My boyfriend Tommy and I found Jesters on our second night on holiday in Ibiza. It ticked all the boxes, great music, fab lights, even a midnight karaoke, that was hilarious, and a large open-air, chill out, roof that overlooked the sea. We went every night.

On our first night, looking for the loo, I found a spiral staircase, enclosed in a metal cage, hidden away in a dark corner. At the bottom was a locked gate. But, lights flashed through the bars and the same music was playing on this floor as the floor above. As I looked through the gap in the metal bars I could see the room was entirely full of men. They were all holding drinks and the object of their attention seemed to be a large square of light in the ceiling, the light was pulsating in time to the music. Everyone was looking upwards and every now and again there would be a loud cheer from a group, or a peal of laughter from another part of the crowd.

The whole thing puzzled me at first but, then I realized, the light in the ceiling was the dance floor of the room above and it was, obviously, see through. All the guys could see up the skirts of the girls dancing above.

The next day I made a point of walking past the club in the daylight. The main entrance was up a flight of stairs but, down an adjacent alleyway, a much smaller sign read Jesters Hombres (Men). It was a brilliant ploy by whoever owned the club. The guys, fuelled by alcohol and testosterone, from the floor below would gladly pay a second time to get into the main part of the club, up above.

That first night I was very wary of dancing. Normally I'm the first one up on the floor but, knowing what I knew, I was very hesitant. I'm certainly no extrovert, even a dirty joke makes me blush six different shades of red, so I didn't fancy showing a crowd of perfect strangers my underwear. But, as the night wore on, and given some Dutch courage by the alcohol I got up. That's when a very strange thing happened.

As I danced around with Tommy I suddenly got very turned on at the thought of a gang of guys looking up my skirt. It wasn't as if I was deliberately flashing them, which of course I was, but as far as they were concerned I was completely oblivious of the see through floor. The floor was only see through one way.

So I danced the night away and when we got back to the hotel we had the most amazing sex. I virtually ripped the clothes off Tommy, I wanted it so badly.

So, the last night of our holiday is what this confession is all about. We'd both had way to much to drink, last night booze up, so on a complete alcoholic high, I took my knickers off in the toilet and stuffed them in my handbag. I'm sure I heard a muffled cheer as I got on the dance floor, but that could've been just my imagination. And we danced and I strutted my stuff and showed everything I'd got to whoever was standing below. It was an enormous turn on. My tiny, white flared skirt must have given everyone a great view. When the music slowed we danced in one another's arms and, believe it or not, there on the floor, I came. It was no little quiver of the clit neither, it was a full blown orgasm. I fell into Tommy's arms as my legs began to tremble and give way. Tommy put it down to having too much to drink. But, as I leaned up against him I came again, pushing my crotch against his. I had to bite down on my lower lip to stop myself crying out.

So, that's my confession, I know it may be very tame, compared to some of the more bizarre stories, but you see this one just happens to be true.