SPECIAL REPORT: INSIDER ORGY ACTION

July 16, 2002

Tales From the Rooster
by Anonymous

I’m inside the club. There’s a five-person orgy going on right in front of me. Witnessing it with me tonight are Dave, one of my good friends from LA who is now a Vegas local, Brad, one of Dave’s buddies, and Sean, Dave’s neighbor and Persian partner in crime. Sean, who is known as “Shady,” started hanging out with the guys when they all realized they were devout herb smokers.

Back to the orgy. It started out when a woman in a tight, black dress who looked around 50 started going down on her “partner,” but as soon as they get heated up two older men in Member?s Only jackets each take a breast and a mullet-head in a white Spuds McKenzie tanktop then joins in on the fun. I don?t think she knows the other guys, but she isn’t exactly complaining about it. Apparently, once some action breaks out anyone is welcome to take part. For the most part, there is no shortage of willing participants. They are all going at it when all of a sudden, Shady sneaks into the lineup. I have to admit this was a traumatizing scene, but I’ll continue.

Shady discreetly slips into the lineup of horny guys and you can just see the anticipation on his face. As soon as the guy with the mullet finishes up with the broad Shady goes in for the kill. Only there’s one problem. Shady is having serious difficulty getting his rubber on. Under the stress of the moment, he can’t figure out which end is which and has to try it both ways before getting it right. There are two guys standing next to in nothing but towels who comment on Shady’s fumbling with some derisive chuckling. Adding to the comedy is the fact that Shady doesn’t even bother to take his leather jacket off for the occasion. As a matter of fact, he is totally clothed, shoes included. Shady finally gets his hat on and goes in for the kill. While he’s pumping away, Shady accidentally knocks over a plastic party cup full of used jimmy’s. After a few minutes, Shady takes care of business and makes way for the next guy in line. “That was real dirty, I didn’t expect that,” Dave whispers to me as we leave the orgy room.

We’re at the Red Rooster, a local swingers club and must see for the next Vegas trip. My friends have been telling me crazy stories about this place for a while now, so my curiosity got the best of me when they suggested we go this time. Located in a seedy industrial area miles away from the strip, getting to the Rooster is an adventure in itself. I comment that I feel like I’m being taken out to the middle of the desert to be killed and left behind, just like in the movies, and the guys tell me not to worry about it because we’re almost there. We pull off the main road and into a dusty dirt lot next to a small bungalow with a neon rooster on the sign above.

According to Rooster tradition, since I’m the rookie, I have to go in to buy the tickets. The guys tell me it?s $40 per person, so I collect $160 for the four of us and head inside the bungalow. Inside, I see a few guys loitering around the security camera monitor and a white-haired older man with glasses and a blue and white checked cowboy shirt sitting behind an old-school, manual cash register. When I ask for four tickets, he tells me it’s $200. Supposedly, they raised the cover charge, or “donation” as they prefer to call it (undoubtedly for legal reasons). In no mood to argue, I throw down the $200, get the tickets, and get the hell out of there. We’re almost there.

As I walk across the parking lot back to the car, I notice more cars pulling up. Most of the people are your typical-looking swinger crowd. You know, that Wal-Mart, Middle-America look. The procession of Buicks and Oldsmobiles with out of state license plates from places like Iowa and Ohio confirm my observation. I get back to the car with the tickets and the fellas congratulate me on a job well done, for a rookie. From the bungalow, we take a short drive up the street and turn off into a poorly lit gravel parking lot. We park the car and start walking up to a large, 70′s era house straight out of Boogie Nights sitting on a hill next to the parking lot. It’s almost showtime and I’m getting pretty excited.

As soon as we step inside the house, I see a coat room to the right and a small bar on the left. I feel like we’re in someone’s house. At this point I can really feel the anticipation building inside me. The feeling that comes with witnessing or taking part in something taboo is hard to describe. The place doesn’t serve alcohol, but you can bring your own and leave it at the bar. The bartender will even put your name on it and serve it to you. We drop off the twelve pack that we brought with the brother working the bar and I start taking in the action. There’s a hardwood dance floor in the main room and a cheesy cover band is playing tunes on a tiny stage in the corner. Small, round tables surround the dance floor and there are couples dancing and having a good time. So far, it’s pretty G-rated, but it?s only about 11:00 p.m. The night is still young.

Next, we head into a small room a few feet off the dance floor with a couple of beat up couches and an old projection-style big screen TV playing pornos. Just past this room is a larger room with stepped queen size beds along the velvet lined walls and a 20-inch TV up in the corner playing more pornos. This is the orgy room where Shady did some of his best work tonight. As I look around, I notice that it?s pretty dark, especially in the farthest corners away from the entrance. Aside from the occasional outbreak of giggling, which is frowned upon, there’s a subdued and hushed vibe in the room, despite the extra-curricular activity going on. Once you step through the glass door leading out of the back of the house you are in a large covered area with an indoor pool and hot tub. Although it’s dark and steamy, I can make out a few couples lounging in the hot tub engaged in various stages of foreplay. God knows what is floating in that water. I hope there is plenty of chlorine in there. There are deck chairs arranged around the pool, but I don’t take a seat. There is too much more to see for now.

At the far end of the pool room there’s a sliding glass door leading to a carpeted locker area and a dark hallway leading to a bathroom and a number of private rooms where the real action is probably taking place. According to the rules which are prominently posted on a white sign in the hallway, all of the private rooms are fair game. If a door is closed, no entry or knocking is allowed. After taking a bathroom break, I notice an open door to my right and a bunch of guys standing around in various states of arousal. Although I can’t see inside, I can hear a woman moaning loudly. To tell you the truth, I didn’t even want to know what was going on in there. After Dave peeks in, he tells me it’s the “stirrup room.” I take his word for it.

Now that I’ve had the chance to take everything in, I can take a seat at a table near the dance floor and start doing some serious people-watching. As I look around the room, I notice a lot of people who seem to know each other, probably regulars. Most are older couples, again mostly of the Middle-American, white trash variety. Stereotypical swingers. I haven’t seen this many mullets since hockey season ended. As the night goes on, however, what surprises me is the number of younger couples and seemingly normal looking people just hanging out and taking it all in, just like myself. I even see a young, hipster couple straight from the Hard Rock Hotel getting it on on top of a table near the bar, in front of everyone to see. Pretty soon they are the main attraction. After they finish their business, they even get a round of applause and some awkward high-fives from some creepy older guys who caught the show. The more I think about it, I get the feeling that what is thought of as a seedy, underground scene is piquing the curiosity of more and more mainstream people looking for something new to do in Vegas. For those of you normal and not so normal people out there, the next time you’re in Vegas and looking for something new and different, check out the Rooster.

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Please note, that I (Han Q Duong) did not write this article. Respond directly to this column by clicking on the Comments below.

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