chapter 2 part3

Whilst on holiday Barry noticed he still had some spending money left and decided it was time to have some sex. He’d finally realised the truth that there was no way he could get a woman to do the wild thing with him without payment first anymore. Luckily Spain had a plethora of brothels and Barry was spoilt for choice. He decided to try his hand in one called The Juicy Jugs, an exceptionally tatty-looking building that had a reputation for good service. The actual reality of what he was about to do made him so anxious he had to walk up and down the street a few times just to get the guts to go in. He was excruciatingly nervous, probably the most nervous he’d ever felt in his life about anything, but finally he did it: he took a deep breath and pressed the buzzer on the security door whereupon a woman’s voice answered in Spanish. ‘I’m English, I don’t speak Spanish,’ replied Barry. ‘Sorry. Have you ever been before?’ asked the women through a thick foreign accent. ‘No…’ ‘Have you ever been to a massage parlour before?’ ‘No…’ The door opened but once inside Barry was confronted with another one. After a moment or two the second door was also unlocked revealing that standing behind it was a beautiful young lady. After the greetings that polite, civilised interaction demands, the young lady turned and stood behind a rusty till to discuss prices and what was on the menu. Barry glanced around. The inside of the massage parlour resembled a nightclub with its disco ball hanging in the centre and accompanying lighting display.
22 Barry was surprised, having been expecting something much seedier and pathetic that tied in with the exterior appearance.
The Menu:
Forty Euros for a massage, hand job and oral
Sixty Euros for full sex
Eighty Euros for anal sex
Optional extras like S&M should be discussed in the room ‘I think I’ll just go for the full sex,’ Barry said timidly as he handed over his sixty Euros. The woman at the till pointed over her customers shoulder and said: ‘There’s your choice of ladies Sir.’ What a degrading experience it was for Barry to pick out the girl he wanted to have sex with. Something supposedly magical had been reduced into the mere purchasing of a consumer item. He felt as if he was at The Shop, pointing out to the assistant the packet of cigarettes he wanted. It now occurred to him that a highly grotesque situation was materialising before his very eyes, transforming his mental disposition into that of a scared boy. In front of him there stood three beautiful women, all now willing and able to please with the physical act of love, yet inside fear deflated his loins rather than blood doing the opposite. The temptresses, clothed only in lace bras and black stockings pouted their lips teasingly for their client, meanwhile Barry just stood staring and intermittently gaping at them.
23 After a markedly long length of time the ladies pouting expressions changed to ones of puzzlement. A nervous tension now hung in the air because Barry was still looking exceptionally gormless, even beginning to drool slightly. Eventually the lady at the counter said: ‘Pick one. Don’t be shy.’ Now wishing he’d never entered this funhouse, Barry wanted more than anything to teleport back out into the safety of the street, or alternatively at least have the ground swallow him whole. He stood there for a moment looking at the door, then back at the ladies, then back at the door again. Swallowing hard he took a deep breath; it was now time for him to stand tall and be a man. ‘OH MY GOD WHAT’S THAT?’ Barry shouted, pointing over the prostitutes’ shoulders. As the ladies all turned to see what it could possibly be that had shocked their business, Barry bolted for the door in an attempt to escape. There was one problem with his escape plan however: the door was locked and of course he didn’t have the key. The women all turned to look back at this inept little man that was bringing a tiny dose of light relief, into their otherwise bleak lives. Barry’s chin slowly lowered till it hung on his chest. ‘Can I go now?’ It took a while for the laughter to die down before Barry was let out. He didn’t bother requesting a refund on account of his irrepressible urge to leave as quickly as possible, and it also being a far too embarrassing situation already. The explanation of Barry’s horribly-humiliating performance at the massage parlour is a straightforward one: the pressure of entering a brothel alone for the first time had taken its toll. But then there’d have been no chance of him actually achieving an erection anyway because he simply wasn’t the brothel-frequenting type. In actual fact, he’d
24 have had more chance of producing a hard-on standing naked inside a giant freezer, while a platoon of Nazis fired off rounds from their sub-machine guns at him. It is odd what floats some people’s boats isn’t it?