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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. <<<
22
Shortly before 10:00 p.m., I board a tram running from Syntagma Square to Athens’ coast. Luckily, I manage to grab a seat, which makes riding public transportation considerably more pleasant. I received a few more calls and each time gave out information. Also, I heard back from the guy who sent me the text message. His name is Christo, a local, who said he would get back in touch. I change the entry in my address book from ‘text request’ to ‘Christo – office’. I am hoping my stored entries will help me get a better idea of who is calling.
When the tram reaches the big marina of Kalamaki at the coast, I disembark. There is a nightclub adjacent to a big restaurant. The place is teeming with people and booming music. Strolling along the pontoons, I examine the sailing boats. On a few decks, groups of sailors are having a good time talking and laughing while drinking wine or beer. Maybe they are just starting their vacation and will head out tomorrow to the Aegean Sea or perhaps they have finished a beautiful sailing trip and are enjoying their last evening on board. I might be alone, but I am used to it, even when I lived in Germany. Granted, in Germany, I was not alone during work hours. I sat with my coworkers in a room with the heater on full blast as we watched TV while waiting for customers. When the doorbell rang, our madam answered it and led the client into the anteroom. Through a peephole in the wall, we observed the customers. However, since the entrance was dimly lit, I was never one hundred percent sure if I knew the client privately. It always left me feeling uncertain. When the madam signaled us, me and my colleagues – most of the time, it was a group of six or seven women – entered the anteroom. Rosi, the madam, introduced us individually to the customer, who by then was sitting on the couch. When a client had chosen a lady, she would first show him the bathroom and then go to one of the rooms. She would put on a CD approximately forty-five minutes long of pre-recorded cuddle music. Once the music stopped, the session was over and the customer needed to decide if he wanted to pay for another hour.
Being self-employed is much different! Now, I am alone during work hours, which I knew and I am okay with, so far. I prefer running around Athens alone instead of sitting in a room watching TV for hours with a bunch of women with whom I am really not acquainted with and who, like me, are trying to keep their true identity a secret. I made it a habit of avoiding intimate relationships with any of these women, keeping my distance yet remaining friendly, collegial, and respectful.
As I stroll around the marina’s landside, I discover a bar with a large patio and sit down to have a Diet Coke. I even eat a few of the complimentary nuts. Scented candles, supposedly to keep mosquitoes away, decorate the tables. I remove my German magazine from my new light chic laptop bag and skim the pages since it is too dark to read. When my phone rings, I get up and walk a few meters away, out of earshot of other guests.
“Good evening!”
“Good evening. Excuse me for calling so late. Am I talking to the German lady with the ad in Athens World? Could you tell me a little about yourself?”
“Of course!” I reply and relay the relevant information.
“Okay, Anika, that sounds good. I live on an island and will be in Athens for a week the day after tomorrow. I’ll be staying at a hotel in Glyfada. I’d like you to come to my room on Wednesday afternoon at 6:00 p.m. Discreetly, of course! Would that work? Are you available at that time?”
“Yes, I can make it!”
“Great. And please, Anika, be punctual. I hate to wait!”
“I can sympathize. Say, darling, what’s your name?”
“I apologize, Anika, my name is Vangelis. I’m a 61-year-old retired captain. I take care of myself and I’m healthy. I’m hoping you’ll like me!”
“Thanks, Vangelis! How do we go about meeting each other? Will you call me on Wednesday to tell me the exact address and room number?”
“I will be staying at the Congo Palace Hotel in Glyfada. It’s on Poseidonos Street. Once I’ve checked in, I’ll call you with the room number. Please, dress and act discreetly. I only stress this because it’s a small hotel.”
“I understand, Vangelis! You don’t have to worry. I’ll make sure I don’t attract attention.”
“Great, Anika. I’m looking forward to your visit. See you Wednesday!”
“Okay, talk to you then! Have a nice evening, Vangelis!”
I hang up and save his cell phone number under ‘Vangelis – Capt.’.
