While entering the Pop Porn-shebang I met a friend of mine, who apparently, was already leaving. He was wearing a mask, a skirt and a beard, and somehow a couple with a girl in an evening dress and a guy in a red plaid shirt brought him to aesthetic rabies. “Don’t expect much from those people,” he said. “They do not fuck.” So he left.

But I stayed, surrounded by greedy glances of hungry males and indifferent eyes of well-fed females–however, all, as everywhere in Moscow, with the only difference being that here a non-idle question “Can I meet you?” hovered in the air. The question hovered, but no one was decisive enough to ask it first.

I decided to take advantage of my role as a reporter and roll out someone for a little talk…. A girl in a cream-colored swimsuit–a clothing designer–admitted that she only associates with a circle of open-minded people, because they are the coolest, most creative, and generally one should only deal with them. A young man instantly joined our conversation, his introductory exclamation was “I’m bisexual,” which I could only applaud, but the designer girl chose to reward him with a deep, long kiss… At that moment I realized that the communication outlines of the party were really wide…

On the second floor, some people indulged in pleasures for four. Inveterate voyeurs and curious onlookers crowded around them. Everything was for real, but had a bitter sense of provincial student frustration.

There were more mature guests as well: a man with a stern face was watching the frolicking crowd on the dancefloor. A trace of a kiss adorned on his cheek. Why not… An interesting man, and as he mentioned, he was into BDSM for a while already and was looking for a retinue for future fun. “And who are you, by the way?”

I go further. On stage, a girl masturbates with a dildo and shares her impressions into the microphone. Right after that, at the same table, an unknown expert tries to make her pussy squirt with a hands craftsmanship, but instead of splashing, only sparks fly–the procedure is clearly protracted.

A promising maze. Probably the most failed object at the party–no Glory Halls, no girls with trays of sausage made of horse meat to gain an erection, no even TVs with porn. In the maze, people were just standing against the wall, like in a shooting gallery–permanent partners in a kind of row that have come in pairs and crave for approving glances from ‘colleagues.’

The lack of unity in this corridor was surprising. Everyone was by themselves, no reshuffle or even a friendly handshake. Another surprising thing was that the advantage was on the side of straight people, although they said there were strap-ons in circulation there on the second floor.

Freaks in armor, helmets, pants with an ax, in LED hats, black masks and robes, schoolgirls, nuns and just naked people created the atmosphere of a misunderstood format, a carnival of under-BDSM enthusiasts. The review by a stray visitor from Italy was also not very comforting: according to his words, in Italian porn clubs people dress more appropriately for the stated topic.

Anyway, the pure, genuine interest and the lack of mercantile public in search of customers was undoubtedly pleasing. Overall, Pop Porn-Party has an interesting format, but it hardly has a chance to grow into the coveted porn club worthy of the “Eyes Wide Shut” claims, at least with the absence of production tools and conceptual surroundings. The potential audience also have work to do in terms of liberation and artistry.

In all the rest–thank you all for the night!