Making it in the sex industry

The power of caffiene. For someone like me it should never be under estimated. Last night I went out to dinner with Denise to a friend of mines house.The chairman of a large porcelein company was there. The people who make toilet bowls and bidets etc (that made for scintillating conversation) What a scoundrel he is.His secretary had to phone him up one day to tell him that two policemen were waiting for him in his office so he said he wasn't feeling well and stayed away from work so he didn't have to explain to the police how he had dented this guys car late at night whilst pissed and pulling away from an illicit rendezvous with this woman he shouldn't have. It's amazing what people confess whilst pissed round the dinner table. But me, I was stone cold sober, because I was driving and so had the advantage of being able to remember everything everyone said, for use at a later date. Ha Ha!!!! Mind you I confess enough stuff to you guys so I guess I'm just as bad. There was a lot of money round that dinner table. One guy was a top man of some tyre company and travels all over europe. He told us something interesting. Two tyre companies merged a while back so the two companies became one but because of the history they remained virtually two companies with one on one floor and the other guys on the floor below. Then the MD decided that was ridiculous they had to merge properly. But it still didn't work because the one lot always turned up at work in their suits and ties and the other guys in jeans and T-shirts. The office space even had demarcation zones where the suits would have their desks and the jerk-offs theirs. So much rivalry and criticism. The suits seriously objected when the jeans guys decided to hold a cricket match in the entrance foyer of the Building, previously they had only just managed to tolerate the golf tournaments in the offices and corridors.
So dinner was nice we had Gnocchi (OK that might not be how you spell it) but it tasted nice then moules maraniere then fruit fondu. Now that was fun. You get all this fruit on a plate in the middle of the table grapes, strawberries, pineapple chunks, raspberries, banana chunks, you name it. Then there is a bowl of molten chocolate with a table candle underneath to keep it melted. You have a spear and get your fruit chunk and dip it in the chocolate then eat it. Eeeek! I love chocolate, but I can't eat it. It was driving me crazy, the smell of hot chocolate wafting across the table was enough to make the hardest heart weaken. So I chose a strawberry and dipped it in. Friends I've got to tell you this it was one of the most delicious mouthfuls of food I have experienced in years. The strawberry so succulent and tasty with the chocolate just melting onto my tongue, it was an almost religious experience, you could even describe it as intensely sexual. God it was nice. But boy did I pay for it. Just one tiny bit of chocolate. I was on a promise last night. Denise had come down to see me and was stopping the night. We got back to my flat and she was there all expectant and naked and being really cute. All I could see was flashing lights and I had a splitting headache. Shit! Thank you GOD! I was losing the power of speach. I started stuttering, hardly romantic but to be honest sex was the last thing on my mind. All I wanted to do was sleep. I fell into bed and passed out. I was woken next morning at 5:30 Denise had to get back to go to work. I was dieing. She left and I went back to bed to wake again at 8:00. I opened the shop. I was not feeling well. I struggled until 1:00 then went to bed again and slept until closing time. All for one poxy little bit of chocolate. I would have preferred a hangover. It would have been better if I'd have drunk too much at least then I know the hangover would be over by 10:00am. Experience has taught me this. As it was I only had one pint all Sunday. Ever felt cheated?

I've got an incredibly good business opportunity for someone who is good with their hands. if you are interested. You may recall that Pat has a client list as long as your arm of perverts, cross dressers and the like. Well she was asked this week if she knew of a discrete carpenter. It seems one of her customers is a baby man, he has since formed a relationship with the dominatrix I told you about a few months ago, well they want building for them, larger versions of cots, high chairs, and changing tables. Really! No questions asked, no pack drill. Then there are the sado masochists who want all sorts of equipment building that I can't begin to describe. They will pay over the odds. So you can forget your high finance deals, your multi national corporations, you just build these guys what they want and you charge what you like. No arguments. Money for old rope. That's where the money is. In sex. I've known that for a long time but not had the courage or the inclination to do anything about it. People will pay good money for their BASIC requirements, and they don't argue for fear of publicity. We could have a franchise "sex toys R us". A branch in every major city or town. We could rake it in. One of her customers is a high court judge. He is so polite with her. She can charge him anything and he pays without question. That's why she is now driving a fuck off sports car and lives in a £300,000 house. And that's from starting with nothing two years ago. What are we doing wrong?