The pounding beat of the techno trance music echoed through the shadowed maze of corridors and cubicles as men paraded back and forth, cruising each other in the blackness, hoping for and feeling for a sexual connection.

Here I was, back at this sex club I used to frequent, a place where men would come for a release of their seed without any emotional connection. After months of sexual addiction counseling, was I about to slip? Was I about to touch another man-a stranger-feeling his hairy chest as I slowly moved my hands down to his crotch?

I leaned against a wall, watching the parade of gorgeous men walk by, most of them shirtless, thinking about this gay cultural establishment. A '90's version of a bathhouse, this kind of urban gay sex club was now found in every major metropolitan city in the Country. Decried as a propagator of AIDS, but constructed out of business, they can make bundles of cash for entreprenuers that understand gay men will pay to have anonymous sex.

I looked at my watch, 11:25pm. What the hell was I going to tell Drew? The truth I suppose. But if I were to tell him after everything I put us through-all the sex counseling and therapy-that I slipped and came here-he would leave me. And I wouldn't blame him.

But perhaps that truth could finally set me free and I could come here as much as I wanted. Walk around these corridors, have sex with as many men as I could touch-perhaps even set up a cot and move into the corner of the building and brush my teeth with their vat of mouthwash which sits by the bathroom. I could even have all of my meals delivered so I would never Ð never ever-have to miss seeing a hot guy.

And then I felt it. A man's hand, stroking across the zipper of my jeans. His deep blue eyes staring me down, his nose inches from me.

I was about to begin my descent.

And suddenly, rushing inside of me, was a feeling of power-of control-that this rush would be over as fast as it arrived, and I would have sacrificed so much-- my self-respect, my control, my love-my life.

The man stroked my nipples and I leaned back, pulling away. He smiled, thinking me coy. His left hand reached around the back of my neck as he began to massage me. I sighed in pleasure, realizing my defenses were lowering.

"You're hot." He whispered, his right hand moving back towards my zipper.

I immediately pushed away from the stranger, passing figures in the hallway, rushing towards the exit. I continued, the front door getting closer. My hands landed against the metal bar, pushing it forward as I ran past the front counter and out of the building.

The cold night air slapped me across my face, bringing me back to the reality of what I almost did. I was the alcoholic who held a drink in his hand, the cured cigarette smoker who lit a Marlboro 100.

I drove home, frantically wanting to embrace my Drew. To tell him what I almost did, what I thought I wanted-but didn't. When I opened the front door of the house, all the lights were off and I realized he was asleep. I crossed to the bedroom and there he was, asleep in our large bed, a book laying next to him as he had fallen asleep reading.

He stirred, seeing me. "Where've you been?" he asked, looking at the clock, realizing it was close to midnight.

"A sex club."

He looked at me, eyes wide, his entire face suddenly awake.

"I didn't do anything. I couldn't. I love you." I became emotional, my eyes lining with tears. "I left. I don't want to lose what we have. I don't want to lose who I am or what I'm capable of."

I collapsed on the bed and into his arms, realizing how glad I was to have gone to that sexual place tonight. I went up to the line but didn't cross it. Thank God I tested myself and passed.