San Francisco

With the exception of a few word changes this is the same as Barry's Bar, so if it's your intention to read my book Comeback I'd suggest that you skip this.

With it being the start of the weekend Barry's Bar was busier than ever and I was greeted by the locals like I'd been away for a year not a day. In addition to the regulars though I was introduced to two girls who to all intents and purposes were stranger s to the joint. Actually it was more a case of they introduced themselves to me. Americans have a natural affinity towards the Brits so after they got their teeth into me nobody else got a word in. They wanted to know all about me, where I'd been, what I thought of America and a whole tirade of other questions. I sensed that it wasn't going to be just another night though and as the drinks went down like water the Caucasian half of the duo's familiarity was rapidly changing to a two way rapport that was o obviously leading elsewhere.

Though not wanting a portrait of her on my bathroom wall, I couldn't honestly say that she was unattractive. Consequently I'd played the game to her rules and while that was going down her friend was teasing the rest of the clientele by walking around wit h her shirt open, inviting all the men to fondle her well used braless milk cartons. I was obviously the flavour of the month though, as at my turn my face was buried into them, unlike the "you can look but you can't touch" taunts that everybody else got when their mitts had lunged forward.

It was all innocent fun and though I didn't hit jackpot in Vegas I knew I was on to a winner at Barry's with a booby prize thrown in for good measure. As the bar closed the milkmaid disappeared into the night and we readied ourselves to leave. Her partner and I had already agreed that the evening was too young to be wasted on the likes of a goodnight kiss. Taking the first steps out into the street I halted to the resounding "hey, where d'you think you're going"? "I thought I was taking you home". "You are e but the cabs not here yet". "But you only live three blocks away, who needs a taxi"?

She proceeded to tell me that San Francisco had one particular area of about fifteen blocks square, it being the centre of crimes, prostitution, male prostitution, drugs, gang warfare and a whole host of other unsavoury facts of life. Barry's Bar it happened was slap bang in the centre of it and nobody with half an ounce of common loco ever walked the streets at night. If only I'd realised it before I probably would've ditched the Dickhead's clone before we spoke, taken a hotel uptown and would've never e even entered Barry's Bar.

Who cares? I'd done all those things and came out of it unscathed and I still had enough money for the cab ride, so off we went, all three blocks, in style. I never did find out what her current vocation was but I ascertained that in the past she'd been a prostitute for twenty-one years, a means of earning that she'd abandoned with the advent of the aids scare.

As she'd told me that she was living on the top floor I was expecting a penthouse apartment but nothing could've be further from the truth. After turning the keys to half a dozen high security locks we entered the semi derelict building. She told me that one of the murders that she'd mentioned earlier had happened two nights before on the floor below. It wasn't hard to believe as the whole place resembled the set for the phantom of the opera, complete with rats, filth, stench and all the other shit that goes into making those places the way they are. And her room was its crowning glory. It was an absolute pigsty that hadn't seen a broom for at least two decades. The bath had more tide marks than a rainbow had colours and the living cum sleeping area sported a flea ridden bed less mattress that almost walked past us as we entered through the door.

If it hadn't been for my recently acquired knowledge concerning the streets of San Francisco I would've left there and then. Loneliness amidst the threat of ill deeds can lead a man into doing things that he would never normally do though. I'm only telling g you this now because I feel it important to let you know that I rarely send my young apprentice into pastures plenty without first receiving a reference better than she had to offer. However, when she stripped to her knickers and started chewing on my l love organ like she hadn't eaten for a week there was no tuning back. I mean, I couldn't very well say I wasn't in the mood when I was laying on my back with him pointing to the skies like Edison Lighthouse could I?

Of course I was still well sloshed from all the drinks at Barry's which obviously helped a little but I knew it wasn't going to be one of my more favourable time killers as I thought of some of the beauties I'd bedded on my about to be finishing trip around the world. I knew it was my last chance to fly the flag for the other side of the Atlantic though and I did it with the same conviction as he had with all others who had been before her.

Much as I believe that all the fruits of life are there to be tasted, I've never been a sadist, so some of her preferential quirks weren't exactly fitting with the way I thought a lady should be treated. I did however like the idea of a threesome with her black friend but that fell through when we failed to get a hold of her on the phone. If only she'd mentioned it before. Now that would've been going out in style.

I used the excuse that I was leaving and had to pack as my reason to get out bright and early in the morning. It was a half truth. I was leaving but the way I travel I can usually pack in between twenty to a hundred and eighty seconds flat, depending on my sobriety at the time. She didn't bother dressing to see me out. "There's no-one around now, it's o.k." she said as she got into the lift without a stitch on. She was equally unabashed as she cuddled me in the doorway. Her hand undone my fly and slowly she dropped to her knees and kissed me goodbye. And then, as suddenly as it had all started not six hours earlier, it was over.