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SUNSHINE, SEX & EASY MONEY: DIARY OF A CALL GIRL
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Dedicated to Violet
>>> Copyright notice from the author: All rights reserved. © / Copyright: 2017 Maria van Daarten. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author. Only CO “Legalife-Ukraine” has permission. – Translated from German to English by buchuebersetzer.webs.com. <<<
18
It is 2 a.m. when the humming of my cell phone wakes me from a sound sleep. I turn on the bedside lamp while reaching for the phone.
“Hello?”
“Hi! Where do you work?”
“I don’t have my own place, I only meet in hotels or come to private residences. Where are you right now?”
“I’m in my car and in the mood for a good fuck.”
“Too bad. I don’t do it in a car. Try someone else. Good night!”
I lie back down and take a deep breath. The shock of being torn from a sound sleep is disconcerting. My God, who the heck was that? Mulling the short conversation, my phone rings again. Since I did not pay attention to the previous caller’s number, I have no idea if it is the same guy or someone else. I pick up anyway.
“Hello?”
“Yes! I said I’m in the mood for a good fuck! You placed an ad in Athens World. You’re the German whore, right?”
“Yes, I am. However, I don’t work at this late hour. You should try your luck elsewhere. Good night and thanks for calling!”
It’s always good to be polite, I think to myself. I hang up and save his number under ‘Night-driver’. He sounded drunk, so I would not put it past him to call me a third time. I turn off my cell phone. I need more sleep! As I try to fall asleep, I start questioning if I should keep my phone off all night long... Right now, while I am attempting to establish myself through my ad in Athens World, perhaps I should keep it on 24-7. If a businessman staying at a luxury hotel returns to his room at this time of night desiring company and sex, he would not be able to get in touch with me! If I leave it on and speak with him, there is a good chance he will want me to come to his hotel. Someone calling in the middle of the night for sexual favors wants them soon and they are usually not picky. Torn between fatigue and a sense of work duty, I finally sit up and turn my phone back on. During that short interval, Night-driver relentlessly tried to reach me five more times. Hopefully, the message was clear and he will not call again. That would be nice! Turning on my side with a clear conscience of having done the right thing, I soon fall back asleep.
The next morning is the hottest since my arrival in Athens. To help my acclimation along, I keep the AC off as long as possible. Sitting in a bikini on my balcony, I eat breakfast, read the newspaper, and learn Greek words while waiting for my phone to ring. Around noon, I dial Violet’s number but she does not pick up. At 1:40 p.m. my phone finally rings for the first time. I enter my room and close the balcony door before answering.
“Hello!”
“Hi! Are you the woman with the ad in Athens World?”
“Yes, I am. My name is Anika.”
“Hello, Anika, I’m Michael. I have a few questions, if that’s okay?”
“Certainly, what would you like to know?”
“Do you have beautiful feet?”
“Yes, or so I’ve been told, just yesterday as a matter of fact. I think so too. Why?”
“Well, I’m crazy about beautiful feet, but only when they’re really beautiful. I see women walking around with no socks or pantyhose, but not everyone has nice feet. — I mean, are your feet nicely shaped, free of corns, crooked toes, callused skin, and the like?”
“Yes, they are. My feet are nicely shaped and well maintained. My toenails are painted red.”
“Did you or someone else do it?”
“This past Thursday, I was at a nail salon. I believe my nails still look fine.”
“Ah, I like that you didn’t do them yourself. There’s a difference, you know. Perfection demands someone else do it. — So, Anika, how much do you charge for an hour? As you might have guessed by now, I have a foot fetish.”
“I charge 150 euros an hour.”
“Wow, that’s a lot. Any chance you can give me a break? I’m a student.”
“No, darling, I don’t give discounts. 150 euros is a reasonable rate for all the pleasures I provide.”
“Okay. Can you at least come to my home? I can’t afford to rent a hotel room.”
“Yes, I can do that. Where do you live?”
“In Kallithea.”
“I’m drawing a blank as to where Kallithea is right now. I haven’t been in Athens long. Where is it? How far away is it from Piraeus?”
“It’s close to Piraeus. If you head south, it’s before the town of Phaleron. I live on Spartacus Street. It’s a small side street off Dimosthenous Street.”
“Okay. I’ve never heard of those streets, but I’m sure I’ll find your place. Do you want to make an appointment now, Michael?”
“Of course!”
“When?”
“Right now, I mean, as soon as you can get here.”
