Oct/Nov 2021  •   Fiction

Free Sex Night

by Peter Bernstein

Artwork borrowed from Unsplash.com

Artwork borrowed from Unsplash.com

Free sex night was instituted a couple of decades ago, sanctioned by taxpayer money because of the obvious benefits to the general advancement of business, sciences, technology, the economy, and even the arts. The government built large free sex facilities like hotels where you could go every two weeks and have free sex with no strings attached. You don't have to enter into a relationship with your partner, don't have to talk to them, get to know them, date them, have children with them, or any of the other unpleasant aspects associated with sex. The benefits to society are obvious. You can remain focused on your career and ambitions and still enjoy the pleasure. Also, your partner will be of like mind, unfavorably disposed towards a relationship. I, for one, was a great advocate of free sex night and participated every two weeks.

It works like this. The people wanting sex show up at the facility and line up in two naked rows, male and female (except for LGBTQ folks, who line up in a different section). The two sides hold up numbers in plain view, the numbers matching each other. Then it starts. If two people choose each other's number, they go off to a room for the night. Usually the first matches are amongst the good-looking people. The next two people who chose each other's number—a little less good looking—go off, and so on, until the couples get fatter and less desirable. Finally, there is just one set of numbers remaining—the ugliest people—who got stuck together for the night.

During the pairing off process, I usually land somewhere in the middle of the selection. On the night I want to tell you about, I got matched up with a pretty good-looking woman named Nancy. I wasn't supposed to know her name at all. That she told me her name should have been a clue that something was wrong with her.

Once Nancy and I were matched up, we put our clothes back on, were given a room number, walked down the hall together silently, found our room, entered the room and closed the door, and started to take off our clothes.

The rooms in the free sex night facilities are quite stark. Just a bed, a buzzing overhead light, and a circular clock on the wall. No paintings, no windows, nothing to look at except your partner.

I've always strictly adhered to the guidelines, which strongly dissuade any kind of conversation, so I was surprised when the woman started speaking. She was in the process of unbuttoning her blouse, and she stopped. I watched her hand stop on the button, and I wondered what the problem was. Then she said, "I'm Nancy. Just thought you might want to know."

I ignored the remark, knowing it was a bad idea to exchange personal information, and kept undressing. She kept her hand on her blouse button without undoing it, waiting for something, staring at me.

Finally, I said, in somewhat of a rude tone, "What?"

"I just thought it'd be nice to know your name," she said.


"I just thought it would enhance the experience."

I puzzled over her strange behavior, and finally I said, "When I'm at the free sex facility, I don't have a name. Sorry."

She looked disappointed but kept undressing anyway.

Once we were undressed, I went towards her and starting to feel her body, acquainting myself with all her curves. We had all night, so I wanted to take my time and have a lot of foreplay. After all, I'm not a young man anymore, and my stamina is greatly decreased.

As I was proceeding and getting ready for full intercourse, she held my head in her hands and looked in my eyes. "What do you believe?" she said quietly.

"I'm sorry?"

"What do you believe?" she repeated.

"I don't see the relevance of that question."

"Oh," she said in a defeated tone, and then we continued. After playing around with each other for a while, we got down to business, which didn't last a terribly long time, and we laid side by side in the bed without speaking. I needed to regain my strength for a second effort. Like I said, we had all night. I was content to lay there without speaking. After all, I had no intention of entering into any kind of relationship. I respected the guidelines of free sex night. I knew a lot of people didn't and would freely disregard them and start chit chatting about themselves, but I didn't. If everybody acted like that, the whole purpose of free sex night would be undermined.

I can't say I didn't feel the habitual fondness one feels for anybody one's been intimate with. I did. She was a very good lover. She knew how to prolong and draw things out wonderfully, but that still didn't mean I was going to talk. I just looked up at the light on the ceiling and listened to the buzzing, occasionally looking over at her body.

She began to rub her foot against my leg and said, "Do you know something? I once lived in a cabin alone in Alaska."

I didn't say anything, holding true to my code, and she kept rubbing me with her foot. "It was such a bizarre experience," she said, "to be there in winter. I used to go out and lay on this frozen lake at night with seven layers of clothes on. The ice must have been frozen through a few feet down. You could have driven a car out onto it, but all the same, when you laid out on this lake, you'd here all kinds of cracking noises. It didn't mean the ice was breaking, just shifting, like a glacier."

