2. Happy Glasses

The furnishings were suitably plush. Upholstered leather sofas and bespoke, metal framed beds garnished with a golden tint occupied the marquee to assist the pervading sense of luxury therein.

Tommy looked around the setting with a feeling of pride and accomplishment. He had performed well amongst the harem of women who continued to recline in various states of satisfaction and enticement across the luxuriously embraced yet functional furniture.

These women were not his chattels, he was well aware they were a temporary gift that he had been hellbent on utilising. Why he was being so amply rewarded remained to him a mystery that didn’t occupy him in the slightest to solve.

An alluring, buxom brunette in black lingerie, beckoned him towards her and though he was starting to feel the pace he committed his draining resources to obliging her.

But in his haste to reach his new goal, he fell over his own pile of clothes on the ground, that he was sure had been neatly folded and taken away to the cloakroom by one of the compliant concubines at the commencement of the experience.

The fall dislodged his Happy Glasses and without their embellished outlook he found himself in a field of sheep. His feet covered in dung, the warmth of which he had earlier attributed to them being bathed in warm oils by the obliging female attendants.

Tommy grabbed his clothes, offered embarrassed apologies to his wool clad associates and beat a hasty retreat.