Brooklyn's Secret Sex Club

Who knew there were swingers swapping spit (and more) in an unmarked Gowanus warehouse? The Times, that's who.

Worriers, de-wad your knickers and put your "the Times could go out of business!!!!" fretting to rest. The newspaper of record has a new strategy for upping readership: Dispatching staffers to report on underground sex clubs.

Thus, we learn that in an unmarked warehouse-like structure in still-shabby, much-prospected Gowanus, things go bump in the night. And by things, we mean "cops, postmen, bus drivers" and "a pallbearer" -- apparently, the secret canalside sex club is democracy in action, attracting your workaday Bay Ridgers and your fancy banker types alike. All to hump enthusiastically next to chafing dishes of ziti, go at a girl strung up on a giant cross, and watch two women maul each other "with the energy of terriers mating."

The fact that all this goes on within a pacifier's throw of Park Slope -- whose thin-lipped breeders want to babysafe every inch of the borough so that their progeny may know only rainbows and unicorns -- goes unmentioned.

And! There's a gallery.

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