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The inside story of the Holiday Inn sex den

By MattCannon  |  Posted: July 24, 2013

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As I enter the room I hear the radio. An Artful Dodger song breaks the uncomfortable silence as seven naked men, strangers, awkwardly stand around.

Exposed: The Brentwood hotel room used for sex parties

Bright daylight creeps in around the drawn blinds at 7.30pm on a summer's evening.

Only a few minutes earlier I had been sat in the solitude of my car in the car park outside.

As I sit there I see several men waiting inside their own vehicles.

Walking around the grounds I notice a man around 30-years-old wearing three quarter length trousers sat outside the entrance smoking a cigarette.

He checks his watch, then his phone. Inhaling a final puff he heads into the hotel and turns immediately right, walking with some gusto.

Heading back to the car I notice I had received the signal.

I shove an indiscrete tape recorder into my back pocket, clutch my phone and head to room 118.

It is a nervous walk.

On reaching the door I am welcomed by a smartly, dressed man wearing well shined shoes, trousers and an open necked shirt.

He warmly encourages me as I uneasily begin to play with untying my shoe laces. The smoker I saw outside steps around me and into the bathroom.

The object of the men's attentions sits confidently on the bed. Not making eye contact with anyone before she slides on to the floor and the well clothed man instructs me he'll be taking the cash fee up front.

I pull at the front of the neck of my t-shirt and declare it's not for me, I take my leave.

Although, my phone had stopped recording too soon. There is nothing for it - I head back.

Again I am welcomed inside and encouraged to relax and if needs be to take a seat.

The party has not waited for me.

Without relish I kick off my shoes and clutching my camera phone head half way around the bed toward the group.

Click, click, click my phone irritatingly draws attention to itself and one man steps sharply back asking the clothed man "is this on?" It is not.

I promise  to delete the pictures and within seconds I have my shoes in my hand and I am making my excuses as I head to the door to depart.

I can hear from behind the door that the party is only just getting started.

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