Instead, I moved toward the better living quarters. In the easy-to-open garden shack of a currently uninhabited villa I could drop my stuff without having to fear their sudden loss. There I could sleep for two hours, protected from the wind. From there, I could head for school.
“What’s happened to you?” Gülcan asked instead of a morning welcome. “Did someone put you through the mill?”
“Something like that,” I admitted. “My mother kicked me out. I’m homeless.”
“What?” My friend took me in her arms. “That’s horrible! What happened?”
What should I tell? I could hardly hope for Selina to have died during the night. “My father deserted my mother. She’s been drunk and then kicked me out. The reason will probably be the main topic for Herbert next.”
“Why is that?”
It was probably better if my best and only friend learned it from me personally. “I’ve found another creative method to improve my income, and Selina found out about it.”
“That bitch. And now she’s blackmailing you?”
“She’s tried. Can’t afford it, so I didn’t pay.”
“And today she’s washing dirty laundry?”
I merely nodded.
“How bad is it? Did you hurt someone?”
“No. She caught me fucking.”
Gülcan grinned. “So what? Fucking isn’t bad.” Then her face clouded. “But you talked about a creative method to improve your income.” She waited in vain for my comment. Then I saw her understand. “Oh no, Jo. Not that.”
“Yes.”
“You’re walking the streets? Are you mad?”
“I’m young and need the money,” I replied with a shrug. “No job, no place, no exam, no education. No savings. I want to live.”
She shook her head. “No, Jo. That’s no life. You know, if you’d simply been kicked out, I’d have taken you home. My mother would have understood that your family is broken. But I can’t bring home a whore. I’m sorry.”
In her face, I didn’t see the compassion I’d hoped for. No, Gülcan had just wiped me from her life.
“Okay,” I said more to myself than to her. “At least I know when it’s time for a farewell. Send Mr. Herbert my greetings. I have to tend to my basic needs now. Tell him school was always important to me, but winter is coming, and I now can’t afford it any longer.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
A kind of foreboding led me to make a detour on my way to the garden shack with my stuff. With the self control of many years of exercise, I then ambled past the plain car with the detectives without showing my nervousness.
The owner of that villa had to be important, judging from the score of police for a simple broken garden shack, but the formation with which they observed the quarters implied just this target.
So my stuff was unreachable. I only owned my school bag and the clothes I wore.
Wiesbaden was done for me. Here was my ex-home, my ex-mother, my ex-school. Here lived ex-classmates whom I wouldn’t want to see again, pimps, whores, and policemen whom I’d also not want to meet. Residential areas where I wasn’t known yet were rare. I didn’t remember department stores where I wasn’t known yet. No, it was time to go.
My application for the martial arts course was obsolete, too. Nevertheless, I visited the sensei to cancel. “I’m moving,” had to do for him.
Frankfurt was only twenty kilometers away, but on foot it felt like forty, as I couldn’t simply take the freeway. On my way, I had a lot of time to consider my situation.
I finally caught myself watching the skies for whether my very personal raincloud had already appeared to soak me. I wouldn’t have been surprised! Instead, the sun came out, and I quickly relieved myself of my jacket, pullover, and pantyhose to not sweat through my only stuff.
As I didn’t know how long my cash had to last, I didn’t need to look for a place. I also didn’t want to give the police a visit—if they combined my situation with their discovery in Wiesbaden, I’d be done. No thanks! Instead, I’d rather focus on improving my financial situation. In a drugstore, I invested in a pack of condoms. If opportunity arose, I’d use them. But as I didn’t know the city and had no idea which districts were where, I started to look for a real job.
Oops. Several times I noticed cars slowing down when passing me. I examined the make and the driver, before I decided. Finally, I gave an older man in a Mercedes Benz a friendly smile. He stopped and lowered the window. No, not so obviously! I simply opened the door, let myself drop into the seat and leaned over for a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for picking me up!” I called out happily. As he didn’t react, I added a quiet “Drive on.”
“How much?” the driver only asked while merging into the traffic. I briefly mused. What was the price level in Frankfurt?
“Blowjob without rubber for fifty. My nicely tight and wet pussy with rubber for fifty, too. Or a very elaborate treatment? What do you want to invest?”
He watched me all over. I showed him my thighs, pushed my chest out and smiled.
It’s just sex, I told myself again. A hundred Euro more on my way to happiness—if such should ever be in for me. For that much, I shouldn’t complain if I didn’t have an orgasm myself.
Again I ambled along the street in the central station district. Would any of the bars here need a waitress? Or where could I apply for newspaper delivery? I’d do almost everything, just not jobs where you couldn’t get rid of the smell. That would be too unfavorable if the salary didn’t suffice.
Why did the second man in that police car point in my direction now? And why was the driver now looking at me, too? Chance? Where could I escape to now?
Part Four—Wellness
Chapter Twenty-Four
A dark coupé stopped next to me. The driver leaned over and only said, “Do you want to come with me or with the police?”
No question, I was already convinced and slid into the low seat. He drove on and barely slipped past the yellow traffic light. The police remained behind.
