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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. Continue reading “I went to a sex club – and here’s what happened”