“Okay. I can make it there in an hour. I need you to text me your full name, home address, and landline number. Can you send me that info? I’ll call you back on your home phone to reconfirm and then I’ll be on my way.”
“No problem, Anika, I’ll do that. Talk to you soon, okay?”
“Okay.”
As soon as Michael hangs up, I grab my cup of coffee from the balcony and place it on the dressing table I use as a desk. Thinking about what I should wear, considering it is a home visit, I decide on something conservative. Maybe I will wear the yellow floral dress again, but this time with gold high heels. I am sure a man with a foot fetish appreciates nice shoes. So my heels do not develop scratches, I stick them in my bag on top of the other things I already have packed and wear my cork heel shoes for the commute. My cell phone beeps, announcing Michael’s incoming text. He lives at 23 Spartacus Street. I save his two phone numbers under ‘Michael-Foot’. Next, I call him back on his landline number and then I quickly go to the bathroom and get ready. I write his address down to show the taxi driver.
Outside the hotel, I do not have to wait long before I see a cab. I show the driver Michael’s address, he nods and drives off. As luck would have it, the taxi has air-conditioning. Since I am being chauffeured, I look up Michael’s address on my cell phone. It really is not far from Piraeus. That is good because it keeps my expenses down. At that moment, the driver pulls over, rolls the passenger window down, and asks a passerby if they know Spartacus Street. Considering the day and age we live in, I really do not understand why every cab in Athens is not equipped with a navigation device. How can they do their job properly without staying up-to-date? Thankfully, the pedestrian gave the taxi driver proper directions because a few minutes later he pulls into the little side road where Michael’s apartment building is located. I pay the 6-euro fare and get out. Today’s sun is excessively hot. I do not think I would have survived a bus ride. Walking up to the building’s door, I call Michael. He picks up immediately and I hear the door buzzer.
“Push the door open and come up to the third floor,” he politely reminds me.
The elevator is already on the ground floor. I get in and quickly change into my other shoes and check my appearance in my compact. I am satisfied with my reflection. Michael never bothered to inquire about my looks or age. His only interest was my feet. That is why I did not volunteer anything. I hope he is not upset when he sees I am not a spring chicken.
The elevator stops and I step into a dimly lit corridor that runs in both directions. The closest apartment door to my right is ajar and I see the head of a young man. Michael beckons and I walk toward him. He opens the door all the way and I quickly step inside. By the looks of him, he really could be a student with his shoulder-length, wavy brown hair, and clean-shaven face. He stands in front of me wrapped only in a terry cloth robe.
“Hi, Anika. Did anybody see you? Was anyone else with you in the elevator?”
“No one saw me and I was alone in the elevator.”
“Good, you see, I live here with my parents. They’re currently spending a few days at the beach. Right now, I have a bachelor pad, so to speak.” He smiles at me, looking a bit nervous.
“Well, come on!” he says and I follow him into his room. It looks like a typical adolescent room. The bed is placed along one long wall. The sheets and pillow are crumpled. Across the room on the opposite wall under a window is a large table full of computer monitors, hard drives, keyboards, speakers, headphones, booklets, books, and pens. Poster images of basketball players and motorcycle plaster the walls except for one of a bikini-clad blonde beauty lounging on the deck of a boat. I find her pumps quite alluring. I wonder how old Michael is. Studying him, I get the impression he is 23, 25 at the most. However, I will not ask because he might inquire about my age. Coming across as 35 on the phone is no problem, but standing in front of such a young man, I might start blushing.
“May I close the curtains? It makes it cozier,” I ask, as he pulls a chair in front of his bed.
“Sure, go ahead!” he replies.
The truth is I want the curtains closed because bright sunlight does not make me look younger. Glancing around the room, I ask:
“Is it okay to put my bag on the desk chair?”
“Yes, of course! And please, Anika, sit here!”
Michael points to the chair placed in front of his bed. As I sit down, I make sure my dress rides, exposing my tanned thighs as much as possible. Michael sits down on the bed facing me and gives me a once-over. His gaze lingers on my feet and he starts rubbing his hands together.
“May I?” he asks, nodding at my feet.
“Be my guest! They’re all yours. At least for the next hour,” I reply.
We laugh and his eyes visibly change from an initial expression of restraint to that of lust. Michael tenderly takes my left foot in his hands and looks at it. He caresses my shin and calf. Sliding my gold pump off, he carefully places it on the ground.
