Liquid Love, 14th February

I did not have Liquid Love on my List as I was a little nervous about ever going to one and didn’t think I necessarily would. But I am fairly easily persuaded into these kinds of things if someone I feel comfortable around is also going, so on Valentine’s Day I found myself in a council block with 10 other people, about half of which were strangers, standing naked in a circle, getting ready to have oil poured all over us.

And it was amazing.

First we had a ‘cacao drinking celebration’ where we drank pure cacao mixed with honey and cinnamon and cayenne to taste (delicious). Then we all stripped off and took some time to become comfortable with one another’s naked presence. Then we lay down and awaited our oil angel to trickle warmed oil all over our bodies. We spent some time rubbing it all over ourselves which was an amazing enough sensation. I felt so smooth and silky I could have just spent the whole time stroking myself. But we were then encouraged to start exploring our fellow Liquid Lovers. We were ‘guided’ in this session by our wonderful host Eyal who gave suggestions throughout the hour or so we were there. I think most of us started off laying on our backs, so Eyal suggested we all try moving to our fronts and seeing what that provoked. We were encouraged to try touching with parts of the body we don’t normally use – noses, stomachs, buttocks. Knees and feet strayed. We started getting a little silly and boisterous as the gentlest of nudges would have you sliding from one part of the floor to another and you felt like you had little control over where you were. You could easily slip out of the crowd and glide to the edge. People were slipping and sliding over one another, and wrestling at one point. We were encouraged to try not to use verbal communication too much but there was laughter and the odd shriek.

And of course, there is no denying it was all quite sensual and erotic. Hands were everywhere – you didn’t necessarily know who was touching which part of your body. People were free to move away from the crowd and explore each other more privately, though it must be said it never descended into some kind of Bacchanlian full-on orgy. That was not the point. 

Towards the end, Eyal slowed us all down and we spent some time being still, where we were, just stroking or holding the people closest to us. And then it was over and we were urged to get into a circle although we ended up in an impromptu massage chain. Thus the formal session was over. But there was no rushing away. We were free to stay and continue in a more informal way for as long as we wanted. We had some Prosecco, and some cake (there were a couple of birthdays). You can use your imagination as to how we ate the cake.

We had arrived at four and before we knew it the time was 9 pm and we all felt we should make our way home. I was… thoroughly content. Which sounds very unexciting for what we had done but it is the best way to describe it. I was peaceful, relaxed, fulfilled. Wonderfully content. 

Psychoward, 27th February

Last month saw the launch of a new night for the fetish scene called Psychoward. It was loosely based around the theme of medical ward, which meant the hosts and hostesses were all dressed up in latex medical costumes, face masks, etc and there were lots of nurses in PVC, although any sort of fetish wear was more than welcome. They had a lot of fun things set up and tongue was firmly in cheek as we had someone roaming around taking your blood pressure (for real!) and handing out pills and injections (not so real – the pills were smints). He also had love potions and pervert potions aplenty (these came with warnings not to overdose) which goes to show the fetish world is as much about being silly as it is about anything else. But it was most definitely a fetish event and had not the costumerie given it away, the other entertainment surely would. I think due to its size, there was a lot of kink in a concentrated area which gave it (for me anyway) a much more hardcore feel than Torture Garden, for instance, where you can easily lose sight of anything too shocking. 

There were a couple of acts on stage riffing on the medical theme – one person dressed as an asylum patient before doing her act, and the other performance involved filling various pouches around the performer’s body with blood from syringes. It was interesting for sure. In addition to this there was something that I would term performance art happening on the edges – and somewhat interactive. A slender girl stood poised in her pen until you switched on a light and then one of two boxes in front of her would light up and she would investigate what was inside. What was inside not only delighted her but threw her into a sexual frenzy – on the one side, several pairs of beautiful shoes, on the other, gorgeous corsets. She would preen and rub herself all over them in sensual ecstasy until time ran out and she had to put them away. She had the grace and fluidity of a trained dancer (I imagine she was) and she was a joy to watch. Next to her, was something that was the exact opposite to watch but transfixing nonetheless. They had someone who was offering his body modification services for the night. One young guy sat, amazingly passively, nary a change in expression on his face, as he got a swirled pattern scarified in his leg. Then a girl had some needles inserted into her back almost like tiny wings, and posed, before having them removed again. The finale of the night was for this guy to perform his body art on himself (with a little help). I can think of no other way to describe it than say he turned his penis inside out and created a ‘vulva’ out of it using piercings to hold the ‘lips’ in place – piercings he did himself. Then he took them out and nailed his scrotum to a wooden board with the help of an assistant. He stood and wiggled that a bit before having his assistant take them out. The last one got caught and you could tell it must have smarted a bit.

After that all that was left was to mingle and get on the dance floor. They were playing a mix of rock and darker 80s music, which wasn’t exactly my thing but also made a nice change from the typical drum n bass. I danced a little but called it a night earlier than usual as I actually had plans for the next day that weren’t just lying in bed waiting to go out again at night. Apparently the dance floor did pick up a bit after I left. There were also some arty visuals around the place for your optical delight and disturbance. 

