"I could show a good time" the bartender replies. Oh, how so? I ask. Well, he says, "I enjoy the company of a nice woman, especially tourists, I like to show them the sights" --Very interesting, I said, but I have a little problem. What's the problem? the bartender asked. The problem is that I'm not looking for nice, I'm veeeery bad. Anyway, I continue, What do you have in mind? I pushed on. "I could show you around town in my free time" Show me around town? I asked as I get up from my chair, leaned up and over the narrow counter and looked down on his pants. Why don't you show me around down there? as I point down to his cock. You mean now? asked the bartender. Well, now or later, I'll be staying here for a while. OK, he says "Why don't you meet me by the stairs on the second floor, around 10:00 pm tonight. OK, I'll see you then. That night at around 10:00 pm we met on the stairs of the second floor and right then and there we fucked out brains out. It was good, about 9" of thick. ," he breathed carefully, avoiding the topic of England, looking down instead of at her, "they don't know I'm here yet, actually. Ah,you were... were the first person I've called. I just didn't want to bother them if, you know, if I had to go back. I'm almost certain things are settled, but one can never be sure with the Council these days. Ah, oh, not to imply that I don't mind bothering you. I just... thought... er." He folded his arms over his chest and looked up at her, green eyes as sharp as ever. He had a rugged air about him, a well ordered stubble on his chin and even the trace remnants of what had at one time been a goatee of sorts. He had shaved before heading for home, and had only cleaned it up rather than shaved it all off once he was back. Another effort to change his appearance in England. It left him looking fairly robust, though there was more to it than simple aesthetic changes. He was wearing dark, loose jeans and a fairly casual shirt, an old, faded leather jacket.
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