I had been off sex for almost 3 months but last night decadence called again with the outrageous Skirt Club. A girls only party in a penthouse flat with terrace looking over the infinite possibilities of Shoreditch and East London.
I am in an intensive phase where I am paving my way to a healthy personal future with no violence or conflict. I am therefore rewiring my brain at the emotional and physical level to be ready for sweeter stuff (As I am writing this, a giant LOL sign is flashing in my head… not sure why). That’s not too much to demand from life, right?
But last night all my good resolutions got screwed, along with me.
It all took off (the night & my bra) with the Body Tequila game, which I instigated. I had to lie down on a table. The bartender that I really like and do nothing to hide it covered me with ice and sugar, which 2 girls had to lick off my body. When they reached my mouth, they drank a shot and then picked a strawberry from my lips. That gets a party started!
This too-beautiful-to-be-true Hollywood looking girl arrived late with her girlfriend. Everyone was literally glued to her. She looked like the Barbie doppelganger of my iconic friend H, which weirded me out a little when I got into stuff with her. But she was taking Marilyn Monroe style facial expressions and was calling everyone ‘Sweet Pea’, so I couldn’t possibly take the whole thing seriously. She was lovely though… at every level.
I lost track at some point in the evening, after several fun episodes. I found myself in bed with around 11 girls and we all mingled. All sense of time & space disappeared along with any sense of who was doing what to which part of me. Of course I reciprocated. Limbs, lips, tongues, hands, skin, and hair were spinning around me at 360º.
I have to say, in occasional moments like this I get out of my head and get intensely blinded by a violent feeling of freedom. I can even say a violent feeling of happiness. Super furtive, but super strong, like a huge shot of adrenaline. Sex is empowering like nothing else!
The bartender that I like and do nothing to hide it is fascinating. She’s a tattooed native Amerindian girl from the Lakota tribe. I made the most peculiar first impression though: At the inaugural party 18-months ago, I was heartbroken and ended up throwing up in my corseted cleavage - a consequence of her strong cocktails! As she was on duty, she had to sponge up the mess and then she gave me a short lecture on binge drinking, as if I was 14! It was the most funny & embarrassing way ever to find out you like someone. She keeps reminding me about this episode – we laugh about it because I love making fun of myself and for others to do so too – so we have this weird connection. Last night I told her how frustrated I was that I made this first impression, but she replied that I was still tiny and cute.
After her shift had finished, she stayed to hang out with the few girls left and told us some hilarious anecdotes. She was featured in a porn movie years ago where she had no sex but had to say a silly line to a girl doing pull-ups. The line was something like: ” Oh, look at these muscles you have!” and after she said it she was hit by the stupidity of the situation and fainted. They had to do another take. She is fabulous. I am feeling all gross teenagy around her (binge drinking aside).
There is an after effect to any type of getting high: Most of the girls at the party have boyfriends. Some are even married. There were 2 steady couples of girls. Most people go back to someone who is morally responsible for them after this night of wildness. I think I was the only single lez (as opposed to bisexual) with no affective stability. So, yes, the cooling down can be brutal. Sometimes are hard than others. I was all happy yesterday. No bad trip, no hard return-to-reality. Only question marks floating around my head.
The last time I went to a Skirt Club party was in February. I threesomed all night with 2 girls who are now a happy couple. From the dynamic of the trio, I knew from the beginning that they would end up together. Sweet! They weren’t at the party yesterday because they were busy on an introducing-the-parents trip. Six months from threesome to meeting the parents! I am 31 and I have never been introduced to any parents. Why? Is that a subconscious choice of mine? Is that my nature? Am I condemned to wander in the Slut Limbo for the rest of my life and write about it?
Don’t get me wrong. I love my life. I love my freedom. I am just questioning my ability for emotional 1-2-1 in bed. I was the last one to leave the party in the early hours of Sunday. I kissed Lakota Girl and the pretty organiser of the night at the door. She told me: “You were the star of the show for a moment!” Oh yeah? My peach bum was an ephemeral centre of attention. I replied with a smile that I couldn’t see anything going on, as it all took place behind me.
At the bus stop, a tipsy guy asked me what I had been up to. I told him the truth. He thought that granted him the right to put his arm around my shoulders. Life is a jungle. I was feeling good though. I love the sexy fog of the following day.