She looked over at me and smiled. I didn't smile back. I listened without saying anything. She leaned over onto her side, facing me, and propped her head up with her hand outstretched on her cheek. Then she put her other hand on my chest and started tracing designs on my pectoral muscles with her pointer finger.

"Then I'd watch the aurora borealis by myself," she continued. "At that time in my life I read a lot of science fiction, and it always looked like some alien-coded message. A message of peace." She laughed to herself.

She kept drawing little designs on my chest with her finger and rubbing her foot against me. I didn't know what she was trying to accomplish by speaking so much. I was dedicated to my career and ambitions. It felt like she was trying to pull me into something against my will, so I just listened. But all the same, it was somewhat pleasant to hear her voice. I can't deny it. Part of me enjoyed it. Her voice was husky and alluring. Talking was strongly discouraged, but people did it all the time. So eventually, I just said, "That sounds nice." It couldn't hurt to cheer her up with a few words; after all, I knew what I was about, and wouldn't let her entice me into a relationship.

She perked up at the sound of my voice and asked, "Have you ever been to Alaska or northern Canada?"

"No, I haven't."

"You should go there," she said. "It's beautiful, but it's strange, too. A lot of people move to Alaska because they want to get out of society. It's a little scary. If you're driving around the country, going down gravel roads, you'll pass lone houses, and they all have no-trespassing signs on them. It makes you wonder, why would somebody put a no-trespassing sign in the middle of nowhere? What do they want to hide so badly?"

"I guess they just want to mind their own business," I said.

"I guess so. Still, it's a little bit weird. There's a lot of unfriendly people living up in Alaska."

"Well," I said, "sometimes it's nice to be left alone."

"Sometimes it is, but it can be so lonely, too. It's probably better to be together."

She was really trying to entice me into conversation. She was so sexy, I made a concession and decided to talk to her more, with the firm resolve that when the night was over, I would leave and never see her again. I just thought I'd indulge her: a kind of foreplay to fill the night up with something.

"You say you lived in a cabin?" I asked.

"Yeah. I read Walden, and it inspired me to live out in the woods for a while. I was out there for about six months without electricity. A wood stove takes on so much meaning when you don't have electricity. It becomes the centerpiece of the home."

"Instead of the TV being the focal point," I said.


She leaned closer to me so her breasts were pushing against my side and said, "Why won't you tell me your name? The night would be so much more gratifying if you did. I'd like to know something about you."

"You really want to know my name?"


"You know it's best if we don't share names," I said.

"It couldn't hurt."

"All right. My name's Andrew."

"Thank you, Andrew. Have you ever been overseas?"

"I've been to Columbia. The jungle."

"Really?" she said. "The jungle. I'd love to see what that's like. What was it like?"

"It was scary. There are so many venomous snakes, you have to be constantly on guard, looking on the ground for them."

She smiled. We got to talking about what Columbia was like. I explained the details of my trip and why I had gone down there and seen the jungle. She listened with great attention as if she were treasuring all of my words. I put my better judgement aside and kept talking. The way she paid such close attention to me should have been a warning as to her nature, but I kept going.

"The weirdest experience I had in Columbia was when I found a tarantula in my tent," I said. "You wouldn't believe it. I didn't believe it at the time. And guess what, I didn't just find it in my tent, but in my sleeping bag, in my boxer shorts when I woke up. I felt something crawling around down there, looked down into my boxers, and there was a tarantula. A big one, too. As big as your hand. It was terrible."

She laughed. She looked into my eyes for a long time, romantically, like she wanted something more than I was willing to give her.

Suddenly I felt the need to be blunt. "You know," I said, "we're not really supposed to be talking the way we are. It's against the rules."

"The rules," she said dismissively. "The rules are just suggestions."

"They're important suggestions," I said. "If everybody starting revealing information about their lives on free sex night, it would undermine the institution. The whole purpose of these nights is so we can have sex without the pressure of a relationship ensuing. If everybody started talking about things they've done and seen, it would undermine everything. I plan on going to free sex night until I'm old, and I want to respect the rules, so I can come here without stress and do more good for the society I live in, as well as pursue my ambitions."

