“No way, but I reckon one of that lot would oblige.” I says pointing to the lounge bar where several sharply dressed blokes was sat round. I knew...one of them, Peter “Nigel” Mansell“I’ll try anything Chalk,” Nozzer said through a haze of booze fumes, “Anything.”I went into the lounge, They was all there, gay as fuck, all sharp suits and that. One had a dress on. Lovely shade of pink, pity he hadn’t had a shave for a week.I sidled up to, Nigel. “Here my mate fancies you,” I says all friendly. He moves to knead my sore shoulders a little, and after a few minutes of silence, he says, "Round Three." Oh God. He stands and pulls up on my hand, pulling me to my feet. Instead of me walking with the spreader bar, He puts his arm around my waist and drags me to the place in the room that has a length of handrail fastened to the wall, though i don't know that's where i am until he tells me to bend over, arms out, and he clips my wrist cuffs to cuffs which are always attached to the railing.. More

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