K. Morris's Blog, page 812

Me Meandering

In trying to create utopia be careful lest your own inadequacies led to the creation of hell. Rather than dealing with deep rooted psychological problems there is a tendency for man to exert himself in the direction of saving the world. A noble aim but be wary that in your attempt your own inadequacies are not foisted upon mankind. The road to hell is paved with good intentions. Look inside yourself and ask why am I acting in this manner? Am I perhaps failing to grapple with my own demons by choosing to fight those of others? Utopia has as many forms as there are men and women, be wary of those (including yourself) who claim to know the absolute truth. Those convinced that they hold the key to human happiness may hold the keys to hell.

A Question of Interpretation

“Wonderful to meet you Becky. The pictures on the website really don’t do you justice” Colin said rising to pull out a chair for his date.

“I’m sure you say that to all the girls” Becky said smiling warmly at Colin.

“No I always say what I mean and you, Becky look absolutely stunning in that blue dress”.

“Thank you” Becky replied, “This is a nice restaurant, I’ve never been here before. I just love traditional restaurants, those oak beams look to be several centuries old”.

“Yes its rare to find a place like this that hasn’t been ruined by some god awful corporate chain. The boards of those places should be lined up against the wall and shot”.

“Shooting is a little extreme. Making them eat in their own restaurants every day for the remainder of their lives would be sufficient punishment”.

“I’ll settle for that because I’m opposed to the death penalty on principle” Colin said smiling broadly. “What would you like to eat or would you like a little longer to choose?”

“The roast venison looks delicious”.

“Good choice. I’ve had the venison several times here and its always been excellent. Would you like to choose the wine?”

“I’m happy with a bottle of the house white”.

“The house white it is then” Colin said signalling to the waiter.

 

—

 

Bret ascended the stairs. Christ the flat was on floor 21 and he was only on the 7th floor. Typical the lift was out of order and as was so often the case with these council built 60’s tower blocks the stairs stank of urine. Thank god he didn’t live in a place like this.

 

—

 

“So, Becky have you met many men through the agency?” Colin asked as he poured wine into their glasses.

“This is our evening darling. It doesn’t matter about anyone else” Becky said taking Colin’s hand, “lets not spoil it by talking about other people”.

 

—

 

Thank Christ he was there. Bret pressed the door bell. It was opened by a lady in her late fourties or early fifties with iron grey hair.

“Come in Bret. How are you?” she said closing the door behind him.

“I’m fine thanks Molly. How are you? Who’s working?”

“We have a lovely new black girl, Caroline. She’s petite, just five feet with long black hair and 36d cup. Monica’s also working”.

“I’ll see Caroline”.

“OK but she’s with a customer at the moment. Would you like a drink while you wait?”

“No thanks” Bret said trying to make himself comfortable on the ancient sofa. Something sharp pearced his skin.

“Fuck not a bloody needle?” he said jumping to his feet.

“We don’t allow drugs here. You know that Bret”.

Bret glanced at the sofa. A rusty metal spring protruded through the threadbare fabric.

“You should get the bloody thing replaced!”

“Sorry Bret I’ll speak to the owner”.

Bret nodded. He knew that nothing would happen. The next time he visited the same sofa would be standing in that filthy corner. Did they never clean this place!

 

—

 

“I love Keats Ode to a Nightingale. Every time I read it I’m reduced to tears”.

Colin raised his eyebrows.

“You weren’t expecting a girl like me to derive pleasure from literature. I’m the kind of lady who reads chick lit or those trashy novels you pick up in airport book shops am I? Is that what you think of me?” Becky said. She smiled but beneath the smile Colin could detect something else, was it sorrow?

“I must admit to being surprised but, of course there is no reason why you shouldn’t enjoy reading great literature”.

“I read English literature at Notingham university. You look shocked. What is an educated girl like me doing in a business like this. That is what you are asking yourself isn’t it?” They both spoke in low voices but given the noise emanating from their fellow diners it would have been almost impossible for their conversation to have been overheard.

“Yes I must confess that I was”.

“I need to pay off my student loan. Most jobs don’t pay the kind of money to clear it quickly. OK I could pay it off gradually, through my taxes but I want to get a mortgage on a decent place and I don’t want the loan hanging over me. Plus, if I’m honest I like nice clothes and fine dining” Becky said.

“I’m sorry if I offended you”.

“You didn’t darling” Becky said allowing her right foot to rub discreetly against Colin’s leg under the table.

 

—

 

A door opened. Bret could hear muffled voices followed by the closing of the front door.

“Caroline there is a customer for you”.

Caroline entered and without speaking motioned to Bret to follow her. Closing the bedroom door she asked

“What do you want?”