Fantastic, I have an appointment for Wednesday! I Google the Congo Palace Hotel and find it right away. I simply love all the things I can do on my phone and while in this unfamiliar big city, it is essential for my job as a call girl!
Back at my table, I order another Diet Coke and grab a handful of nuts. Since it is nearing midnight, I leave the bar and stroll through the marina in the direction of Poseidonos Street. Still wide-awake, I enjoy the evening walk without worrying about baking in the sun. Now I understand why in summer the Greeks wait until the evening to become active.
Along the marina’s harbor runs a road lined with trees and park benches on one side. On the other, large yachts are moored in the glassy water that reflects the surrounding lights. On a 20-25 meter yacht, people in deep conversation sit at a large dining table at the stern. Blue and white uniformed crew members see to the group’s need.
I sit on one of the benches and start people watching. At a slight angle from me, I observe a man on the deck of a yacht tinkering with something. Next, he disappears inside, turns off the light, comes back out on deck, and stands at the railing. When he notices me, he nods in greeting. I nod back. He is not wearing a uniform. Not a crew member. Lighting a cigarette, he enjoys his smoke leaning against the railing. It seems he is the only one on board. Since it is night and dark, I openly stare at him. I would never do this during daylight hours. He is also not ashamed and keeps looking at me. Can I catch him? It cannot hurt to try. He tosses the cigarette butt into the water and lowers the gangway. With his hands in his pockets, he slowly saunters over to me. Okay! What am I going to do if he speaks to me? What should I say? Nothing? It is best to wait and see what he says!
“Kalispera!”
“Good evening.”
He says something I do not understand in Greek. So I inquire:
“Do you speak English? Or German? I don’t speak Greek.”
“Ah! English?”
“Yes!”
“Where are you from?”
“Germany.”
“Ah! Merkel-land.”
“No, not Merkel-land, Germany!” I say, upset about the stupid response.
If he is one of those who blame Germany for the mess in Greece, I am ending this conversation immediately. I have heard enough of that for one day! I reach with my left hand for the two bags sitting next to me on the bench.
“Oh, sorry! Germans are good!”
I refrain from replying and place my bags on my lap, an indication I am ready to leave.
“Please! Don’t go. I’m sorry!” he says conciliatorily. It seems he really means it. How could he have thought I might find his comment in good taste? Idiot! I set the bags back on the bench and look him in the eyes. He appears to be around 45, average height and build, straight black hair, and dark eyes. He does not look sinister and his English is passable.
“I’m Dimitri, and you?”
“Anika. My name is Anika,” I reply in a less than welcoming voice. Let’s see how this progresses.
“This is my yacht.”
He points to his boat.
“Nice.” I keep my reply short, making it easier for him to understand. Then, I add oreo, meaning beautiful in Greek. Dimitri laughs, pleased at my attempt to communicate in his language.
“Do you want to see my boat?” he asks.
I shrug. Why not? I know it is the right move. Now I merely have to wait for the right moment to let him know I only have sex for money. Dimitri beams confidently as he beckons me to follow. Grabbing my two bags, I walk across the road and up the gangway. Before boarding, he removes his shoes and places them in a woven wicker basket on the wooden deck next to the gangway. Handing him my two bags, I also take off my shoes and deposit them in the basket.
“Is this bag for work?” Dimitri asks, pointing to the laptop bag.
“Yes, it’s for work,” I reply.
“What kind of work do you do?” he asks. — This is the moment I have been waiting for!
If he does not bite, I am done wasting time touring his boat. Under the cover of darkness, I come right out and say:
“I provide sex for money.”
I look him directly in the eyes the entire time. He makes a face as if he did not understand.
“What do you do?” he asks again.
“I make a living providing sex. I’m a prostitute.”
I give him an easygoing smile. Still perplexed, he stands motionless in front of me. I take my bags back from him and stick the laptop bag next to my shoes in the wicker basket and hang the other over my shoulder. It is obvious he is too stunned to say anything, so I ask him straight out:
“Do you want to have sex with me?”
He swallows, smiles awkwardly, and nods. I guess something like this has never happened to him. But it is also a first for me! I am only this courageous because it is dark.
