Photo by Caroline Hernandez on Unsplash
When my husband planned an anniversary trip to Las Vegas, he was thinking about live music and long drives through the southwest.
I thought of something else: a threesome with the two of us and hired help.
"Really?" my husband asked, looking incredulous but thrilled when I shared my idea.
“Why not?” I responded.
We had been toying with the idea of having a threesome for a while, but we weren’t interested in fostering even a casual relationship with someone else. In Nevada, prostitution is legal and above board, with women working as independent contractors setting their own limits and prices. As a businesswoman, my interest was piqued.
Of course, this wasn’t a purely intellectual endeavor. Most of the threesome accounts I read were of women gifting the experience to their husbands, but I knew this was more for me than my partner. I had been an awkward and timid teen, never loving myself enough to go through a period of sexual experimentation. My husband and I started dating in our early 20s, and he was the only person I’d slept with.
But throughout our ten-year relationship, my confidence in my body and my sexuality had blossomed. Now, I wanted to have some fun with it. I began researching, reading about Nevada’s legal brothels. People have mixed feelings about sex work, but I don’t think it is inherently demeaning. I felt strongly that a professional would be the perfect guide for our first extra-marital sexual experience. Reading bios and stories from sex workers in the state made me even more comfortable with the idea.
Even as our plane flew westward, I didn’t know whether the threesome would actually happen or if it was just a fun fantasy.
It didn’t matter. I was already intoxicated from taking control of my sexual experience and owning my desire even if it was taboo. In the weeks leading up to our trip, my partner and I laughed, teased each other, and had a lot of great sex, because we were talking openly about sharing a new experience.
Still, there were nerves. On our last night in Vegas, we had to decide: drive to the brothel or stay another night where we were. We kept coming back to the same refrain: Why not? We both thought a threesome had the potential to be a lot of fun, and we were confident that if it went badly, we would be able to shrug it off and move on.
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When we pulled up outside the brothel, I took a deep breath, exchanged a glance with my husband, and walked in. The brothel we went to has two sides — a hotel and the business side. Clients enter through the bar area, and the ladies can chat to clients while they have a drink or a meal. If there’s mutual interest, negotiations move to the lady’s private room.
We decided to take it slow. We reserved a room for the night and had a few drinks by the pool (although not too many, since we wanted to be sober for the experience). We talked to a few of the ladies, then spent time alone checking in with one another and swimming. Later, we came back to speak to one woman who had made us feel particularly comfortable right off the bat.
When the threesome finally did happen, the sex was secondary.
As a couple, we reaffirmed that we’re able to talk about anything, even the awkward, complicated topics. We also rediscovered that sex doesn’t have to be all that serious — it can just be a fun, no-strings-attached way for adults to play. At the brothel, sex was entirely out in the open, from the moment you walk in until the moment you spell out what you want and what you’re willing to pay for it.
The takeaway was even more profound for me. Female lust is so tightly controlled that even progressive women like myself often have internalized stigmas over what we should and shouldn’t desire. When we do talk about sex, we often default to the male gaze, “gifting” experiences or performing for our partners.
The threesome was the first time I orchestrated a sexual experience entirely for my pleasure and outside social norms, and it was empowering.
In the 18-months since our trip, my husband hasn’t told a soul about the threesome. I, on the other hand, have a hard time keeping my mouth shut about it. I’ve told my sister, my friends, and even a neighbor after one-too-many glasses of wine. The women I’ve talked to have been surprised, but no one has had a negative reaction. Most of them share that they’re interested in something similar. I hope that by sharing my story, they’ll feel comfortable being a little bit braver claiming their desires — whatever those may be.
