He kisses my neck while she takes off her skin-tight leather dress. She's over a decade older than me but doesn't look it—with a gamine face and tattoos that creep down her shoulders to her arms, she could probably make it as a Suicide Girl. I'm more indifferent to him—he's plus years my senior and it shows—but after spending most of the night milling around making empty conversation, I'm ready to finally get some action.
I take off my dress and heels before lying down on the bed. She gets on top of me and asks what I like. Like a lot of women in their early 20s, I ain't a nun, but until recently, my sexual exploits only involved one person at a time. Porn and Hollywood led me to believe that sex parties are animalistic explosions of lust, pleasure, and various body fluids—basically, a good time—but I was never motivated enough to actually go seek one out.
That's why, after sex-party organizer Killing Kittens KK tweeted at me about an upcoming Toronto event, I thought, fuck it dog, life's a risk, and asked to be put on the guest list.
KK, founded in London in by a schoolmate of Kate Middleton, has organized "exclusive parties for the beautiful, rich, and famous—the world's sexual elite—to explore their wildest sexual desires and innermost fantasies" in the US, UK, and Australia, according to its website. A few days before the party, KK's Canadian launch, I received an email outlining the rules: men couldn't approach women or linger alone I really liked the women-in-charge idea ; everyone was to be treated with respect; no phones or photos were allowed; and everyone had to show up with a mask.
Women were to wear dresses or cute and sexy outfits; men, suits and condoms. Towels and showers would be provided.