“Sex for money?” he asks.
“Yes, sex for money. Do you want that?”
“How much will it cost?”
“150.”
“Good! I want sex with you,” he says.
I can hardly believe it. His reply is ‘good’! Here I was worried my rate was too high, considering I am merely fishing. All for naught! Dimitri agrees and rewards my courage. Now I am his for the next hour.
“Okay, Dimitri, show me your boat!” I encourage him by smiling and touching his arm. Dimitri takes the lead and opens the salon door. Switching on the light, he shows me around. It holds a dining table for six and a sitting group comprised of a couch, armchairs, and a small coffee table. Then there is a mini bar with three stools as well as a library and entertainment area with a flat-screen TV and stereo system. Next, we go below deck and he shows me the sleeping quarters. As I sit on one of the beds, he says:
“No, not here.”
I get up and brush the wrinkles from the comforter. Dimitri says:
“We’ll have sex upstairs. Would you like a drink?”
“Please!” I answer and we climb the stairs to the salon. Dimitri opens the bar cabinet and inquires about my preference. Seeing a bottle of Campari, I say:
“A Campari and soda, please.”
“Okay. I’ll have a whiskey and soda!”
Cheerfully, he mixes our drinks. In the meantime, I look around. On one wall between windows, an artist’s detailed charcoal drawings of Greek buildings from the last century catches my eye. When Dimitri finishes mixing our drinks, I take the Campari and soda and follow him through the tinted glass door to the aft deck. We clink glasses and toast. Dimitri motions me to follow him to the forward deck. The deck in front of the bridge has a large padded sun area. Wow! Until now, I have only seen something like this in photos or movies. We place our glasses on a small table. Dimitri points with one hand at the big playground at his feet. Setting my handbag down, I look around. No one can see us on the forward deck. The bridge protects us from prying eyes on shore, not to mention it is dark and no one can be seen on the boats on either side. I unzip my dress for the third time today and slip out of it. Before I have a chance to fold it neatly and place it somewhere, Dimitri is all over me. Brazenly, he kisses me while one hand gropes my breasts and the other my butt. Mumbling something in Greek that is lost on me, he slides one hand between my legs and pushes his body closer to mine. I feel his cock through his lightweight cotton pants. It is rock hard. Good! While attempting to maintain a clear head, I try to open his belt as he enthusiastically fondles me all over. Noticing I am not making much headway, he unbuttons his pants, leaving me with a few seconds of respite.
“Take off all your clothes!” I say. Dimitri seems to understand and rids himself of his pants, underpants, and polo shirt. This gives me time to neatly fold my dress and place it in one corner of the lounge area. Grabbing the small toiletry bag with the condoms from my handbag, I place it at one end of the playground. Now that I am prepared, I can focus properly on my client. Dimitri takes me in his arms and kisses me wildly while mumbling in Greek. Clumsily, he tries to undo the clasp of my bra. Before he ends up ripping it or whatnot, I lend him a hand. Dimitri pushes me onto the lounge area and removes my panties. Spreading my legs, he looks at my exposed crotch and brushes his fingers over my vulva. Again, he mumbles something in Greek. Frantically, he starts licking my pussy. Dimitri is quite inept! He is hurting me. I wiggle into a position where his tongue can no longer touch my clit. However, Dimitri regards my movements as ecstasy and continues the enthusiastic tongue play. Out of nowhere, he kneels between my legs with his cock in hand and starts squirting all over my stomach. No warning whatsoever! Our little tumble did not even last 10 minutes. Finished, he plops down onto his back next to me and again mumbles something in Greek that is lost on me.
“I don’t understand a word you’re saying, darling!” I say with a smile.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I said it was great. And, you’re beautiful.” He moans and smiles.
“Thank you!”
Dimitri gets up and fetches our drinks.
“Jamass!” he says, raising his glass. I sit up and take my Campari and soda from his hand.
“Jamass!” I toast back in Greek.
Although I am done with my work, it is still too early to leave. Maybe we can chat for a while in broken English. Dimitri lights a cigarette and takes a deep drag.
