The Coin
How have I found myself standing here staring blankly at the coin in my left hand? I’m nailed to the spot, struck by the sudden realisation of its uselessness!
I’m in Liverpool for the Party Conference, staying at The Marriott. Could’ve booked somewhere cheaper but why should I? Even in the current climate you can still claim it back on expenses, if you’re clever enough.
I’ve grown to despise Conference. It’s always the same idiots droning their interminable speeches. Are they really that deluded to think that what they say affects what the leadership decides? Today was particularly tedious and, in between Tweeting, I did some ‘research’ on my iPhone. I've got a Blackberry as well but that's for work. It’s amazing the things you can find out on Google, I just tapped in ‘red light district’ and up popped Netherfield Road North. You see I’d decided I needed some… well, let’s call it R’n’R. What can I say? I’m not particularly proud of it, but my wife’s a few hundred miles away with the kids, and what the eye doesn’t see….I’ve never been one to ‘indulge’ with researchers or secretaries, that can get messy. Look at that old fool John Prescott! No, I prefer ‘discreet and anonymous’ and it’s surprising just how anonymous a backbench MP can be. Just try showing some of my constituents my photo and see how many recognise me.
I left the hall early and headed back to my room. There I adopted the ‘disguise’ I’ve developed over the past few years, jacket over hoodie, baggy jeans and grubby, scuffed trainers. I rarely get recognised in a suit so I’m pretty unidentifiable in this get-up. Still, walking through the lobby dressed this way would only draw unwelcome attention, so I slipped out the side entrance and walked to the nearest bus stop. I’d checked the timetable and route earlier and downloaded it just in case.
Public transport is appalling; someone really should do something about it! It took about fifty minutes to complete a journey that would have been a ten minute taxi ride. Still, within minutes of arriving at my destination I’d made my choice. She reminded me of Britney Spears in that video. Long hair in plaited and tied with ribbons, tight white blouse tied together below her tits, very short grey skirt, long grey socks stretched above her knees and matching Converse on her feet. ‘Alright luv, how much for a blow-job?’
‘Twenty’, she replied in thick scouse. I showed her the note and she nodded towards the alleyway behind her. I followed her down there for about a hundred yards, then she turned and asked, ‘Here?’ I looked around and nodded. She came over and undid my jeans, pulling them and my boxers down together. As she grabbed my dick, I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes, breathless with anticipation. It was then I felt the knife point pressing into my exposed and vulnerable flesh!
Breathless with fear I opened my eyes again. ‘What’ve you got in your pockets?’ she hissed. ‘Whatever you’ve got put it in my bag!’ For the first time I noticed the small bag slung across her chest. I carefully reached inside my jacket for my iPhone and wallet, opening it to show her my cards and money. She smiled and nodded as I placed them in her bag. Then the cheeky bitch kissed me! She winked, whispered ’Thanks babe’ and released her grip. Before I could react she turned on her heels and sprinted off down the alleyway. Damn! That’s why she was wearing trainers! With my jeans and boxers halfway down my legs I couldn’t even chase her. I pulled my jeans back up and felt in the pockets. Thankfully there was some small change in there. I decided to find a phone box and call for help.
It took twenty minutes to find this payphone. Not one of the old red boxes of my youth but an Americanised affair hooded and open to the elements. I lifted the hand piece and was relieved to hear a dialling tone. Not vandalised then! Who to phone though? Not the Police, just too much chance of it getting out and causing a scandal. After all, how could I explain my behaviour? I racked my brain. Who could I ring? Who'd be able to help me out of this shit? That’s when the realisation hit me! I don’t know any bloody phone numbers! I mean, who bothers to remember them when your phone provides them at the touch of a button? That’s why I’m standing here, staring blankly at this bloody coin!
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