When Joe Miller threw the midget hooker over the table James Fowler thought it was a good time to leave. She was fucking ugly and she was fucking annoying and no, they didn't want to fuck her up the ass no matter how cheap the price was. Fowler just wished Miller hadn't resorted to such a physical means of registering his disapproval, or had at least waited until Fowler had had an opportunity to go upstairs with that well-stacked blonde he'd had his eyes on all night.
She was up on stage. Until approximately five seconds ago Fowler had been admiring the curves of her tanned figure, the swell of her full breasts and her long silky blonde hair as she twirled around a pole. Now she was staring up at their table in open-mouthed shock, same as everyone else in the club.
Drinks cascaded off the table in a spray of wasted alcohol. The midget rolled up against a counter and lay upside down with her short stubby legs kicking up in the air. Her child-sized dress fell over the rest of her body like a poncho. She wasn't wearing any underwear and her hairy bush was on display to the entire club.
Miller of course thought this was the funniest thing in the world ever as he pointed at her and laughed like a loon. He was completely oblivious to the three bouncers converging on their position like sharks around chum.
Fowler gave the blonde on stage one last wistful look and mentally kissed her goodbye.
Miller you twat, he thought.
The three bouncers were rugby-prop large and had the shaven heads and demeanour of men who knew how to inflict gratuitous violence and relished the opportunity to put that knowledge into practise.
Fowler stood up to intercept them. He held out a fan of bank notes like a shield. He hoped their East European pragmatism would override their natural desire to kick the shit out of yet another drunken British stag party. Otherwise, well this was probably going to hurt. A lot.
"My apologies for the commotion," Fowler said. "My friend has had a little too much to drink and we'll be only too happy to remove him from your establishment. I hope this covers any damages to both property and feelings."
The lead bouncer, a six and a half foot ogre, took the notes and counted them.
Fowler waited nervously. It was probably enough, but you never knew. He hoped they weren't locals. The locals utterly despised young British males, especially the ones that were obviously over for the sex industry. Fowler could kind of see their perspective. The Brits came over on stag parties, drank too much, behaved like twats and then spent the night pawing the best local flesh their imported pounds could buy. No wonder the local lads fucking despised them.
Yeah, Fowler hoped the bouncers weren't local. If they were part of that crowd they might just kick the crap out of them for shits and giggles.
The bouncer counted the notes and nodded his head. He divvied up a share to his two pals and then motioned to the exit.
Fowler mentally breathed a sigh of relief. The pressures of their city jobs meant they could only come over for a single night. He'd promised Terry he'd fix him up for one last blast of hedonism and that was going to be fucking well difficult if they ended the night sucking up carrot juice through a straw in some god-awful East European A and E.
"Nice one," Chris Lamsley said, slapping him on the back as they walked out unscathed into the Prague night. "I thought they were going to kick the shit out of us for sure."
"We could have taken them," Miller slurred.
"Don't be a fucking muppet," Terry said. "Did you see the fucking size of them?"
Terry Lane was the groom-to-be, looking forward to one last night of freedom before the ball and chain went on next week. In his case he really needed it in Fowler's opinion. All the gossip Fowler had heard painted Terry's future bride-to-be as a complete frigid bitch. She had money though and Terry seemed to be besotted with her for some reason. Fowler wanted this night to be fucking top as he doubted he'd be seeing much of his friend once the ice maiden got her claws in him.
"What now?" Chris asked.
The four of them stood on a cold Prague street at midnight.
For once Fowler was at a little bit of a loss. He hadn't expected every single one of his contingency plans to get knocked out.
Of course, he hadn't really counted on Miller being such a stupid drunken twat.
It was bad enough that his first choice, the C5, had been completely booked out by a Japanese business party and there really wasn't much he could do after finding out the Aphrodite club was closed for refurbishment. That left choices three and four, and they'd been fine enough until Miller had got them thrown out by being a stupid drunken twat.
The knowledge that he wasn't going to be spending the night with that blonde's legs wrapped around his body was a definite source of pain to Fowler.
