It's all very well having the confidence to book a hotel (anonymously, online, in the privacy of your own room) but walking through the majestic doors with no luggage and desirous (but slightly embarrassed) smirks on both our faces told everyone the whole whole story. Let's not mince our words: people who were checking in knew we were going to shag all night, we knew we were going to shag all night and the reception staff knew we were going to shag, rampantly, all night. So the 'knowledge of shag' was shared and I thought it was a given that attention shouldn't be drawn to the fact that an all night sex-a-thon was about to take place in the hotel, probably right above reception.

But evidently, some people don't share the same exacting moral code that I do.

Jeff at reception (or FUCKINGJEFF as we refer to him now) made small talk, and I smiled and chatted back and tried to look old and experienced, until I stopped because I didn't want to look like a hooker. But then he threw down the gauntlet as he said, "So, are you folks just here to have some fun?" And he winked.

He. Winked. At. Us.

We were like deer in the proverbial JeffHeadlights. Immediately, a thousand thoughts ran through my head ranging from the banal (did he just say that? did anybody else just hear this guy say that?) to the homicidal (OI, YOU TWATTING TOSSER, YOU HAVE A PROBLEM WITH THAT?). The situation was made more disturbing by the fact he was very CampQueer and sounded like something off of Queer Eye For The Straight Guy. WorkBoy's hackles visibly rose and I thought that he was going to explode. Release, the fury, boyfriend.

But the burning rage and hideous shame disappeared the moment we walked through the doors into the suite. Which had 2 floors and so much SexSpace it's not to be believed. Holy shit, I thought, maybe this is worth the soul-destroying shame! It was the room of my dreams and we didn't leave until 11:00 the next morning. And I'll spare you the details of what actually happened that night, suffice to say that a) it was worth every single penny (6 times, ho ho ho) b) WorkBoy no longer holds $200 against me and c) I never have to see FUCKINGJEFF and his band of Satanic Worshippers again - but WorkBoy makes sure they're served extra slowly when they go to the bar. Revenge (however tiny) is sweet.