Voulez-vous

Just one lunch with Jaunty Jared is enough to make me feel like the Whore of Babylon.

Imagine this scenario in a club : after getting to know you for a few minutes, a really cute guy leans forward and suggests a night of illicit sex with no strings attached.

Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?

Evidently such a lewd proposition only leaves our conservative fellow cold. The boy needs some sweet talk, several dates and a lil foreplay before he really goes down. Obviously that makes me a whore. Trust me - if I were single, I'd already have my sweaty palm planted against the passionately steamed-up windshield.


Insatiable
Always been able to differentiate sex from love. Sex is just sex. Heart pumping, adrenaline rushing, calories burning - and that's just about it. All just to get some semen gushing.

Reason ehough that I have had a handful of... casual encounters. Though none particularly sordid - though I came pretty close to accidental prostitution that one time on a train to Brighton. Fresh-faced college kid on an evening train backpacking to Brighton seated right across from a retired country squire. Normal conversation to be had about the weather and the reason for travel. Then the squire asked whether I had need of any kind of lodging.

A particular innocuous question that I had no problems replying but then I started getting a particularly weird vibe from the conversation. The start of my buzzing gay-dar no doubt.


And then he popped the question offering a bed in his rustic manor. No doubt a kindly country gentleman seeking to expand his horizons by indulging in some exotic Oriental cuisine - ordering a bit of Peking Duck to take home. There's only so much bangers and mash that one can take.

My awfully conservative upbringing coupled with mission school brainwashing should have made me recoil in abject horror ( like a disgusted victorian virgin no doubt ) but somehow I found myself intrigued. I seriously contemplated the obvious proposition, just to save the cost of renting a squalid room in some dingy students' hostel. Why not put out a little instead? Burn some calories. Get off a little.

Seemed like a fine idea. Probably would have embarked on such a shamelessly immoral activity if I hadn't found out that his lil manor actually lay miles away from the city center itself. Seemed reason enough to decline his felicitous offer.

But if it had been situated a block closer... who knows I might indeed be telling bedtime stories for real.

Yeah, my morals are definitely in the gutter.