Prostitution
Created | Updated Apr 15, 2002
The Oldest Profession.
Knocking shops usually perceived as the dubious preserve of the 'splashed jacket' brigade can
be found (with vast variety of clientele) wherever there is a community of people. Indeed, prostitution rates pretty
high in the bible, Mary Magdalene, (perhaps the 13th and only female disciple of Jesus) being one of the most
famous ladies of the night. Why am I writing of such things? Well, I had a very strange experience the other night,
the facts of which I will now lay before you.
'3am caned up to my eyeballs on cocktails and cigarettes, desirous of what I am only able to term 'Girlie action.'
Friend Martin in tow, , quiet, but with a similar fervor to my own. Thus, I proposed we find a strip club, sleazy fellow
that I am. Two votes for, none against. It didn't take long. A small, and may I say, vile, Spaniard saw that gleam in our
eyes, and hailed us with a leery 'You want naked girls, yes?'
To which we replied mutely with nodding, grinning heads.
'OK.' He chirped and beckoned to us to follow him. We did, and we regretted it.
'So, without fear or hindrance, the innocents descended into the fiery pit of hell' (sic)
-The Bible?
We were led down a dimly lit alley, where a flickering neon sign proclaimed 'TOPLESS' in gaudy pink lettering. The
leather effect jacket of the Spaniard glinted menacingly in this light, as did his yellowing teeth and grimy hair.
''Zis door: bare, and 'zis door…' he points and pulls a sickly nicotine grin. Two doors, one choice. We chose the
'sickly grin' door (he made it look so promising,) bit our lips , and entered.
Now, I can already hear you chanting 'Silly Bugger, you stupid silly bugger, you should have known.' Well, may I first
say that all I wanted to see was a nice shapely bod and, perhaps, a glimpse of pussy. Such was my testosterone
soaked brain. Apart from this carnal curiosity, it was strangely romantic, beautiful even. The thrill of forbidden and
frowned apon adventure, furtive, sick. I didn't know what was behind that door, but I wanted to know, and somehow,
I needed to know.
The Brothel, for that is what is was, had very dim lighting, emanating from a low bar. Light shy folk huddled in
corners, as I suppose, is their nature. The bar covered the whole length of the room and the seating was arranged
directly opposite. A larger version of the vile Spaniard manned the bar. He eyed us greedily.
All this was taken in just a moment, for our attention was immediately taken by two very friendly females wearing,
surprisingly, only their briefs. We were treated like politicians, being stroked and…things! Drinks were ordered, and
were bloody expensive. 1,000 pesetas for a vodka orange (about £4.00) I was getting more and more nervous by the
second. My, er, lady, not in the peach of her youth, more the winter preserve of her late 30's, noticed this and said in
faltering English that she thought I'd been popping pills. I assured her that I took, and indeed, required no
medication. She turned to her colleague and spoke quickly in Spanish, both giggled. I imagine she said something
along the lines of, 'We've got a right pair 'ere, ain't we Mary.' But I couldn't be sure.
Desperately trying to diffuse the situation, I feigned ignorance, it didn't work. I tried explaining to her that we wanted
strippers, but she said that she wasn't naked! When she said 'Drink for me?' for the fifth time, I had to display the
sum of my lucre, a pathetic collection of coinage amounting to 300 pesetas. She looked up in horror and surprise and,
in her peculiar English, explained something about concessions for handsome tourists, but, she was afraid my
finances were too few. 'Is a shame' she chimed apologetically, kissed my cheek and...started dancing!? (I will never
know why.)
This disentanglement allowed me to chart Martin's progress, and, true to my intentions, I sat down opposite him and
his expensive lover. He is a quiet fellow at the best of times, and this was no exception. All was quiet in our corner.
So, by why of conversation, I asked, 'How did you get into this game then?' No reply. I could have died.
My would be lover, bored of dancing, came and placed her quite fine figure next to mine, proceeding then to drape
me with it., as a christmas tree is hung with tinsel. Another swift exchange with fellow worker.
'Ahh' She iterated
'Ahh,' I mockingly returned.
'You go back to Hotel for money, then, you and me…who knows?' How happy she seemed. I gave Martin a look that
said 'what in the name of all that's holy do you think you're doing? Are you really going to play Russian roulette with
your trouser 3-piece?'
The need for conversation rose again, so I asked 'my' hooker what her name was. She said, quite normally, and with a
hint of weariness that she couldn't remember. This had a gloomy effect on me, she looked so afraid, so unhappy (with
her career, no doubt.) and so full of unfulfilled fantasies. Eventually she said 'Petra', and I suppose I won't forget her.
We finished our drinks, Martin whispers 'run!' Wave to our seedy friends and leave, never to return. I don't suppose
they expected us to.
Though true (we didn't have any money on us) Martin's scam worked a treat to remove us from a potentially
dangerous situation. He said later, that it was fortunate that he didn't have any money about him as he would have felt
obliged to buy her a drink. Chivalry isn't dead obviously. The 'sickly grin' door now carries a sign, saying, in English,
'NO TIMEWASTERS.'
EPILOGUE
The next installment will be about dear old blighty and, no doubt, I am conspicuous by my absence at the old
Diogenes. However, here's a list of prices for those of you planning a visit:
DRINK (Personal use) 1,000 pts
DRINK (for 'Company') 3,000 pts
FULL INTERCOURSE 15,000pts
OTHER 7,000 -16,000 pts (What the f**k costs 16,000? -Ed.)
