It was the Summer of 2002, and I was 25 going on 26 when I realized I was starting to feel old. It didn't happen all at once. Several things led to it. Don't get me wrong, life was still good. I was working in the City for the Record four days a week, writing both books and articles that were increasing my fame.

 

 

I was getting a lot better at this wine thing. I discovered that a lot of the wine I'd made last year tasted better simply by sitting in the cellar all winter. I was definitely becoming a fan of the vino.

 

 

Maybe too big of a fan, to be honest.

 

 

And I had gotten into the habit of taking the long way home on Thursdays, visiting a chorus of different downtown prostitutes to blow off some workweek steam before stationing myself at the ranch for the weekend.

 

 

Then it started, the beginning of that feeling. Pedro had told me about a trip he took to Komorebi. I took his advice to check it out myself. I tried skiing for the first time in my life, and it was physically demanding beyond belief.

 

 

I tried the local food, which was pretty good, and soaked in a famous hot spring, which was very good.

 

 

And, having already had some experience with Asian blowjob masters back home, I also decided to check out how they did it back in the Old Country.

 

 

This also turned out to be physically demanding. I couldn't before remember ever being so tired after sex. I was only 25, for crying out loud! Of course, I immediately came to the conclusion that I had finally reached an age where staying in shape required at least some effort.

 

 

I got word that Pedro's kid was finally born, so I hopped a flight over to Newcrest to congratulate him.

 

 

But he wasn't at his club, so I spent the evening with my favorite Picante Chile, Maya.

 

 

I figured I could just congratulate Pedro over the phone.

 

About this time, I have to admit I was starting to juggle two serious relationships. Not serious in terms of commitment, of course. They were strictly casual. But serious in terms of how much time I was spending with them. And one of them was just a little public. The more quiet of the two was Aiyana, the girl who lived on the other side of the creek. Our bodies just fit together perfectly.

 

 

But then there was Erin. When she agreed to accompany on my next trip to Komorebi, there was no way of avoiding at least some press attention. We ignored the paparazzi, and just had a good time. Saw some local entertainment.

 

 

Kept each other warm in the lodge.

 

 

And almost got in real trouble when someone leaked to the tabloids that they spied on us having an intimate moment in the hot springs, which would have been a huge cultural faux pas, had we done it. Thankfully, there were no pictures, so as far as you know, it didn't happen.

 

 

The weekend with Erin put my mind at ease a bit. For a moment, I felt young again. But soon enough, we were back stateside, she was off pursuing acting awards, and I was working on my next story. I'd heard rumors of a swingers' club right there in my adopted home town, and I knew I had to find out about it. Best I could do was discover a club for Naturists, which I was invited to join. They hung out at a clothing optional spa in Oasis Springs, which was about halfway between Chestnut Ridge and San Myshuno.

 

 

But seeing as I had a large pool and gym, among other amenities right there at the ranch, I sometimes invited them to simply hang out there.

 

 

I couldn't help but notice they weren't ashamed of walking around with erections. I was told from the outset it was polite to ignore this; nature will happen. But I distinctly got the impression they didn't view sexual arousal as some annoyance to set aside, but rather as some aspect of nudity they genuinely enjoyed.

 

 

And then at one point when I intended to take a quick rinse coming out of the pool, I caught two members getting a little cozy in the showers while they thought they were alone.

 

 

I didn't announce my presence, but I did make it a point to ask Dan, who had been party to the tryst, some pointed questions that, while not directly getting at it, certainly were intended to inquire about the swinging rumors.

 

 

He confirmed that the swingers club existed, and that many members of the naturism club were members, without actually confirming it. What he did was explain to me that nudists welcomed everyone, but swinging clubs, if they existed, were generally hostile to single males. Couples and single females only.

 

 

I was left to mull over how exactly I was going to get this story if I was a single man, and that was the only type of member not welcome to join. I also, unfortunately, had been unable to avoid how fit these other guys were. Yes, they were five years younger than me, but they clearly all put some effort into looking good, and I wasn't doing that. That reminded me of how my first attempt to ski had worn me out, and I decided that as old as I felt, I was still in reality too young to let that become a habit, and dedicated myself to getting back into shape.

 

 

Finally, just as I was working on this swingers story, I got news from Daria, and it wasn't good. But this chapter is already running long, so I'll pick it up again next time.