Recherche de la putain perdue
returned to lisbon, murilloa leaves his fat suitcase to go round and round the carousel in the baggage hall, sprints through the arrivals area, only a little saddened by the absence of a crowd with banners saying ‘welcome back, querido muri’. he elbows aside tourists and old ladies to get to the front of the taxi rank, and tells the driver to take him at top speed to avenida marquês de tomar.
at number 33, he’s much too eager to bother with waiting for the grimy old elevator, and he bounds up the darkened stairwell to the fifth floor, where he thrusts an impatient commanding finger at the doorbell of number 5 ‘d’.
but a dreadful disappointment is in store. kindly, tenderly, sympathetically, the ladies of new centre tell him that diana is no longer on the team. worse, nobody has heard from her, nobody knows where she is now working or even where she is. her telephone is disconnected, messages unheeded, her possessions uncollected from her locker in the girls’ lounge. the princess was fired, and then vanished.
at the time of writing, some mundane photographs of diana remain on the web site [url]http://www.clinicadoprazer.net[/url] but the big boss, who runs four clinics, won’t be in a hurry to remove them. it matters little to him which kind of bait he uses, as long as mongers like you and muri rise from the depths to take the hook.
that boss took exception to her poor timekeeping, her sleepiness, and… well, other irregularities.
lisbon mongers of long standing will recall that back in september ‘07 a tourist in this city, one spider916, wrote an ungracious and disparaging post about gorgeous diana, suggesting that substance abuse might one day lead her badly astray. indignant at the time, mur now realises, with a penetrating chill in his heart, that the spider must have seen something that her admirers preferred not to notice, or were too blinded by her loveliness to perceive.
drugs are a terrible scourge, a plague, a curse, reflects muri as he rips open today’s second pack of cigarettes and stretches out a trembling hand to his bottle of famous grouse.
a visit to diana’s sometime mama-san and confidante rute, at newly-reopened mirage klub, rua rodrigues sampaio 30a 5 ‘d’ confirms the sad story. she has gone underground.
is she starting a new life, putting old habits and friends behind her as she embarks on a technical course with a view to honest employment?
is she living in miami or milan as the pampered mistress of some viagra-fuelled mafioso?
has she travelled to vienna as part of the horde of girls drawn there by the football tournament? to the algarve, or barcelona, for a working summer by the beach?
is she making a third trip to labour in the factories of eastern england?
has she won the lottery and taken her extended family on a round-the-world cruise?
is she simply working at one of the dozens of other houses in lisbon, and if so, why is she not in touch with ex-colleagues who could put previous clients on her track?
or has her life taken some hideous downward turn, too tragic for words?
gentlemen, it seems at this point that mur will never know.
so it’s farewell to diana, the one prostitute in his fairly short career as a monger so far, who truly touched his heart. stubborn, feisty, intelligent, petite, sexy, funny, 'meiga' and possibly doomed diana. no top model, no magazine cover, by no means an ‘avião’, this little woman will live in the memory.
adeus, diana, may you eventually be happy wherever you are, and may you be spared the worst. mur is irreligious, but tonight he will burn incense (purchased in the bairro alto) to the roman god priapus, begging him to protect you, calling you by your real name, which remains a secret 'treasure'.
life must go on, of course, and if priapus and global capitalism permit, muri’s next reports will be more light-hearted. meanwhile, with aching soul, he has to hope against hope that one day, across the street or coming down the stairs of the metro, he will catch sight of a slim figure, a cascade of auburn hair above a pert little butt, and it will turn out to be beloved diana.
it will probably cause him a fatal coronary seizure, like that painful scene in the movie ‘doctor zhivago’.
but please, mighty priapus, accept my prayer that this encounter does not take place in intendente or any other urban amphitheatre of the lost and damned.
Welcome back MURI !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Dear Muri,
you should have annouced your glorious return - I would have arranged for 10 mulatas greeting you at the airport with banners, kisses and hails!!
Good to have you back here.
How about a beer in Chiado??
I am at present time in Salvador - in paradise - every day one mulata - or two??
Cheers
Carlos
Map of Lisboa with Casas/puts
I have found this on another site - it might be useful for the Lisboa mongers. This is a map with phone-numbers, pics and location of GPs
[url]http://www.apartadox.com/google/mapa.php[/url]
Carlos
With thanks to Lou and Leonard
economic crisis and diana’s devastating disappearance blunted mur’s libido, and he felt middle age tipping over into old age. but life must go on. encouragement came from two elderly but energetic singers who performed in portugal.
for those who like that sort of thing, and there are many, leonard cohen and lou reed visited our beautiful country in the same week. misanthropic muri can’t handle crowded concerts, and his idea of musical orgasm is a dark room, a glass of whisky and a beethoven quartet on the state of the art system he stole from fnac last year.
but he didn’t need to attend the gigs. friends provided enthusiastic accounts, and he was inspired by the idea that these artists, both much older (let’s not ever lie about our ages, gentlemen, reed is in his seventh decade, cohen has reached his eighth, and mur is, well, let’s say around fifty) are still embarking on european tours and thrilling crowds of all nations and ages.
if they can do that, why can’t a heartsick monger get himself out of the house and pay a woman to pleasure him? in the mirror the other morning, he saw something almost as depressed and lifeless as the hapless occupant of 10 downing street. or as cohen sings,
that's a funeral in the mirror
and it's stopping at your face.
time for a remedy. get your act together, you fat old fuck, and go to gizelle escorts, in the avenida republica, just up from saldanha (number 45, 9 ‘d’ for those who prefer information to garrulous blogging).
they have a website, and no photoshopping stands between the featured ladies and what we old-timers still call ‘reality’. the sweet girl-next-door whom mur selected was exactly as pictured.
[url]http://www.gizelle-escorts.com/gizelle-ines.html[/url]
the house is not part of the ‘clínica’ empire that employed diana until she vanished. no white coats, strip lighting or exercise machines. more of a movie-set bordello: crimson décor, voluptuous sofas at one end of the softly lit reception lounge, and a carefully stocked bar at the other. before the girls present themselves, they peek around a curtain, to ensure that the prospective temporary boyfriend is not their uncle, or their twelfth-grade philosophy teacher, or gordon brown. it’s a plush, expensive setting, and mongers with limited funds or a severe case of ‘nostalgie de la boue’ should forget this place and get on down to intendente or the poço.
eight attractive women made their curtsies, mur chose inês, and had no regrets. a cheerful, engaging, friendly portuguese rapariga in her early twenties, who did her job with gusto and made him feel as young, fresh and talented as cohen or reed.
he will return to visit this adornment to her profession, once she has enjoyed her brief holiday, and of course he will never let himself become obsessed with her, or with any other woman, however fascinating, ever, ever again.
and if you believe that, you will also bet €1,000, the price of ten hours with inês, on mr brown to win the next election, or sporting to be champions of portugal.
looking for fun in Lisboa
[QUOTE=Piotr]I wouldn't choose Ellie... She's really a doll, but the local forums say she's a rubber-doll. It's a pitty though.[/QUOTE]Thanks a lot for the info: any tips are welcome - will be in Lisboa next week and all golden tips are welcome ... I will of course share my (hopefully good) experiences with all of you !! What about the Elephante Branco? Heard it's really good.
