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But I got there in the end and without too much bother. Cambridge Parkway to The Crossing in twenty five minutes, and what sort of speed do you call that, sir?

Luckily I found somewhere to hide the van, or to cloak her as is the proper word. An overgrown coppice of mixed hardwood trees with plenty of elder and scrubby undergrowth. It was called Tumblehome Wood when I looked on the map.

Then, feeling smug and self satisfied for who knows what reason, I put my boots on, grabbed my rucsac and set out to walk from Tumblehome Wood to The Crossing where it had been arranged I was to meet you.

There they were, all in a row, the Rundown and the Infamous, as many would call them, the most notorious dosshouses by far on this part of the Way. Student accommodation? Yeah right!

You will have heard of them of course, and some of the others too, I have no doubt, maybe even sampled their delights? Well why not admit it? You might be surprised but you’d certainly not be alone.

They’re all much of a muchness I suppose, all offering similar kinds of depravity and debauchery, cheep food, lumpy beds and overcrowded accommodation. Eleven to the mile is about average I am told and all, without exception, more or less the same.

All except Jan’s Manor that is I hasten to add. And the reason for this is because it is south of the river. South of the river and our destination today. Well you know I’d heard so much about the place over the years, good some of it, most bad or indifferent, all of it however, intriguing.

“They’ll steal all your clothes!” was most commonly heard, yet I’d seen so many naked men, and not a few naked women too, standing dejectedly outside the doors of most of the other establishments that I rarely even listened to that assertation any more.

“You’ll catch a dose!” was probably the second most often heard cry and again I can point you towards the string of clinics. Where have most of the clientele in those come from? Right first time! All the other establishments.

“They cost the earth!” Yes that was the third oftenest heard thing. This time it was true. They did! But you know it depended on what you wanted much of the time. Coffee was free, as were biscuits and cream cakes in the morning. A bottle of clean dry water on the other hand, hell yes, you might indeed pay a fortune for that. Alright, so you mean the levels of service rather than the refreshments? Wait! I’ll give you some ideas.

At Maud’s three ladies together, sole use, one punter only regardless of gender for an evening would cost you the best part of two day’s wages if you were one of those poor sods who worked down at the docks. At Brian and Joe’s, three ladies, same criteria, one days wages with use of a private room thrown in. Zennor’s went even better with an offer of three people of either sex, mixed if required from six until midnight for fifty three Sdollars, private room, if required, ten Sdollars extra.

You begin to see I suppose that not only was business particularly competitive but it was also, sometimes, damned, confoundedly confusing. At Mark’s Marks a sound thrashing by two butch ladies might set you back two days wages while at Cath’rine’s Weal, if you spoke nicely to certain people you’d get the same service for free.

When Queen Jane’s first opened, oh three or four years ago now it must have been, a fanatic could get themselves weed on by two women and a dog simultaneously for one Sdollar. Today exactly the same service costs ten, but you do get a free noseclip and cup of mint tea.

Earlier I’d put the Lady’s shell away safely, knowing instinctively that I was not likely to encounter any other Cowries down there. My intention was to inform only, not to disgust, intrigue or titillate. We could try all those things and more later, once you’d decided what you’d like to do straight away. Tumblehome, the hostel, might tempt you I suppose, with all its beds. There is little else inside but them. Don’t rush, there is time a’plenty; at Ferne’s for instance you can do anything at all so long as it is coloured green……



But Jan’s Manor, as I said, was always just that little bit different. Where other venues had naked dancers Jan’s had naked dancers with dildoes or broomsticks or flaming cartwheels on the stage. And when the competition became really fierce and people fought over the ownership of sticky pink feathers or Velcro ankle straps with bells on them, Jan’s Manor invariably rose majestically above the rest with some new and exciting innovation.

They could afford to be that little bit different of course, being south of the river because being south of the river means so much to so many different people. They make their own laws for one thing. All of them, all their laws that is. And being as how everyone living south of the river has had a say in their making, most of them abided by them. They were after all for their own benefit.

Most were common sense laws anyway, devised to protect rather than inhibit, to help rather than hinder, to ease rather than restrict. And while there were some unwritten ones to do with genetics and incest there were no nakedness laws, at least none I ever heard of. There were sensible nakedness ones of course, ones that everyone observed, like not going outside in the nude in the snow for more than about an hour. Simply because if you did you’d probably freeze to death. Other laws would come into force then; those concerned with the cost of moving the body and who would pay for it, that sort of thing. All very laudable when you think about it. After all, no-one likes to see frozen corpses lying in the street.

There were no laws governing spouse beating either, though there were a few which were closely associated. Causing death by prolonged fellatio was a common one and the one most often laughed out of court. Suffocation by queening was another one, followed by…… look, tell you what, we’ll go over, get some coffee maybe and you’ll be able to see what I am talking about first hand.

……………

Well the tide was falling and the ferryman grumpy but we made the crossing without mishap. And if you bought any of the porno mags he was selling then you were silly. They’ll be less than half what you paid for them south of the river.

We went into Jan’s Manor by the side door, that one next to the landing stage. It was quicker, more discreet and avoided the crowds of sightseers and do gooders who always hang around at the front. You can have too many condom sellers in one place believe me, and too many cheerless religious people peddling their wares. If I’d wanted to be saved in that way yes I might have gone to their church. It’s very unlikely but you get what I mean. On the other hand if I’d wanted to be shagged to within an inch of my life, which I often do, I’d have come to this very establishment, which I have. It’s a great place! And with you in tow it will most definitely get better.

