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NIGHT OF THE SENSES 2007

 Our guests were excited to arrive at yet another new venue and the brilliant thing about Mass and Babalou is that there are so many different spaces to explore. They were greeted at the Hospitality Desk and provided with maps and Fantasy Tour Operators were available for those who wished to be shown around.

The Outdoor area suited the smokers and provided an excellent space to cool down, chill out and look at the Erotic Awards exhibition. Some of the art was mighty outrageous, with Makan Emadi's Hollywood depictions of Muslim women and J.A.M. Montoya's perfect photographs of Roman Catholic erotic imagery.

The night began with the opening of the Exhibition in a marquee, hosted by Alison Lapper and proceeded with the Awards Ceremony. After this was a fantastic mind-boggling stage show of strippers, performers and fashion shows.

Next door was the Fuck For Forest film booth where guests bared their bodies and engaged in sex for the FFF website. Both the Sensuality Chamber and Anything Goes Room had peep holes where you could view musicians serenading lovers, groups of fuckers and cosy threesomes. One young lass from Glasgow took 54 men who were queuing up (see letter below) and the rooms were packed all night. Not enough space for all the wheelchair users, apparently, so they will have to be bigger next year.

Downstairs the Roissy Dungeon rocked, and the playroom was quite surreal “ so many treats in one small space “ including the medical 'operating table' the fucking machine, the cage and electrical garage.

Down in Babalou there was a different atmosphere altogether “ an enchanting fairyland of the Cafe' Shebeen, Romantic Diner and PhotoBooth. Guests were lazing around in erotic embraces, laughing and posing.

At 1pm came the Cabaret of the Senses, a show by the creme de la creme of all the Erotic Awards winners. Chiqui did an operatic strip, getting the audience to join in the chorus with her. Lily Dumont performed her famous Ugly Ducking act, Rumpshaker was his usual charismatic brilliance and Mouse kept the audience a good distance from the stage with her doggy act, endless squirtings and landing, pretty bottom down in bowls of soapy water.

Despite our worries about the small lift, disabled guests got around fine, and we were grateful to the small team of assistants, who came from Deaf-Blind UK to ensure everything went smoothly for them. One couple told us that the Night of the Senses is the one night of the year they can go out, she in a wheelchair, and know that they will fulfill their dreams.

Throughout the Ball, tiny booths offered specialised pleasures. The Breast Fondling Booth was for women who wanted to take their titties out and have them fondled, either in private or being watched. The Kissing Booth was a red velvet cubbyhole shielded by a silver chain curtain. The Room of the Senses offered sensual treats all night.

The Ball raised ?12,000 for Outsiders. This is thanks to all the volunteers (none of us get paid), and the wonderful, generous guests. The venue management were impressed with the care we took to ensure our guests, especially the disabled guests were comfortable and happy, and have invited us back again for 2008.

Here is what some of our guests wrote about the Ball:

"If you only do one thing tonight, make sure it's a visit to the Salon of the Senses' advised my friend. Indeed it was heavenly. I closed my eyes, got stroked with feathers, had nice scents put under my nose, was fed strawberries, followed by a nice massage. It must have been popular, as I met this balloon fetishist who was queuing for second helpings! Almost all sexual persuasions are catered for at the Night of the Senses.' Mandi Peers in Art Disability Culture magazine

"Wow - what a month we have had! Firstly, the beautiful and seductive experience at the Night of the Senses then we got married 2 weeks later and then went on honeymoon in the Dominican Republic! It doesn't get much better than that! We just wanted to say a huge thank you to you and all the other organisers for a wonderfully erotic and sensual evening at this year's Night of the Senses. It was our 2nd visit and the atmosphere was just as relaxed and the sense of community just as strong. We felt able to explore our sexuality even more and the exhibitionist in me is starting to really break out! We spent a lot of the honeymoon remembering the Night of the Senses experience and re-enacting lots of the naughtiness!'

