Still Kinky

You have been warned - this story is about going to a kinky sex party and contains swears. If you think this will make you want to send us angry emails then best you not continue and read this, this, or this instead.

Missed Part I? Read it here first.

We do a quick change in the unisex toilets, which consist of one cubical and three urinals (are you for reals?!). We swap suits and adorn them with [insert name of pharma-cum-beauty retailer who we really, really hope does not sell products that are tested on animals] logos, and accessorise with bunny ears and noses.  A dude wearing green trousers and applying orange body paint to his top half turns and says ‘I don’t get it’ in a voice that sounds like he’s borrowed it from a hipster. Yeah, well, right back at ya buddy!

Entourage: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0387199/

Once inside the actual party it is immediately apparent that there is nothing to worry about. The place is packed, but the vibe is good. To give you some kind of visual context, imagine what it might be like if you were in a room with all of Lady Gaga’s friends, all in full costume…but they're nice.  Everyone has dressed up. There's lots of silver, and lab coats over suspenders, and there is a widespread Breaking Bad influence. But given I’m extremely paranoid about appearing as a voyeur I do my best not to look at anything, let alone anyone, for too long.

We lost No.2 during the change and DJ Tyler Durden needs to do his networking thing, so I head to the bar. I wait patiently, but some guy in a dentist jacket pushes in. ‘Dude I’m a giant friggin bunny, don’t play the ‘oh I didn’t see you there’ card’, I want to say, but before I can get my defensive bitch on, I am fortunately (or unfortunately as it turns out) interrupted by a stranger in a space suit.

‘So you’re an experimental bunny?’ raising an eyebrow.

‘Indeed I am’. Fuck! Why is flirting my nervous default position?

‘And does bunny like to experiment?’ Fuck! Fuck! Fuck-ety! Fuck! Why didn’t I go to that fucking consent workshop! How the heck do I say no?

It’s obvious that I’m still a bit apprehensive. If I was anywhere else I would tell him to piss off but because this place has such an emphasis on consent, I feel obliged to be respectful in my rejection…you know like we all should, really, always.

‘Ummmm, bunny likes a scratch’ I said as I scratched my left shoulder awkwardly with my left hand. It’s the best I could come up with on such short notice. The onesie was itchy, but more importantly why was bunny talking in the third person all of a sudden? Thankfully I spot my bunny-in-crime nearby and hop in his general direction. He has witnessed the awkward exchange at the bar and we decide that if asked again, we’re going to say that we’re plushies (Google it, or don’t), and hope that works as a decoy.   

At 11pm the cabaret begins featuring a cheeky compere, a lesbian comedian (literally all her jokes were about her being a lesbian, all of them) and a lizard inspired burlesque dancer. The removal of her g-banger is apparently the cue that the Playroom is open for business. Ever been out somewhere that there’s a couple in the corner getting it on and you just want to yell ‘get a room’? Well this place has one.

We head outside for air - the onesies are hot! When we return. the dance floor that was packed to the rafters minutes before is now half empty. Ah. The Playroom. We have a dance, but the music is not really grabbing us. And with that our night becomes a pattern of outside, bar, give the dance floor a go, rewind, and restart.

Each time we walk outside we pass the thick black curtain that cordons off the Playroom the heat emanating from it seems to intensify. There is a woman outside who I would conservatively estimate is a size 20. She’s wearing a leather skirt. I’ll repeat; she’s wearing a leather skirt (nothing else). It’s held up by a clasp looped around her neck and is carrying a taxidermy tool. Instantly taking a liking to my rabbit self, she clips her tool into the zip of my onesie and draws down. ‘Yeah that’ll do’ I say when she gets to around my belly button, not because I think I’m about to become her stuffed bunny fantasy, but because I’m actually wearing the least sexy underwear I own and this is really not the place for me to be flashing my sensibles. 

