A Sex Club Romance

As Michaela boarded the SAS flight to Copenhagen at Heathrow, she knew she was starting the real celebration of her promotion.

She had made it to the top job in the London agency of the Danish owned advertising group where she had been employed for the past ten years since joining when she was in her mid-twenties. After working in London, New York and where she had been born and raised Copengagen, her dream had come true, her ambition had been achieved. She was the Global Head of Copy Dansker Worldwide, a privately owned marketing services conglomerate.

She had firstly celebrated in New York the day she had received the expected news

"Congratulations Michaela, the job is yours." The Chairman of the bank had said shaking her hand and holding it perhaps just a little too long as his eyes roamed over her nicely formed and well-rounded body.

Her celebration that night had been, to say the least, a little unusual. It was having a male and female hooker come to her suite at the Pierre Hotel and for her to fuck both of them. She had booked them from the first class lounge at Heathrow just as she was about to fly to New York. She usually did that when she was going to be away for a few days, as she was so often.

Some time ago she had discounted a traditional lifestyle. Her work and ambition precluded that. Seventy and eighty hour, always six and often seven day weeks didn't leave much time for dating. Her enormous drive and clear ambition to get to the top in the male bastion of advertising put her apart from most men. She scared the shit out of all but the few that were as driven and determined as she, and most she met like that, worked in the business as account handlers, media buyers or creative somethings. Michaela had made a vow when she took the first step up the banking ladder after leaving London University with a good degree, never to mix business with pleasure. So far she had kept that vow, so she owed nobody any favours and had no dependence on anyone in the industry. Alright, it meant some called her aloof, many thought of her as the ice maiden and not a small number were convinced she was lesbian. Typical men, she often thought, just because I don't let them get in my knickers I must be gay.

Michaela was far from being a lesbian. True, she was bisexual and could get as much pleasure from sex with a lovely woman as she could from a hunky man, but she didn't categorise her sexuality. She enjoyed it so she bought it when and where she wanted with men and women and both. To organise that safely and conveniently, she had built up a network of highly reliable, totally discrete agencies in the major cities she visited as part of her job, Copenhagen, Frankfurt, New York, Paris, LA, SanFrancisco and recently Mumbai and Bejing; she lived in London. And as she had on her last trip to New York for the final interview for the Head of Copy job, she set up her "dates" just as she was about to board her flight. Why? Just a tradition really she thought.

She didn't have time to develop relationships, shit she didn't really have time to meet anyone apart from people she did business with. She never went anywhere to meet people like that; she didn't know any, other than a few school and uni friends and family. Her entire life revolved around her job. Its deJas consumed every minute she had; her work load was punishing and the traveling schedule enormously daunting. But she found all of that a turn on. Business in general, advertising in particular and writing copy especially was, to Michaela, just like sex. To her, winning an account, making a deal or being involved in a takeover was like having an orgasm. She had often sat in meetings talking her way to a successful outcome, her victory making her wet herself, and not through a weak bladder either!

Now she had done it, she had got the job she had set her heart on ten years ago when she had joined the agency. And she hadn't had to sleep her way there, althought she would have done had that been necedssary . So now it was time to celebrate. That meant a number of things. The hookers in New York, a visit to a spa in the Cotswolds and now, a trip home to Denmark. A trip that was pure indulgence. Not only was she taking three days off work, such a rarity her colleagues had asked if she was ill, but she was going to stay at a spa. A very special spa. It had been recommended to her by Harry a masseur who had been one of her earliest sorties into paid sex in London.

He was a chartered physiotherapist. He had a small practice in Notting Hill that was straight and treated sports and other injuries. By chance, he had stumbled on a sideline that turned out to be a goldmine; giving mainly middle aged ladies orgasms on his massage table. Often nothing was said, nothing acknowledged, nothing passed between him and his patients, nothing that is other than an orgasm and one, two or three fifty pound notes.

That was how he started. Ladies with sports or other injuries visiting the practice and succumbing to his tantalisingly suggestive and wickedly inviting hands and fingers. A banking friend of Michaela's told her about him. "It's only twenty minutes by car or a few stops on the Central Line and he works most evenings" her friend had advised adding. "And by God does he make you cum."

