Get Wet, Get Wet, But Not too Wet
The venue was some kind of leisure centre, which was starting to become a bit of a Thing in the mid-90s (not leisure centres themselves, but the use of them for fetish nights.) I'd been to a kinky party held in a London gym, which had been a bit dingy but, in its own way, atmospheric. This place was quite a lot fancier. It had a pool, for one thing. A small but very clean pool, with a mirror on one wall and (probably plastic) statuary round the edges and (definitely plastic) ivy draped over the statues.
It had a big gym area, with one of those lovely sprung floors which are such fun to dance on, and they'd put a DJ in there. (G and I later tested his skills and our cool moves by getting him to put Inside by Stiltskin on, followed by the Offspring's No Self Esteem).
Gyms or leisure centres do make rather decent kink venues, if you think about it, and we were both quite enthralled by this one. It was a contrast to the sort of sticky-carpet pub back rooms that still made up most of the London scene and, as it was summer and a hot night, the pool was very welcome indeed.
At some point in the evening's proceedings, perhaps between our third and fourth dips in the pool, both I and G managed to find ourselves someone to play with. She later told me that she'd got busy with her new friend in the Jacuzzi and it had been good; in my case things had gone relatively well except for my little mistake in the showers. The lesson I learned from that particlar night was: if you are sucking someone off in a shower cubicle, do not tilt your head at such an angle that the shower jets go up your nose while you have a mouthful of dick. It feels like you're going to fucking drown.
(I seem to recall writing almost exactly those final words when I did my review of this event. That's how much of an impression it made on me.)