“Do you have family?” I ask.
“Yes! Mother, father, and sister. No wife. I’m not married.”
Raising his left hand, the one on which Greeks wear a wedding band, he spreads his empty fingers.
“And you?” he asks me.
“No, I’m not married. No children either.”
“That’s good! Children are a lot of work. Children are no good,” he says. I am amazed by his sentiment. I wonder if his parents know what he thinks of children. I have always thought all Greeks wanted kids and grandchildren... I guess Dimitri is not one of them. Since it seems that is all he is going to say on the subject, I take another stab at small talk.
“So, what’s your occupation?” I ask.
“I’m an architect,” he replies.
“What do you design, private homes or commercial buildings?”
“Houses. Vacation homes and small hotels. Throughout the Peloponnese and Attica.”
Before I can think of another question on this topic, Dimitri speaks.
“And you, how long have you been in Athens?”
“For one week now.”
Dimitri nods and takes a sip of his drink.
“How long are you going to stay?” he inquires.
“I don’t know yet. Perhaps indefinitely.”
“Good!” he says happily and gets up to throw his cigarette overboard. When he returns to the lounge area, his cock is standing at attention again.
“Another round?” I ask, taken aback.
“Well, yes, look at him!” he replies, pointing to his boner.
“Okay, but first we need to freshen up!” I state.
“Freshen up?” he asks, confused.
“Yes, wash! Look, I have your sperm all over my belly.”
“Wait!” he replies. He quickly pulls on his pants and disappears into the boat’s interior. I hear the shower running and then suddenly he reappears. A big towel is wrapped around his waist and another is draped over one arm. In his other hand, he holds a box of tissues. He holds the box out to me and I pull out two tissues to wipe the cum from my belly. As he unwraps the towel from his waist, I see he has removed his pants again and his boner is still, or yet again, rock hard. I guess Dimitri is ready for round two. When he sits down next to me, he props his upper body against the bulwark. I smell the soap he used. I wriggle down a little and take his small cock in my mouth. As I blow him, Dimitri strokes my hair and shoulders. Remembering I have not told him the rules, I interrupt the blowjob and look him squarely in the eyes.
“Dimitri! I don’t want you squirting in my mouth. — If you want to ejaculate while I blow you, you must wear a condom! Do you understand?”
I pull out a rubber from my small pouch and hold it in plain view. He remains silent. I am not sure he understood everything I said.
“Do you understand? No sperm into my mouth!”
“Ah! Katalava. Yes, now I understand! No semen in your mouth! Only in the condom!”
“Exactly!” I say, still holding the rubber.
“No! Don’t worry I won’t come in your mouth!”
It seems he understands. I set the condom aside and continue my work. First, I lick his balls and then the insides of his thighs before taking his cock in my mouth again. Dimitri moans aloud in Greek. Talking faster and louder, I presume he is about to climax. So he does not accidentally come in my mouth, I stop. Dimitri immediately takes matters into his own hands and squirts onto his own thighs. I prefer that! As his Greek mumblings decrease and with his eyes still closed, he slides down onto the lounge area until he is lying next to me. This time too, it took him less than 10 minutes to come. Quite unusual. Some customers would love to come a second time around, but they never make it in time. Some are adamant about it and try in vain for a long time before finally giving up. I always find such attempts annoying, especially for me. I have never really understood what a man is trying to prove. Once Dimitri recuperates from his second climax, he hands me my drink and reaches for his own before lighting a cigarette. He looks sated, which pleases me! Granted, I do not understand what he is saying, but looking at him, I know it is nothing bad. I do not think he is a bad guy. As he finishes his smoke and tosses the butt overboard, I ask if I can use the shower. Looking at me mischievously, he says:
“I’m going to shower and then fuck you again!”