“Thank you!” I kindly said. Let’s put the business past us quickly. “What do you like? Blowjob or riding?”
He didn’t answer but simply drove on. “Sorry, have to focus on traffic,” he later said.
“That’s what I’m talking of,” I returned.
He laughed. “Later.”
Finally, he turned into a parking lot. Parking for Wellness and Érotique only, a sign told. I waited until he had switched the engine off, then I raised my topic again. “Okay, I didn’t know Frankfurt has special parking lots for this.”
“Aw, come with me!”
I had no choice but to traipse after him. As long as I had a chance to earn another note, I wouldn’t leave. He also looked too good for that.
We entered a kind of hotel reception, very up-class and nicely furnished. An older woman behind a counter glanced up and rose. “Good evening, Mark. Whom do you bring us there? A stray cat?” Her smile disarmed the last remark, then she turned to me. “Welcome to Wellness and Érotique. You’ve never been here. Do you know where Mark brought you?”
I shook my head. “A brothel?” I guessed.
“If you like. But we take care that everybody’s feeling well here. You, too. Why are you here?” She took my coat, pullover and pantyhose and gave it to the guardsman, who I only noticed now.
“Because he—Mark—brought me here.” Wrong answer, I immediately saw that. “I entered his car because the police were interested in me. Perhaps because I’ve looked like a street whore—in a place where it’s not allowed. I didn’t want to do hooking.” Wrong. I did, only not right there. “I’ve just arrived from Wiesbaden and don’t know my way around yet. I’ve been kicked out of home after my Papa deserted my Mama. I didn’t know where to go, I only had to leave. Now I need to earn money, regardless how.”
It just spilled out of me. I still fought the tears.
“Regardless how. With your body?”
“Yes.”
�
��So you’re here for sex?”
“Yyyes.”
“You like sex?”
“Most of the time.”
“With strangers, too?”
“Only with strangers.”
“You never had a friend?”
“For a day. After sex, he found someone else.”
The woman looked at my client. “Well, there you’ve picked up a dear. What’s your name, kid?”
“Jo—Johanna.”
“Johanna. Listen, Johanna. This is a place for sex among strangers—but only if both sides want it. Here, it’s always about something that pleases all involved. Never the quick number. Men who aren’t willing to please the women aren’t welcome here, and vice versa, even though we mainly have male clients and female attendants, like other houses. It’s about paid sex, but with mutual respect. If you think you can cope with that, you’ve come to the right place. If you can’t cope, you can openly say that. We’ll help you then to get on your own feet, okay?”
“It sounds wonderful. I—I believe, I want to cope with it.”
Did I?
I was in a brothel, and I found an unfamiliar heartiness. I felt welcome—the way I was, without bending over backwards. It suddenly felt so natural and right to me, even if a little voice in the back of my head whispered, That mustn’t be. That can’t be right.
I was too far down to see anything but the way up in it, it must have been so.
And then Mark took me upstairs, to a room.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Did I say room? It was a suite with bed and couch corner, with bar and fridge, with a huge bathroom and a bathtub for two. The tub was already filled.
Mark cautiously poked my shoulder. “May I touch you?” he asked.
“You’re paying for it,” I returned. “Go on!”
“It doesn’t work this way here.” Nevertheless, he placed both hands on my shoulders. “Do you want to take a hot bath?”
Thoughtfully, I watched the tub. “Hot?”
I had taken a bath before—in the Rhine river. As a child, that had been possible, as my parents could let me swim in panties. When I grew older, I would have needed a bikini, and that was too expensive. I didn’t know about a hot bath, as an entire tub filling would have been too expensive, too. But surely it wouldn’t hurt me, I thought. That was part of my role. “Yes, gladly.”
“May I help you undress, or do you want to do it alone?”
Another catch question? The client decides what happens, as long as no limits are crossed. This was no limit. “Gladly.”
Mark opened the zipper of my mini, let it down, and held it while I stepped out. Then he placed it carefully on a chair next to the tub. Very gently, he now pulled my tee shirt up—without touching my tits—and over my head. His hands came to rest on my hips, his questioning glance on my face. I nodded, whereupon he pushed my no longer entirely fresh panties down.
He made a step back and watched me. “You’re pretty,” he said. “Only a bit thin. Are you hungry?”
“Always.” I realized that I hadn’t had anything to eat all day. I was so used to the feel of hunger that I didn’t even think about it. Right now, I was nude and had a client, so food was no issue anyway. “But not now.”
That he still stood before me completely dressed wouldn’t fit. I reached for his zipper. Mark didn’t resist, but removed his jacket and put it over the chair’s backrest. While I opened his belt and waistband and relieved him from his pants, he took off his tie and shirt.
His member was happily erect, and that’s how it had to be. It felt warm and firm. I imagined it slowly penetrating me and noticed that I became wet.
Mark gently took my hand away from his cock. “Let’s have a bath first. The water will cool down.”
“A pity.”
He took my face between his hands and gave me a kiss. “You’ll get far here, I’m sure.”