“Sex”.

“£60”.

Bret handed over the money and undressed. Wordlessly Caroline followed his example and began to massage his back.

“Turn over” she said after only 5 minutes, “Come quick for me babe there is another client waiting”. As she spoke Caroline rolled a durex down over Bret’s erect penis. straddling him she started to sway her hips rapidly in circular motions.

In the distance the sound of running feet could be heard. A crash of breaking wood reached the couple’s ears. Caroline leapt off Bret just as the bedroom door burst open admitting two men in police uniform.

“I’m arresting you sir on suspicion of paying for sex. You do not have to say anything but anything you do say will be taken down and may be used in evidence. Do you understand?”

Bret desperately attempted to cover his privates with the bed sheet. This couldn’t be happening. He would wake up in a minute at home in his own bed. Bret had heard about the new law which criminalised those who paid for sex, however he had taken the view that police resources being extremely tight the force was highly unlikely to go out of it’s way to enforce the legislation.

“But what about her?” Bret asked pointing to Caroline.

“You haven’t answered my question sir. Do you understand the caution?”

“Yes, but what about the girl, aren’t you going to arrest her?”

“The law says that she is a victim sir so no we aren’t going to arrest her”.

Bret looked stunned.

“But that isn’t justice, its fucking Alice in Wonderland! Everything was consensual”.

“I don’t make the laws sir. I just enforce them. Now just get some clothes on as you will need to accompany us down to the station”.

 

—

 

“I’ll need to go soon darling” Becky said giving Colin a kiss on the cheek, “can I use your shower please?”

“Of course. There are clean towels in the airing cupboard”.

“Thanks sweetheart. Don’t get up, I’ll take a shower and let myself out. I hope to see you again soon” Becky said climbing out of the bed.

Colin lay there listening to the sound of the shower. The agency was a good one. They always provided top quality girls and the ability to pay by credit card prior to the bookings meant that you didn’t have the unpleasant task of handing over brown envelopes to your date. Under the new legislation what he was doing was technically illegal. However in the unlikely event that anyone did ask questions he and the girl would say that they had met through the agency which provided dates for social events. They had enjoyed one another’s company and had ended up in bed. Payment was however (as stated on the agency’s site) for companionship only, consequently no offence had been committed. Alice in Wonderland? Perhaps but no prosecutions had taken place of clients using escorts and Colin very much doubted that any such prosecution would meet with success.

 

The end

A Man Of Compassion

It really is a disgrace that in 21st century Britain people are still homeless on the streets. Believe me the conditions portrayed by Dickens are still very much with us. You don’t need me to tell you that hunger and poverty still stalk the land. Just take a stroll under the arches by Embankment and Charing cross stations and you will be confronted by the people society forgot, sleeping in cardboard boxes. There are two parallel cities in London, that inhabited by you and I with our comfortable homes and then there is cardboard city. It breaks my heart to see men and women of all ages huddled in doorways under filthy blankets. Some don’t even own a single blanket, its tragic to see them with nothing to keep themselves warm other than fellow denisons of the streets. On occasions I’ve seen two or three of the poor sods huddled together so as to extract animal warmth from their fellow man. Oh my country, oh my country I weep to see what you have become, a land in which the weak die on the cold streets while the heedless majority parties on this sinking ship.

I do what I can to help. It isn’t much, a flask of hot coffee here, a few sandwitches and most important of all a kind word. What most of the homeless want more than anything else is a sympathetic ear, someone to listen without passing judgement. I’m a good listener, always have been and I think that is why I’ve built up such close relationships with so many of the people sleeping rough.

Its tragic listening to the street people speak about their lives. Take, for example young Janet who ran away from Manchester to London at the age of 14 to get away from her father who’s idea of fatherly love was to sexually abuse her on an almost daily basis. Then there was Mark a successful trader in the city but, come the recession he lost everything and ended up residing in cardboard city.

It is difficult gaining the trust of the homeless. People who have suffered many knocks in life find it hard to fully trust another human being. However I have managed to gain the absolute trust of many a homeless man and woman. Once the relationship is solid I’ll invite them back to my home. Of course they jump at the chance. Who wouldn’t embrace the prospect of a square meal and a clean bed to sleep in.

A little something in their drink and once they are asleep my friend removes a kidney or, sometimes a lung. We are humane men so the men and women are stiched up properly afterwards and given a few hundred quid for their trouble. I’m a charitable man, it’s a crying shame that there are so many men and women sleeping on the streets and we have the cheek to call ourselves a civilised society.

A Trip To The Beach

I thought that I would try my hand at a short children’s story.