Tickets were £15 on the door, which I thought was good value for the entertainment provided. Drinks were eyewateringly cheap – you got 3 drinks for 10 quid I think, and you didn’t even have to order them all at the same time. You could get a token for the others if you weren’t ready for them yet. We were really worried we wouldn’t get in so turned up about half an hour after the doors opened (at 8). Everyone else was far cooler and turned up at around 10 but the drinks were so cheap no one minded being in there while it was filling up! A seriously different night out. 

Velvet Tongue, 2nd September

Who would have thought that underneath innocuous Bar Kick in Shoreditch you could find such a haven of sexual liberation. This, however, sounds a lot more exciting than it was. 

We apparently missed the first act of the night - a reverse striptease, or 'dresstease' where a man started off naked and gradually clothed himself until he looked like a woman. This also sounded like it was the best act of the night.

We got there for the compere, Ernesto, telling everyone about the origins of Velvet Tongue, and then introducing the first act, a gay man who read some 'erotic' literature. I put erotic in inverted comments because even though they did in fact feature sex, and sensuality we all quickly discovered that this alone does not erotic make. As one of my friends put it, it was like listening to him read his boring diary. His monotone delivery didn't help and, as an editor, I was dying to get my hands on it and spruce up his prose a bit.

I quite liked the next two acts, one being just a silly performance of a song involving whoopee cushions and the other providing probably the highlight of the night. Lazlo Pearlman, a stocky, wisecracking Jewish guy came out into the audience, Jew-seeking, in order to distribute doughnuts. He then stripped off a little and started telling us about his sexually liberated mother and upbringing and his encounters with Jews - especially some ultra-orthodox Jews who invited hiim to lay tefillin, which he had never done before. He had stage presence, and was amusing, he was entertaining to listen to. And then, the music went on and he started dancing and then he provided us with the shocker - he wasn't a he! Stripped right down, beneath his burly, hairy, rather attractive chest, he had no, as Nursey from Blackadder might say 'winky'. He then explained, as you can imagine, what a dilemma he had with these Orthodox Jews who wanted him to do rites that only a man in Judaism has any 'right' to be doing. And then, we danced! He grabbed some of the audience and made them follow him around the room. I found myself caught up in his wake, him holding one hand, me holding someone stranger's as we Jewish danced around the room. It ended the first half on a strong point.

Sadly, it was barely worth coming back from the second half as each dire, boring, amateur graced the stage to be replaced by yet another. I derived some small enjoyment from realising I was at what could be the epitome of an 'underground' event - people were dressed (or not) however they pleased, taking advantage of a welcoming, safe place to be themselves - but sadly I might as well have been listening to some self-indulgent jazz or poetry for all the entertainment and eroticism it provided.

Of course, it wasn't all about being stimulating and there were some touching moments and some that took me out of my comfort zone, and I sort of appreciated that. For example, one guy took to the stage and proclaimed he was a sadist - he enjoyed hurting women during sex. Of course, purely consensually. He recited some poems of his that reflected his tastes in sadism - punching, knife play. As a girl whose limits are some spanking and a bit of light electric shocks (see Antichrist) it made for some difficult listening, despite his reminders that for all the violence, an orgasm was at the end for both of them. But his was probably some of the better, more well written material that night and it was compelling to listen to the brutality, and a window into a world I'm not familiar with. 

There was also the person who took to the stage as a 'fairy godmother' and recited a rhyming poem which was quite an amusing ditty in some ways, but also quite a sad tale of acceptance, culminating in her derobing and revealing her transsexuality. 

And I have to give a quick mention to the German who recited a poem on making a chocolate carrot cake - something about combating racism in cookery. I noticed he seemed to have some shrubbery coming out of his shorts. This, it turned out, was the leaves from the carrot he had stuck up his bottom, which he dramatically pulled out and used to stir his wine with. He was quite a character!

But mostly it was kind of boring, and I mainly stayed because as more and more people left, I didn't want to be impolite! We were finally (sort of) rewarded because the final act of the night was not bad, not bad at all. A girl in an open marriage told us a vignette about a recent lesbian encounter she'd had (these were not rarities for her) and did so in a funny, dry, honest way that was both amusing and quite a turn on. I don't know if it was quite worth the wait, but had the whole night been like that I would have been more than happy.

Sadly, with open mic nights you can never really guarantee quality, and I wish they had just tried to restrain the quantity as well a little, so that even if you did have to endure some bad acts, they were at least short. Some of them seemed to drag on interminably. A time limit would have been very welcome. Ernesto himself was quite funny, having more changes of costume than an Academy Awards hostess in the night, progressively getting more naked with each outfit. My favourite was when he came out in nothing but an inflatable rubber ring.  

I appreciate what they're doing in terms of welcoming anyone and everyone to explore and be open about their sexuality, but I don't think I'll be returning.