You pays your money and you takes your choice
Right then, I'll say straight off that this is the sort of thing that happens once in your life. Or never if you're fuck-ugly. Which I don't think I am or I'm fairly certain this story would have ended rather differently.

As I mentioned in a previous post I was (un)fortunate enough to spend a couple of seasons working in fashion PR. This included working at London Fashion Week where I buggered about sorting out interviews and photoshoots and whatnot while surviving on a diet of Red Bull, champagne and some rather wonderful pharmaceutical substances (it's not big or clever, but it came with the job, it was free for me and it was funny as fuck on a number of occasions). This all came to an end after a somewhat, erm, "difficult" conversation with a British supermodel who has a reputation for being a bit temperamental in the same way that Hitler had a reputation for being a bit racist.

Anyway, after a quiet word with my then boss at one of the last after-parties it was mutually decided that perhaps I wasn't best suited for the hectic world of high fashion PR. We celebrated what had been a thoroughly pleasant working relationship with a couple of Martinis, and so I was not in an entirely sober frame of mind when I caught site of a group of possibly the best looking women I have ever seen, before or since. They were models of course; but not the waif-like child-women that you saw in most of the catwalk shows. Oh no, these were full on WIMMIN with a very pronounced capital W. Curves and bumps in all the correct places, athletic rather than emaciated and by the looks of it every single one of them (five in total, and I sort of recognised a couple of them) were letting off steam with a couple of glasses of fizz. Underwear models. Otherwise known as the Harlequin's cup of tea, or perfection for short.

It must have been the sly glances I kept throwing their way, or possibly the puddle of drool under my seat but my canny boss somehow saw that my attention had been diverted from our conversation and proceeded to subject these visions of loveliness to the kind of dispassionate assessment that only a long term fashionista can give. She then said a line that you do not expect to hear from your blue-eyed, cold as iron, ever-so-slightly terrifying boss. Ever.

"Oh go and talk to them Harlequin you pillock, the dark haired one on the left keeps looking at you when you're talking to me."
...
Say what now? Me? Talk to her? Are you off your bloody rocker love?

The Harlequin has been relatively blessed in the looks department - no unsightly birthmarks, unusual facial ticks or excess ear hair - but tall as I am I knew I would need a bastard long ladder to punch high enough above my weight to register on this angel's radar.

And angels they all were, in name as well as features, due to the branding of one particular manufacturer of ladies unmentionables. So after a quick internal pole of the pro's and cons -

Harlequin: Should I do it?
DevilHarlequin: Of course! Strap on a pair, cowboy the fuck up and get over there!
VoiceOfReasonHarlequin: Look I could say stuff about self respect, embarrassment when you're shot down and all that, but it's basically bollocks. Like my evil counterpart said, stop being a fucking girl and carpe diem!
...

So I did.

...
I'm not sure what the opening line was exactly as I honestly can't remember but I was suddenly talking to the most astonishingly striking Brazilian - no not Gisele Bundchen, but she could have been her cousin. Her name was Bella. And she was laughing at my jokes! And at my piss poor attempts at Portuguese and teaching me how to say some extremely rude things in her mother tongue (Chaps - nothing hotter than being taught to swear profusely in a foreign language by an insanely attractive woman). There was general outrageous flirting going on and then we had a dance. Now there's all this stuff about how well South Americans move. In point of fact it is absolutely, 110%, word of god true. It was and remains the single most erotic experience of my life with all my clothes on. Now given that I'm white, middle class and English it was all I could do to keep from tripping over my feet and making a twat of myself but she seemed to like my limited repertoire of crazy dancing shapes as, when the music was dying after a particularly raunchy number, she looked up at me and asked, in a slight accent, "So, is this a kiss me moment?"

Turns out it was.

Turns out it was more than a kiss me moment as well. It was a grab-a-cab-to-her-hotel-start-undressing-each-other-in-the-lift-and-bang-the-life-out-of-each-other moment. And you don't get many of those.

The following morning, after a thoroughly entertaining time in a walk-in shower, we said our goodbyes. Lingering kiss and then off she sashayed to the airport. It should have been the walk of shame for me, but seriously, would you be ashamed of successfully chatting up a Victoria's Secret model?

Length? Totally unaffected by the Martinis and seemed to go down very well thank you so much for asking.
(DarkHarlequin putting babies on spikes since, Mon 14 Dec 2009, 12:25, 31 replies)

Bastard
that is all
(BarryChuckle, Mon 14 Dec 2009, 12:34, closed)

I know,
I know, I know. But look at it from my point of view. How the fuck am I ever going to top that?
(DarkHarlequin putting babies on spikes since, Mon 14 Dec 2009, 12:43, closed)

Tell people you've fucked the Queen on the next vaguely sex-related QOTW.