Haha, hi tuppy, get it right it was 54 and that was just the Sat night. We met up with the greedy guys of London on the Sunday night and i still can't walk properly lol. We had a fantastic night at the ball. Gordy was just saying that he will be on a downer now 4 the nxt 6 months and the nxt 6 he will be hyper waitng 4 the nxt 1 to cum around. When i was in the Anything Goes room there was a wee guy in a wheelchair stroking my leg, while other guys were having there wicked way with me. They kept kinda pushing him away. I work with disabled people, and I thought, sorry boys, ure not on. So I sat up got a hold of the guy in the w.chair and sucked him off, and what a cock he had - it was solid. He had a piercing and when he came he almost blew my head off lol. luv Marie.xxxxx

"I have just had one of the best weekends of my entire life!' Bob

"How does one find the words to successfully recount a night spent at what has been described as the '˜world's biggest and best sex club'? I want to do my bit towards raising public awareness of the incredible work of the Leydig Trust and Outsiders, two charitable organisations you don't hear much about in the Evening News.

Dr Tuppy Owens is the mastermind (or should I say mistressmind?) of this monumental event, and has been running it for 21 years. Tuppy is a courageous activist who has been tirelessly campaigning for a more positive sex attitude in England, particularly towards and amongst the disabled community (see www.outsiders.org.uk) and is well-known in the Highland village, where she recently moved to from the hubub of London, as '˜that sex lady on the hill'.

Having actively studied tantra for ten years, learning through tantric meditations how to merge sexuality and spirituality, I have only recently begun to investigate this world One thing I discovered in my tantric explorations is that there is no such thing as '˜wrong' certainly in the world of sexuality and self-expression in general. The question I asked myself recently was, "So if I'm really going to live that truth then what better way to test the waters of my new-found '˜acceptance of all things as they are'.

Surely anything that breaks boundaries and opens ones eyes to the myriad aspects of human nature can only be a good thing? Visiting Wikipedia and typing in BDSM is an education in itself. My observation so far is that, whether it turns you on or not, there seems to be an admirably high level of consciousness and respect within the world of fetish, very little drug taking or alcohol abuse and basically a lot of rather normal and nice people who like to dress up and have a bit of fun.

The Night of the Senses celebrates in style and safety hundreds of different sexual preferences and practices and I was impressed by the generosity of the guests, contributors, helpers and performers. Next year I might even take my mother.......

I had invited members of the Online Community on www.tantralink.com to join me on this adventure and sadly, only one tantrika showed up. What a shame. I see tantra as a gateway to consciousness, and although tantra per se is not represented directly here, there is a great feeling of connection and spirit running through the Night of the Senses which gives me hope for humanity.

Participating in the Night of the Senses, even merely in voyeuristic capacity, is rather like dropping a tab of acid with a large bunch of good friends. About a thousand, in fact (and yes, believe it or not, I can still remember my teenage trips under the influence of the great hallucinogen, even though I've had two children since - pregnancy and childbirth kill off far more braincells than LSD ever could.....but that's another topic.

Just arriving at the club is an eye-opening experience. Some people turn up fully dressed and others arrive in street clothes, transforming themselves in the changing room inside. There is a well-stocked '˜dress up' shop where you can buy a fantasy costume at low cost. Everybody, without exception makes an effort to present the most outlandish image they can create for the night, and wandering up and down the floors of the club one comes across revellers from every walk of life, kitted-out in a vast array of fantastical and eccentric outfits. Anything from sarongs and floaty silks, to high heels and latex rubber wear. You can feast your eyes on leather straps, collars and leads, priestly robes, thongs galore, pvc nursing outfits (on some of the men too) pirate gear a la Johnny Depp, every kind of uniform imaginable: there were a few '˜policemen' about, which was faintly disturbing somehow. Fat, thin, disabled and abled, young and old, fit and gym-allergic mingle together in a friendly and heart-warming way, and the atmosphere is electrically-charged as guests move around the club, finding their way in this cavernous venue, which ironically used to be a church. What better way to honour consecrated ground, I say?

