The Local From Manchester

A couple of years ago I managed to secure myself a morbidly dull office job working in sales straight out of Compton- I mean university.

Call that person, send an email to that manager, try and get in touch with that company, leave a voice mail with that MD's personal assistant, preferably before she gets on her knees and performs oral sex on him in the hope for an increase in salary etc etc.

It was the same thing every day, every week, every month. You can only excuse yourself from your desk to go to the toilet and jack off for a few minutes of pleasure so many times day. I was in a rut, I needed excitement and I needed it before I wanked myself into a coma from this tedious lifestyle.

And that's when it happened; that's when my manager called a meeting for my colleagues and I to announce that we would all be attending a work event in Manchester for a few days in the optimistic hope of hitting our quarterly sales target. I didn't care about the sales target, all I heard was I was going up North for a few days in a (paid for) hotel as oppose to being cooped up in a hell hole that was my office. I started packing as soon as I got home.

I took the train to Manchester later than everyone else. My manager thought it was imperative that someone was to hold the fought back at the office for a few hours and seeing as I was the "newbie," that someone was me.

I arrived at Manchester Piccadilly train station and marched straight to the Premier Inn where my colleagues had previously checked in. To my disappointment, however, the receptionist informed me she could not find my name on the system. Was this all a corporate hoax? Make the new guy travel to Manchester then reject him a room at the hotel?

I went straight to the work event, did my shift then informed my manager of my homelessness. This trip was not off to a good start.

It turned out the colleague who was instructed to book everyone at the Premier Inn had forgotten to get me a room; I always thought Gemma was a bit of a bitch. And to make matters worse, the hotel was fully booked and I wasn't able to get a room.

My manager said there was a Novotel nearby (not nearby, a 15-minute walk from where my colleagues were staying) and that she has booked me a room there. As I was walking towards my hotel, I thought how awful this trip has been and will be. In a hotel, all on my own, missing out on the sneaky late night drinks and camaraderie with my work friends. I felt like going home already.

My mood changed almost instantly as soon as I stepped foot in the Novotel. Smooth shiny marble floors, huge ceilings, teeny tiny bowls with nuts in them, The Premier Inn looked like an outdoor shit shack compared to where I would soon be staying. But I didn't want to get ahead of myself. That is till the receptionist said "Would you like a complimentary drink? We have Desperados or Corona."

As I sipped my bottle of Corona I entered my room; big flat screen TV, coffee machine, iPod speakers, A huge double bed, immaculate shower facilities, and a fold out ironing board along with robes and towels. F*ck you Premier Inn. I jumped on my bed and looked around and caught my reflection in the mirror. A smirk spread across my face, a smirk that I had been all too familiar with in the past. I had one thought on my mind and one thought only, "I need to hook up tonight."

After our extremely fun filled team night out (I almost fell asleep) to Zizzi's, it hit around 11 pm and I was 5 beers in. Everyone decided to call it a night and head back to the hotel to get some rest for the 6 am start the next day.

As we were walking I caught up with two of my work friends, Tony and Beth. Similar age, similar mind sets and similar ideologies, I guessed it would be these two that would accompany me on a crazy sadistic night out in Manchester town. I guessed wrong.

"Jai are you crazy I'm not going out we have to be up at 6 am."

"No Jai I can't I have so many clients to meet tomorrow blah blah blah".'

A small part of me thought they'd be a little bit of resistance but I didn't expect a flat out no. I explained to them we're only in Manchester for a couple of days and we should make the most of it. They didn't bite.

Fair enough, I didn't push any further, I did, however, let them know I'd be venturing out on my own and I'd set a 12:30 am curfew. They wished me luck.

I set on foot towards Canal Street, the 'Gay Village' of Manchester apparently. I'm not a homosexual, in fact, I'd say I'm 89% straight, the only reason I went there is because it was close to my hotel. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

I passed a few bars but nothing really caught my eye. After a few minutes, however, I walked passed a very dingy alleyway and heard the exciting thud of bass coming from a club. I was curious. As I started walking down I saw a queue of people and big flood lights that were on either side of a massive black door. I looked at how the people were dressed; OTT make-up, tartan skirts, mohawks, fish net stockings, 12-inch platform boots, earrings and piercings, it seemed that I had stumbled upon a punk/rock club. I was intrigued.

Just as I was about to get in the queue, my phone started ringing. It was Ed, a colleague of mine. Ed had asked Tony and Beth where I went and they told him I had gone on a lonesome adventure into the underworld of Manchester. He wanted a piece of the action. I described to him my whereabouts, Canal Street, the dingy alleyway, the punk bar, I told him I'd wait for him outside.

