Yor my behst mate.

So, I finally speak

I am walking to gym, no less opening the door, when I feel something vibrating against my crotch. Sadly, for this story, it was but my phone.
"Hello Sugar," read The Travster’s text, "would you care to drink with me tonight?" That, I decided, I would. I made my way to Angel, despite the best efforts of the drivers of the 73 bus. I fucking hate London bus drivers. Not because I believe they are all cocks, but because i KNOW 5% of them are cocks. Hey moody pants, you might say, it’s only 5%. Let it go. Maybe, I’ll reply, but that’s still 95% who should, if they had any decency, be forcing those 5% of fuckheads out who give the rest of them a bad name.
Anyway, I got there. Okay?
We’d had a few, The Travster and I, when we noticed a lady stood by our side. This in itself was a noteworthy event, but then she spoke.
"Excuse me, are you lot together?" she asked, gestruing at our group in gerneral.
The Travster leant across and cupped my right buttock in his hand,.
"Very much so…" he offered. I perhaps made a show of enjoying this attention more than was necessary.
Said girl came clean with her intentions. She was, she informed us, offering massages. Indian massages, no less.
I, I told her, was already coping with a head swimming in a sea of uncertainty through sleep deprivation: I needed not any more confuusion, Indian or otherwise. The Travster, however, seemed enthralled, and entered into conversation with her. Whether it was the massage, or the exceedingly tight top she wore, I couldn’t say.
After a while, I had tried to sup my beer whilst they conversed, but I found myself drawn back in.
"Where, exactly, Tanya [for this was the name she had introduced herself as having], where, Tanya [I repeated] are you from?"
Essex, came the reply. The Travster perked up at the mention of sex, however roundabout.
"So, how, exactly, are these massages Indian?" I asked
Tanya tried to reply, but by that point me and The Travster were already away, imagining potential situations where a busty Essex girl might erotically smear a chicken tikka masala over a chap’s head.
"It would be amazing," the Travster ruminated, "but you may well get rice in your clothes."I offered some thoughts on how an onion bhaji might feature, but by this point Tanya had crept away from the two beered up loons.

Oh well.

posted by Huw @ 2:33 am