Coffee then? Sugar and, watch! I don’t know how she does it but that serving wench has full fat in her left tit and semi skimmed in her right. I was dubious too, the first time I saw her but if you try her you’ll see…...

If you want double cream, to put with that scone however, you’ll have to go and stroke that guy’s mechanical thing.

Yes its free but you are expected, well look at it like this: if you don’t spend any money they won’t let you leave. Hah! No, but they might serve you up on the menu the next day, trussed and gagged and, well you know what I mean.

Lets sit in the window, we can look both out and in…...

“No thank you we don’t need any of those, not yet anyway…...”

Then something made your nipples rise, brought a flush to your face and neck. I can see it, don’t deny it, oh, you fancy the boy with the menus do you?

Do you?

Don’t shake your head!

The dancers were practicing a new routine when we got there, their producer truculently sweating and as impatient as ever. Bare feet do not make for a good dancer so someone had put them all in three inch heels. And little else except glitter and body paint. And if you’d ever thought about getting plaits in your pubic hair, here is just the man to do it for you.

We waved at Jan from our vantage point and, grinning broadly Jan waved back.

We’ve known each other a lot of years, I tell you. In fact……no really, in fact……

“Look, those two are screwing!” you remark suddenly. Then “Oh!” when you realise there are three.

“This is better than Downwrights!” you exclaim interestedly. “I’ve never seen anyone doing that there!”

Well Downwrights is a dump with mud on the floor, rats in the kitchens and a carthorse in one of the bedrooms which had been up there for years. If you whistled from the road outside it’d stick it’s head out of the window and neigh at you. If no-one was riding it that was. Yea, Downwrights is north of the river, like all those other dumps. Jan’s Manor is the only one of any worth way down here.

You let the serving girls play with you. They want you to undress but you don’t. Not yet. Its early and if you are too eager exhaustion can soon set in. They play with each other and encourage you to do so as well. Smiling they tell you to do whatever you want.

I suppose this sort of openness comes as something of a shock if you’ve only ever played in your bedroom before. That’s one of the reasons I’ve brought you here, so you can see for yourself there are other ways of doing it.

……………

We ate lunch and it was good. I was even tempted by a portion of trifle. Better still we’d spent over the limit which entitled us to a free bottle of wine.

Jan came over to see us when she had a minute, which was what I’d been waiting for, so I could introduce you to her.

“We go back a long way, don’t we?” Jan mused lightly patting my head.

“As far back as not actually being here at all” I reply, rosy cheeked with remembering.

I want her to stay but she can’t. She’s being the ideal hostess and has other cheeks to squeeze, other nipples to lick. Men need her, yearn for her presence, erecting expectantly the instant she materialises near them. Women want her, leaking uncontrollably, desiring dominance, agreeing to anything and everything she says.

“Why are you still dressed?” she asks, gazing directly.

You look at your feet, your face reddening hotly.

Surprised by your embarrassment she looks at me questioningly. She is only trying to put you at your ease and I thought you knew that. She……oh I see, you were turned on by her were you? Why didn’t you say? I’m sure we could have done something about it. No-ones got cerebral bulimia around here. If they don’t want they’ll tell you straight; if they do you’ll know, most definitely.

We kiss threeways before Jan goes away, you reluctantly while the serving girls giggle, feigning innocence, kidding you along while they play endlessly.

……………

We took our drinks and shared a couch with another couple and watched while they undressed each other slowly. Both men. I say nothing. I like body hair and muscles so where’s the worry; it’s not a problem.

We share a bed with them, a surreal macramé muddle of arms and legs and other things. After a while a few more assorted people join us.

No, don’t put the lights off, I want to see you, me, us, them……everything. And don’t keep clutching that pillow like that! Its physical not personal, you want to cum don’t you? Again, don’t you? Let go then, you’re in a safe place here.

………………

Jan’s Manor lock their doors at midnight so if you’re in, you’re in. If you’re not you won’t be. Jan’s Manor, this night, was full to bursting, you couldn’t get a seat anywhere. Or a bed come to think of it that some several others weren’t already lying in. It must have been the new dance routine that did it. Made it so popular. That’s my take on it anyway. What else could it have been? It wasn’t the food for that was just the usual old stew which you always get free.

We took ourselves and others followed, to find a space to dance in and eventually did, lurching and clutching at each other while others bumped us, gyrating slowly and stickily, until, for no reason other than an urge to do so we separate, turning to find new partners, different bodies with which to grope and grind, skip and leap.

I got myself a bowl of stew while you brought to life three or four of your fantasies, then developed some new ones and very soon after learned to live some of your dreams. And if you were reserved, embarrassed even, when you began, nothing could be now be further from the truth. I see you grin, lopsidedly, red faced from the exertion of sharing a cock with two other ladies, revelling in both your lack of clothing and what little remains of your inhibitions. Loose limbed you lean into the melee, unconcerned by anything except the urge to indulge in anything and everything.

“Don’t stare!” you tell me.

Not exactly and orgy, more a stew of mixed vegetables and meats, bubbling and heaving gently.

“I’m not staring!” I answer. “I’m full to the brim with stew and rapidly falling……asleep…...asleep……asleep……”

And falling asleep is something I can do easily in Jan’s Manor, the only establishment worth mentioning south of the river.

© Aahlu. 220910.