Okay I'm still waiting on dates for scans but a call to the hospital this morning resulted in the lind of 'I think I saw an approval on the fax machine somewhere... but it's clinic day... can I call you later call' that's leaves you unsatisfied in much the same way as hollow sex with a soapy madame (allegedly)
I"ve not told my second hand soapy mistress story on here, have I? Okay here goes - a friend of mine calls up to my hotel room in a bit of a panic. "I think I've killed my hooker" he says. Ever ignorant of the accessory to the fact laws of many countries I head down to investigate.
I arrive in a long, narrow room (with nasty but inevitable shower stall in corner) to find said friend sitting on an inflatable matress on a floor covered in soapy suds with a dauntingly still Thai woman in the corner.
The service paid for had been 'soapy massage' - but the woman had been a little over eager. She's laid down said friend on the mattress and filled the room with fairy liquid (or the Thai Version thereof) and had proceeded to slide across his increasingly slippery body with her equally hard to handle torso. Until, in a moment of uncharacteristic enthusiasm, she had set off to the back of the room in order to gather further momentum for the launch that she then embarked upon... hurling herself with some force toward him - only to skip off, be propelled in an upwardly direction by the compressed and decompressed air-mattress and plant herself, face first in the wall. Cueing phone call and my arrival.
Luckily she wasn't dead, he wasn't naked when I arrived and soon everyone was patched up and either richer or poorer as was deemed appropriate.
What a cheery tale of prostitution, debasement and western arrogance
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