Busy

'You've had quite a few late nights this week' said Katherina (my one and only flatmate) over a most succulent meal of posh bangers and mash and even posher gravy.

And it's true, I had.

Saturday morning - Up at 6am, still slightly drunk from the night before and a cocktail rampage in Clapham Common with an old friend.

On the train to the posh university at 8am

Matriculation ceremony at 11.30am

Lunch - sandwiches and cheap champagne/orange juice - or, a 'Mimosa', as that's what I had.

After lunch - tipsy and talking about clairvoyants and spirits with my class mates.

'It was true', an American lady said, 'I saw it with my own eyes. There was a spirit in the room and I could actually see the light switch going on and off. On and off!'

Blimey.

And then, a train back to Londres in the afternoon.

Juno's birthday party was to be held that evening and so I trimmed, washed and wiped that area before I left the flat. All ready to bring somebody back with me.

Achilles - boy I wouldn't mind having a piece of (at least I thought so), and veterinary surgeon, arrived at Juno's party after remaining awake for 48 hours on the job. Tired - probably, Horny -yes, Fit - yes.

'I've just come from removing a pencil which had been inserted up a Jack Russels vagina', he said, deadly serious, as I sipped on a cocktail and talked to Cruella de'Vil about the possibility of pruning her lady garden.

'I just can't be bothered to work for men' she said. If it happens it happens.' (here, she talks about her refusal to put any work into pursuing men. That said, she's a dab hand with the old flirting and usually has men salivating at the thought of her quivering fanny)

'Working for men'- that's an entire blog on it's own.

So, Achilles and I spent quite a while talking about my sexual prowess and his resulting feeling that he was somewhat prudish.

'I like talking to you' he said, by this he meant, I like talking to somebody who talks about sex openly without apology.

'I'd never go to a sauna, it's just not me'. Fine, i thought, this sort of sexual conquest isn't for everyone. But the way in which he then persisted with the questions made me think perhaps he'd go, if pushed a little. The curiosity was certainly there.

And then we'd moved swiftly onto Achilles and Cruella's drug habits.

'You really should try some cocaine' she said, 'you'd become all Renaissance and it'd put you on another level. It'd do you good.'

No I thought, not drugs.

As the night dwindled on we ended up in Heaven, five boys, Juno Achilles and myself included.

I should have guessed it wouldn't have take long before we ended up in the cheese room at the top dancing to 'Crazy' by Beyonce. In the club's defense they also played my 'tune of the month' by Timbaland.

So we were dancing until about 6am. At 5am, Juno thought it decent to bugger off home leaving me and Achilles (who was ever so slightly plastered) alone.

And when we left the club at 6, the first thing Achilles insisted we do was visit a sauna.

'Take me somewhere where there are only young fit men'

'Listen, those sorts of places don't exist dear boy', I said.

Decisions were made quite rapidly and the cab drove us to Chariots. I wish, I really do, that there had been a better option, but the truth is, this place is the biggest and the turnover of men is greater.

'Stay with me won't you? Don't leave me anywhere' said Achilles.

'Fine'.

Only, once were we seated in the steam room, Achilles rather casually propped his leg up against a man sitting beside him. A hand up his leg and mutual wank later, we were out of there.

That's correct, Achilles was a sauna cock tease, for want of a better term. Great, I thought, he's fitted in well.

And then, as a last measure, he let 8 men lick his cock in the wank room. I wasn't there to see that, but I'm pretty sure I can imagine what went on.

Up until that point we'd been together, but for a brief while, as the fat white men's cock appreciation devoured Achilles' cock, I went for a pee and to try and see if there was somebody who I wouldn't mind having some fun with.

Twenty minutes later and there he was, asking that we go home. And so we did.

In the car Achilles insisted I 'call somebody' in order that we have a threesome.

He was drunk and wanted to try out everything in one big go, there and then.

As you'll imagine, my phone isn't full of people who'd happily wake up at 7am on a Sunday , pop down to Clapham and engage in a threesome. And what a shame that is.

Once home he was alseep before I could even pull the extra matress out.

In the morning I attempted texting Tom Ford with the offer of a threesome, determined to have one with Achilles before he left. Alas, it wasn't to happen.

But now, I'm pleased that the possibilty of a threesome is something that has entered his mind. You see, the seedling is always full of endless possibilty.

The next time I see Achilles, there'll be a threesome. At least, I darn as hell hope so.