As I was waiting I saw a group of three girls and one guy. One of the girls caught my eye instantly. She was petite, had black curly hair, a nose ring, fishnet stockings and a low cut top which revealed her gorgeous supple breasts.

"HEY, is it good inside?"

I didn't think, I just walked up to the group and started talking. The guy surprisingly started speaking to me straight away, but I didn't care. I just smiled and nodded, thinking about what I'd do to the fishnet nose ring punk girl.

After a few minutes of idle chit chat I found myself next to the punk girl, for the purpose of the rest of this story let's call her Molly.

"So why are you in Manchester Jai?"

"Business," I cooly replied.

Molly wanted to know everything about me. What I did, what I studied, where I came from, why I was in Manchester, why I was (still) dressed in a suit. I never gave her a straight answer, I intentionally acted mysterious and gave very little away, and to my surprise that only made her more interested in me.

We talked and joked around for a few more minutes till I felt the time was right. I gave her my pitch:

"Look, Molly, I'll be straight with you. I'm only in Manchester for one more night, I'm going back to London tomorrow. I'm here with work and they've put me up in the most beautiful hotel. I don't wanna be too forward but would you like to stay the night with me? We don't have to do anything you don't want we can just cuddle, it's just you seem really cool and I'd like to spend some more time with you before I leave Manchester".

After that, I kept silent and just held eye contact. The first one that speaks loses, sales advice from the greats. She stared at me for a few seconds. The tension was mounting. I was about to say something till she replied,

"Well, how about you buy me a drink first and then we'll see?" Fair.

"Okay cool, would you hold on for just one second? I need to make a quick phone call."

Ring Ring. Ring Ring.

"Hello?"

"Yo Ed! It's Jai, mate, turn back, I think I've pulled."

"Huh?"

"Turn back, I think I've pulled. I've met this punk chick we're gonna go for a drink then she might come back and stay with me in my room."

"It's been 10 minutes, how have you done this already?"

"I know, wish me luck."

I stole her away from her friends and we went to a nearby pub. We talked, we laughed, we drank, and finally, we kissed. A Lot. At one point her tongue was in my mouth and I opened one eye to see the clock that was on the wall behind her. It was approaching 1 am, half an hour past the curfew I had set myself earlier. I needed to close this.

It didn't take much; I had merely asked her and before I knew it she finished her drink and was on her feet.

We approached my door in the hallway of the Novotel. I pushed her against the door and started kissing her as I inserted the key card and let ourselves in. She marvelled at the room, just as I did when I first walked in. It really was a cool room.

Though this might be a 'you had to be there' kind of moment, this is by far my favourite part of the story. I closed the door and went into the toilet which was on the right to freshen up. I left the door open. As we were talking I poked my head out of the bathroom to see what she was doing. I couldn't see her because of the narrow hallway which led to the main bedroom area. There was, however, a mirror on the left wall which I could see her in. As we were talking, I saw her slowly take off all of her clothes, piece by piece, item by item, then jump on my bed and get under the covers. The vision and memory of seeing her take off her clothes in the mirror reflection was truly stunning.

We had sex, literally all night. She was wild, ferocious, adventurous and vocal. I was throwing my best moves out there. Every time I thought I had satisfied her she'd turn around, yearning and begging for more, which I happily obliged. Till around 5 am. That's when the alcohol started wearing off, the tiredness started seeping in and the reality of being up in about one hour came crashing down on my sexy hotel rendezvous.

I laid down on my stomach and my head hit the pillow. At this point, I was in and out of sleep. I felt her hand trying to reach my genitals, her lips kissing my body, I felt like a bitch but I asked her to stop and go to sleep. She insisted she wouldn't be able to get to sleep because she's not tired and it would be better if she just got a cab home. I didn't reply. I was out cold at that point.

The phone in my room rang which almost gave me a panic attack. With a snail's pace, I wriggled my body closer to the phone, feebly grabbed it and answered with a groggy "Yeah".

It was the hotel reception with my 6 am wakeup call. I put down the phone and looked around the room. It was a mess. Molly was nowhere to be seen. For a moment I thought I had dreamt everything till I came across a half torn piece of paper with the words "Thanks for last night" scrawled on it.

With an hours sleep in me, I waddled to the shower to start what was the most longest and pain-stricken days I've ever had.

After all the smoke had cleared I was on the train back to London. Whilst chugging what must have been my 5th Red Bull of the day, I took out my phone and added Molly on Facebook to send her a private message.

I wrote "Thank you for not stealing any of my stuff," to which she replied, "Thank you for not turning out to be a psycho sex offender."

Till next time Manchester.