Well, there are a lot of reasons why I'd . . .
I'd drag a girl such as yourself back to this . . .
plastic hotel room and . . .
rip you off for spare change to run a . . .
to run a vibrating machine attached to this queen-size,
bulk-purchase, kapok-infested,
do-not-remove-tag-under-penalty-of-law type bed and . . .
and make you take off all your little clothes . . .
until you are nearly STARK RAVING NUDE!
(Save for your chrome-with-heavy-duty-leather-thong
Peace Medallion, heh . . . )
And make you assume a series of marginally erotic
poses involving . . . a plastic chair and . . .
an old guitar strap while I . . .
did a wee-wee in your hair and . . .
beat you with a pair of tennis shoes . . .
I got from Jeff Beck