Editor’s Note: This feature on a modern, mainstream sex party is featured in the new issue of PLAYBOY magazine, available now.

The room was packed with almost 100 attractive people in different states of undress, which is not unusual on a Saturday night in Los Angeles. What was strange, maybe, was what they were watching. The event was being held in an unmarked, nondescript building near Hollywood. Its main room included a small stage. The audience included many model-seeming women in lingerie, their nipples on display, and a lot of model-looking men in fetish harnesses, their nipples sheathed. Onstage, a man lay on his back on a table. He wore little besides an Egyptian pharaoh’s headdress and a lot of rope, binding his arms.

The performance was billed as “Mummy Dearest.” One of the organizers whispered in my ear, “Get ready for a burial.” At the same time, a DJ cued up “Heads Will Roll” by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, and a tall, slender woman arrived—yet again, gorgeous—and climbed on top, straddling the man. She stroked her vulva and smiled. She massaged her breasts and gasped. She leaned forward to suck the pharaoh’s cock, eyeing the crowd, and the crowd eyed her right back.

A moment later, while over the loudspeakers Karen O sang, “The men cry out, the girls cry out”—the party was nicknamed “Howl and Scream”—the woman crawled up the man’s chest to fuck his mouth with her pussy, and several women in the crowd shouted with delight. Perhaps anticipating they’d be doing the same thing soon. Lovely Fate describes itself as “a social club for open minds & playful
hearts.” I was invited to attend its Halloween party on the condition that I not participate, so to speak, or reveal any identifying characteristics about the attendees.

One of the organizers, Vanessa Duffy, met me at the door when I’d arrived a few hours earlier. She was dressed as a dark angel: black wings, black heels, black lingerie and thong. (Over the course of the night, I often felt like I’d wandered into an X-rated Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show.) “I’m so glad you made it,” she said. “Are you ready? Are you excited?”

Truthfully, I was nervous—I’d never been to a sex party before, never mind attended one for work—though I wasn’t for long. Lovely Fate does a lot to make newcomers comfortable. On the sidewalk a man with an iPad asked me to scan a QR code and show my ID and ticket, then read and consent to the evening’s conduct code, which I’d already been emailed several times.

Inside, next to a coatroom, was a second round of security: ID, ticket, etc. Everything seemed thoroughly produced: electronic music, club decor, a Gothy velvet vibe. Vanessa led me upstairs for an orientation required of first-timers. There were about 10 of us in a small room, lit purple. Two of Lovely Fate’s
organizers—a man named R. who was dressed as a vampire and a woman in lingerie who called herself Z La Vex—walked us through how things worked. (The same rules were posted on the wall in most rooms.)

Basically, the night relied on communication and consent. No touching anyone, even platonically, without asking first. If you invited someone to “play” and they declined, you couldn’t ask them again. Also, no drugs, no exchange of money, and no phones except in designated spaces. Also, volunteers wearing glowing bracelets would be roaming around to answer questions or intervene if anything seemed off.

In the end, the violation of a rule often meant security would escort you off the premises and your membership might be revoked. Next we were offered lanyards with LED pendants: orange if we were open to playing with others, blue if we didn’t want to be approached. I was the only one who chose blue—though as a long-married person for whom such things weren’t part of the picture, could I imagine myself in another lifetime picking orange?

Why not? Finally, it was time to explore. “The biggest space is mostly for socializing,” Vanessa said, leading me around. “People are seeing old friends, making new ones, maybe meeting someone they’ll play with later.” The main room had a high ceiling, a stage area, and elaborate lighting. People mingled while a DJ played. Video art filled one wall with abstract erotic scenes, leading me to think: This is what it might look like if Björk threw a sex party. Most attendees seemed to be in their 30s and 40s: all races, sizes, types, definitely all attractive in their way, and extremely so in several cases. A naked woman was being tied up elaborately with rope. Couples sat on low couches making out or simply chatting; the same for trios. The atmosphere was that of an enthusiastic cocktail party—even if someone was wearing a dog collar with his partner holding the leash. Vanessa escorted me to the bar (drinks were BYO) and introduced me to a couple of friends, both hot, both welcoming. The man was dressed in a white coat with a patch that said “Dr. Feelgood.” He produced a doctor’s prescription pad and said, “Vanessa, I’m writing you a script.” He handed it over. You need to get fucked. “Oh, yes, please,” she said,
laughing, and led me away.

Sex parties are nothing new—they range from orgia in ancient Greece to key parties in Connecticut—but
they have never been as organized and personalized, produced and packaged, as they are now. Recently, the New York Times reported that “sexual wellness” was trending in the travel industry, as if it was just another health fad. In L.A., perhaps the fitness capital of America, not to mention the capital of outré behavior, multiple people in the scene say that parties are rife, occurring nearly every weekend, in private homes and clubs, for those in the know.

But this is probably not a surprise. L.A. is home to Hollywood and the pornography industry. It’s stocked
with fashion models, OnlyFans models, and lots of everyday folks who hit the gym once a day, if not twice. It’s a city full of toned, horny, often lonely people, for some of whom casual sex is just another Pilates class. One married couple who host annual swingers nights at their house for up to 150 people say that some guests travel from other countries simply for the physical beauty of their groups. “There’s a lot of good-looking people in L.A.,” the husband says, “so that helps.”

Read the rest in the 2025 issue of PLAYBOY magazine, available online and in Barnes & Noble today.