TOTAL COST OF A WHOLE EVENING; 21,000 pts (about £85.00)
Knocking shops usually perceived as the dubious preserve of the 'splashed jacket' brigade can
be found (with vast variety of clientele) wherever there is a community of people. Indeed, prostitution rates pretty
high in the bible, Mary Magdalene, (perhaps the 13th and only female disciple of Jesus) being one of the most
famous ladies of the night. Why am I writing of such things? Well, I had a very strange experience the other night,
the facts of which I will now lay before you.
'3am caned up to my eyeballs on cocktails and cigarettes, desirous of what I am only able to term 'Girlie action.'
Friend Martin in tow, , quiet, but with a similar fervor to my own. Thus, I proposed we find a strip club, sleazy fellow
that I am. Two votes for, none against. It didn't take long. A small, and may I say, vile, Spaniard saw that gleam in our
eyes, and hailed us with a leery 'You want naked girls, yes?'
To which we replied mutely with nodding, grinning heads.
'OK.' He chirped and beckoned to us to follow him. We did, and we regretted it.
'So, without fear or hindrance, the innocents descended into the fiery pit of hell' (sic)
-The Bible?
We were led down a dimly lit alley, where a flickering neon sign proclaimed 'TOPLESS' in gaudy pink lettering. The
leather effect jacket of the Spaniard glinted menacingly in this light, as did his yellowing teeth and grimy hair.
''Zis door: bare, and 'zis door…' he points and pulls a sickly nicotine grin. Two doors, one choice. We chose the
'sickly grin' door (he made it look so promising,) bit our lips , and entered.
Now, I can already hear you chanting 'Silly Bugger, you stupid silly bugger, you should have known.' Well, may I first
say that all I wanted to see was a nice shapely bod and, perhaps, a glimpse of pussy. Such was my testosterone
soaked brain. Apart from this carnal curiosity, it was strangely romantic, beautiful even. The thrill of forbidden and
frowned apon adventure, furtive, sick. I didn't know what was behind that door, but I wanted to know, and somehow,
I needed to know.
The Brothel, for that is what is was, had very dim lighting, emanating from a low bar. Light shy folk huddled in
corners, as I suppose, is their nature. The bar covered the whole length of the room and the seating was arranged
directly opposite. A larger version of the vile Spaniard manned the bar. He eyed us greedily.
All this was taken in just a moment, for our attention was immediately taken by two very friendly females wearing,
surprisingly, only their briefs. We were treated like politicians, being stroked and…things! Drinks were ordered, and
were bloody expensive. 1,000 pesetas for a vodka orange (about £4.00) I was getting more and more nervous by the
second. My, er, lady, not in the peach of her youth, more the winter preserve of her late 30's, noticed this and said in
faltering English that she thought I'd been popping pills. I assured her that I took, and indeed, required no
medication. She turned to her colleague and spoke quickly in Spanish, both giggled. I imagine she said something
along the lines of, 'We've got a right pair 'ere, ain't we Mary.' But I couldn't be sure.
Desperately trying to diffuse the situation, I feigned ignorance, it didn't work. I tried explaining to her that we wanted
strippers, but she said that she wasn't naked! When she said 'Drink for me?' for the fifth time, I had to display the
sum of my lucre, a pathetic collection of coinage amounting to 300 pesetas. She looked up in horror and surprise and,
in her peculiar English, explained something about concessions for handsome tourists, but, she was afraid my
finances were too few. 'Is a shame' she chimed apologetically, kissed my cheek and...started dancing!? (I will never
know why.)
This disentanglement allowed me to chart Martin's progress, and, true to my intentions, I sat down opposite him and
his expensive lover. He is a quiet fellow at the best of times, and this was no exception. All was quiet in our corner.
So, by why of conversation, I asked, 'How did you get into this game then?' No reply. I could have died.
My would be lover, bored of dancing, came and placed her quite fine figure next to mine, proceeding then to drape
me with it., as a christmas tree is hung with tinsel. Another swift exchange with fellow worker.
'Ahh' She iterated
'Ahh,' I mockingly returned.
'You go back to Hotel for money, then, you and me…who knows?' How happy she seemed. I gave Martin a look that
said 'what in the name of all that's holy do you think you're doing? Are you really going to play Russian roulette with
your trouser 3-piece?'
The need for conversation rose again, so I asked 'my' hooker what her name was. She said, quite normally, and with a
hint of weariness that she couldn't remember. This had a gloomy effect on me, she looked so afraid, so unhappy (with
her career, no doubt.) and so full of unfulfilled fantasies. Eventually she said 'Petra', and I suppose I won't forget her.
We finished our drinks, Martin whispers 'run!' Wave to our seedy friends and leave, never to return. I don't suppose
they expected us to.
Though true (we didn't have any money on us) Martin's scam worked a treat to remove us from a potentially
dangerous situation. He said later, that it was fortunate that he didn't have any money about him as he would have felt
obliged to buy her a drink. Chivalry isn't dead obviously. The 'sickly grin' door now carries a sign, saying, in English,
'NO TIMEWASTERS.'
EPILOGUE
The next installment will be about dear old blighty and, no doubt, I am conspicuous by my absence at the old
Diogenes. However, here's a list of prices for those of you planning a visit:
DRINK (Personal use) 1,000 pts
DRINK (for 'Company') 3,000 pts
FULL INTERCOURSE 15,000pts
OTHER 7,000 -16,000 pts (What the f**k costs 16,000? -Ed.)
TOTAL COST OF A WHOLE EVENING; 21,000 pts (about £85.00)
