"The most bizarre stream of occurrences have dogged my life ever since I was born in London after my mother's water broke in Wales. I never looked back. Following major bus, bike, ship and plane mishaps, being placed under armed guard by Russian soldiers, trapped in an elevator in Japan with the Indian Prime Minister, arrested in LA on suspicion of burglary in San Francisco, two days before I ever went there, things only got worse. En-route to Vancouver I ended up in Australia by mistake, got called-up for Vietnam, had two cars written-off within 20 minutes of each other, one by the Australian Prime Minister. Blown half-way across Park Lane by a terrorist bomb in London, accused (and charged) with rape by a 17 year old female student in payback for saying "no thanks......Hell, who else do you know has ever been booked for "dangerous stopping whilst giving way to ducks on a pedestrian crossing?" and "driving in roller skates?"
Like I said......not your average life by a long shot. Still, to experience diversions such as this little tale, it was all worth it!
Now, it hasn't ALL been bad news. For some reason I have been blessed with an abundance of sexual opportunity all my life...from 8 upwards (hey, that's another story now I think of it) I figure God kinda had the inclination to balance things up somewhere down the line.
In the late eighties, early to mid nineties, I was the marketing manager of the Australian-based branch of a Canadian conglomerate. Part of my job spec, being closeted up in Sydney NSW, was a bi-monthly State Managers' meeting held in Melbourne. I always stayed in the same hotel – best remaining un-named I imagine. Suffice to say it is probably the city's premier stop-over for travellers on limitless and seriously abused company expense-accounts. Damn, I miss that mini-bar!
Well, after another day's explaining why we hadn't made budget and why we would NEVER make budget, until the company actually spent the advertising dollars asked for, I returned to the Hotel for a relaxing evening.
Come 7.30 ish, a knock at the door. Opening it, I was confronted by one enormous leather-clad dude who would have had no problems bench-pressing Hulk Hogan.
"This room 484?" he grunted.
Turning to glance at those very numbers emblazoned across the top of my door, I replied "Lucky guess."
"Well, here she is," he continued, ushering this cutest of cute little babes from behind his back. She barely reached his six-pack and looked about 14.
"Very nice," I said. "What's the catch? Compliments of the house?"
"Ordered and paid for," he continued. "I'll pick her up in the morning around 8 pm." With that he lumbered off towards the elevator. I had been waiting for him to say "Ah'll be buck."
Dragged her inside before anyone saw her standing outside my door and called Crime-Stoppers' paedophile division.
"Er, hello," I said....."There's an explanation for this I take it?"
She had on a full-length coat... I just hoped something was on UNDER it.
"The guy from room 484 here, called and made a booking," she answered. Very well spoken and altogether very very charming. You'd never have picked her for an escort......ninth grade cheerleader maybe.
"You paid for me," she added almost wistfully, "Don't you remember?"
"Hmmm, well now you mention it," I said, figuring it wasn't my fault if they had problems with their answering service, "I MIGHT have..it's been a hell of a day you know. Just refresh my memory...what did it cost me?...for the night, I mean"
"Fifteen hundred," she replied, like that was a budget-priced evening.
"Look, I gotta be honest," I said, "I didn't call your agency, I can't shaft some poor schmuck out of his $1,500 dollar investment. You'd better call T2 back and sort this out."
The girl looked totally confused but pulled out her cell (one of the old "bricks") and rang back to base. I sat on the bed wondering what the hell was under that coat and wishing I wasn't so fucking honest.
After some animated discourse she put the phone down and sat in the chair near the TV. Don't ask me why, but I knew she'd be staying.
"The boss said the booking was made from this room in this hotel and as far as he's concerned, I stay here till the morning." She continued, "If the other guy got the wrong room number that's HIS bad luck. The boss doesn't give refunds."
I could see why he wouldn't, also the impracticality of the client calling the Police.
"You've been defrauded you say sir? Now HOW old was she again? I see, now perhaps if you'd just first step this way Sir, we have some handcuffs we'd like you to try on."
Whatever, I liked that company's code of ethics, not to mention their sound business practises. Kind of neat too that the dummy who made the booking was most likely only a couple of doors away on my floor and was probably mooching up and down the hallway looking for a special delivery you sure as hell would never get from Fed-Ex.
"So how old are you sweetie?" I asked.
Her reply of "Eighteen," had me choking on my cracker and french-onion dip.
"Yeah, and I'm twenty six," I countered.
I looked at her closely. Thirteen may have been nearer the mark.....that is until she showed me her id. Drivers' license and her health card - you can't get either here till you're 17. I couldn't believe it, she looked a fair bit younger than my 15 year old daughter Jenna. From the license I had learned also that her name was Susie. I asked her if she would like to take her coat off, the climate control being on the warm side that night. She looked a little bothered but stood up to remove it.
"Look I can explain this," she said, standing there now in the shortest school outfit you ever saw. Immaculately pressed white blouse and tie, micro mini skirt, white socks and black shoes with sexy little straps. The whole enchilada.
"Let me guess," I said, "You dress to order?"
"Yes," she replied. "Because I look younger, they make me go to all the guys who call and want 14 or 15 year old girls.
"You must be a real busy girl then Susie," I said to her. "No one would question your age either would they?" She shook her pretty head. "And presumably, Mr Somewhere-out-there-in-the-hallway was expecting a 14 year old schoolgirl tonight?" She nodded.
My mind was racing ahead of itself thinking of all the things you could order beside a schoolgirl. Young Roman girl, trainee nurse, little daughter, bikini-clad teenager, cute 13 year-old in pigtails, teen-slut, Girl Guide, young salesgirl. My God, she could and probably HAD played them all.
I asked her if she would like a drink and she asked if she could have an iced brandy, lime and soda. Whoa! A girl with a discerning palate. Fortunately, I had the necessary ingredients and I made it on automatic whilst my mind was totally engrossed on all HER ingredients. I stacked up a JD and ice for myself. Sitting there on the bed, watching her sipping her drink in the chair had one outright benefit – I could see her white panties. You couldn't sit down in that skirt and NOT put them on display. I wasn't complaining.