There is a variation of this here in the states. There is a woman who targets mainly truckers, she gets in the cab and either takes them to a motel or just sticks in the cab, gets them a drink and starts her thing... pretty soon his mind is on pluto and her hand is in his wallet. Seems that there are some vicious femms out there.
Sometimes I wonder what happened to all the people I used to bebother in chat.. Like Christas, Pepperpot, Fizzgig, Bomb (The Bomb), McMary, and the rest. After Tori chat got shut down, I know that most of everybody else went to a fan chat site. But that site also got shut down. *Shrugs* Rule 22a of the universe reads that Darksheare can never win.
The pile of debris was smoking slightly in the stillness of teh dark. A faint groan sifted through the pile into the night air as someone crawled out from underneath the wreck. Ceiling tile and mattress chunks covered the man from head to toe in dust and foam bits as he coughed in the face of a... frog? He hoped it was a frog. Darned ugly one too, and unnerving with the way it stared at him. Weren't frogs supposed to be high strung and hop away at the slightest hint of possible danger? His mind complained that he was denying something. Painfully, he dragged himself over to a log and examined himself. remarkably, the only thing hurt was his head. He felt as if he'd been squeezed in a vise. Something gloomped at his feet. Opening one eye, he looked at the frog as it tried to stuff a fuzzy worm into it's wide mouth. Gross. He shivered in the cool air, then looked around.
"How did I get here?" It finally dawned on him that he wasn't in his room anymore.
Tears on the sleeve of a man, don't wanna be a boy today... -Tori Amos, Pretty Good Year.