“Yes, you really do have nice feet. I’m ecstatic. After our phone call, I was suddenly afraid I might not like your feet, that they wouldn’t be beautiful enough — then what would I have done with you?”
He looks at me and laughs from embarrassment. There is no need for him to feel that way. I am quite pleased he is pleased with me. Curious, I wonder what fascinates Michael the most about my feet and how I can satisfy him. Not every foot fetish is the same. As he loosens the belt of his robe, it falls open, exposing his naked body. He wears no underwear, is nicely tanned, and has black body hair. Michael pulls my foot toward his nose and sniffs the sole. After a big whiff, he rubs my foot against his forehead, brushes it across his cheek, and then kisses my toes. He is solely focused on my foot. When he places the foot against his manhood, I try to keep my leg as relaxed as possible. Applying light pressure, he gently uses my foot to massage his slowly hardening cock.
“Give me the other bare foot, Anika!”
I slip the shoe off and stretch my foot out. He grasps it and places the foot with the other next to his manhood.
“Ah, that feels fantastic!” he says, his eyes on my feet. “The soles of your feet are so velvety.”
He moves my feet slightly apart so that his brown cock pops up between them, then he angles my soles inward and presses both feet against it. Looking at me, he says:
“Hold my boner like that! I want to enjoy this for a while.”
He releases my feet and leans back on his unmade bed with his arms crossed behind his head. Slowly, he starts moving his hips. I do my best to keep his cock between the soles of my feet while moving harmoniously with his movements. I really have to concentrate to keep up. I am trying to sense what feels good to Michael. My skillful feet strive to hold his erection, but I am unsure how long I can maintain this uncomfortable position. Basically, it is a balancing act with my legs stretched out with my soles turned inward while steadying myself with my hands behind me on the chair back. The pose reminds me of advanced yoga. Michael has no idea how strenuous this is. He is too busy enjoying the soles of my feet caressing his cock. Before I end up with a charley horse, I move my calves by using the toes of my left foot to grab his shriveled ball sack while my right foot pushes his penis flat against his abdomen. I happily notice he likes the change. This makes my work a bit easier and I can take part. Carefully, I run my toes gently over the tip of his penis while making certain it is not too uncomfortable for him. The toes of my other foot are still fondling his balls. Despite playing sports regularly, I feel my abdomen twitching. As I contemplate this, Michael sits up and places my feet beside him on the bed. What a relief! Without a word, he lies down on his right side directly in front of my feet and tenderly pushes them against his chest. He rolls onto his back, moves my feet toward his face, and covers the soles with kisses. Thankfully, it does not tickle! Even though my feet are still in Michael’s hands, I bear most of the weight of my legs.
“Can you please remove your dress?” he asks after setting my feet on the bed and sitting up.
“Of course!”
I rise, unzip my dress, and let it slide down my body. After picking it up, I drape it over the back of the desk chair. Thinking for a moment, I conclude there will not be a need for a condom. Perhaps some oil? I ask Michael:
“Should I cream my feet so they’re even smoother?”
“Oh, yes! That’s a great idea. Do you have oil or should I get some?”
“I have some, darling.”
“Let me have it! I want to cream your feet.”
I take my little bottle of baby oil and hand it to Michael. He smells it. Stunned, he says:
“This isn’t olive oil!”
“No, it’s baby oil.”
“Okay. You know olive oil is good for the skin, right?”
“Yes, I know. However, it’s heavier and not everyone appreciates the smell. You don’t like this oil?”
“No, it smells nice. I’ll use it.”
Once again, back in the chair dressed only in champagne-colored lingerie, I swing my feet back into his hands. Sitting directly across from me, he places one on his right thigh and the other on his left. He looks at me and says:
“You have a great figure for your age, Anika. Good for you!”
Thank God, I think. I feel so much lighter. So, he did notice I am considerably older. Perhaps it was why he was a little anxious when he asked me to take my dress off. Did he expect a nasty surprise? Anyway, I am relieved he said something positive about me and my age!
