Turn to face the wall. I’m sure the sight of Celia’s tits won’t be helping your poor locked cock.”Celia giggled and, red-faced, I did as Glori... asked. Standing facing the wall I could hear them pouring their tea and the chink of cups, but then the sound was replaced by something much more intimate with both women giggling and little squeals and sighs.Then I hear Celia say, “It seems a shame to leave him standing there,” and Gloria say “Come over here, Meakin.”It was worrying that she had. “Newspaper story? Interview?”“Begum is it? Can I meet her please?”Five minutes later, I was sitting on a cheap imitation velvet couch in a clean, but garishly decorated room, waiting for the Begum, i.e. The Madam of the brothel. Finally she walked in, and I stood up to greet her. The Begum was an overweight lady dressed in a heavily embroidered red sari, the type that new brides wear. She was also wearing some really heavy make-up, and was smoking a cigarette. As I stood up, she motioned me to. More

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