“Well, have fun. Thanks for coming.” He walked off. I stood next to the DJ booth, ostensibly paying attention to Jacques’s terrible mixing, trying to figure out whether I was allowed to look at the swingers in the loft. Finally I worked up my courage and went to find the bathroom. I assumed there were codes of behavior at sex parties, but I had no idea what any of them were. Could I look? What should I say if someone tried to have sex with me? Was I allowed to be straight? Was I going to be chopped into pieces and left in a Dumpster? These all seemed like legitimate questions and concerns.
