I shouted Ian into my hotel room. It was 11am and it was the second morning of a 3 day coastal city break. He'd brought my phone charger.
So I know Ian likes me, because Rick told me on New Years day, and he's good looking and everything but he looks like J and it freaks me the fuck out. So I can't find him sexually attractive, like, i'd totally jump his bone otherwise. Because he's 30 and buff.
He got into bed. He made small talk while I drifted in and out of sleep and his hand started to stroke my back. I felt his face in my neck and his warm breath tingled. I was hungover and I wanted to be left alone but I also wanted to feel affection, and that's always better when it's not coming from yourself. I guess.
I turned onto my back and his hands ran up and down my stomach. I turned my head towards him and looked into his blue eyes. He looked relaxed, my eyes probably looked cold and dry.
He kissed me hard and we soaked into the bed. He pulled down my navy cotton Ralph Lauren pants and started to jerk me off. I closed my eyes and heard him pull down his jeans so I opened them and put my hand towards his huge dick. It was massive, i'm pretty sure it scared me but I closed my hand around it. We jerked eachother off and he cummed onto his chest. We lay there for a little until I got up and went to have a shower.
He wasn't there when I came back. I got into bed and slept until 3pm.
I was near the De Wallen district in Amsterdam in a bar called The Queen's Head. I walked in with C who was wearing an ankle length peach gingham dress and I was wearing a white t shirt with narrow blue stripes on the bottom half, and black levis jeans and brown brogues. And I'd had the sides and back of my head shaved to a number 2 before I'd left England and so my quiff looked pretty fucking cool.
So I walked in and a drag queen shouted down the microphone at my expense, 'He looks like a fucking Jean Paul Gualtier ad!'
So I died a little inside at the attention and sat in a corner while C ordered our drinks. And when I say I died a little inside; really it made my night but I obviously kept my emotionless face in case anyone there thought I might possibly be approachable.
So we drank our drinks and walked downstairs where we sat on a couch and smoked while two men kissed furiously opposite us. The little one (there's always a little one) was straddling the big one who was sat down. And their hands never left eachother and even though it was repulsive C and I couldn't stop watching and finished our cigarettes without saying a word.
We walked down to our hotel and stopped at a club on the way. 3 or 4 drinks were finished during which a chinese girl asked me to make out with her and an italian boy named Feliciano kissed me on the cheek and 3 boys took off their shirt and danced on the bar, and a man from South Africa told me he'd been mugged and then bought me a drink.
And it was pretty much the same the next night, except we were with an English girl called Rose who we'd met and she called me 'darling' all night while sipping gin.