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One such experience was going to Killing Kittens, the infamous sex club in London, for the first time. I had been gushing about it to a wonderful regular, and he was hooked on the idea.
Said and done, I handled our application and acquired the masks that everyone is required to wear at KK events. Hiding your identity or at least attempting to do so is a big thing, because if you happen to bump into a work colleague, then at least you can claim plausible deniability. In fact, I have heard from a credible source that a very famous actor got it on with a girl at one of these events, during which he took off his mask in the middle of the act, to her astonishment and I assume delight.
I would be lying if I said this had been my first experience of exhibitionism and sex clubs: gods, no! I went to my first one at the tender age of 22, although that venue was much more intimate. I had been to similar events in NYC and Paris. However, nothing could have quite prepared me for the experience that is Killing Kittens. First, we went to pre-drinks with a number of other attendees. The atmosphere at the bar was magical: you felt like a school child who was about to do something really naughty, and the adults the guests and bartenders were none the wiser.
A few hours later and ever-so slightly inebriated, we walked the short distance to the event. The entrance to the venue had a large red carpet and two imposing-looking doormen in black suits.
There was no sign anywhere, only a large iron door which hid red velvet curtains. Once let inside, the process was smooth, and we were gracefully offered a glass of Prosecco. We enjoyed a three-course dinner while watching beautiful performances from world-class burlesque artists and exotic dancers.