Soho has always drawn a hedonistic crowd, seeking out pleasure in dimly lit spaces and a sense of spontaneity. On a balmy Tuesday night in August, tucked away in Quo Vadis’s upstairs library, a group of curious Londoners gathered to indulge another kind of fantasy: erotic literature. Seated in a semi-circle of red leather chairs and blue velvet couches, armed with champagne and sex toys and dressed to the nines – including a bow-tied, unbuttoned bartender – the group was reminiscent of a well-heeled hen party. But instead, everyone was completely absorbed in a discussion about sex, desire and Chelsea G Summers’s 2020 novel, A Certain Hunger, an unsettling story of a successful food critic with a taste for human flesh.
“The way that I want Sexy Book Club to be thought of is like a fancy, boujee, sexy night out that’s also a book club,” Australian sex columnist and podcaster Laura Roscioli tells Broadsheet. Roscioli had flown in from her home of Melbourne to launch the first international edition of Sexy Book Club, a literary salon and social club creating intimate, slightly clandestine spaces for people to explore sex, desire and relationships. Think of it as a speakeasy, but for hedonist readers.
“It’s always [held in] a beautiful venue, it’s kind of secretive. You need to have been invited to know where you’re going,” Roscioli says. There’s “always a sexy bartender”, plus surprise performances such as burlesque and other book-inspired details including a writing workshop with writing community Inklings London. The recent London debut also saw a reading from special guest Sophie Mackintosh, author of Permanence, the 2026 speculative fiction novel about an illicit romance in an alternative world. Guests also went away with pleasure products from independent sexual wellness brands like The Department of Bed Intentions. “Something tactile that’s on theme with the book that people can see,” she says. “It’s going to make them feel like they’re in the mood, really activating the senses.”
It’s this kind of visceral and communal experience – so far removed from the passive and solo consumption on the internet – that led to Sexy Book Club’s formation. While visiting a pub in rural Victoria, Roscioli came across a discontinued ’90s Australian magazine called Black & White. The coffee table-style publication featured erotic art, photography and interviews with artists and cultural icons on the fringes of mainstream culture.
“I can’t remember the last time that I learned things like people's names and artistic pursuits outside of an online world,” Roscioli says. “And then I thought, ‘That’s really sad.’ And then I just felt like I really wanted to create that.”
What began as a call-out for a book club about sex has since grown into an IYKYK community for creative and sexually curious readers. Roscioli’s first event attracted around 20 people to her Melbourne apartment; the next was held in the private room of quirky local pub, Gerald’s Bar. Then came hundreds of messages on Instagram from people worldwide of all ages and sexualities wanting to join – whether they were freshly single and embracing their own pleasure, or simply looking for connection.
Still keeping it relatively behind closed doors, Roscioli now manages city-specific WhatsApp groups in Melbourne, Sydney and London for meet-ups, where members use literature as a springboard for conversations around desire, taboo, infidelity, relationship structures and queerness.
“It brings them into the story, which I think is really important, and it opens people up. It makes them feel more brave. It makes them feel like they aren’t alone in that room full of people.”
Roscioli plans to pop up in London every four months – she’s also got New York on her mind – to cater to the growing global demand, and as she puts it, “include everyone”. While she’s still mapping out the logistics, members can also expect exclusive online content, including live discussions with authors of the books they’re reading. One thing’s for sure, though: while some of Sexy Book Club’s community will inevitably exist online, Roscioli won’t be looking to BookTok for her reading list. “I definitely don't use BookTok at all. I really want this experience to come from a human place.”