The prospect of that immediately interested Michaela. The more she thought about it the more excited she became. As she realised she wouldn't have to take the risk of letting an agency, and even more importantly, an escort, know her address, so the idea became even more appealing. And as she imagined herself on a massage table with some hunky masseur shoving his fingers up her cunt, she became positively aroused, several times. As she thought about the prospect of what might happen, so she suddenly realised that her lower back was sore!

Henry had made that and the more acute ache in the pit of her stomach go away, very quickly. The former by using the mouse of the ultra sound machine on her back, the latter by shoving three fingers up her cunt and hand fucking her until she had a lovely orgasm. He was every bit as good as her colleague had suggested and more importantly as equally adept at finger fucking as he was at soothing muscles.

He moved on. He left the physiotherapist practice and set up his own visiting massage service. It was a phenomenal success. He recruited others to help him, mostly for some reason Aussies and all part or fully qualified physios. Michaela continued using his and his colleagues' services as he expanded into offering two person massages, the two persons being of same or different sexes. Michaela had become somewhat of an addict for that. It was quick, easy, not messy and hugely arousing, to have a tasty girl licking her pussy as she sucked a young Australian cock. From the outset, Henry's services had been different, there was no penetrative sex.

His business grew and grew until he had over twenty permanent staff and he had associations with the top three or four escort agencies in London. Within a couple of years his business was servicing, one way or another, most of the "lonely married women" or "tired business ladies" passing through London and staying at the top hotels. Michaela knew for she had helped him with his promotions and website, that his clientele included both members of the ladies tennis and golf touring pros when they were in or near to London.

Michaela had helped him with finance when he was getting going and her payback was a massage by him now and then. Nothing organised or planned, just two old friends meeting when the fancy took them to indulge themselves in the other's body. And still, after almost two years now, Michaela had never been fucked by him. Odd!

"The Danes have this amazing attitude towards sex" he was telling her as his strong hands ran up and down her slender back.

"Yes I know I am one, remember?"

"Oh yes sorry" he smiled running his fingers along the side of Michy's breasts that were squashed against the massage table. "Everyone knows that they have loads of porn mags and websites, strip clubs and live sex shows, but your nation's entire approach and attitude is so different to any."

"Yes it's drilled into from an early age. We don't think sex is dirty or something that should be 'under the table. "Oooo that hurts."

"No pain Michaela, no gain," he responded, letting his fingers slither further downwards, lowering the pressure until they slid into the crease of her bum, which he gently stroked

"Mmmm ok, if that's the gain, I can take the pain" she retorted wiggling her bum appreciatively.

"Unlike pretty much any other country, with the exception of perhaps the Swedes you have this knack of being able to encompass sex and the erotic into their everyday lives, without it appearing sordid or lewd" Henry was saying as he idly, almost caressed the pert cheeks of Michaela's ass. "I mean you go to a live sex show and there are mostly couples in the audience."

"Yes I know, I have been several times."

"Like it?" He asked, his fingers sliding up Michaela's oiled thigh and stopping just before they reached he lips.

She found the teasing so arousing as, of course, he was only too aware.

"Yes I did actually, but then practically all my friends and business colleagues have been."

"Is it true about other places like their public saunas? Do men and women go to them, get naked and have some form of sex in front of the others?"

"Yes, but that's not that prevalent."

" But when it happens and nobody hardly bats an eyelid" do they hHe went on his fingers now not stopping on their upwards sweeps, but instead going all the way and running along and around the heavily lubricated lips of her pussy.

"Oooooo, mmmmm," she murmured as her climax started to build up.

He stopped talking then and concentrated on providing her with the pleasure and relief she so clearly needed. Despite having been fingered to orgasm numerous times by Henry and his team, each time was somehow special.

