Certainly not from Hell. Possibly from Venus though.Whilst qualifying many moons ago, I had to spend a fortnight in Bath. I was given a list of short-term rooms to rent and picked the one closest to St. Martin's hospital.
I turned up and met the landlady and her 'sister', two fairly pretty women in their early thirties. Quite obviously lesbian lovers, but never mind. Got on very well with them, they let me have a key and after a couple of days they even made me free sandwiches for lunch. What more could you ask for?
At the end of the first week there was a cock-up at the hospital and I came back in the early afternoon. I didn't notice the closed curtains as I opened the door, but I did notice the interesting goings-on in the living room. One of them (the slightly less attractive one, unfortunately) was naked, trying to cover herself with sofa cushions, whilst the other was looking frantic and holding a camera. Which was nice.
After much panic and apologising, they explained that they sold the photos (which I think was supposed to make me feel better). Obviously, I laughed it off - it was their house, they weren't expecting me back and, to be honest, what man would complain about sharing a house with two vaguely attractive lesbian pornographers?
They tended to stay in their bedroom after that. I still got sandwiches though. And the less attractive one bought me a red tie, which I still wear to anything vaguely official.
And before you ask - no, I didn't see any of the photos. Although it turned out they were some kind of foot fetish specialists, so I don't think I missed anything.
Sadly the story ends on a distinctly shite note - the day before I was due to leave, the less attractive one was run down by some drink-driving bastard at a pelican crossing. She suffered massive injuries and I never did find out if she lived or not. Ho hum.
(I turned up and met the landlady and her 'sister', two fairly pretty women in their early thirties. Quite obviously lesbian lovers, but never mind. Got on very well with them, they let me have a key and after a couple of days they even made me free sandwiches for lunch. What more could you ask for?
At the end of the first week there was a cock-up at the hospital and I came back in the early afternoon. I didn't notice the closed curtains as I opened the door, but I did notice the interesting goings-on in the living room. One of them (the slightly less attractive one, unfortunately) was naked, trying to cover herself with sofa cushions, whilst the other was looking frantic and holding a camera. Which was nice.
After much panic and apologising, they explained that they sold the photos (which I think was supposed to make me feel better). Obviously, I laughed it off - it was their house, they weren't expecting me back and, to be honest, what man would complain about sharing a house with two vaguely attractive lesbian pornographers?
They tended to stay in their bedroom after that. I still got sandwiches though. And the less attractive one bought me a red tie, which I still wear to anything vaguely official.
And before you ask - no, I didn't see any of the photos. Although it turned out they were some kind of foot fetish specialists, so I don't think I missed anything.
Sadly the story ends on a distinctly shite note - the day before I was due to leave, the less attractive one was run down by some drink-driving bastard at a pelican crossing. She suffered massive injuries and I never did find out if she lived or not. Ho hum.
Dr.A,
Tue 18 Nov 2003, 2:44,
archived)