04/08/2017 by Tom Torero
For an introduction to this “dirty thirty” series of blog posts for my new book Below The Belt, go here.
House Of (Horny) Horrors – 2012 to 2014, Marble Arch, London
In Neil Strauss’ The Game they had “Project Hollywood” – a group of peacocked pickup artists living in a shared house in Hollywood and gaming in the surrounding swanky bars and clubs from the early to mid 2000s.
London had a daygame equivalent, but something far dirtier and Dickensian. Right in the middle of the city, just off the busiest shopping street in Europe, two early daygamers had rented a dilapidated penthouse from a rich Arabic businessman who needed someone to keep the property occupied until he redeveloped it. In exchange for its shabby condition and resident mice, he gave them a good deal on the rent.
From 2011 to 2016 that penthouse in Marble Arch became a legendary focal point for London’s emerging daygame scene. When I moved there in early 2012 there were six other people living inside (the house only had three official bedrooms). One of the original guys shared a room with his volcanic Peruvian girlfriend, the other daygamer had a room to himself and spent most of his time on the sofa building an online business.
Two Danish girls who were friends of the Peruvian girl were squatting on a bed in a partitioned off section of the living room (rent free, which annoyed the rest of the house but the Peruvian had got her boyfriend under the thumb). A young guy who was an intern for the online business-building daygamer lived in the house for minimal rent on the condition that he sleep in a tiny attic room at the top of the house which was essentially a cupboard.
I moved my few belongings into an empty room off of the landing and took stock of where I was. Since starting daygame three years prior, I’d managed to move from Wimbledon to Earls Court, and then from Earls Court to Marble Arch, getting ever closer to central London. Now here I was, right in the beating heart of the city, just yards from Oxford Street and officially a full time independent daygame instructor.
I’d quit my regular Nice Guy job of a school teacher to teach the hustle full-time. In my first book Daygame I talk about how I started my pickup journey and how I came to teach it to other guys. It was surreal standing in that bedroom with my frugal possessions around me with no boss, no timetable, no structure, realising that I was on my own. It reminded me of that scene in the classic 80’s movie “The Secret Of My Success” when Michael J Fox arrives in New York City to find fame and fortune, only to discover he’s unemployed and sleeping in a rat-infested rundown apartment without a dollar to his name.
I’d left behind a respectable life and a stable bank balance to live in a ramshackle place (“penthouse” only on paper) with an eccentric collection of colourful characters, equally unemployed and hedonistic. Wallpaper peeled off the walls, water ran down from the ancient bathroom into the rooms below, the Victorian elevator which looked like something from a Stephen King horror film kept breaking down and a happy collection of mice would regularly come out to play and consume the food remnants left on the floor by the crowded occupants.
Very quickly I realised that this house was held together by one common thing: sexual debauchery. My previous single rooms in Wimbledon and Earls Court had seen their fair share of filthy notches but now living in a shared house where everyone was smashing (except the guy working on his online business 24/7) took things to a whole new level.
I’d bring girls back to my room to smash while above me the guy with his Peruvian girlfriend would be nailing her nightly and making her scream in Spanish like it was an Olympic sport. In the living room the two Danish squatter girls would spend their days dossing around getting ready to go out and then their nights cock-teasing a whole host of rich guys at London’s swankiest clubs. The joke was they’d come home each night with more money than they’d left with.
The living room sofa was used by male friends of the original tenants for bringing girls back and smashing them because of the great location of the house. One guy went from being an occasional guest to sleeping full time on the sofa. He was also a daygamer and would bring back a whole host of girls to nail.
Soon (because of my rapidly dwindling bank balance) I’d moved out of the room off the landing and into the attic cupboard, saving me hundreds in rent. The intern had moved out and I discovered that he’d just been sleeping on the carpet without a bed, so the first thing I did was manage to squeeze in a double mattress which filled the entirety of the space. The one saving grace of the tiny room was that it had a window out onto the chimney-lined roof where I could take girls after bouncing them home to see the “rooftop terrace.”
A fellow daygame coach moved into my old room downstairs and we started teaching bootcamps together, as well as hosting students in the house for a few days on residentials. They’d have to sleep on worn-out single mattresses on the living room floor and share the tiny bathrooms. I felt sorry for them but there was a queue of guys wanting training and they never complained.
From there on in, things snowballed. I’d smash dozens of girls in that attic room. I had sex with a few on the roof. The other instructor would be bringing lots of girls back to close too, along with the guy living on the sofa (who’d now become a daygame cameraman). Students would be bringing girls back for Same Day Lays and smashing them on the mattresses in the living room. The Danish girls moved out and were replaced by a whole host of rent-paying daygamers who also fucked like rabbits.
At one time in 2013 I remember counting twelve people sleeping in the house. Girls were nailed in every room (except the toilet under the stairs) including the elevator and hallway outside. If a forensics team came and took DNA swabs from the house then they’d find hundreds of matches!
The lays in that house would fill an entire book on their own, but some of the wildest ones I remember include myself and an instructor called Jon nailing a Hungarian ex-stripper, another instructor called Dave and I nailing a Portuguese Bacardi model, a Swedish girl giving four of us blowjobs one after the other (in separate rooms), my taking of an English girl’s virginity in my cupboard room after she’d found out what my real job was and flipping from anger to horniness…..the list goes on.
Occupants of the house came and went (quite literally). Rooms were occupied by a whole host of daygame characters: a guy who ran a Snake Seduction scheme of telling girls he was a photographer and then trying to shoot them nude, another dude with a girlfriend who was bisexual and a nymphomaniac (she demanded hard noisy sex twice a day from him and knackered in him out), another instructor who started making low budget porn movies (that story will come later in the book).
Once I came back from a daygame trip to Australia and opened my bedroom door to find a young instructor smashing an Italian model in my bed (after I’d asked the other guys in the house not to let anyone in my room while I was gone). I’d just come off a 22 hour flight, was totally jet lagged and I lost the plot, shouting at him and pulling the duvet off her, telling them to get the fuck out!
As the daygame phenomena grew the house was used as a podcast studio, a set for my first video products and by numerous photographers and film crews. One major British TV production company came and shot a pilot episode of a reality show about taking loveless guys and with our help turning them into Casanovas (the show never got commissioned).
By 2014 I was travelling more and more, spending hardly any time in the house. I gave up my room to another entrepreneur, and some of the daygame guys had gotten live-in girlfriends so the vibe slowly changed to something more civilised. At some point in 2016 the landlord kicked everyone out so he could finish his multimillion dollar redevelopment of the whole terrace block. I’m not sure if he ever found out what had happened in that penthouse but I pity the builders who had to handle the stained sofas and mangled mattresses.