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Voyeur Events
Leather & Lace
It isn’t easy for me to review events, as much as that’s, well,
supposed to be my job. As a producer and promoter myself, I feel like
I’m often a little too close for objectivity. With that in mind, I
attended a recent Voyeur Events
party. The plan was to meet up with friends who are also producing a
sex party so they could scope out the competition. To be honest, I
haven’t been to too many swing parties. I started throwing my own
mainly because the parties out there didn’t appeal to me. I didn’t like
the whole “you’ve gotta strip down to pasties at midnight” or “you have
to wear a towel” type rules. And I didn’t want to be screened; sending
a photo of myself to pass judgment really irked me. Who wants to be
subjected to judgment? We’ve all suffered through junior high already!
Fortunately as a journalist I’m supposedly welcome. Everyone wants the
publicity. So I don’t really need to send a photo. But the anonymous
folks out there do and I never liked that aspect. Getting back to my
original point, I haven’t attended any on-premise swing parties other
than my own. So I was a little anxious.
The theme was “Leather and Lace” and you’d better believe I wore both!
The email requested that everyone make an effort, so I slipped into an
amazing pair of lace nylons, black lace panties and a leather corset. I
arrived a bit on the early side—eager, perhaps—and guess what? Yup, I
was the only person in leather and lace! I suppose I shouldn’t have
been surprised. I AM the biggest theme whore known to man! But even the
host was wearing cotton and khaki. Note to self: swingers don’t do
themes.
I delivered my embarrassing bottle of flavored vodka to the BYOB bar
and immediately started drinking. I’m never comfortable being alone at
an event, regardless of my reigning status as party queen, and since
this was my first real swing party, I felt doubly awkward. I chatted up
the door girl and the coat check woman and nervously hovered by the
buffet of chocolates, cookies, chips and salsa, hummus and pita, cheese
and crackers. It was a yummy display, though not too many people took
advantage of it.
While waiting for my friends to arrive, not one single person
approached me. Perhaps I appeared too threatening? People do say I can
be intimidating. But still! And my host didn’t introduce me to anyone,
which is what I would’ve done in his place. Imagine, a single woman all
alone at a swinger party. Maybe he was worried I was there to pilfer
his people, a reasonable assumption, if incorrect. I felt like a wall
flower—a lacy, leather-clad wall flower.
The couples were all very couple-y and, from my point of view, somewhat
unapproachable The body language of the women said to me, “My
husband/boyfriend made me come,” but that might’ve been my perception.
Then a couple arrived who looked like they attended this sort of event
every night—or at least every weekend. When I went back to the bar for
round two, they were dry humping each other hungrily right beside me.
“Hey,” I thought, “get a room! You people are between me and my booze!”
Within a half hour they were offering their displays of affection even
more publicly, much to the entertainment of the other guests. She was
wearing a white bra with floor-length fringe and white bikini, as I
recall. He was an older guy in standard businessman casual. They were
stereotypical swingers. Thankfully they were the only ones who were so,
um, stereotypical. Just as hilarious but not at all expected was the
hot young guy—in his 20s, I’d estimate—who was shaking his ass for his
date. Nice!
My friend Nicole arrived, dazzling in fishnets, a leather bra and
leather miniskirt. She and I hung out and kind of danced together and
still no one approached us. I’m not sure why that was. The couples and
single women only dynamic is a swing party standard, albeit one I’m not
that familiar with in practice. And I would’ve expected that Nicole and
I would be something like chum in a sea of sharks. Instead we felt
sorta like the floor show. When our friends Ken and Sheila showed up
there were then four of us, so we didn’t need anyone else at that
point. And until we introduced ourselves to people no one spoke to the
four of us either….Odd…
The music was not my scene, I’m sorry to say, though the rest of the
guests seemed to just love it. “My hump, my hump, my lovely lady
lumps!” might sound like the perfect sex party soundtrack to most, but
it makes my skin crawl. I will admit that everything the DJ was
spinning made my skin crawl, but it was also making the crowd move.
Sigh, I am SO jaded!
Around midnight things began to really warm up. The space was perfect
for a sex party: intimate booths with curtain that you could close if
you desired. But the downstairs was even better: three beautifully
appointed bedrooms with soft, warm lighting! They went from barren and
empty to bustling with action in a very short period of time. The
doorways became jammed with voyeurs. We were hanging out in the hallway
and even that felt sexy! Meanwhile, upstairs there were a few folks
getting’ busy in more discrete ways: a guy fingering his girlfriend
under her skirt here, a handjob there.
The guests were an interesting mix of young and middle aged, every
ethnic group and what appeared to be a wide range of socioeconomic
groups. This is a huge plus, since many events tend to attract one
homogenous segment of the population. I’ve attended a previous
off-premise Voyeur Event and was similarly impressed with the
cross-section of guests.
Okay, so the final takeaway? If swing parties are your scene, this is a
good one. The disparate types of people made for a textured event and
everyone was sufficiently sexy. There was plenty of action happening,
so they definitely delivered on their on-premise promise. While it
isn’t the sort of cutting-edge freak-fest I generally prefer, it’s
certainly more sophisticated and cosmopolitan than, say, the crowds
you’d find at Jamaica’s Hedonism. I would definitely go back, but
absolutely not as a single female; I’d bring a date. And I’d dress for
the theme, too!
[Written May 2006]
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