Word has it the working girls in attendance received a $500 flat fee for the night, plus whatever else they scored via participating in a slave auction, and subsequently servicing their buyer. Of the 30 or so women in attendance at the club, around 20 of them were employed by Sanctum. There were no shabby tats, cellulite or track marks evident.Īnother room, up a flight of steps nearby, featured a naked girl spread-eagled on a huge round table while a sexy Asian lady, resplendent in lingerie and mask, poured hot wax on her thighs. While gratuitous moaning ensued, the “submissive” didn’t seem to get burned. It seemed like most of the women were paid, though they didn’t exactly typify your average street hooker. These included a group of OC dudes celebrating a birthday, a clan of Iranian luxury car salesmen (who arrived in Lamborghinis), a solo guy named Dave who claimed to be a pharmaceutical heir and an assortment of gangster-looking types flashing a hefty amount of cash.Īs advertised, all the men had a tux on, which created an odd uniformity. Instead there was a predominantly male crowd, with the overall ratio of men to women about 70 percent.
Visions of Hollywood gatekeepers snorting coke off a petite wannabe actress’ tits weren’t exactly realised. I had expected something a little more decadent than a McMansion with a goddamn shark tank, considering all the hype and cloak-and-dagger mystery surrounding the club’s press and PR. Just one young, though healthy-looking, shark swam happily in the tank, taking in all the masked idiots staring at it. For some reason, the house had a shark tank, status symbol for James Bond villians, 90s rappers and drug cartel leaders. The house had a minimally-lit living room and bar that featured a posse of around eight women in high-end lingerie and heels spanking one another for the pleasure of everyone present. After an ID check, we were then walked into the building by a black-suited security guard.
Even the most privileged men don’t get that luxury.Īfter paying twenty bucks to the valet, guests were driven by golf cart up a driveway to the main structure of that night's Sanctum venue, which was a non-descript mid-sized mansion perched precariously on the corner of Mulholland Drive. “Beautiful single ladies can enter the club on our guest list” (after submitting full-length photos). Male attendees must wear a tuxedo and women, “lingerie or tasteful evening wear,” plus masks all around. The club’s website mysteriously adds, “We are fully out in the open, certainly – but we still harbour secrets.” These claims of sophistication and intrigue seemed incongruous with the reality of what sounded like a pretty standard orgy, so I decided to check out Sanctum to see if it lived up to their hyperbole.Īccording to its strict set of rules, Sanctum requires aspiring members to submit their photos via email before they are approved to join or attend.