, one car generally followed the other by 300 meters or less.

In the first car, JJR was the man, but Mia drove. Sophia and Addy were in the back: a bit nervous even though they have been to the Club a few times. First visits to the Club tended to make a lot of women (and even a few men) nervous.

Because Sophia and Addy had already been to the Club, they had gotten past some of the initial apprehension, but things were going to be ratcheted up for them: though they’d also be getting a bit more money and the intensity would likely level off the next time or so they went.

JJR said to the two: “Don’t worry, ladies, you know the safe words and gestures, you’ve been to the Club, many of them know what you look like, you can quit anytime, and most of what we’ll be doing there we’ve done already at our [his and Mia’s] place.”

Added Mia, “500 bucks is bucks; 1500 for the three of us.”

“Bristol and Lucy are only getting 200 each, and their positions are even shakier.” He was referring to Teddy, Lucy, Bristol, Fatma, and Hillary, who were in the other car.

“Those three are even more newbies: first time going to the Club.”

“Less money because all they have to do is be there.”

“Marlene and Nisha are only getting 100 each.”

“Kinda understandable, given their uppity-ness.”

“I’m getting $50.” said JJR. He intended it as a sort of parody of a whine, but it came out more serious sounding than he wanted.

“Oh poor frikin’ baby.” said Mia, as JJR smiled.

“The guy’s a pervert!” came from the backseat.

“Who, JJR or Roark.”

“Both!” came the expected reply.

“and you’re catering to it,” said JJR to no one in particular.

“500 bucks is 500 bucks,” came from the backseat.

JJR was happy the two were getting some confidence even if it was a little at his expense.

“and JJR gets to play master.” said Mia.

In the second car was the other five.

Bristol and Lucy were the youngest of the eleven, probably not even 21 years old [Note: they were of legal age].

Fatma and Bristol sat in the back seat on either side of Teddy: Teddy and Bristol both stilted like statues; Fatma looking relaxed, mildly disinterested, often looking out the window. Her hair was short: like a boy during the first half of 20th Century or butchy lesbian. She wore a Lady Gaga T-shirt and jeans, her nails were short but painted a nice turquoise, and she chewed on a dentifrice stick that from another car could easily look like she was smoking a cigarillo.

Lucy drove. Hillary sat in the front passenger seat. She was the oldest by far: “I’m a sexy-genarian” she occasionally joked. She was also somewhat relaxed and the most comfortable. She had blond hair which poured over her shoulders a bit—longer than it’s been for a couple decades; and her accent was a mix of Southern and mid-Atlantic. She occasionally told Lucy to relax in her driving: that she was doing fine.

About 15 minutes from the CMNF Club, Hillary opened a small case and pulled out a flask of Jack Daniels, and poured a shot into a small flute: the first of two. While she could put back hard liquor with the rest of the guys—often surprising some men, she sipped most of the first shot, and then all of the second, of the distilled liquor smoothly.

“The Club generally frowns on anything harder than 25 proof or a bottle of wine per person per table per three hours.”

Lucy eyed her worriedly.

“Don’t worry hon, I had some legal training. If the police stop us, I’ll tell them you had no knowledge.”

Hillary wasn’t a lush, but she felt a cushioning was appropriate.

“Wanna shot?”

“No thanks.”

“Good for you, girl. We need more women to be sober.”

She then put the case away.

“You look like one of my husband’s girlfriends he had years ago. I used to get jealous of him, but actually, it relieves me of a lot of pressure. That man is so oversexed: I’m surprised he hasn’t gone to the Club, much less join it.”

[pause]

“Oh why do I have to go?” she asked no one in particular, but with barely a hint of complaint.

“Maybe Roark pays you because you’re so gorgeous.” nervously offered Teddy.

Hillary smiled, humoured, “Oh, you’re such a sweetie. Some girl’s going to fall in love with you!”

After travelling well into the country, Mia turned into a private roadway. Mia drove eighty or so meters, past the first security station: a little more than a wave to and from the staff; then a couple more hundred meters, registered with another security station. They were a little bit more meticulous, but still friendly; and then she drove into the parking lot.

The building complex in the distance looked modern. Not quite “brutalist” architecture, but neither Victorian, gothic, neo-classical, or whatever. Lots of glass, steel, and concrete; but also lots of trees, and many other plants, many growing wild as well as well-tended.

It was pretty big, however: over 30 000 square meters (over 300 000 square feet) of floor space. It was the Main CMNF Building. Behind it was an even bigger greenhouse: not much higher but several times the volume; which existed for inclement weather. Some parts of the greenhouse was so green one couldn’t tell that one was in a greenhouse at all but rather some tropical jungle.

JJR and “his” women, saw Teddy and “his” women, drive in. All nine got out. Greetings. Soon after, they saw the two Silencers—semi-custom-made motorcycles that could run on gas and/or alt fuels—notably ethanol and/or methanol, and even at full speed were quieter than most motorcycles, or for that matter, cars; often so inaudible as not to be noticed: the opposite of Harley-Davidsons and Japanese motorcycles. They rode like the wind—maybe even quieter.

The dykes on bikes had arrived, though, when they took their helmets off, their hair was nice and long.

Before JJR could do anything, Hillary, carrying a shoulder bag, said “JJR, dear, I’m going to go ahead and undress in the Outer Lobby. I’ll meet you there.”

“Sure thing, Missus C.”

While still in the parking lot, and outside their vehicles, JJR, an actual club member, spoke with some authority to the newbies and semi-newbies.

“First off, again, welcome, thanks for coming, and I hope you all enjoy yourselves. So here’s some extra rules for you five."