( Amorous Badger NAKED BEA ARTHUR PHOTOS 4U, Wed 16 Dec 2009, 11:02, closed)

^this

( Kitty v1.0 desperately naive, Wed 16 Dec 2009, 13:27, closed)

Bullshit

(lkjshaglkasjdhglkhjz lkcvl; g;aodh;owih, Mon 14 Dec 2009, 12:54, closed)

Nope, sometimes people DO have very good sex with nice people (sometimes people nicer than themselves)
please don't be bitter. I am sure it will happen to you one day.
( The magic of chutney Shakes it like an Instagram filter!, Mon 14 Dec 2009, 12:57, closed)

It was?
Oh. I could have sworn it happened. Since I was there at the time you see.
(DarkHarlequin putting babies on spikes since, Mon 14 Dec 2009, 13:06, closed)

I once kissed Katy Hill.

( Amorous Badger NAKED BEA ARTHUR PHOTOS 4U, Tue 15 Dec 2009, 8:14, closed)

yeah and look at the subsequent court case
not allowed within 300 metres of the blue peter studio.

you vile bastard.
( Tyronne Get To Falkirk, Tue 15 Dec 2009, 8:29, closed)

I've had sex with Marilyn Monroe.
It must be true because I said it is. On the internet. In Lies Of The Week.
( baldmonkey a frothy foul-smelling vaginal discharge, Tue 15 Dec 2009, 9:04, closed)

Incidently, you are not a tremendously amusing author.
Your attempts at humour throughout that lie come across as self-satistfied boreness.
HONDA ACCORD etc.
( baldmonkey a frothy foul-smelling vaginal discharge, Tue 15 Dec 2009, 9:17, closed)

What car do you drive?

(PsychoChomp, Mon 14 Dec 2009, 13:01, closed)

Londoner = no car
Sorry :-(
(DarkHarlequin putting babies on spikes since, Mon 14 Dec 2009, 13:05, closed)

And there was me thinking
it would be a Honda Accord
(lkjshaglkasjdhglkhjz lkcvl; g;aodh;owih, Mon 14 Dec 2009, 13:09, closed)

I believe you Sir
and therefore, you are my Hero.

*Click*
(Eggstrovert isnt patronising you...honest..., Mon 14 Dec 2009, 13:18, closed)

I shagged a Chinese model once.
Well, it said 'Made in China' on the box.
( Noeli overtheshoulderboulderholderthingstraplatchboobs, Mon 14 Dec 2009, 13:29, closed)

Waaahey!
click
(Tugnut Ex of this parish, Mon 14 Dec 2009, 13:31, closed)

I like your Eddie Izzard quote
'Hi I'm Crazy Eddie, I put babies on spikes'
(Flim-Flam the Magnificent "You is talking loco and I like it!", Mon 14 Dec 2009, 13:33, closed)

Likewise
I meant Cake!
(DarkHarlequin putting babies on spikes since, Mon 14 Dec 2009, 14:29, closed)

So my choice is
'or Death?'
(ConanTroutman thought we would free the vulture, Tue 15 Dec 2009, 11:33, closed)

Did she have a Brazillian?

(Corbo, Mon 14 Dec 2009, 13:44, closed)

Doubtful
Most women don't have more than 2
( LemonEntryMyDearWatson This time, Moriarty, the hand is on the other foot, Mon 14 Dec 2009, 14:07, closed)

Bald as Harry Hill
You'd expect it though since she made a living wandering about in her smalls. Spiders legs creeping out the side of a lady's knickers would be something of a distraction, even if said undercrackers were diamond encrusted.
(DarkHarlequin putting babies on spikes since, Mon 14 Dec 2009, 14:28, closed)

Congrats
A Brazilian has so far been the only person to cause me to run dry. I felt like sleeping for two days after that too. She wasn't a model but not that far off!
( Jimbuktu See? Right here, Mon 14 Dec 2009, 21:39, closed)

I really struggled with this.
I mean, do I put it in the 'drugs bore', 'Vrigins, ect' or 'Needless to say I had the last laugh?'
( Amorous Badger NAKED BEA ARTHUR PHOTOS 4U, Tue 15 Dec 2009, 7:15, closed)

Oh man
this ticks all the boxes. Satirical genius.
( wotofco pissing in your swimming pool, Tue 15 Dec 2009, 8:25, closed)

HE PUT "UN" IN BRACKETS!
COMEDY FUCKING GOLD.
( baldmonkey a frothy foul-smelling vaginal discharge, Tue 15 Dec 2009, 9:25, closed)

HAHA
Are you sure you weren't drinking Carlsberg.
(bROKEN aRROW PUA HVI Master, Tue 15 Dec 2009, 15:58, closed)

Or NightTrain?

(Tugnut Ex of this parish, Wed 16 Dec 2009, 11:20, closed)