Just one more thought from Cheltenham,a mere cameo in the great theatre of humanity.
It is neither clever or witty,not even very interesting,just a little sad really.I don't know
what to think but it remains on my mind nonetheless
Any mixture of men,money and gambling will invariably be accompanied by their sibling
vice of sex,usually in the form of prostitutes.I have no problem with prostitution,they
provide a service and are paid for it,winner all right,except for those unfortunate souls
who are forced into it and it then becomes a sordid,sleazy and abhorent degradation.
The working girls at our hotel, all well presented and easy on the eye, kept to their own
company until approached by a client,a deal struck,they'd head off upstairs and return
One particular lady who looked no more like a prostitute than I,fitted the company of
racegoers she was in,like a glove.She wore the uniform one associates with female
racegoers,ie. tweed skirt,black turtle-neck and one of those padded jackets with no
arms in,and might have passed for a groom,an amateur jockey or an owner.That was
Friday and on Saturday I noticed her again with racegoers,whether the same ones or
different I couldn't say,but on Sunday morning she was on her own.
There was about twenty of us at the bar,mostly male,all packed up and checked out,
some sipping coffee, more sipping brandy,all in good cheer, exchanging jokes,form
and information.From the corner of my eye I couldn't help but notice her making
her way through the line of drinkers,eliciting no responce from any.When she
reached me,I too ignored her untill she rubbed my shoe with the toe of hers and I
glanced in her direction.With alcohol-laden breath she enquired if I wanted to do any
"business" and it was then I looked at her and saw the state the poor cratur was in.
Her hair ,in places,was matted in cum,while her black turtleneck,the same one, was
almost covered with sperm stains.Holy fuck,what some poor cunts have to do
for a shilling.