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I found this writing prompt: "Use these words in your story: doctor, roll of film, stairwell, telephone." So I tried it. Do but read.

So I dialed the telephone. And it was a woman.
"Why hello, there, big man. This is the lovvvve doctor. How can I...help you?"
"I'm bored. Can we meet?"
"Why certainly, big boy. When and where, and how do you want to...do it?"
"There's an alley on 51st street, and a friend of mine who lives there is out of town. I have his key. Let's go in there in an hour and do whatever feels right."
She made some sexy noise that you cannot begin to replicate with words. Not in a good or bad way, it's just really hard to describe. The phone went "click."
Oh, by the way I just called dial-a-hooker, in case that wasn't clear.
I don't have a billion dollars so I don't own a digital camera. I have one of those crappy film ones that you have to get developed. I made sure there was a full roll of film in there before I left. I put the camera in my pocket. And then I left.
She might as well not have been wearing clothes when she was out on the street. It would've made no difference to anyone.
So she laughed like a good whore does when I said hello, and we went up some random stairwell into my friend's apartment. She had comically large bazonkas.
Oh, by the way "bazonkas" are another word for a woman's breasts, in case that wasn't clear.
So I closed the door. Within literally five seconds, all of my clothes were off without my doing.
And then the Love Doctor went to the bathroom to "get into something more...comfortable." So then I got my camera from my removed pants. I wanted to remember this.
Then I heard the pitter-patter of feet, and my friend came back from vacation.
He saw me naked with my camera in his bedroom.
I held my breath.
We stood there for a long time.
It felt like forever.
And then.
"Are you taking a MySpace picture?"
I grabbed-my-clothes-and-ran-out-the-door.
And. And.
And now my friend has herpes.
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