I remember once.
I was 21. My lease had run out and, being 21, I hadn’t arranged anything else.
A guy at work was called Vaughn. But insisted upon spelling it ‘Voign’.
Bit odd. Whatever.
‘I’ve got a spare room at my place.’ He cheerfully said.
Perfect. Somewhere to live, not much money. Great.
We later discovered -at work- that according to his National Insurance details his name was Gary.
I go to see his house. And his spare room.
‘I must warn you,’ he says, before he opens the door of the spare room, ‘I’ve been doing some extra work from home so it won’t look like this when you move in.’
He opens the door.
I am faced with a very large poster.
Of a VERY LARGE MAN.
Who appears to have shares in Baby Oil due to the amount on him.
WHO HAS A VERY LARGE COCK.
That seems to be the focal point of this portrait.
I can only assume that he was in a very warm location when the photograph was taken. Or that he was one of God’s favourite boys.
I am slightly taken aback.
Glancing around, I notice many other posters. There seems to be a common theme.
From what I can see, not only were these other photographs taken in a very WARM environment, they were also taken in a very stimulating one.
V: What do you think about the room then?
I’m still trying to figure this out.
There are lots of scented candles around. And a little shelf with lots of bottles on it. They appear to be oils of some sort.
I was a young man. That was a lot of big cocks – many of which were angry – to be confronting a gentleman of my tender years with.
V: Oh. Yeah. You know. I do a bit of ‘massage’ in the evenings. To make ends meet. You know. In here. But not when you’re around of course. If you moved in.
V: So what do you think.
V: Well. Yes.
Me: I’ve got some other places to look at. I’ll let you know.
He was fired the next week.