Share this with
Personally, I imagined them as places for exhibitionists, people with extreme sexual preferences and the odd perv, standing in the corner and w***ing himself off to the whole thing.
Last night, I visited Le Boudoir, a members club that hosts sex parties every week, held at a secret London location.
In an effort to blend in, I’d dressed provocatively in the little black lingerie dress that I reserve for special occasions. I’d also brought along a female friend, who we’ll call Cassandra, although that’s not her real name.
Le Boudoir is a bring-your-own venue, and I suddenly regretted that we’d only armed ourselves with one bottle of wine.
I needn’t have worried though, as Master Boudoir, the club’s impeccably dressed host, had already prepared a special treat for us – personalised vodka bottles.
As we enter the main floor, the club’s social room, the atmosphere is mixed; some couples are sat huddled together on sofas, while others are eyeing each other up, and one lady is having a spin on the stripper pole.
I tried the pole myself later that evening and was far less impressive, which the developing bruise on my bum is proof of.
‘We get lots of newbies, and I think what’s exciting for them is that there are so many possibilities here,’ he says. ‘People who come here definitely seem to have a great sense of humour, and they’re engaging and great characters.’
It’s dark and inviting, and smells faintly of popcorn, a trick the club has implemented to conceal the natural smell of sex that’ll soon fill the air.
As we descend the stairs, I spot a large bed with a TV above it, set to porn, and a large vibrator, free for all to use.