 

—

 

Johny was bored. In fact he couldn’t remember having ever felt so fed up in his entire life. Dad had fallen asleep reading the paper while his mum sat reading some silly book with long words he couldn’t understand.

“I’m bored”.

“Why don’t you go and find someone to play with? There are lots of children on the beach, so many I can’t count them” his mother said laughing.

“Don’t want to. I’m bored” Johny said kicking sand in his mum’s face.

“You naughty boy!” Mrs Thomas said desperately attempting to clear her eyes of sand with a tissue. “Just wait until I get my hands on you!”

Johny felt guilty but he wasn’t about to apologise. Saying sorry was for wimps and he was no wimp. Before his mum had chance to get the sand out of her eyes Johny ran into the sea.

The water was cool. Johny kicked his legs sending water splashing high into the air. This was fun! Johny paddled away from the beach. He was no longer bored, this was much more interesting than reading a boring old newspaper or a book with words he couldn’t understand.

Suddenly the ground began to slope downwards. Johny felt that he was going to be sucked to the very bottom of the ocean.

“Help!” he cried his hands grabbing at an enormous chain of sea weed. Gosh the chain was thick, bigger even than his dad’s huge arms. The chain didn’t move.

“That’s lucky I thought that sea weed floated but this is attached to something. Its stopped me from drowning. If it moved then I’d be sucked to the bottom of the ocean” Johny said with a shiver.

Johny followed the chain down. It was attached to a large rock.

“I wonder if I can lift this rock” Johny thought.

He tugged at the chain. Nothing happened.

“You will move you stupid rock” he said digging his toes into the soft sand and pulling back with all his strenghth. Suddenly there was a loud pop followed by a gurgling sound. Johny found himself lying flat on his back in a puddle of water. A puddle that couldn’t be right!

“Now look what you have done!”

Johny looked up to see a star fish desperately trying to find some water to swim in.

“You have let the plug out!”

“But I didn’t mean to!”

“That’s all very well but the fact is that you pulled the plug out and soon I and the other creatures who live in the sea will have no water to swim in. Without water we will die!”

Johny began to cry.

“I’m very sorry I didn’t know that the sea had a plug”.

“Your bath has a plug doesn’t it?”

“Yes of course”.

“Well then it should be obvious to an intelligent little boy like you that the ocean has a plug. How else do you think the sea god controls the tide? But the sea god only opens the plug hole a little bit so that I and the other creatures have time to swim far out into the ocean before the water disappears. There are lots of plugs all over the world and you have pulled one of them out completely!”

“What can I do? I’m very sorry Mr star fish, please just tell me what I can do”.

“See that cave over there?” the star fish asked pointing in the direction of a small cave in the cliff face.

“Yes”.

“Run as quick as you can and turn the taps on”.

“The taps?”

“I thought that you where a clever little boy. Yes the taps. Your sink and bath at home have taps don’t they to fill them up? So how else do you think that the sea god fills up the ocean?”

“Wow I didn’t know that” Johny said. As quick as a flash Johny raced to the cave. Inside he found a huge tap built into the cliff face.

“I’ll never be able to move that” Johny thought looking sadly at the enormous tap, “but I must otherwise all those poor sea creatures will die and it will be all my fault”. Taking hold of the tap Johny turned with all his might. At first nothing happened but, gradually a stream of salt water began to flow from the secret pipes hidden far below the sea bed. The sea level began to rise. Johny could see small waves dancing in the sunshine.

“Thank you little boy” the star fish called as he headed out into the deep blue ocean.

 

The end

Review of my book Sting in the tail and other stories on Amazon

The first review of my collection of short stories, Sting in the Tail and other stories awards it 4 stars. I am, needless to say delighted to have received the review which can be found here, http://www.amazon.com/Sting-tail-other-stories-ebook/product-reviews/B00DFK6R54/ref=cm_cr_dp_see_all_btm?ie=UTF8&showViewpoints=1&sortBy=bySubmissionDateDescendingless. Sting in the tail remains free in the Kindle store until approximately 12 today (6 September).

Shades of Grey

“Prostitution is the exploitation of women and children by selfish men. In order to protect sex workers those who purchase sex should be criminalised while prostituted women ought to be assisted to exit prostitution without the risk of prosecution”.

“Prostitution is the oldest profession. You will never abolish sex work. The only practical way of dealing with prostitution is to legalise and/or decriminalise it. What consenting adults do, in private whether entailing payment for sex or otherwise is no concern of the state and/or society”.

The above is, I believe a fair representation of the two main attitudes to prostitution. However there is another perspective, one in which sex work is perceived as a complex issue. According to this viewpoint prostitution is a grey area which can (and frequently does) entail exploitation but one in which abuse is not necessarily part and parcel of working as a sex worker. It is to this latter perspective that I subscribe.

