I stepped into the Main Street building. I had been biking in the freezing cold for nearly 20 minutes, and the warmth of the building was a godsend. But I was about to be made even warmer; I was in The Snuggle House.

After composing myself at the front door, I stepped through. I expected to be greeted by some sort of front desk. Instead, I faced a series of bedrooms stretched along the length of a hallway. The wood floors were well-varnished, and the furniture looked spotless. The walls varied in color, but most wore a comforting shade of lavender. There was no one to be seen. For all I knew, I could have been alone in someone’s apartment.

“Hey, man. How’s it going?”

I turned around and saw a tall, long-haired man walk through a door, a beaded curtain brushing over his shoulders as he approached me. It was Lonnie, The Snuggle House’s only male snuggler and all-around very chill dude. I introduced myself and, expecting a handshake, began to extend my hand. Instead, Lonnie embraced me.

“Nice to meet you, bro,” he said as we hugged.

Another person appeared from behind the beaded curtain. It was Jennifer, who I was to be snuggling with. She wore leopard-patterned pajamas, a Snuggle House T-shirt, a scarf and socks. We embraced and introduced ourselves. She asked if I had brought a change of clothes, which I hadn’t.

“Do you want some hot chocolate or anything?” she asked.

I said sure and sat down in the waiting area as Jennifer checked my IDs. Lonnie whistled in the adjacent room as he toyed with the water heater. Jennifer walked back in the room with some papers for me to sign, and I read through them, noting what was acceptable and unacceptable in a Snuggle House setting. Acceptable things included holding hands, hugging, snuggling and more. Unacceptable things included stroking, rubbing or doing anything that might be construed as sexual. I noted all of this.

As Lonnie prepared the hot chocolate, I disclosed to them my position at The Badger Herald. I told them how I was doing this to counter some of the negative press The Snuggle House had received leading up its Nov. 15 opening. The Snuggle House’s grand opening was pushed back a month after city attorneys expressed concern that the business might be a front for prostitution. Lonnie and Jennifer were glad to hear this and promptly gave me high-fives.

Soon, there was hot chocolate in my hand. Jennifer had some too. We walked into a bedroom and sat down on the bed. She put a CD into a CD player, and a medley of ambient sounds washed over the room.

Jennifer told me that in the week since The Snuggle House opened, she has snuggled with around five customers. She told me the story of a client who came in with visible anxiety. For a while, they sat and talked. Then they held hands. By the end of the hour, they were lying down together.

Not intending to hold hands for a full hour, I suggested we jump straight in to the snuggling. Jennifer curled up into little spoon position, and I took her in my arms as her big spoon. We sat in silence for about five minutes as Spanish guitars and jungle sounds surrounded us. It was just me and my thoughts and a complete stranger curled up in my arms. I couldn’t help but think of the complete ban on anything that could be perceived as a sexual advance. With this in mind, I moved as little as possible and kept a one-inch distance between our lower bodies.

She broke the silence.

“So what would you write about this?” she asked. I told her I would write about us talking — how I got a feel for what people do at The Snuggle House — and about how we started snuggling as jungle sounds played in the background.

The tension had been broken. We spent the rest of the hour in the same spooning position, making small talk throughout. We talked about her time at The Snuggle House, her hometown in northern Wisconsin, her experiences snowboarding and her scheduled trip to Jamaica. I told her about my job at the Herald, life at University of Wisconsin and my month-long summer trip to Paris.

Our position never changed, but our hands would occasionally come together and our fingers would lock. It was these impromptu moments that felt most intimate. While The Snuggle House strictly prohibits anything that could be construed as sexual, which creates a barrier for physical intimacy, it was these small, intimate touches that made the experience the most comforting. And Jennifer’s calm, outspoken demeanor made for an hour’s worth of good company. I couldn’t help but crack a smile as she told me about the artwork she admires in a Mexican restaurant on Monroe Street.

“In my favorite painting there is this girl — she has black hair — and then there’s butterflies. All the paintings are really beautiful, but that’s my favorite one,” she said.

It was refreshing, hearing these things from someone who I had just met but was now so close to. For 60 minutes, I talked and snuggled with a complete stranger. When the CD ended after an hour, I thanked Jennifer and returned outside to the cold. The wind drilled against my face as I biked home, and the entire way all I wanted was someone else to snuggle with.