The finals of the Annual Erotic Awards is even more gloriously satisfying than the semi-finals, held a few weeks previously. Before the performers begin the stage show there is a presentation for the winners of categories such as '˜sex worker', '˜pioneer', '˜blog', '˜film-maker', '˜sex club'. At a break in the proceedings I lean forward and introduce myself to the most lovely man in a wheelchair sitting in front of me, who happens to be one of the judges. He is accompanied by his amiable cousin and they obliged me by enthusiastically appreciating my eight inch fetish shoes, which are already giving me blisters, and giving me marks out of ten for my outfit. This intelligent and cultured man has been coming to the Erotic Awards since its inception and tells me that even though he's seen a lot of the performers many times, he's never been bored. I can see why. The fine art of strip-tease is taken to a whole new level here, the sado-masochist acts are humorous and imaginative and the pole dancing takes one's breath away. I get to see the impossibly fit and flexible Ekatarina tie herself up in beautiful knots in aerial silks once again and as the show goes on, each act more innovative than the next I can't help thinking that much as I enjoyed Cats and Les Mis this is a more entertaining show than anything Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber has produced for the West End in thirty years.

I can't remember who won! '˜Winning' seems utterly irrelevant in this competition -each perfomer is so unique it's impossible to rate one over the other.

After the show I go for a wander, teetering on my heels and wishing they'd introduce bedroom slippers as fetish footwear. I'm determined to grin and bear it for as long as I can '“ "Glamour before comfort' my mother always used to say. Or was it "You have to suffer to be beautiful'? Funny how those childhood messages lodge themselves deep inside the psyche. There is room after room, each with a different theme and decorated accordingly, and I find out, with relief that there's no pressure to enter the spaces or to participate - the more cautious can spy through peep holes to witness the goings-on inside. Every sexual fantasy you could possibly imagine gets acted out here with gay abandon. I watch men with men, women with women, more than one woman with men, many men with one woman '“ you name it, I see it!

We come across a large, black box with holes in the walls which you step inside to be, yes you've guessed it - groped. It's a hoot! I take a turn and scream with laughter as half a dozen or so anonymous hands appear and touch me all over. It's so intense I last about forty seconds, but the bare-breasted and obviously seasoned punter after me remains in the box for at least five minutes. There should be an award for Grope Box stamina.

Unfortunately I'm on my moon time, which is the tantric term for what can only be described in my case as '˜bleeding for England'. My partner has a stomach ache, so between the two of us there ain't much action, but I'm happy to prowl the place as enthusiastic voyeur, a cat-o-nine-tails carried religiously throughout the ten hour marathon, showing that yes I am a sex maniac at heart, even if I'm not about to strip naked and get down and dirty on this particular night. It's five minutes before we're due to leave and a polite gentleman comes up to me and asks, in an Etonian accent, "Are you available for a whipping?' It's a question one doesn't get asked an awful lot, especially in the middle-class, suburban village I reside in, and I think, what the hell, you only live once (unless you believe in reincarnation, which sometimes I do and sometimes I don't, but on this night I definitely don't).

He leads me to his friend, who's dressed in a kilt (I'm not even sure why I'm mentioning it, by this point no article of clothing is surprising) and tells me that his friend's been a '˜bad boy'. My exhausted partner sits down in a corner, quite clearly longing for home and a nice cup of tea.

The two men and I move towards the doorway to the Torture Dungeon, but take our place against a wall outside. Somehow the torture room feels too official and intimidating. I think it's the fear of how far one might go. Safely outside the dundgeon, with no fear of pressure from professional torturers, I do the honours of punishing the man, in a rather Jewish-girl-from-Bournemouth sort of way. I think he may have been a little disappointed by my lack of vigour. The Etonian asks me if I've been a bad girl. I think to myself, '˜in for a penny, in for a pound, I might as well get a light whipping while I'm at it'. After all, this will be the closest I get to sexual depravity until the tidal waves of menstruation have abated. As the curtain comes down on the mutual whipping frenzy I realise that rather more than five minutes have passed and I feel a touch of guilt abandoning my ever-patient, tantric love god. I look over and, blow me down, he's grinning ear to ear. That's love! Kavida Rei

"The real beauty of the Ball is that it brings together so many creative, wonderful, beautiful people.'

Tuppy, the world is a much better, fun place for your being in it! Contrary to your name, you are worth your weight in gold!!! Simon