a short story

I was recently privy* a rather disturbing episode in a toilet above a club on Khao San road in Bangkok. I went searching for the toilet with Sam and while he sensibly opted for the closed-door model and I foolishly chose the standard issue urinal. It was only a few seconds after I had "armed myself", so to speak, that I felt hands on my back and shoulders - some guy was massaging me.

"NO!", I exclaimed.
"Get off!", I ejaculated.
"I'll use one of them!", I cried, pointing to a cubical.

Needless to say, I am still suffering the emotional aftershocks of that particular event. There are many traumas to leaving home for the first time and if being massaged by creepy sweaty guys in toilets is one of them, I want no part of it.

Love Dom.

P.S. the writing style above is such because I have been reading a great deal of Wodehouse over the last few days. I rarely use words such as Ejaculate when referring to speach, but I wish to make it clear that there is no reason why one shouldn't.

*ha ha