Things you buy through our links may earn Vox Media a commission. We met a few months back at a Christmas party in Williamsburg. I force myself to leave his place and trek back to Greenpoint. Reality hits. The L train is humbling that way. Work computer shut! Callie and I met a few years back at a sex party in Tribeca and had some good times that involved chocolate cake and a sparkly dildo.
Not at the same time. I hop in my car and drive over. Nice thing about birthday parties with no clothes is it spares you from having to choose an outfit. But I do realize that I forgot to shave my bush. Too late. Gotta own it. The party begins! Basically you go through an inconspicuous door with graffiti on it to an entrance kiosk where a guy gives you a robe, then you walk through the changing rooms and into a big loft style space with the sauna and tubs, etc.
People are pretty naked, rather than robed. Callie is on cloud nine getting her naked body scrubbed head to toe by a group of friends as she lies atop a concrete slab. Some pour hot water on her, some pour cold. One guy just massages her toes.
I bond with a nice stranger as we watch it all play out from a distance. I sit in the cold plunge with a gorgeous Israeli woman.
She has cool bangs that go straight across her chiseled face. We make small talk about saunas. She says she wants to put one in her East Village townhouse that she and her husband just renovated, and for which she also just bought a nice Turkish rug. Worldly and hot. The husband appears. We stick together and cycle through more hot and cold, taking breaks in the lounge area where we drink Champagne in our bathrobes. We laugh and hold eye contact a little too long. I can feel them scanning my naked body as I pass.