In my short story, “The First Time” we meet Becky, a young graduate who enters the world of prostitution as a professional escort in order to clear her debts. I pull no punches. Becky feels a sense of shame during and after her encounter with her first client, Mike, however no one compels Becky to enter sex work, she does so of her own free will.

In contrast to “The First Time”, “Samantha” tells the story of a lady forced into prostitution in the city of Liverpool. Unlike Becky Sam is raped by her brutal pimp, Barry and is, in effect a sex slave.

The two contrasting portrayals of sex work in “The First Time” and “Samantha” provide a more realistic picture than the above (admittedly simplified) perspectives on sex work. Prostitution is for many ladies (and a few men) a choice as in “The First Time”. It isn’t Becky’s idea of the perfect job by any means! It is, for all that still a choice. In contrast Sam has little (if any) choice regarding her entanglement in prostitution. She is a victim of her brutal pimp, Barry and deserves our compassion. Of course Becky is worthy of compassion to but one can not contend that she has been forced into the sex industry.

So what of the clients? In “The First Time” Mike is polite and considerate in his treatment of Becky. That doesn’t stop Becky from attempting to dissociate herself from the sexual act (she thinks of country walks with her grandfather while Mike is having sex with her). However Becky’s attempt to disassociate herself from the reality of her situation (having sex with a man she finds physically repulsive) should not blind us to the fact that she has taken a conscious decision to work as an escort.

Should people who pay for sex be criminalised as is the case in Sweden, Iceland and a number of other countries?

First let us look at the practical problems with this approach. While it is relatively easy for the police to apprehend men paying for sex on the street it is extremely difficult to enforce such a prohibition on those who use the services of escorts. Escorts provide sex in private accommodation (usually homes or hotel rooms) and most liberal minded people (including me) would be horrified at the idea of the police bursting into people’s residences to arrest them for paying for sex with consenting adults. Also how would the police/the authorities know that an individual escort was providing sex as opposed to company? Of course one could imagine fake agencies being set up and when sex is requested the requestor is arrested, however one needs to ask whether this would be an effective use of police time. I understand that this approach has been adopted in America but the escort industry still thrives there.

There is also the ethical question as to whether acts which are perfectly legal when no payment is entailed should be rendered criminal when cash is handed over. The consensus in Sweden is that this should be the case but I, as a liberal have my doubts.

For my books please visit http://www.amazon.co.uk/K.-Morris/e/B00CEECWHY/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0

Thank You

Thanks to you, my readers newauthoronline.com has, as of today (4 September) achieved a total following of 307. I very much appreciate all your likes, comments and other feedback.

While writing just a quick note to let you know that my collection of short stories, Sting in the tail and other stories remains free to download until 6 September. To download Sting in the tail please visit http://www.amazon.com/Sting-tail-other-stories-ebook/dp/B00DFK6R54.

Literary Dating

I derive great pleasure from reading as you would expect from a writer. However I keep a sense of proportion. I would not for instance dump a partner merely because they failed to share my literary tastes (failing to shower for weeks on end, now that is a different matter, but not liking the same authors as me, no)! That is, however what Fleur Macdonald, the founder of the Omnivore literary magazine, did when she found her boyfriend reading an inferior edition of Virgil. What is  more she founded a dating service for those who feel that one’s tastes in literature trump all else when seeking a prospective partner. Well I am not about to join, however for anyone curious about the service please visit the following link http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/books/booknews/10204049/Literary-website-launches-dating-service.html

London Fox

I lie my mind attempting to focus after deep slumber. A sound cold and sharp reaches me. The bark of a fox hunting or calling to it’s mate. The quilt has fallen. The cold sound of the fox mingles with my coldness. I shiver pulling the cover over me. Bark, bark the noise fills the early morning.

3.30ish. I need to drink. Entering my living room, on the way to the kitchen I pass my domesticated fox. No not a fox but my dog seemingly unaware of his cousin outside. He lies sleeping separated by the thin veil of domesticity from his wild relation.

The sound has ceased. I fall asleep and dream confusedly of dogs and wolves.

Sting in the tail free from today (2 September) until 6 September

I am pleased to announce that my collection of short stories and poems, Sting in the tail and other stories, is free on Amazon from today (2 September) until 6 September. To download Sting in the tail free please visit http://www.amazon.co.uk/Sting-tail-other-stories-ebook/dp/B00DFK6R54 or http://www.amazon.com/Sting-tail-other-stories-ebook/dp/B00DFK6R54.