"Andrew," she whispered seductively, "you're so closed off. We need to change that."

Then she climbed on top of me and said, "It's better that we get to know each other. It makes it so much more gratifying."

"Does it?" I said.

"Yes. Don't be so closed off." She had me in her net, and I reached up and felt her tits, fondling them. She moaned. I ran my hands along her hips, feeling her smooth skin. Every part of her was beautiful. We started our second round of sex, and she made soft moaning sounds that were a delight to the ear.

When we were finished, she rolled off of me and laid back down, still leaning over on her side like she wanted to talk.

"Have you ever been in a relationship?" she asked.

"No. Never."

"I was in a relationship once. A long time ago."

I didn't respond.

"Do you want to know what it was like?" she pursued.

I didn't really want to know what it was like, but she was pulling me in again with her seductive voice. Finally, I foolishly said, "You can tell me, if you want."

"When you're in a relationship," she began, "everything changes. Everything becomes animated with energy. All the places that you would have gone to alone, like hikes up in the mountains, to the beach to watch the sunset, the zoo, suddenly become filled with a magical energy that wasn't there when you were alone. It's like magic, the way it works. When you're in a relationship, all the commonplace things become filled with a special energy and happiness. You laugh, you kiss, hold hands. Nature suddenly becomes beautiful. You become more social, start talking to people you wouldn't usually talk with. You become happy. It's intoxicating."

"I don't know about any of that," I said bluntly.

"You should try it. You don't know what you're missing, until you try it."

I sat bolt upright and looked down at her face. "I'm sorry. Maybe I don't understand you correctly, but what exactly are you proposing?" It had been nice talking to her, but she was starting to go overboard.

"I'm proposing that maybe we get together sometime. Exchange phone numbers. Go to the zoo or the beach."

Of course, such things were bound to happen on free sex night. There were slip ups, where weak people couldn't resist the allure of getting to know each other. It was rare, but it happened. I should have expected she was one such weak person.

"I'm sorry, but it's absolutely out of the question," I said. "Don't you have any sense of duty or ambition?"

"Of course I do," she said, "but that's not all there is to life."

"Yes, it is. And besides, if we spend time together on the outside and it's discovered that this is where we met, we'll be banned from free sex night forever. That means I'll never be able to have sex again in my life."

She got close to me again. She pushed her tits into my arm, and whispered, "Andrew, you don't know how sweet it is to be in a relationship."

"I don't believe it," I said. I got up and started putting on my clothes.

"Where are you going?" she said. "We still have a few more hours to get to know each other."

"I'm sorry," I said, "but you're way out of line."

She got up and tried to lure me back to the bed. She stood in front of me, naked, and got close, giving me a long, seductive kiss and reaching down and grabbing my genitals. "Don't be so closed off, Andrew," she whispered. "Lie back down."

For a moment, I stopped putting on my clothes. I seriously considered her proposition. In that very short span of time, which lasted only a few seconds, everything in my life could have changed drastically, forever. If I had given her more time, she might have won out, but I quickly stamped out the impulse to lie back down and kept putting on my pants. Then I sat down on the edge of the bed and slipped on my shirt, buttoning it up. She sat behind me on the bed and started to massage my shoulders.

"Don't leave, Andrew," she said. "We're just starting to get to know each other. You don't know what you're missing." She kept rubbing my shoulders.

"I'm sorry, Nancy, it's been nice meeting you, but I have to follow my better judgement."

I finished buttoning up my shirt, stood up, tucked it in, and slid on my socks and shoes. She laid back down on the bed. Then she started to cry.

"I'm so lonely," she whimpered. "It's so hard to find a man these days. So hard."

I reached for the door knob, opened the door, looked back at her, and said, "If I can give you a little advice, Nancy, it's to focus on your career instead of romance. You'll feel much better about yourself in the end."

Then I closed the door. I walked down the hall and out of the building to my car. Did I regret my decision? No, I didn't. I've never been in a relationship, and don't intend on being in one for as long as I live. I feel sorry for people like her, desperate to start a romance. It's a waste of valuable energy that could be directed towards more productive ends. Good bye, Nancy, I'm sorry to disappoint you. If you don't respect the rules of free sex night, you shouldn't be participating in the first place.