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We shook hands and started on the small talk. My room, overlooking a beautiful beach, already had a few boys. I could already see condom wrappers that had been flung out of open windows. The walk to my room was a really long one through dark and noisy corridors. On the way, I saw a terrace area set up for dinner with a dance floor draped with UV lights and a massive sound system. The guys at the makeshift reception smiled, took my cover charge, and ushered me to my room. I had seen a police chowky five minutes before reaching there and I had noted their number. My first thought was to calculate all the possible risks and my safety. I took the local train and then an auto rickshaw that dropped me off at the end of a narrow lane, where I walked a bit to reach a small gated beachfront house with 15 small rooms spread across two floors. The location was a faraway beach resort located in a Mumbai suburb. “They steal the show!” quoted my source Vinod *, who was also one of the organisers. Besides gay and trans guests, the main attraction would be crossdressers. It would begin at 7 PM sharp and wrap up by 1 PM the next day. On the day of the party, I got a confirmation and the exact location of the party at 6 PM. Until one bright morning, I got a WhatsApp message with details about the next gathering. Usually, there’s one organised every month or two, or so I was told.
There wasn’t any party being organised for a long time. I followed up with them for the next three months. “This sounds very exciting,” I said to myself. Our host added, “There’s crossdressing, dance performances, traditional food, games and a pool party, all in one night! You will get to see me in drag.” I always wanted to visit one so I instantly agreed. I was pretty oblivious to this secret sex party scene.