It was 2022 or so. I was in my early twenties when I matched with a guy on Bumble who was probably about 25 years older than me. I would not do that now, but at the time It was something I was excited to explore.
He was tall, brown hair, blue eyes, handsome. I don’t even really remember how the conversation started because it basically was never not sexual. There wasn’t any pretending that we were going to get drinks and discover we both loved hiking. It was immediately like: You’re hot. I’m attracted to you. What are you into? And I was into it.
I had never had a guy be that straightforward with me while also being respectful. There was something very adult about him. He wasn’t playing games or trying to act like he didn’t care. He was just like, this is what I want, tell me what you want.
Eventually we moved from Bumble to texting, then he asked if he could call me. The phone call got sexual pretty quickly. And then, in the middle of basically having phone sex, he was like, “Before we get into anything, there’s something I need you to know.”
Okay.
“I’m the CEO of a company.”
“Okay…”
“And I need you to sign an NDA.”
This really turned me on. I know that’s probably not the reaction you’re supposed to have to an NDA. But I am very attracted to power, and there was something about a man essentially saying, I’m important enough that legally you cannot discuss what I’m about to do to you that absolutely worked for me.
Also, I had recently read Fifty Shades of Grey, like just about every other woman on the planet. So this was very on brand for where I was in life.
I looked him up. He was legit. We never added each other on social media. I don’t even think the name he’d used on Bumble was his real name. Again: things that would concern me now. At the time I was like, Cool, I’ll sign the paperwork when I come over.
I went to meet him at this insane apartment in Midtown. I don’t think it was actually his apartment. It had more of an Airbnb feeling, except an extremely expensive Airbnb: huge windows, crazy views, very pristine. And, as promised, he produced an NDA. So I signed it.
We had a drink and talked for a little while. Then he said, basically, “I’m going to tell you what I want to do, and you’re going to tell me whether you want to do it.”
He was very straightforward about everything, which again I liked. Then he told me about the board.
He was like, “I have this board. I’m going to tie you to it and fuck you.”
He beckoned me into another room to show me what he was talking about.
I was half expecting a piece of plywood from Home Depot, but it was clearly a piece of furniture that had been specifically designed for sex. It was this long board with restraints on it so you could be tied to it in different positions.
This man had a sex board. And I was like: Yeah. We’re going to do this. We hadn’t even kissed yet, by the way.
Once he’d finished explaining everything, we started making out, and pretty soon, I was strapped onto this thing. The whole experience felt like I’d walked into a movie. He changed the color and intensity of the light, ratcheting up the sexiness of the already sexy scene by a factor of ten. Midtown Manhattan was glowing outside the windows. I was at the center of this beautiful apartment, at the mercy of this powerful older man, enthusiastically immobilized on this extremely specialized piece of sex furniture.
The experience was amazing. I was, for the first time while having sex with anyone, completely restrained. There was no ambiguity about who was in control, and apparently that is very much my thing. He also clearly knew what he was doing. Not just sexually, but with the whole experience. Nothing felt improvised or awkward. I could just completely give up control and let him take over. I remember looking out at all the lights of Manhattan while this much older, very powerful man had me tied, face down, ass up, to a piece of furniture he’d apparently purchased for exactly this purpose and thinking, Oh. I get why people are into this.
If you’re waiting for some twist where I discovered he was a serial killer, escaped through a bathroom window, or he took things somewhere I didn’t want them to go, I’m going to disappoint you. I had a really good time. So good, in fact, that I went back. Several times.
The sex board lived at that particular apartment, so whenever we met there, that was part of the experience. But we also hooked up at another one of his apartments, where there was no specialized sex furniture, but we made full use of every other possible surface.
Each time was incredibly specific and businesslike, but somehow not cold. He’d send a car for me. Everything was arranged. I felt taken care of. We never went to dinner. We never pretended this was turning into a relationship. He had very clearly put me in the sex box when he met me, and honestly, I had put him in the same box.
I told my friends about him, obviously. They thought the whole thing was hot, although everyone got stuck on the same detail.
“You signed an NDA?”
Yes. I signed an NDA to get tied to a board by a man whose real name I can no longer remember, if he ever divulged it to me at all.
Eventually I started seeing somebody else I actually liked, and I stopped responding to Board Man. There wasn’t a breakup because there was nothing to break up from. He contacted me, I didn’t respond, and that was basically it.
I don’t have a copy of the NDA. I don’t remember exactly what it said. I don’t remember his real name. I don’t remember the company.
What I do remember is that he was consistently respectful, the sex was consistently fun, and for about a month in my early twenties, I had a mysterious older CEO sending cars to pick me up so he could tie me to custom furniture in luxury Manhattan apartments.
There are worse ways to be young.