That left choice five. Except there wasn't a choice five as why the hell would you need a choice five in Prague for fuck's sake!
"I guess we look for the nearest strip club or a taxi to take us to the nearest strip club," Fowler said.
"Strip club?" Miller said. "I don' wanna just look, I wanna fook."
"It's Prague," Fowler replied icily. "It's all on the menu."
"So anyone want to pick a direction?" Terry said.
"And you," Fowler said, grabbing Miller by the collar and shoving him up against the wall. "Get your fucking shit together or I'll personally throw you off the Charles Bridge."
"Hey man, I'm jus' having a good time," Miller whined.
"And you're fucking it up for the rest of us," Fowler snarled. "This is Terry's party. Don't forget that and don't screw it up for him."
"Hey guys, I found a taxi," Chris called out.
It was an old beaten up Skoda Octavia, just like many of the taxis in Prague. The driver poked his head out of the window. His face was thin and gaunt and framed with long greasy brown hair.
"Where to?" he asked.
"Girls!" Miller said.
"You want girls?" the taxi driver smiled. His teeth were yellowed and he was missing a few. He looked a bit like you'd expect the greasy owner of a seedy video store to look.
"Yeah, we're not having much luck with the strip clubs tonight," Fowler said, getting in the front. "C5's booked out, Aphrodite isn't open and we've just left Cabaret X and Silverfingers. Got any recommendations?"
The other three climbed in the back.
"Yes," the taxi driver said. "I know a place. It's a very special place. I'll take you there."
Fowler suspected it would be some shit-hole the guy had a commission deal with, but they were running out of options now.
"Special?" he queried.
"I'll make a deal with you," the taxi driver said. Fowler was surprised at how good his English was. "A lot of the drivers aren't honest. They take you to bad clubs with ugly women and expensive drinks. They make me feel ashamed to drive a taxi in this beautiful city. So I make the same deal with all my passengers. I'll take you to this place and take you in. If you stay, you pay me. If not, I'll take you somewhere else. No meter."
"You that confident we'll stay?" Fowler asked. "I've got very high standards."
"Are the girls that good?" Terry asked.
"The finest in Prague," the taxi driver laughed.
"Then what are we waiting for," Miller said. "Mush mush mush."
The journey took a little longer than Fowler expected as the driver took them out of the city centre and into an anonymous looking industrial quarter. The building he pulled up outside was just another of the many grey warehouses that peppered the area.
It didn't look like a strip club.
"This it?" Fowler asked.
"It's a private place," the taxi driver replied. "Few people know about it. I'll come in and vouch for you."
The taxi driver got out and stalked off towards the building with an odd, hunched gait.
"Follow me," he waved back at them with a smile.
"What do you think?" Fowler said.
"Let's go get some tail!" Miller whooped, getting out of the car and rushing after the taxi driver.
"I swear I'm going to kill that fucking moron," Fowler said.
"We may as well go and see what it's like," Chris said, getting out after Miller.
"I don't think this place will even pretend to be a strip club. It's probably going to be a full-on brothel," Terry said. "You going to be okay with that Chris?"
The other guys had no illusions about why they were here. At some point they were going to bang the shit out of some East European tart. Chris was the choir boy of the party. He had a long time girlfriend back home and while he was happy to spend an evening ogling naked female flesh, he'd been vacillating about how far he'd go.
Fowler reckoned that wasn't going to be very far at all, but each to their own as far as he was concerned.
"Sure, it'll be fine," Chris said. "I'll have some drinks at the bar and wait while you guys have some fun. I might even find one I can't resist."
Or end up saying yes to the ugliest old banger just because he didn't have the guts to say no, Fowler thought with a smile.
The four of them followed the stringy taxi driver as he took them through an anonymous side door and into a small entrance corridor.
They really did have a thing about privacy, Fowler thought. He could understand there being no signs on the outside of the building, but nothing in the entrance corridor as well was really fucking paranoid.
.... There is more of this story ...