Latex and leather: Inside London’s sex parties

I have always been fascinated by sex and had been flirting with the idea of breaking taboos in a safe space. After moving from conservative South Africa to London last year, the perfect occasion to act out my desire presented itself.

My most vivid memory of moving to this new city was dancing at a club and getting screamed at for being too close. I was shocked. Isn’t that what people do in those environments? Everyone was so unfriendly, and it made me feel very alone. I wanted to  feel part of something and closer to the people around me.

I had heard that there was a sex party scene in London and I wanted to try it out. Maybe in this scene – where open-mindedness and freedom around identity and sexuality are encouraged – things would be different.

The first party I went to was in Elephant and Castle and was run by a company called Joyride, which also arranges events in partnership with the dating app, Feeld.

The main rule was to dress appropriately. There was a very strict dress code including leather, latex, and chains. I couldn’t just go in wearing jeans, or normal underwear. I had to dress up and it was so worth it.

I remember arriving outside the venue. It was dark and the way in was split up by black dividers that funnelled us all through the entrance. While I was standing in the queue, I was surrounded by people who were unexpectedly ordinary. They were wearing regular coats, carrying little bags and spoke about normal things. What are you studying? Where do you work?

While this was my first time at a sex party, and despite the appearance of normalcy, I had the sense that everything was about to change when we got inside. I was incredibly nervous. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest and a sinking feeling in my stomach as we edged further down the line.

“Despite the appearance of normalcy, I had the sense that everything was about to change when we got inside.”

The bouncer asked, “What are you wearing?” and I had to go ahead and show him my black mini skirt, fishnet body stocking and leather chest harness. That, and the approximately £30 ticket is how you gain entrance.

The pounding bass shook the small venue, made up of a bar, a dancefloor, smoking area and something labelled as “Playroom” off to one side. Smoke pervaded the room, illuminated by flashing red lights that pulsated in time with the music. The place was dark and it added to the mystery of everything.

Many questions were racing through my mind. What do I do? What if I’m not dressed correctly? What if people see my bum? And then, in an instant, shapes and forms became clearer as my eyes adjusted to the new environment and all my nerves vanished completely. Everyone just looked amazing.

It was so beautiful: so many different body types, so many different shapes and colours and sizes, so many different genders. I had the sense that I could do anything I wanted, be anyone I wanted, and people would still accept me. Whatever people were into, they would find someone who was into that, too.

“I could do anything I wanted, be anyone I wanted, and people would still accept me.“

What struck me immediately was how different the men at this party were. Consent was really emphasised at every step of the way and men were much less aggressive in their approach than what I have been used to. It made me feel safe to explore.

My most significant memory took place near the end of the night. I was getting tired and found myself outside in the smoking area, catching some fresh air. I saw a man sitting by himself, so I went up to talk to him. He told me he was doing his PhD. We were just chatting for ages, and eventually he said, “Hey, do you mind if I kiss you?” And I said in disbelief, “Excuse me? You have been talking about your girlfriend the whole night.”

“We’re in an open relationship,” he said.

We ended up making out a little bit, and then we went on to the dance floor where things became more intense. That’s when we went to the playroom.

The playroom was covered in a kind of rigging: metal bars on the walls and across the middle of the room and there were pleather benches all around. The smell of latex burned into my nose from the moment he led me inside. He was more experienced than me and had brought some handcuffs with him. “Is this okay?” he asked. I said yes and felt the fluffy bonds clink shut over my wrists. We kissed and he took my clothes off. At every step of the way, he asked for my consent.

What was really special about that encounter was that we’re still in contact. We even went to the pub together some weeks later and spoke as friends, but with this beautiful acknowledgement that we’d shared something dangerous and special together, without any expectations beyond that. We knew exactly what we were to each other and the space that we could allow the other person to hold in our lives. There were no hidden agendas.

Since then, I’ve gone back to many more parties and I love the sense of freedom and belonging they offer. Yet, at the end of the night, I’ll take the night bus, go home, scrub myself clean, moisturise, and pray. Maybe that’s a misguided feeling of guilt. What I love about these sex parties is that you learn how complex people are. I like the duality. And the only way to get over that guilt? Go to another party.

The name of the subject has been changed to protect their identity.