I’ve always secretly resented my gay friends for two things: looking better than me in skinny jeans and having the option of visiting all-male sex clubs. When I first heard about gay sex clubs and saunas, the prospect of anything similar existing for women seemed laughable. Rather depressingly, googling it only resulted in porn websites and adverts for sex toy parties. It seemed like sitting in a circle, playing Pass The Dildo was the naughtiest night on offer for the bi-leaning woman about town. Then came Skirt Club.
Skirt Club runs sex parties, exclusively for women, all women, whether gay, bisexual, bicurious, or straight. Their ethos is uninhibited living; their parties offer sexual freedom without the male gaze turning desire into performance art. It sounded too good to be true. The media says that male desire focuses on casual sex and female desire focuses on cats, chocolate and reruns of Sex and the City. I went to Skirt Club with a lot of nerves and as few expectations as possible. I couldn’t help but fear that the reality of a female sex party would be a lot of cocktails, kissing and talking about sex, without any real action. Skirt Club proved me marvellously wrong.
The night began, as so many good nights do, with an invitation to an exclusive party. The theme was Corset Couture, the tone was seductive, and the venue was a 5-storey townhouse in West London. I was impressed until I saw the roof terrace, and then I was really impressed. The lighting was flattering, the music was unintrusive and the decor was beautiful. It was everything you’d want a sex party to be, right down to the corset themed cocktail menu. Things kicked off at 9.45pm with an amusing talk on corset history by Tallulah Tempest, and a beautiful burlesque performance. It was a smart opener that gave everyone a chance to have a cocktail and was pleasingly effective in eliminating the social pox of fashionable lateness. Then, the reins were off. Body shots and spin the bottle were loosely organised downstairs, but few people lingered there. Once, while getting more champagne, I counted only 6 out of the 50 girls there downstairs; the rest were in the playrooms upstairs. Most people had arrived alone, and plenty were new, so starting conversations with strangers was easy. The same was true for sex. There were no expectations, judgements or consequences; no wondering if he’d call. In this fiercely feminine space, sex was as easy as leaning over and kissing her.
Over the past 5 years, I’ve developed a deep and enduring hatred of the idea that “girls are so pretty and soft and delicate.” False. Sure, we lack stubble and trend towards curves over angles, but fucking girls isn’t about softness or prettiness; it’s about sex and pleasure, which are quite often hard and messy. Sex with girls in front of guys can often be beautiful and sensuous, with none of the grittiness of lust at all about it. Skirt Club was different; it had both glamour, style and raw female sexuality. It helped that the girls at the party were beautiful. They almost all had the look of women who earn well, eat well and exercise well, which made it hard to tell the 35 year olds from the girls in their early twenties. Upstairs in the bedrooms, however, it didn’t seem like anyone was worrying about appearances. Seeing so many naked women, in so many different positions, indulging in so many different types of pleasure was incredibly erotic, but it didn’t feel like any part of it was for show, despite the girls lingering at the door to watch. It was about exploration and letting go. At Skirt Club, I had the best anonymous sex of my life, and, even better than that, I felt normal for wanting to do it.
The best thing about Skirt Club was the effort the organisers made to ensure the night felt comfortable and elegant. Renée, who runs the events, was a constant friendly presence, making introductions and chatting to the girls. The enthusiastic hosting skills of the Skirt Club team made the night feel both intimate and safe; the high calibre of guests made it a success. Skirt Club was the dream, a hedonistic wonderland, xanadu for the female pleasure seeker. The evening was so lovely that the memory of it doesn’t quite feel real. Which, I suppose, is as good a reason as any to go back.
Photos courtesy of Skirt Club, Gabriel Delgado, Andrea Parrish, Manon Fockedy and Soffie Hicks.