Michaela had thought, just before they had made this arrangement, that she was probably closer to Henry than to any other man, even her ex husband, with whom she still occasionally had sex. That had made her think a bit. Her closest "lover" was a male masseur and a gigolo, you had to laugh and think was fame, well in the ad world, and fortune worth it? Sometimes she yearned for a 'normal' life with boy friends even babies, but not for long.

But as she lie naked on his massage table, her face pressed hard against the paper that he rolled over the long cushioned top, her nails digging into that with his hand between her thighs his fingers fucking her hard, fame, fortune and gigolos were far from her mind.

He made her cum quickly and, as usual, very heavily.

"I'm told there's this fantastic spa on one of the islands between Copenhagen and Malmo in Sweden" she said as they shared a bottle of wine a little later.

"What in the Baltic Sea?"

"Yes I suppose it is."

"I know it, I supplied some masseurs there once. It's bloody cold, but very special and exclusive?"

"In winter certainly, but this time of year they have a very settled climate, or so I'm told, and of course, very little darkness."

"So what's so special about it?" Michaela asked slipping her thong back on and sliding into her Versace jeans.

Henry had explained that it was the height of luxury, fantastic five star hotel rooms, incredible saunas, steam rooms, massages and treatments, amazing showers, jacuzzis, baths and pools and every conceivable spa extra you could think of.

"So why the fuck would I fly to bloody Denmark, my home to go to a bloody spa, I can do that in London."

"Yes but not a spa that is also dedicated to sex and the erotic. One that only accepts single guests and one that makes sure there are equal numbers of both sexes at all times."

"How?"

"In the way that only the Danes, or possibly the Swedes, could do it. Open, blatant sex, available any and every way you can imagine 24/7, but done with the style and understanding that only a truly sexually liberated race could do it."

When Michaela asked him more about it, he explained that he had seconded some of his top masseurs to the Helsborg Spa and had visited it himself.

"Believe me, Michaela it really is amazing."

Michaela was used to spending big money. On meals, air fares, clothes and of course in her job. But even she, a woman in her early thirties earning, now, well in excess of three hundred thousand pounds a year baulked when she heard the price of Helsborg. The Friday to Sunday package, including, of course, helicopter transfers from Copenhagen Kastrup airport on the island of Amager to the spa, was fifteen thousand pounds.

"Jesus Christ Henry" she hollered down the phone when he told the price. "That's outrageous."

"It sure is Michaela, but they can afford to be. They have the pick of European mega rich clammering for bookings and remember that includes as much sex as you want of practically any description and that applies for all their customers."

After she had booked it, partly as a birthday present to herself, but more as a celebration of getting the promotion she was so sure would be hers, she rationalized the price. She might be wealthy beyond her and, certainly her parents dreams, but she still had a regard for money. Just because she could splash almost five thousand flying first class to New York when it could be done for a tenth of that and just because she was used to negotiating ad spends in the many millions, Michaela had not lost touch with financial reality; Danes didn't do that for they had a conservative attitude towards money. She always wanted her money's worth, although in the world she now inhabited, that was sometimes difficult to determine. A decent room in a top hotel for two nights could, she estimated run to around a grand, meals easily about half that and full treatments at a top spa for two three days probably another thousand, so, with drinks and bits and bobs, three had gone already. Then there was the first class fare to Copenhagen and back and the helicopter transfers. Up to at least five or six she worked out, smiling as she thought.

"And I haven't even got fucked yet!"

Ok, nine or ten thousand on sex in a weekend is stretching it a bit, but then the two hookers in New York had cost two thousand dollars each, and that was just for the night.

"Bollocks, Henry, just book it for me, it sounds amazing."

Chapter 2

If the flight to Denmark was any indication of what was before her, then Michaela was in for a great time. Not only was the traffic to Heathrow surprisingly light, the check in quick and efficient and the service in the first class lounge perfect, she had some nice surprises on the flight. First there was the gorgeously blonde, very Scandinavian looking male cabin attendant "accidentally" squashing his cutely pert bum against her shoulder as he passed by with the drinks trolley. Then secondly, just after that, the very attractive, in a Teutonic way, female cabin attendant leaned forward to pour her some coffee. Michaela couldn't avoid seeing the crisp, white blouse gape between two of the buttons. She couldn't and certainly did not wish to avoid noticing a naked boob with what her keen eye deduced was a hard nipple.

