Killing Kittens

Don’t I have a story to tell! The Alessandro Dell’Acqua dress worked its magic. Instead of just drinks, the Litigation Lawyer (“LL”) and I went for dinner instead (with plenty of drinks) as he was incredibly late (but what lawyer isn’t?) and by the time we met up I was starving. I haven’t seen him for ages and forgot how well we used to get along. The thing about the LL, he is sweet and interesting to talk to and I always regarded him as a proper grown-up, until I found out (later on Friday night) that he is just a year older than me! Anyway, never ever there were any thoughts on my side on fancying him. Never. Although I always thought that he had a soft spot for me, but it was okay, as I always thought that he is several years older and thought of me as a “young thing” that you can friendly flirt with, nothing else.

Anyway, at about 11PM on Friday night, our talk about religion and spirituality (I told you he is interesting to talk to) suddenly and abruptly turned to marriage and cheating and… wait for this…Killing Kittens parties. “Have you seen “Eyes Wide Shut”?” And yes I have and more than scared I was deadly curious about the reality of the swingers’ parties.

Have you heard about Killing Kittens? Google it. Apparently, these are the parties for the “world’s sexual elite”, and everybody is young and gorgeous. Ha. I tell you, they might seem young and gorgeous when they are fully dressed and wearing masks. The second those are gone you see (more often than not) 35+ men (fat and hairy) and women (fat and hairy? Definitely wrinkly) desperate to have some excitement in their sexual lives. They think that this could be achieved by having sex with strangers while other strangers watch. I guess it takes all kinds to make a world and if this works for them – good. It certainly did not work for me. Scenes from “Eyes Wide Shut” were cinematographically beautiful (if somewhat disturbing) and directed by one of the world’s best directors. The scenes before my eyes on Friday night were just disturbing and were lacking any directorship. There were plenty of fake moans though.

The LL and I escaped to the empty room on one of the upper floors of this private mansion on Portland Street. And he started to kiss me. By then I was full of champagne and Jack Daniels and let him do that (actually, no, I tried to stop him reminding him about his wife AND baby daughter). Are all men cheaters? Please say no.

“Have you become a mason now?” – this was Pippa’s text the morning after I text her about my masked-swinger adventures (although I was a mere spectator). I doubt it.