“Thank you!” I answer chirpily as I adjust my position to emphasize my figure. Many times, the right posture makes all the difference. Michael dribbles oil onto in his palm, rubs his hands together, and takes his time massaging my feet. When he finishes, he leans back on his elbows, spreads his legs wide, and presents his cock. With my creamed soles, I spoil him in a fashion similar to earlier. Now, since I do not have to worry about my dry feet chafing his cock, I exert more pressure. Michael repeatedly pushes his hips against my feet. His boner is rock hard. Looking at his facial expression, I know he is fast approaching climax. Out of nowhere, he straightens up and frantically reaches for my right foot. He presses it firmly against his hairy chest. Next, he pushes my left foot under his balls, retracts his hand, and starts masturbating. I believe he is about to explode because he abruptly presses my foot against his face. Struggling to keep from toppling over, I hold on to the chair for dear life. The position of my legs, which I am sure he does not even think about, makes staying upright down right awkward. Although it is strenuous, I manage. — It is imperative I stay in this position! Any wrong move could ruin his orgasm and that would be a damn shame. Especially for me because then I would have to start all over to get him there again. I am overjoyed when I feel him twitching and see his cum squirt in a high arc. He positions his rod so the majority of cum lands on my shin. The rest drips onto the floor. Eyes half-closed, Michael moans with an expression of pain on his face. Well done, boy! Finally, I can get comfortable and relax. Once Michael recovers from his orgasm, he reaches for a box of tissues and hands it to me so I can wipe the sperm from my shin. He also offers me the use of the bathroom. The apartment building he lives in could have been built in the 60s, as the shower, toilet, and sink are the same moss green as the bathroom fixtures in my father’s house. I rinse only my legs off in the shower because Michael has not touched me anywhere else. Back in his room, I slip into my dress. Michael offers me a glass of water and invites me to sit again. This time I choose the desk chair. Unobtrusively, I look around to see if he has already laid out my fee. There is no money in plain sight. Michael, once again wrapped in his terry cloth robe, stands next to the shelves and fiddles with the stereo, turning the radio to a Greek music station. The water is refreshing. I hope Michael will not make me wait long before opening his wallet and dismissing me. However, he also pours himself a glass of water and sits down on a chair facing me. Apparently, he is not in a hurry to pay me and say goodbye. He better have the money. Or have I been conned by a student?
“That was great! Thank you, Anika.”
“Please, I simply performed my job,” I reply with a smile, hoping he catches the hint that he needs to pay me for my service. It is obvious Michael has all the time in the world. After all, his parents are gone for a few days and he has the house to himself, so he is not worried about being caught with a strange woman. Should I chat with him for a few minutes? What about? Should I ask about his major? Better not. I just hinted I finished the job. He could say something now, but he is simply looking at me, sipping his water, and nodding.
“Darling, thank you for the water, it hit the spot, but it’s time for me to go. It was nice meeting you. And I’m glad you liked my feet. — If there’s nothing else, I have to leave now.”
“Yes, of course, Anika. Feel free to leave at any time. But … I can also refill your glass and we can sit and talk while you rest. I have nothing else planned for today. You’re not intruding.”
What am I going to do now? Do not tell me I have to beg to be paid. I would truly hate that. However, I could do with another glass of water. I am terribly thirsty. So, I try to humor him and say:
“Yes, I would like another glass of water. That’s sweet of you. Thank you!”
Michael picks up the water bottle from the floor and fills my glass. I take a big swig and drink half of it.
“I find it quite hot today, but being born here, I’m sure you’re used to it. Or do you also think it is hotter than the last few days?” I ask.
“Yes, of course. It’s definitely much hotter than yesterday. On the radio, they said the temperatures would get up to 43 degrees Celsius. I think we’re already there, but it’s not so unusual to have a heat wave now and then. I know this from my childhood. For me, it’s not so bad. The air conditioner in the hallway keeps my room cool. — On a day like this, I’m not going to the beach; it’s too hot to play with my friends and a beach ball. We definitely don’t do that during a heat wave. You become dehydrated too quickly and tire easily.”
“I can imagine. I still have to adjust to the heat. On my way home, I should stop in the city to buy a sun hat. — Yes, I’m going to do that right now. — Okay darling, thanks for the water! I’ll be going now!”
I set the empty glass on the desk, grab my handbag, and stand up. Michael also gets up. Questioningly, I look straight into his hazel eyes. I guess I must have succeeded because Michael pulls three 50s out of his terry cloth robe, hands them to me, and says:
“I still owe you something, Anika!”
“Yes, you do! Thank you, darling! Have a great day!”
Quickly I pocket the three bills. I walk into the hallway relieved that I did not have to bring up my payment. Michael follows and opens the door he secured with the chain and a second safety lock. He gives me a peck on the cheek, touches my arm, and says:
“Adiós, Anika. It was a real pleasure. Maybe I’ll call you again sometime.”
to be continued
Sunshine, Sex & Easy Money: Diary of a Call Girl, Maria van Daarten
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