As Paul left the tavern, he inhaled the cool night air. He was amazed at all the odors that wafted on the night breeze: jasmine, wood burning, animal musk, rotting garbage, roasting meat and vegetables, the smell of beer and wine, and so much more. He wondered why he hadn't noticed the fragrances before. He shrugged, and guessed that the shots of moonshine had cleared his sinuses.
Something smelt really good as he meandered up the street. He felt the bulge growing in his pants, and grinned. He knew that there were brothels on Pleasure Island, and thought he might check one out. The horny urges grew stronger. He rubbed his crotch and moaned softly as he rounded the corner. A stray bitch in heat brushed his legs, and he shivered. He shook his head, and nervously patted the dog on her head.
He muttered, "Maybe in another life. I'm not that hard up that I'd do it with a dog." He shook his head as his painful boner strained his trousers. He saw a pub across the street, and made a dash for it. Maybe a drink would help, or maybe he could pick up a date, and avoid the brothel's tarriff.
He pushed on the door, and glanced up noting the name on the shingle over the door....