Hebony Norton remembers her first Roman orgy.
There’s a tutu on my floor and it’s not mine.
When I first walked in, I was handed a garbage bag and told go through there to the change room. I had read on the website that there would be change rooms, as in plural, so I wasn’t expecting to get my kit off and don my bawdy get up in front of a gaggle of strangers but hey…when in Rome.
The theme for this year’s Saints and Sinners bash in Melbourne was Roman orgy. It was held at a four-storey venue in the city, aptly called Inflation. I popped my street clothes in the supplied garbage bag, and was left standing in my black patent leather knee high boots, thigh high, lace top stockings, black boyleg knickers, black corseted waist cincher, flesh-toned studded silk bra, black satin opera gloves, a mask of multi-hued eye shadow and very big hair. A studded evening bag draped over one shoulder housed my cash, lip gloss, phone and my favourite condoms, just in cases.
The Saints and Sinners have been holding their raunchy parties since the ’70s, which makes me think they should have ironed out all the kinks (at least the unintentional ones) by now. But the cheese was so bad! It tasted like powdery, congealed cubes of the expelled bodily fluids from last year’s party.
The first few hours were fairly tame; I became smitten with an eclectically stunning girl I nicknamed Evanescence in my head and watched dance. I saw some burlesque performers, some boobs and a couple of wangs. I developed crushes on almost all of the staff; apparently we do want a little something left to the imagination because jeans and t-shirts had never seemed so hot before.
Rarely have I been presented with such A-grade people watching. The age range seemed to be a fairly even bell curve from twenty to sixty, the costumes varied from togas to gladiators and the bodies from svelte to super shapely.
Evanescence was proving herself to be excellent company, and we embarked on a valiant (and hopeless) endeavour to accost the bartender who looked remarkably like Jay from Jay and Silent Bob on the rooftop bar.
After admitting defeat we retreated downstairs, to where the action was really in full swing. Somewhere around midnight some mystical, intangible flame had sparked the party and it had gone from “Some Nudity” to “Triple X Rated”. Nothing seemed taboo, as long as you were polite and respectful about asking. Oddly, I never felt threatened.
I did feel a bit weirded out getting busy with Evanescence in front of a bunch of hyper-attentive onlookers so I suggested we abscond.
Did I enjoy my first Roman Orgy? Sure. Would I go again? Perhaps. Would I recommend it? Absolutely, as long as your mind is open, your legs don’t have to be. Observers are welcome and it’s a great thing to tick off the bucket list.
