Protection Money

I’m stood having a wee in the pub (in the pub toilet that is). It’s one of those long communal urinals which run along the gutter. It mixes your urine with that of complete strangers – a cocktail of piss. On this occasion I'm stood alone and my wee flowed undiluted. I made my best attempt to control my outpouring so as to not splash wee-flecks onto my shoes. I was largely successful.

As I stood at the urinal, the toilet door swung open and two men walked in. The first was a young guy in his early twenties. He had long foppish hair swept across his face and tight black drain-pipe trousers. You know the sort – a cunt. The second was a large thuggish brut of about fifty. He had a shaven head and wore a luminous tabard. You know the sort – a bouncer. Conscious not to maintain eye-contact for too long in a gentlemen’s public convenience I averted my gaze but continued to listen to their conversation.

“I put in the money but nothing came out,” said the dandy Emo.

“What type did you select?” grunted the thug.

“Ribbed – for her pleasure,” he replied timidly. What a guy, I thought. A real modern man. And fair play to him for asking the bouncer to solve his problem. I’d have written it off as an unfortunate embarrassment and run off with my (flaccid) tail between my legs. Having said that, maybe he should’ve taken the time to get some ‘doms from a more reputable source. Or maybe he was just too horny.

“Just give it a hit,” said the bouncer as he pounded the machine. Whack. Nothing. Thud. Nothing. Smack! As he hit the machine for the third time a pound coin shot out of the change dispenser and dropped to the floor. It bounced and rolled quickly towards my foot. I could feel the eyes of the two men stalking the coin. The coin tapped into my foot and ricocheted into the urine-aquaduct which lay before me. Without changing my stream of pee it pushed the coin down the gutter towards the outlet. A shiny gold boat sailing on a yellow sea.

“Well I’m not fucking havin’ that,” moaned the young ragamuffin.

“Your choice,” said the bouncer “we’ll see what the manager can do”. They both left. I quickly finished my deed and washed my hands. As I turned to leave I gave the condom machine a quick nudge. Out popped £2 and a pack of three ribbed condoms. I pocketed the money and sheaths and beat a hasty retreat. I didn’t see the guy in the pub to return his stuff but I do hope he managed to find some protection. I can’t bear the thought of him having unprotected sex and contracting an STD.

Dan