Notepad on Life

January 20, 2010

Someone else’s prostitute

Filed under: sex — - @ 1:47 pm
Tags: ,

Is it a trick of memory or was there indeed a time when people were polite enough to whisper when their conversation while on public transport turned to sexual matters?

Two twenty-somethings behind me were sharing their weekend experiences while we travelled home on the bus last night. His seemed to have involved an inept prostitute.

“So how much did she charge for the unsatisfactory cock rub?”* his fellow passenger enquires in full voice, as if comparing notes on a dodgy garage.

My gaze is frozen on the white lines hurtling towards us. Yet again, the sense that I am living my life in the midst of some giant, open sore.

[*£30. Because some of you, I appreciate, are just dying to know]

[pic courtesy of SkilliShots]
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