Hot sauce (4) The mud pool

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The only time Olga took off her shoes was that time my husband had the unfortunate idea to build a mud pool in the auditorium. To do this, he had purchased the largest inflatable pool he could find.
In order not to hurt each other, and because the bath wouldn't break from the first minute, everyone had to take off their shoes.
Filled with a type of liquid clay, the pool was located in the middle of the hall. Olga, who actually looked better naked than with her cheap, too-tight clothes, jumped into the bath first. As soon as her rubensian forms were covered with ochre mud, she began to twork extensively. A corpulent guest jumped on her, others followed and the game was on. The mud splashed around happily and within no time the whole room was covered in mud.

Wolf had been informed about the right mud. He had chosen the softest and greasiest type. Someone had recommended yellow sulphur clay to him. Imagine. all the ground floor, along the stairs, at the top of the mattress rooms, everything looked ochre. A fiasco. We had to close the shop for two days to get everything clean.
We were able to cook out the yellow sulphur stains from the sheets. But the expensive white towels were ruined.

Another shock from Wolf was the time he wanted to revive the business with a spectacular advertising stunt. The villa was located on the busy road between Antwerp and Boom. All that remained of the original garden was the meter-high hedge on the street side, the rest was filled with gravel all around, in order to have as much parking space as possible. Despite the fact that the hedge hid most of the car park from view, most customers chose to park at the back. Behind the car park, there was a vacant lawn that opened onto an asphalt road. Through the land registry, my husband, the owner, had found out and had received permission to temporarily set up an event hall there. Well, a big tent from a rental company, in fact.

It was his idea to organize a free sex marathon in it. That's how it happened: Wendy, one of our paid girls, a professional, had once announced that she could handle more than two hundred men one night. And I, with my big mouth, had responded with: “Not difficult, every woman can do that anyway”. My husband heard this and thought it was a bright idea to make it a competition. The only problem, and indeed the only one, was that the store could not accommodate two hundred men plus spectators. Moreover, all in all, we had registered only about three hundred couples; and it was impossible for us to mobilize them all in one day. By the way, with this stunt, his plan was to attract as many new members as possible and to make the private club more famous.
So a big tent, behind 'The Blue Lotus', would be the solution. My husband had flyers made that the scouts were going to post in the surrounding area. And so the party could begin.
So dear readers. “Close your eyes and beaks shut”, we'll stop for today with this cliffhanger.

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(read more: Warmoes (5) The tent