codash1099
Established Member
- Joined
- Aug 2, 2006
- Posts
- 2,879
- Qantas
- Platinum
On a recent business trip to London I got lost between the Royal Courts
of Justice and Chancery Lane (as one does) and was surprised to find
myself in an area apparently called "Soho".
A charming young man saw that I was at a loss, if not a loose end, and
suggested that I might enjoy "The experience of a lifetime" for a mere
pittance.
I paid him and he directed me to a narrow corridor leading into a rather
tall building.
At the end of the corridor a doorman sat at a desk. "Are you here for the
experience?" he asked.
"Indeed I am" I replied.
He pointed me towards the lift doors. He said "Try floors 2, 4, or 6.
Don't go onto 1, 3 or 5 which are for private parties."
Curiosity driving me on, I went immediately to the sixth floor and
arrived in a plush yet tasteful bar where the most beautiful topless
waitresses plied me with drink whilst I watched a most unusual and
inventive cabaret involving several naked women and a large collection
of household objects. It was, I must admit, a most stimulating experience.
At the end of the show I returned to the lift and went down to the fourth
floor.
There I was welcomed by a young lady of most pleasing appearance who took
me into small room and gave me an extremely soothing massage. She
finished with what she described as "hand relief" in a manner which I
found surprisingly satisfying.
Relaxed and yet at the same time invigorated, and now bursting with
curiosity as to what the rest of the building might contain, I made my
way back to the lift.
Despite the doorman's warning, I could not resist finding out what I
might have missed on the floor between the two I had visited and
selected the fifth button on the lift panel.
Initially the floor appeared completely empty. A vast expanse of bare
concrete without even the benefit of electric light. A curious snuffling
noise caught my attention, and as I turned to face the apparent source
of it I was set upon by a pack of Alsatians. I barely made back into the
lift without serious injury and was appalled to find that the arms and
legs of my suit were in tatters.
Somewhat distressed by this narrow escape, I took the lift to the second
floor where I was delighted to be welcomed by a group of the most
attractive girls I have ever seen from all races and creeds. They made
no comment as to my dishevelled experience, and led me into a room
filled with cushions, soft music and sweetest of scents.
All I can say of that which transpired there is that it was, indeed, the
experience of a lifetime and a memory I will treasure for ever.
Unfortunately, curiosity go the better of me again and I could not resist
looking in on the third floor.
The second I stepped out of the lift I was set upon by a pack of St.
Bernards which severely savaged my arms and legs. Torn and bleeding I
staggered back into the lift.
I have to confess that even then I could not resist the temptation to see
what the first floor might hold.
It held the greatest horror of all.
Attacked by a pack of rabid Afghan Hounds, I found myself held in the
jaws of four of them by the wrists and ankles whilst the rest assaulted
me sexually from the rear. As they left me, each satisfied animal coughed
its leg and urinated on my supine form.
When they had all had their way with me, they threw me bodily into the
lift. I all but fell out of the lift on the ground floor.
With a single glance, the doorman took in my torn and tattered clothing,
my bloodied arms and legs, my pronounced limp, and the putrid liquid in
which I was soaked. Without a change of expression he remarked: . . .
"I told you to stay away from the shaggy dog stories."
of Justice and Chancery Lane (as one does) and was surprised to find
myself in an area apparently called "Soho".
A charming young man saw that I was at a loss, if not a loose end, and
suggested that I might enjoy "The experience of a lifetime" for a mere
pittance.
I paid him and he directed me to a narrow corridor leading into a rather
tall building.
At the end of the corridor a doorman sat at a desk. "Are you here for the
experience?" he asked.
"Indeed I am" I replied.
He pointed me towards the lift doors. He said "Try floors 2, 4, or 6.
Don't go onto 1, 3 or 5 which are for private parties."
Curiosity driving me on, I went immediately to the sixth floor and
arrived in a plush yet tasteful bar where the most beautiful topless
waitresses plied me with drink whilst I watched a most unusual and
inventive cabaret involving several naked women and a large collection
of household objects. It was, I must admit, a most stimulating experience.
At the end of the show I returned to the lift and went down to the fourth
floor.
There I was welcomed by a young lady of most pleasing appearance who took
me into small room and gave me an extremely soothing massage. She
finished with what she described as "hand relief" in a manner which I
found surprisingly satisfying.
Relaxed and yet at the same time invigorated, and now bursting with
curiosity as to what the rest of the building might contain, I made my
way back to the lift.
Despite the doorman's warning, I could not resist finding out what I
might have missed on the floor between the two I had visited and
selected the fifth button on the lift panel.
Initially the floor appeared completely empty. A vast expanse of bare
concrete without even the benefit of electric light. A curious snuffling
noise caught my attention, and as I turned to face the apparent source
of it I was set upon by a pack of Alsatians. I barely made back into the
lift without serious injury and was appalled to find that the arms and
legs of my suit were in tatters.
Somewhat distressed by this narrow escape, I took the lift to the second
floor where I was delighted to be welcomed by a group of the most
attractive girls I have ever seen from all races and creeds. They made
no comment as to my dishevelled experience, and led me into a room
filled with cushions, soft music and sweetest of scents.
All I can say of that which transpired there is that it was, indeed, the
experience of a lifetime and a memory I will treasure for ever.
Unfortunately, curiosity go the better of me again and I could not resist
looking in on the third floor.
The second I stepped out of the lift I was set upon by a pack of St.
Bernards which severely savaged my arms and legs. Torn and bleeding I
staggered back into the lift.
I have to confess that even then I could not resist the temptation to see
what the first floor might hold.
It held the greatest horror of all.
Attacked by a pack of rabid Afghan Hounds, I found myself held in the
jaws of four of them by the wrists and ankles whilst the rest assaulted
me sexually from the rear. As they left me, each satisfied animal coughed
its leg and urinated on my supine form.
When they had all had their way with me, they threw me bodily into the
lift. I all but fell out of the lift on the ground floor.
With a single glance, the doorman took in my torn and tattered clothing,
my bloodied arms and legs, my pronounced limp, and the putrid liquid in
which I was soaked. Without a change of expression he remarked: . . .
"I told you to stay away from the shaggy dog stories."