Back inside, the dance floor continues to be empty, which is disappointing for those that actually want to dance…vertically, or those who are out of options on their horizontal dance card. Thank gawd when 2:30am rolls around and I can finally get my proper dance on. Unfortunately this means I have lost my dancing partner to the decks and as No.2 hates drum and base I regularly lose him to nicotine.  Fuck it! I dance my tail off…literally, as the safety pin that is holding my tail together gives way.

Throughout all this, I realised a few things about myself. First, I am really not bothered by people having their tits or bits out. In fact, I hardly noticed it and despite the initial self induced awkwardness, I didn’t experience the where do I look dilemma. Brilliant! A sign I’ve matured. Second, I can’t help but think ‘does having sex really require this much effort? Is it so lame playing at home with your partner that you need this whole shin dig with 300 other people? And if you don’t have a partner, is it that hard to pull?’ That said, I don’t think that’s actually the point here.

Perhaps it’s my age,  perhaps it’s my Virgo rising, but when it comes to bumping uglies I adopt the ‘fresh is best' policy and I can’t think of a better mood killer than a pre-heated post-coital cushion, that is still warm from someone else’s (and then some) body. I am also most definitely a monogamist, and I don’t like to share. Thankfully neither does DJ Tyler Durden. He’s an only child.

While there is sexual mayhem happening all around, neither of us feels the need to mack on in the middle of the dance floor, nor do we need to explore whether we are actually plushies after all. I did however, feel we connected on level that is beyond anything physical, sexual or even emotional. That night it became very apparent that we share a simple and unspoken connection, that we’re very much on the same page, we can communicate with just a look, and have a lot of fun with each other, in whatever form that may look like. And that, ladies and gentlemen, I have on good authority, is way more wicked than being tied up, smacked, poked, stroked or wheelbarrowed (Google it, or don’t, but if you do, in your own time and not at work) in public.                      

Having said all that, I also get it. Totally. It’s not that I lack sexual desires or fantasies, it’s just I don’t need to explore it in that forum…well not at this point in time anyway. Just because it’s not my thing, does not mean it is not someone else’s. It’s an exhibitionist’s dream, and it is obviously very liberating. Some people just like to dance around naked and this setting gives them the ability to do that without the threat of being groped or worse.

In a world where no is too easily ignored, and attitudes of she was asking for it are apparently the norm, this experience was extremely refreshing and precious.  What I loved most was how safe I felt in an environment where anything goes. It does not matter your size, your age (as long as you’re over 18), your preference, fetish or fantasy. The freedom to express yourself is celebrated, without the fear of judgment or the menacing presence of predatory creeps. It also highlights for me how mainstream media distorts the characteristics of sexual expression. I cringe to think that there are men and women alike that have modeled their own explorations after Samantha Jones's. And no, it wasn’t a room of Christian Grey’s either.     

All of that said, I’m not going to lie, this was the first time I had heard DJ Tyler Durden deejay live, having missed him over the festival season, so experiencing him create something I was really enjoying had me, funnily enough, wanting to go for it, as they say, like rabbits. But in the moment I was also really enjoying being in my own little dance world and feeling the freedom to dance as if no one was watching. Bliss. We could save the rest for when we got home.

So will I go to the next one? Well Mum, the jury is still out but I would certainly encourage others to go because it is an unforgettable experience, and hey I didn’t even have any sexy time! And that’s the key, neither do you. But if you’re going to head along to a kinky party, here are my tips for not just surviving, but having a great time:

* Keep your mind open.

* Know that opening your mind does not mean you need to open your legs. You don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to.

* Get into the spirit. Dressing up can really help you get out of your own head; it shakes things up and helps you get into the groove with everyone else. 

* Don’t get too intoxicated, that’s no fun for anybody. 

* Take someone you trust with you.

* Remember to laugh and just have fun.

* Don’t be shy, talk to people, they won’t bite – unless, of course, you want them to. 

* Know your boundaries and respect those of others.

* Basically, follow the fucking rules!

-Eliza Rose Harper