If any of this has piqued your curiosity, I want to make this clear: The website sounds quite intimidating, but you don’t need to worry about their ‘exclusive’ policy. I was convinced that I’d be the heaviest, un-hottest girl there, surrounded by supermodels and feeling awful and insecure. But the breadth of bodies and faces represented really did range from A to Vizzini. The FA website prominently positions black and brown faces and bodies in its gallery of former guests and flags up a Diversity and Inclusion policy—however, on the night I attended the guests were overwhelmingly, if not exclusively, white. I think about how nervous and awkward I felt—and how much harder the experience would have been if I was even more anxious about feeling welcomed and included.

Ultimately it doesn’t really matter what you wear to an orgy, as long as you don’t mind leaving it behind. I’d love to see the Fallen Angels lost property box—maybe I’d find Carlotta’s boyfriend in there, trying to organise a pub golf session. The event I attended was one of their larger gatherings—‘perfect for curious new Angels and experienced, wicked ones’. I wouldn’t completely rule out another visit, but I’d look for something a little bit smaller, and I’d bring my own wine.

Chapter Thirty-Four

‘Five hundred words—you could make
it a thousand if the muse descends’

Imogen

‘It’s brilliant. It’s utterly, completely brilliant.’

Louise sounds solemn, almost as if she’s contemplating a holy text. ‘Immo, the jokes are so good, but you’re in there. I can see these people. I can smell it.’ She wrinkles her straight, narrow nose, and her face shifts from pointer to pug. ‘It’s a really good, honest, funny, real piece of writing. I don’t get the title though. What’s a wallflower?’

I do love Louise but I sometimes wonder about the odd gaps in her knowledge. Maybe she accidentally neuralyzed herself playing laser tag at a hen do. ‘A wallflower is an introvert, a shy person, someone who doesn’t do well at parties. Nora Ephron—you know, When Harry Met Sally—a collection of her journalism was published in a book called Wallflower at the Orgy. The idea being that she went to all of these wild, thrilling events and observed them from the sidelines, without getting involved. And I’ve done the very opposite.’

Louise giggles. ‘I would have given anything to see it slowly dawning on Vizzini that you weren’t coming back. Was your ticket really stuck to his bum?’

I nod. ‘It sounds funny now, but…I was hoping that the vigorous pumping would dislodge it, and it would flutter to the floor without me having to touch his arse. I think the sweat made sure that it really stuck on.’

She shudders. ‘Still, such a good detail! I think Harri will love it.’