Swingers’ Clubs & Saucy Sex Secrets Prove that Paris Really is the City of Love

By AMY JONES / Posted on February 1, 2019

A BEAUTIFUL woman, naked but for a pair of immaculate Christian Louboutins, moans in ecstasy as couples, threesomes and moresomes frolic amid a sea of naked flesh.

Welcome to Les Chandelles, Paris’s most exclusive sex club, in the posh 1st arrondissement, just yards from the iconic Louvre museum.

Last week the French capital cemented its status as the City of Love when a survey shone a light on its racy residents.

A study by polling institute Ifop revealed that more than a quarter of Parisians have indulged in group sex and nearly one in six have swapped partners at a swingers’ club.

And they take at least 19 lovers in their lifetime — double the amount of us Brits who settle for a modest ten.

That’s fewer sexual partners than some at Les Chandelles take in one evening.

But in order to get to this exclusive club you have to first adhere to the strict rules. Men are required to wear suits and women must be in skirt and heels.

Bags, phones and wallets are taken away to ensure anonymity and your bill is totted up on a card which you leave with the barman.

The total cost can be eye-watering. The entry fee is 92 euros per couple, including one drink per person. After that, drinks are more than 22 euros a pop.

The bar area could pass for a regular nightclub, as guests mingle casually and dance to pop music.

But things take a raunchier turn once you follow a dimly lit corridor towards the “playroom”.

I get chatting to Pierre*, a professional in his early 40s.

He tells me: “Sex is a huge part of life in Paris and sex parties are very common.

“I probably visit a club every month. My wife and I have been together for ten years and we go together.

“Many married men and women in France take a lover. I think this is more open and honest.”

In Les Chandelles anything goes as long as it’s consensual. Inside the small playroom, naked couples take up all available space, while others loiter outside, peering through the open doorway.

There’s men-on-women and women-on-women, and bodies blur into a writhing, sighing mass.

The age demographic differs drastically for men and women.

Most monsieurs are over 40 with some well into their sixties, while mademoiselles are younger, in their late twenties and thirties.

At the candle-lit bar one of the pretty young girls, dressed in a skintight black dress and six-inch heels, tells me: “A lot of rich men bring their lovers to these parties and leave their wives at home.

“You see over there,” she points. “A classic case.”

She gestures to a smartly-dressed man in his fifties.

He sips on champagne while a busty vamp in her twenties grinds into his lap.

She’s dressed in a tiny pleated schoolgirl skirt complete with stockings and suspenders. He has not even bothered to remove his wedding band.

In France, adultery is almost expected.

Conservative estimates suggest a third of the country’s married citizens have strayed.

For this reason — and others — the club operates on a first names-only basis and no personal information is revealed.

In Les Chandelles the question, “What do you do?” takes on a new meaning with randy regulars able to explore their fantasies with a variety of partners.

Discretion is key as politicians, musicians and the city’s millionaires are all said to visit.

The former French finance minister Dominique Strauss-Kahn reportedly used to spend wild evenings inside the plush pink club.

While Les Chandelles is the most famous one, there are more than 500 swingers venues in France, the lion’s share of which lie in Paris.

Just a ten-minute walk away is Le Mask.

Tucked away behind the Paris Stock Exchange, the club attracts a cooller, younger crowd, but it is less glossy.

Entry on a Saturday night is 78 euros per couple, which includes two free drinks and a mask, which guests are encouraged to wear to lower inhibitions.

Inside there are beds of all sizes and pole-dancing corners.

Downstairs in the basement, toys and chains are attached to the walls for those feeling extra-playful.

Super-chic regular Simone, 24, here with her boyfriend Alain, says females call the shots when it comes to couple-swapping.

She tells me: “Women are in control in these places and have final say on ‘yes’ or ‘no’.

“These clubs are very feminine and put female enjoyment first.”

After visiting a British sex club on an earlier investigation, I can attest that the Paris equivalents feel far less threatening.

At a high-end sex club in London’s West End men assumed I was fair game simply for walking through the door.

Here women are in charge with ladies making the first move.

While Paris’s sex clubs may promote female empowerment, the city has one of the world’s most famous areas for prostitution, Rue Saint-Denis.

Here, sex shops flog poppers for ten euros, along with sex toys and kinky dress-up outfits.

Young couples giggle as they window shop while single men shuffle into establishments offering “massage”.

The Ifop study found 38 per cent of Parisian men have used a prostitute — much higher than the French national average of 22 per cent.

Only ten per cent of British males confess to paying for sex.

The survey also found Paris is a hub for France’s homosexual community, with 20 per cent of Parisians declaring themselves gay or bisexual compared to 11 per cent nationally.

Technology student Angelique, 22, is one of many here who proudly swings both ways.

She says: “I know Brits and Americans have many dating ‘rules’ but in France it is far more relaxed.

“We move fast. Sex can come as quickly as the first encounter.

“Nobody would think you had loose morals for moving quickly.

“For me it’s all about chemistry. Gender doesn’t really come into it.”

Paris-born French GQ sex columnist Maïa Mazaurette, 38, believes there is a huge difference between the French and the British in the bedroom.

He explains: “In France, we’re so straightforward. We don’t have these dating rituals — we start with sex.

“Then, if the sex was good enough, we try to build a relationship.

“When I have sex with someone, I’m not sharing real intimacy. I share intimacy when I talk about my childhood.

“If it’s just kissing or spreading my legs, my emotional involvement is almost zero.”

I meet an expat in a bar in trendy Canal St Martin who sums it up quite neatly.

The lawyer swills his glass of red as he muses: “The difference is that we Brits don’t have much sex and are totally obsessed with it, while the French have lots of sex and don’t care about it.”

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