Whoever never has experienced a hot bath probably can’t understand my delight. I felt great. It truly didn’t bother me to share the tub with a considerate stranger and exchange intimate tenderness with him. When he caressed my breasts, I purred like a kitten. Then my hand chased his lance under water, and when I caught it, he playfully rolled his eyes.
Each time he pushed my hand aside before I could rub him to climax, and then he tended to me again. His hand on my hip, at my thighs, his mouth in my neck, sent shivers of lust through my body and triggered unknown feelings.
“I can’t stand that anymore,” I finally admitted. “Give me more!”
“Not yet.” He rose and helped me out of the tub.
The towel that he took from a rack on the wall amazed me threefold. First, it was gigantic. Second, it didn’t just look soft, but it also felt so fluffy as I had never experienced before. Third, it was warm. That rack was indeed heated!
His treatment with the towel made me purr again. This moment it was clear to me that I wouldn’t want to be chased away from this paradise at any cost. For a poor girl like me, it was heaven.
Still, there was room for more. Once I had dried him, too—admittedly, clearly less skillfully—he lifted me on his arms and carried me over the bathroom doorstep to the large French bed. My dream prince!
I only knew scratchy cotton sheets. This was—as I learned later—satin, which was changed after every visit and always smelled fresh. This set was dark red and smelled like roses. Light blue sheets were washed with ocean breeze, green with spring breeze, but that’s what I learned later, too.
With amusement, Mark watched me rolling around on the sheets and enjoying the feel on my skin. Then I remembered my obligations and needs and rolled on my back. Deliberately slowly, I let my thighs slide open. “Come,” I whispered. “Let me feel your passion and power. Don’t hold back any longer.”
I didn’t take my gaze off his manhood while he unrolled the condom over it. The tip was slightly trembling.
He kneeled between my legs, placed his arms to the sides of my head and cautiously lowered his pelvis until his penis touched my labia. Yes, that’s the right spot, I thought, grabbed his buttocks and pulled hard. Ah!
“Hey!” he called out.
“No more slow feeling forward,” I whispered. “Give me the ride from hell. Now. As strong and fast as you can!”
He didn’t have to be asked twice. He pushed and wheezed, I cheered and pushed back. I forgot him, me, my job as a pro—unrestrained, I let myself be driven to climax, without reservations I gave in to ecstasy, came with a squeal.
Before I could regret my self-centeredness, Mark shot his load, too. Breathless for a moment, he stared down at me. I smiled and cocked my head. “Thank you,” I whispered. “And pardon.”
“Never apologize for such an orgasm.”
“I didn’t wait for you.”
He smiled. “I know. You simply enjoyed. It was wonderful.” His cock moved inside me. “You have to know one thing about us men. Reaching orgasm is important for our cocks. But to serve a woman in a way that she’s shouting authentic ecstasy is far more important for our ego. Every whore can moan—true lust simply sounds different. That you let me share it makes me proud and happy.”
Then he rolled away from me and reclined on his back. I removed his condom and looked for a place—in the end, I placed it on the nightstand. Then I simply let myself sink into his invitingly outstretched arm.
“You’ve something that worries you,” Mark noticed. “What is it?”
I snuggled up closer to him. “Was she serious? If I can’t cope, she’ll help me?”
“Sure. When Dora says something like that, she’s serious. That’s no philanthropy in the first place, and you need to be aware of that. She’s an iron-tough businesswoman in a brutal and unforgiving business. But it’s better to help a girl leave than to have one here who only absently spreads her legs and gives the guests a wrong impression. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
No, I didn’t understand, that only came later. But I felt comfortable in his
arm, more safe than all the years before. I didn’t want to think about him having to leave me soon.
Instead, I plucked at his limp member. And again. Soon it stirred.
“Hey,” he said.
“Is there some more?” I asked innocently.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The old woman stood at the reception counter and talked to another woman, who probably represented the age group between us—me with my eighteen years, I estimated the old woman around sixty, and the redhead looked as old as my mother. She wore scantier clothes, though—mini skirt, bikini top and high heels.
Mark reached me his hand and briefly pressed mine. “Thank you again, Johanna. It would be nice if I could meet you here again.” With these words, he pushed me toward the counter.
The old woman nodded at me. “Mark liked it. You, too?”
“Yes.”
“Still a bit shy, the little one. Lydia, this is Johanna, of whom I just told you. Johanna, this is Lydia. She’s been with us for a while and can tell you about life here, if you want to stay. Do you have any questions now?”
“Yes—what’s your name?”
“Dora, and we’re all informal here. With the clients, too. You can’t call someone Mister whom you have sex with or whom you meet naked in the hallway.”
I couldn’t really imagine meeting a naked Dora anywhere in the hallway, but I kept that thought to myself. “Dora. I have another question—Mark didn’t pay?”
Lydia smirked, Dora laughed. “Mark deposited his credit card data—his visits are simply charged to it. But I assume you want to know how you get your money?”
“Yes.”
“Sure. If you want, you can have it cash in your hand, right here and now. Or we transfer it to your account.”
“I don’t have an account.”
Loser Page 6
