28.09.2007 07:29 - Tony and Cherie get Naked
This little story goes back twenty years, to my time at Staffordshire Polytechnic. This is a time before the Octagon, and before the present all-mod-cons student hall of residence that sits at Beckett Hall. This is a story of it's predecessor, which, if you were male, consisted of a number of prefabs, with shared toilets and bathrooms. It is also a story of two students - a couple, who were not well-liked amongst their peers.
We'll call them Tony and Cherie. Not their real names, I hasten to add..
Tony wasn't well-liked, being the sort of dreadful trendy university socialist who preached marxist dogma, yet openly sneered at anyone less privileged than him. (you see where the names come from?), and Cherie was the sort of militant-women's-rights-vegetarian type - the sort that actually damage the cause they're fighting for. As I've said, they weren't popular.
Which is why this story got round so quickly.
It came to pass, that Tony and Cherie decided that they would spend the afternoon together, in his room at Beckett Hall. Tony, in the throes of passion, unfortunately started receiving messages of quite a different kind from another internal organ, probably due to a dodgy vegetarian sausage or something. Pausing only to don his underpants, he charged off to the communal toilet, leaving the door ajar, so he didn't have to take his keys.
Unfortunately for Tony and Cherie, the doors in Beckett Hall had a problem. If you shut them, you couldn't open them without a key. If you left them ajar, they would swing open. Due to the monk-like dimensions of the rooms, if the door swung open, then everything in the room was inescapably visible to passers-by, such as, for example, a naked militant feminist handcuffed to the bed, with a sex-toy, shaped like a carrot, protuding from a certain orifice. This was the shocking sight that met my classmate, who occupied the room opposite, as he opened his door.
Cherie asked him if he wouldn't mind closing the door for her. Ever the gentleman, he obeyed her request, unware that her paramour had not taken his keys.
Tony returned about ten minutes later, to find that he was locked out. Worse still, it was a February, and so getting a key meant traipsing through the freezing grounds, in his underpants, to the caretakers. Even with the extra warmth provided by his dragon's nostril, that was a bit of a tall order, but the utter embarrassment of what lay beyond that door becoming public knowledge must have kept him lovely and warm.