Sipping the strong continental coffee and the freshly squeezed orange juice, she refused any food; she could not prevent herself from smiling. "Two chances to join the mile high club, or is it just that my imagination is running away with me."

Immediately she passed through customs she saw yet another Scandinavian, blonde God of a young man holding a notice with Ms Henrikson neatly inscribed on it. Smiling and acknowledging to him that she was indeed who he was looking for, she was delighted when he came and took the trolley from her introducing himself as Gerid, an assistant concierge from Helsborg.

"Welcome to Copenhagen Ms Henrikson," he said shaking her hand. "Have you been to our city before?"

Smiling, she replied in Danish that she had. He laughed. "I should have guessed with Henrikson , but I assumed that was your married name."

"I'm not married, it's my family name,"

"The helicopter is this way" he explained leading down a carpeted corridor.

It was only a ten minute or so flight across the sea and other islands from Copenhagen to Helsborg, so Michaela was remarkably quickly at the spa. Gerid showed her to her room on the first floor of the manor house type building that was the hotel part of the complex. That contained all the bedrooms, the formal restaurants and other lounges. It was linked to the spa by a glass walkway.

"When you are ready Ms Henrikson, please just call me and I will take you on a tour of the spa. You will probably feel most comfortable in a swimsuit with one of the leisure suits that you will find in the wardrobe."

Dressed in a one piece, white swimsuit cut high at the thighs Michaela opened the wardrobe. Hanging up was six track suit type outfits in white, pink, beige, blue, green and yellow. Running her fingers over them she saw they were made from a very smooth, thin, light material. They really were beautiful and took track suits to a level she never associated them with, but then she only ever wore one to go down to the gym in her apartment complex, and that was purely functional.

As good as they looked and felt hanging up, they were even better on. The material clung to her, accentuating her rounded 34 d-26-36 inch curvy body, making her feel very feminine and also extremely cosseted; that was nice too. The trousers were very fitted around her bottom and tummy and were fashionably hipster with an elasticized waistband. The top was also fitted with a zip running fom her waist to her neck. She checked herself in one of the three large mirrors and fluffed up her fairly short and slightly spikily fashionable natural blonde hair. She squirted herself with some Chanel and had a final check. She looked and felt good, but a little nervous.

Whilst the hotel was elegantly appointed with antique furniture, thick Turkish carpets, heavy framed pictures on the walls and brocade curtains at the windows, the spa was ultra modern. Everything was slim and minimalist and coloured in greys, browns, blacks, golds and silvers. It was a superb contrast yet, somehow they went together so well.

Gerid showed Michaela around pointing out the plunge pools, the Turkish baths, the three swimming pools, the Jacuzzis, steam rooms with a range of heats and aromas, three saunas and simply loads of showers of all different types, temperatures, intensities and water volumes, from full water to almost steam. He showed her the treatment rooms, for mud, for hot rocks, for various balms and vegetables, the stainless steel, the terracotta, the marble and the traditional massage tables. He showed her rooms where one wall could be raised so a couple could share a massage and others where the massage tables were double sized, presumably to accommodate a couple.

As Michaela was being shown round the spa she had seen a number of the guests. The age range seemed to be about mid-thirties and upwards, mostly upwards she smiled to herself, not really minding for she was quite happy with the prospect of having sex with middle aged men or woman; 'Mmake a nice change' she thought thinking of the young men and women she normally 'ordered!'

She saw that a few of the men and a couple of the women in and around the pool were naked and several other women sunbathing outside by the infinity pool were topless. She didn't see any sign of sexual activity though and that rather surprised and quite disappointed her. Henry had said she would be able to simply watch others if she wanted. That had appealed to her for she had recently discovered a strong exhibitionist and voyeuristic streak in her. She discovered that when she was in Berlin and had hired a male and female hooker for the evening. The high spot for her had been lying back in a chair masturbating herself as she watched the other two having sex.