Something for the weekend, Sir?

Well, the most extraordinary thing happened to me yesterday. Sometimes I wonder about the way society is going. Brace yourself, gentle reader, for this tale is not for the feint-hearted.

It was early evening and I was in a busy city centre bar having a quick meal with some friends before heading off to a party. I went down to the basement toilets to take a piss, and was confronted by one of those 'grooming' guys – the kind you get in many French establishments (even in remote mountain-side restaurants). He had an array of products spread out before him: lollipops, sweets, condoms, plus all the usual paraphernalia for freshening up after enjoying the normal activities of relief. There was soap, towels, eau de toilette (!), hairbrushes and clothes brushes too. This cheery chappy beamed at me in welcome as I entered. So far, so good. There's nothing wrong with a bit of enterprise, especially if it's in the area of offering an old-fashioned service. But that wasn't all that was on offer.

Whilst standing in front of the urinal, a youth emerged from one of the cubicles and came forward to inspect my cock. Slightly disconcerted, I continued with the activity that I had gone there for, and politely answered his enquiries concerning the kind of evening I was having, and about what my plans were for later. When I'd finished, I was then attended to by the beaming chappy with the soap, and thought I was on my way. But no, for the aforesaid youth then approached me and offered me a blow-job for a fiver. When I declined his generous offer, he became rather insistent and tried to pull me into the cubicle saying, "Come on, it won't take long and I need the money. Don't be shy."

I asked the grooming man if he approved of such trade being plied in what isn't even a gay bar, but he replied that he had never seen this youth before and had no idea what he was doing. I made my excuses, tipped the man, and left. Back upstairs, I couldn't quite believe what had just taken place. Did the management know what was going on in their establishment? Should they be told? Another member of our party insisted that I had made the whole thing up, until he went downstairs and the same thing happened to him.

What is going on? Am I living in a red light district? I'm not easily shocked (ed: how could anyone who has travelled the world with your Great-Aunt Dolores Mackliskey be easily shocked?) but this incident made me feel that the fabric of society is being quietly torn. However, if any of you out there want to know the name of this establishment, I'll tell you for a fiver :)