Doing the business
One of the perks of my job is getting shat on from a great height by a bloke who looks like Adolf Hitler’s long-lost bastard grandchild who went to one of those posh schools and continually rips the piss out of me because I didn’t play fucking polo at my comprehensive back in the Midlands. Another perk is that I get to go away for ‘networking weekends’ to some of the most tedious, dull as fuck places Europe has to offer. I usually do my absolute utmost to get out of these trips as I don’t like being away from the Mrs and – also – there’s only so much mileage in watching Deal or No Deal with Noel Edmunds dubbed in a forreign language in a cheap Euro motel room before you actually consider suicide as the only reasonable, viable option.

The last time I went away I had the pleasure of flying into Findel late on a Friday with a co-worker named Dave who had never been away before. He was actually excited about going to Luxembourg... poor fucker...

Got to the hotel and discovered they’d been a mistake. We’d been booked in at this swanky place with fitted carpets, chandeliers, and a complete lack of bed lice and cockroaches. Things were looking up. Moments later Dave and I are in the rather posh bar supping drinks. We’ve got a meeting with some bigwig in the morning, so the evening’s our own. Fast forward an hour and we’re both pretty much into the spirit of things. Then at round ten an attractive girl in a swishy red dress and tits you could hang a couple of heavy coats on walks in and makes a b-line for us. She starts chatting to Dave. He buys her a drink. An expensive one. Then another. A really, really, REALLY fucking expensive one.

Dave gives me the unspoken signal with a wiggle of his eyebrows and a strange grimace as if he’s shitting grapes out of his japs eye – the look that says: I’m fucking in here! Do me a favor and fuck off, ehh?

“Dave...”

He turns to me, pushes a hundred Euro note in my hand and tells me politely to: “Fuck off and make yourself scarce.”

So I do. And as I go I hear Dave really pushing the boat out – ordering a bottle of champagne that’d set him back a couple of days wages.

The next morning we’re on our way to the client meeting. Dave’s silent. I’m silent. We have our little meeting. In the taxi on the way back to the hotel, silence. Over the meal that night, silence. We head back towards the bar then Dave pulls on my arm, suggests we check out some of the other delights Luxembourg has to offer. So we do. We find a nice little bar and settle down to a drink. Silence.

Awkward silence.

Then, eventually, Dave pipes up: “So, were you ever going to tell me she was a prostitute?”

A short pause. I enquire: "How much did you spend?"

"Well, including the 100 I gave you, about 500."

"And, errr, did you..?"

Dave shakes his head: "No," and for a breif moment I thought my colleague Dave had developed some kind of moral fiber, I saw him in a sudden new shining light (as if he'd just had is Reddybrek and had that saintly glow about him). Dave continued: "By the time I'd suggested we go up to my room I'd spent all my fucking money on booze and didn't have enough for a shag - she wanted 400 Euros for a shag, for fucks sake..."

We continued our drinks in silence after that.
( SpankyHanky, Tue 18 May 2010, 16:36, 9 replies)

Poor old Dave
A bit wet behind the ears maybe. I don't know may good looking women that travel to hotel bars to have drinks on their own. One of you must have suspected?? But it was Luxembourg, maybe he thought the women were really easy..
(bROKEN aRROW PUA HVI Master, Tue 18 May 2010, 16:53, closed)

Oh, I suspected
But if someone gives me a 100 Euro note to fuck off I'm not gonna turn that down. And Dave seemed happy enough playing 'billy big bollocks' flashing the cash round. Bit of a twat, really.
( SpankyHanky, Tue 18 May 2010, 16:56, closed)

Hehe Yeah
100 euros seemed fair to me I wouldn't have complained either!

Besides dave was taught a valuable lesson in hotel liasons.
(bROKEN aRROW PUA HVI Master, Tue 18 May 2010, 17:14, closed)

Yeah
You can probably get rid of your mates for É20.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Tue 18 May 2010, 17:21, closed)

Aceness.
I knew a guy who in Hong Kong had to spend £300 just talking to a girl. Apparently the large chaps she was with thought that was a fair deal.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Tue 18 May 2010, 16:56, closed)

Jahyzus!
I balked at 50 for a blowjob in Amsterdam -- what the hell do you get for 400?
(Me, I'm not... in any way intoxicated, Tue 18 May 2010, 17:45, closed)

A pretty fun time…
…and the piss ripped out of you by your mates for years.
( Ungersven would support SpankyHanky's patreon, Wed 19 May 2010, 1:55, closed)

I thought you went to a boarding school?

(dozers, do fuck off ur a nob m8, Tue 18 May 2010, 19:14, closed)

We have all been there
fess up muthafuckers
( The Scrunt Wants a Dozen Pints, Tue 18 May 2010, 20:10, closed)