I'd rather have gone to that.
I arrived about eight. They had a D. J. He was playing old disco at maximum decibels. Hugo would have loved it. The few co-workers who'd shown up earlier were doing the hustle on the floor. I headed to the bar and ordered a vodka martini, shaken not stirred, with a twist. I'd always wanted to order that.
"Hear you go, Mr. Bond," said the bartender, handing me the drink.
I took a sip.
Remember when you were a kid and you ate your first brussel sprout? How all you wanted to do, was spit it into your napkin and shave off all your taste buds in the bathroom?
That's how I felt after the first two, but after the third one I started to think they were okay.
After the sixth, I loved the damn things.
It was eleven o' clock and the party started to jam. I ordered another.
There was a bowl full of condoms on the bar. The sign above them read "For Your Tip. Jar.
I grabbed a handful. Ya never know.
"Hi, Greg."
It was Joe.
Joe was one of the membership directors. He was nice enough, but when you talked to him, you always felt like he was selling you a used car.
"You seen the other room, yet?" asked Joe.
"What other room?" I asked drunkenly.
"Well, let me be the first one to show you!"
"I don't know."
"Come on. It's great."
Joe led me across the dance floor and down a hallway to a closed door.
"Here we are."
He opened the door and pulled me inside.
It was an orgy.
Naked bodies in various sexual positions filled the room.
"Isn't this wonderful?" Joe said, removing my tux.
I'd thought it was going to be a typical party.
I guess it was. 
