A few hours before the party, my friend Padma, a fellow fan of Harry Potter and unusual adventures, came over to my apartment to get ready with me. I opted for a hot-pink wig (inspired by the character Tonks), a black corset, lace stockings, black wizard robes and the wand that my friends had surprised me with on my 30th birthday at the Wizarding World of Harry Potter at Universal Studios Hollywood. Padma wore a long purple wig, a sexy low-cut black top, a fitted skirt and heels. We decided to nix the black-lace eye masks I had purchased from Amazon. They were too Fifty Shades of Grey for this occasion.

Once we were happy with our respective outfits, we ordered a Lyft Line to take us to the dungeon. Even though costumes are commonplace year-round in SF, we both covered up our sexy outfits with outerwear because we were sharing the car with two other passengers, and we didn’t feel comfortable giving any indication about where we were going. Haven is one of San Francisco’s newest dungeons, located on Folsom Street in SOMA, an area known for its high concentration of kinky venues and the annual BDSM festival Folsom Street Fair. It’s also completely unmarked from the outside and located right next to a pizza parlor. Padma and I gave each other a nervously excited, “OK, so we’re really doing this?!” look, rang the doorbell and walked into the chamber of depraved secrets.

We were greeted by a couple of staff members who had us each sign a consent form outlining all the club’s rules, such as “No masturbating to someone else’s scene without permission,” “Ask before touching people or their things” and “Get full and informed consent before you engage in an activity with someone.” On the ground level, they pointed out the bathrooms, lockers where you could store your personal belongings and the dungeon — the largest communal room in the building, which is set up specifically for BDSM play, with spanking horses, crosses to be tied up to and beams to hang bondage rope from.

Upstairs past the reception, about 10 people who already seemed to know each other were hanging out and admiring each other’s costumes. I was surprised to see that the majority of costumes were not kinky, so I felt a little like an outsider in my cleavage-baring corset and lace thigh-high stockings. One guy was dressed as Dobby the House Elf, complete with floppy felt ears and a ratty towel tied like a toga, and his partner was dressed as Dumbledore without a beard. There was also a table set up with non-alcoholic Butterbeer (alcohol is not permitted at sex clubs because proper consent can’t be given if you’ve been drinking), Amortentia potion (hibiscus lemonade) and bowls of candy. If you didn’t know any better, this could’ve been a 12-year-old’s Harry Potter–themed birthday party.

In addition to a man whose bloody, lashed back made him look like he’d been beaten by a Whomping Willow, a female Dumbledore was now bent over a spanking horse while Dobby slapped her bare bottom; one couple was doing rope bondage; another was partaking in extreme naked tickling; and there was a guy dressed like sexy Hagrid walking around with a female pet Buckbeak on a leash.

That is, until heading to a dimly lit lounge that was also on this floor, which had plenty of cozy couches to get intimate on, but was empty. Padma and I noticed a sex swing, and since neither of us had used one before, we decided to take turns sitting on it. It felt a little like sitting in a hammock chair, but there were two stirrups to put your feet in. Why can’t we have these to use during Pap smears? It was fun trying out the sex swing, but at that point, I couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed by just how tame everything was. That thought was quickly interrupted by the sounds of a cracking whip and moans of a man in excruciating pain coming from downstairs in the dungeon. Padma and I looked at each other in curious excitement and decided to head down there.

We took seats close to the entrance of the brightly lit dungeon play area, and I regretted my thoughts about how tame the party seemed.There were about 20 people gathered inside, a mix of participants and bystanders. In addition to the man whose bloody, lashed back made him look like he’d been beaten by a Whomping Willow, a female Dumbledore was now bent over a spanking horse while Dobby slapped her bare bottom; one couple was doing rope bondage; another was partaking in extreme naked tickling; and there was a guy dressed like sexy Hagrid walking around with a female pet Buckbeak on a leash. Less than a foot away from us was a Ravenclaw/Gryffindor couple doing cuckold roleplay.

From what I could tell, all the people who were playing were already established partners before this event. I didn’t see anyone ask random people to play, and Padma and I were not approached at all, nor did we feel comfortable approaching anyone else. I think because I had had practically no BDSM experience before this party and didn’t know what the etiquette was about interacting with people, I felt too shy to make any moves.

Once the novelty of being at a Harry Potter–themed sex party wore off and the smell of sickly sweet Butterbeer combined with bodily fluids started to become overwhelming, Padma and I decided to call it a night after just a little over an hour. She went home to have sex with her boyfriend, and I was sadly disappointed by going home alone. After weeks of excited anticipation over fantasizing about all the things that could have happened that night, having it end with me watching the newest season of Grace and Frankie on Netflix (while trying to drown out the sound of my roommate having sex with his girlfriend) felt like a bummer. I think if I were to go to another sex party again, Harry Potter–themed or otherwise, I’d want to go with a sex partner. After all, it’s much more fun to play Quidditch than to watch from the sidelines.