Back in the day a Town called Malice was in the charts I found myself alone in Soho as you do, with two sacks full of man cream. A seriously hot babe walked up and asked if I wanted anything. I'm like maybe, but I had no cash on me. No worries, she said, there's a cash point nearby. Dick led the way, and I drew out £100. She said, right, give me £50 now, and here's my key. It's room 210, on the second floor at the hotel whatever, 100 yards up the road. Just make yourself comfy, I'll be a long when I've got the condoms. She handed over a nice key on a serious looking fob.
Well no prizes, you've guessed it. I'd parted with £50 for scrap metal. The hotel whatever didn't even exist. The only saving grace was when I walked back to where I had met her, I saw her being bundled into the back of a police car.
What a complete naive twat!
However, it was a good lesson in becoming a worldly-wise punter. Pre-internet you really did learn everything yourself, sometimes the hard way. Despite, over the years, being asked many times to part with cash before entering a girl's room, I have never done so, even if it meant walking. It's not fail-safe, there have been other calamities but that's another story.