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Not all stories about sex turn out
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Not all stories about sex turn out The Orange Juice Story -- Farnborough Air Show in London is the big air show which shares with Le Bourget in Paris every other year. One of my businesses is in the aerospace industry. The manufacturing facility is very large and is located in Tbilisi, Georgia (the country, not the state—formerly part of the Soviet Union). I<b> traveled </font></b>from Seattle to London, my Georgian partner and one of the top executives from the facility had come to London from Tbilisi. We had all eaten on the airplanes and decided we would have drinks and talk. It was a Sunday evening and off we went to Soho. The taxi driver recommended a place, dropped us there. We descended the stairs into a strip bar. Hadn’t been exactly what we had in mind, but “why not?” We sat down, ordered orange juice, which is served in glasses, like water glasses. There is a stage, but nothing happening. There are a couple girls talking to customers, but nothing much going on there, either. We are happy to be sitting and talking. There is an attractive girl who walks over and asks if I will buy her a drink. I said, “Sure.” She sits down and orders orange juice and it comes with a little umbrella. The strip show starts with a girl sliding down the slide and she begins to disrobe. It was bad. She was less than attractive and her body was not much to look at. We are not paying a lot of attention to the stripper. We guys are still involved in our conversation, but every once in a while, my little hostess will ask a question, like “Where are you from?” “Why are you here?” “How long are you staying?” I am participating in both conversations, one with the girl and the other with my partners. My girl looks at my watch, and says, “Is that a Movado?” “Yes, it is.” After a while, she asks for another drink, I say, “Sure.” She sees my phone and asks where I got it. I told her it was a gift from the Director of the Aircraft Factory. He had gotten it in Dubai. She asked if I knew how much he had paid for it. I said, “Yes. $1,200.” As all this is happening, I notice that other girls are staring at us and some of the men in the room are watching us. We decide it is time to leave. I ask for the bill and when it comes, my eyes open wide. It is for over $3,600! I call the maitre ‘d over and ask him. I am sure he has made a mistake and added too many zeros. He says no. The price for the drinks the girl had are 1,000 pounds ($1,600)! He shows me the menu. I tell him, “No way!” He walks away and I am ready to walk out but he returns with a couple other guys. The maitre ‘d introduces one of the others as the manager. I said there had to be a mistake. He says that is the price and I had agreed to buy the girl (who has, by now, disappeared out of the room) drinks. By now the whole room is watching us. One of my partners tugs on my jacket. He says to me, quietly, “These guys are talking in Russian. They are Polish mafia. We need to pay.” I stare at him. “No,” I say. He tells me it is true. I want to call for the bobbies, but I recognize and have heard the mafia stories. I pause for less than a minute to think about it. I am staring the Polish guy eye-to-eye. I know what we have to do, right? The decision is easy. I am a lover, not a fighter. We pool all the money the three of us had. Offer that to the manager, who counts out about $2,100. Says that he will accept that. We get up and leave. The only sex was me being “fucked” by the polish mafia. So almost every time we are together, I am reminded of the orange juice story. Many of the men in Tbilisi and a number in the US know of the orange juice story. Now, you do, too. |
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Oh. Fuck. Not what I would have wanted to do but then again, I like my features the way they are arranged now. Hm. Kk The observant make the best lovers, I may not do right, but I do write, I have bliss, joy, and happiness in my life, Kitkat Come check out my blog KItkat1415 check out this post by me Adventures In Body Grooming #39 April Topic Link: What Lies Beneath If April Showers Oh Bloody Hell What Kind Of Weather Turns Me On Bloggers Symposium 40
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