My Sunday morning running partner Bob and I rarely talk about sex, but last weekend, perhaps because we saw some sparrows going at it on the grass next to our path, he mentioned that the first time for him was in a broom closet. I was curious to learn more about the circumstances and such of that intercourse, but I’m shy of such things, so I held my tongue, so to speak.

I’ve never had sex with anyone but Jill, although we did the deed quite a few times before we were married. And in the dozen years since then we’ve done it not only in bed but on the kitchen and dining room tables, the kitchen counter, the living room coffee table, any number of chairs, the stairs up and down, the living room rug beneath the Christmas tree, the kitchen floor, against the bedroom door, and in the bathroom shower, as well as outdoors in cars, at the beach at night, and in the woods during the day. But never in a closet.

A couple of nights later at dinner, I said to Jill, “Bob said something interesting the other day during our run. He said the first time he and your sister ever had sex was in a broom closet.” Jill raised her eyebrows. I went on, “I don’t remember ever having sex in a closet.” Jill tilted her head in an endearing way.

I said, “Do you think we should try it?”

Jill made a wry face. “It’s not what it’s cracked up to be. Probably.” Then she grinned. “Which closet did you have in mind?”

I thought for a minute. “Maybe we should do all of them. For comparison’s sake.”

Now it was Jill’s turn to think. “Our closets are so packed—no way could we squeeze in. Maybe we should try one of Bob and Lynn’s. Should I ask Lynn to arrange it? We’re supposed to go there for dinner Saturday night.”

Sometimes it’s hard to tell if Jill is joking. I chuckled. “Their closets are probably as stuffed as ours,” I said.

“Probably,” Jill said, and went on to talk about how the tulips should be blooming soon if the deer and squirrels hadn’t eaten all the bulbs.

But I learned Saturday night that Jill and Lynn had arranged it. “Bob and I have even cleaned out the closet, more or less,” Lynn told me, opening the door. “And Bob put in a new bulb, though it’s only 40 watts. The old one’s been burnt out practically forever.”

“So we’re just supposed to...?” I said, gesturing to the more or less cleaned out, somewhat dimly lit closet.

“Yeah, after we get naked,” Lynn said, starting to remove her clothes. I turned away to give her a modicum of privacy and to contemplate the “we,” which took me a bit aback. “So you and Bob are going to...?”

“Yeah,” Lynn said. “Since we’re the experienced closet fuckers, we’re going to show you the ropes. She took my hand and pulled me into the closet, where Bob and Jill were already going at it.