First, while Pw does enjoy a certain celebrity on the Board, any mention of him, written or verbal, elsewhere is strictly prohibited. Please remember that Pw was mentioned erroneously in Ms. Shapiro's fiction recently. Also mentioned , again erroneously, in a recent news article regarding the unfortunate demise of a Spa. And of course there is the theater incident.
Second, I for one welcome ALL reports from our members , no matter where they originate. While I have no plans to venture to PA, if I did I would trust one of our own more than brothers I do not know.
Lastly, while there is, to the best of my knowledge, no contest I nominate this and the last PA report as post(s) of the year ( so far). Funny and insanely well written.
pw
[QUOTE=Boston Ampfan]Gentlemen (and Ladies) as stated in the introduction to my last report on BA's adventures in PA, if you believe this posting about his adventures in PA is irrelevant to the Boston Forum and a mere trifling distraction from the otherwise lucid and geographically-specific reports here in, kindly move along now, as there is nothing to see. If your preference is to flame me for misplacing my PA report, feel free to do so, but with full and certain knowledge that BA has a thick skin and does not depend upon the kindness of strangers in order to attain his sense of self-worth and success.
Be that as it may.
BA had a choice to make, and not an easy one, on his last morning in PA: To see the little Spinner he had discovered there or to visit a Spa across the street sporting the title, "All American Girls." The Spinner was indeed a sight to behold, and BA has fond memories of her, as he reflects back upon the exotic sight of her nipples and fulsome breasts outlined against the window shades as she positioned herself next to him to perform the culminating act of his visit with her. (Sighing heavily, even as he reads this) But he finally decided to visit the "All American" place on the theory that new=good. The last time BA had visited an American spa was way back in the day, to the place at Fresh Pond. But therein lies another tale.
So he pulled up into the parking lot, discretely waiting for the fellow in the blue pickup truck to depart. Sound of BA's feet on the short gravel walkway. Quiet, just detectable sound of chimes as he pressed the door bell button. Sound of many locks sliding open. He walked into a small reception area whereupon he is greeted by a pretty though slightly large blond haired girl in her 20s. She asked BA to complete a form. Side 1 asked for personally identifying information, such as name, address and phone number. In the three places where names where requested, he inserted "Newday," "Pw," and "Stressed Out." For phone number, he inserted the digits for Bonan. For next of kin, he wrote "Jo Jo." The young lady reminded BA that he had not completed the reverse side of the form, which consisted of check off boxes asking whether BA was a 1. Journalist (Not any more) 2. LE official (No thank you) or whether 3. he had any nefarious or untoward purpose in visiting the Spa. ("None! And Madame, I do protest as my intentions are honorable!")
Satisfied with his answers, the young lady led him to a small massage room. Notably, all of the walls were covered with mirrors, ceiling to floor. And at eye height exactly, including the spot directly in front of his headrest on the table, there were posted freshly printed signs: "We do not provide services of a sexual nature. Asking for such services may result in your arrest." After noticing this, BA scanned the room and also noted a small Radio Shack variety camera in the corner of the ceiling. But to his relief he also noticed that the black wire emerged from the camera, moved along the wall and promptly stopped. It was, in short, a wire to nowhere.
The young lady returned to the room. "There are some things we need to discuss," she said. "Tipping, for example." "And what other examples can you offer, Mistress?" BA replied. "Just tipping. You see, young ladies such as myself do not receive any portion of the House Fee. Rather, we depend entirely upon the tips that our most kind and gracious gentlemen callers deign to provide unto us."
Although BA found the word "unto" to be rather enticing, conveying as it does a sense of "entry," he was puzzled as no services had been offered in exchange for the requested gratuity. Losing his patience, and having already decided that he would prefer to avoid arrest on such a fine day, he replied, "OK, then, cutting right to the chase, as it were, what services will a tip obtain for your most humble gentleman caller?" "None," she replied, though with a promising twinkle in her eye. Picking up the cue, BA re-framed his question thus: "In theory--and of course only in theory-- what particular favors might a fine, well dressed gentleman such as myself obtain if for purposes of discussion only, he were to provide a gratuity of let us say $40?" "Not much" she replied, forwardly. "Let us say then that your caller was a gentlemen of extravagant wealth and would offer $60." "For that, " she said, "I would remove my dress, unclasp my bra and provide full access to my C sized beauties for your suckling pleasure as I stroke your Little Brother until, exhausted, you spill your hot seed all over the table and perhaps even over said Boobs."
BA caught a glimpse of the ticking clock and noticed in horror that 20 minutes had lapsed. She then proceeded to gently stroke his back, followed in turn by nice attention to his arms, elbows, hands, fingers and finger tips. She asked him to turn over, at which moment by some Siren's seductive trick nearly 45 minutes had trickled through the hourglass of life. As promised, she then lowered her dress, freed the pointed and proud advertisements of her womanhood and turned her attention to Little Brother. Whereupon she announced that BA had 5 minutes left in his pre-paid session and asked whether he would be inclined to purchase another 30 minutes. BA demurred as he considered running out of the room naked and hence into the arms of the Spinner across the street.
The young lady, her long blonde hair waving nicely in the half-light of the massage room, continued to stroke, ever faster, until the second loudest alarm bell BA has heard in his life ( a place in Marlboro being the loudest, but that Dear Reader is a tale for another day) rang, shivering BA to the very heart of his being. "By all that is Holy, sweet one, shut it off!" he fairly begged her, but she merely rotated her hand around the shaft with increasing speed and determination. To his amazement, Little Brother launched just as the bell stopped." "Wow," the lady said, "that was sure close!"
BA paid the promised gratuity, dressed and returned to his car. Just in time to see the little Spinner across the street usher another gentleman caller out of the door to her Spa. She caught BA's eye, smiled and raised her hand in a tender and innocent sign of recognition. She then held her cell phone in the air and made a gesture with it, as though saying "Call me!" Heartbroken, BA opened the door to his car, adjusted his pork pie hat, settled into the fine Corinthian leather seat, put the vehicle in gear and drove away. Fast.[/QUOTE]