I do not believe it. He is ready again! What can I do or say? I am still on the clock, not even 30 minutes have elapsed. Nevertheless, this third time will be his last — if he actually pulls it off! So, I agree. Dimitri knots the towel around his waist and leaves to shower. Soon after, he comes back and drops his towel in front of me. Standing there with his erection pointing at me, he looks quite happy and I am wondering what he will do next! Lying down beside me, he again starts caressing my breasts and stomach. Then, he reaches down between my legs. I hope he is more skillful with his hands than he was with his mouth! Compared to the first two times, Dimitri does not seem to be in a hurry. However, since I have no desire to prolong his third orgasm, I grab a rubber from the package, tear the wrapping open, and roll the rubber onto his penis.
“Come on!” I say invitingly while spreading my legs. Although I use a regular size condom, it is almost too big for his penis. I hope it does not accidentally come off while fucking me. I must pay close attention. Dimitri pushes his needle into me and then pulls it a bit out again. Maintaining a slow and even rhythm, he moves his hips back and forth while closely watching the action. Then again, I am also watching and happily note the rubber is still in place. As Dimitri hastens his movements, I am hopeful he will reach climax as quickly as he did the previous two times. It seems his new speed is tiring. He indicates he wants to switch positions. Turning onto my right side, he takes me sideways from behind. As he fucks me like a rabbit and once again mumbles excitedly in Greek, I quickly reach down to inspect the condom. It is still in place.
“Come on baby!” I encourage him. “Come on!”
Just then, Dimitri pulls his cock out of my pussy, quickly rolls off the rubber and squirts all over my butt. His cum runs down my butt and ends up on the padding of the lounge area. I am certain the material is easy to clean. Dimitri will mostly like have a crew member take care of it before family or friends come on board, otherwise, he would have made sure not to soil it. What do I care — it is not my problem. Dimitri’s panting slows and he rolls over on his back exhausted. With all four limbs comfortably stretched out, he breathes heavily. I reckon he has had enough. I would not permit another round anyway. Grabbing a few paper tissues out of the box, I wipe his sperm off my backside. I sit up and look at him.
“Good. That was very good!” Dimitri says with a blissful expression. “It’s been a long time since I had sex.”
“It was nice for me too!” I make an attempt at flattery.
I would also like to compliment him on his stamina, but I cannot think of anything appropriate to say. Once again, Dimitri hands me my drink. Once he has smoked half of his postcoital cigarette, I say:
“Dimitri, darling, I’d like to take a shower now.”
“We can shower together,” he replies.
I am definitely not showering with him! He can continue dreaming about getting lucky a fourth time. Sipping my now warm Campari and soda, I take in the nocturnal scenery. The water is calm and his yacht lies motionless. For the first time since my arrival in Athens, I am overcome with peace as I gaze out over the dark glassy surface at the silhouettes of sailboats berthed farther out along the floating dock.
Dimitri tosses the cigarette butt overboard and hands me a towel. As I rise, I grab the small toiletry bag containing the condoms and return it to my handbag. With my clothes draped over one arm, I follow Dimitri inside the ship. We go one deck below to where the sleeping berths are and enter a cabin with an adjacent small bathroom. Since the shower stall is not all that big, I manage to make myself understood that I will be showering alone. Although Dimitri looks disappointed, he remains sitting on the bed in the cabin. From the looks of it, I believe it is his quarters. When I am finished, Dimitri hops in the shower while I dress.
“This is a beautiful boat,” I say when he emerges to put his clothes on.
“It’s a family boat,” he replies.
“I take it you’re the captain, right?” Dimitri nods.
“Yes, I steer the ship. However, we also have a crew: a couple Filipinos, a steward, and a deck hand. They don’t live on board.”
“Katalava — I understand,” I say, and Dimitri laughs again at my attempt to answer in Greek. We return to the aft deck and I walk over to the wicker basket to grab my laptop bag and shoes. I stand there waiting for him to hold up his end of the bargain. It seems Dimitri is absentminded, so I offer him a charming smile and say:
“Dimitri, darling, please pay me my money.”
“Oh, yes, of course!”
Pulling out his wallet, he takes out a 50-euro note and makes a show of handing it to me, saying:
“Thank you!”
Regarding the bill in my hand, I look at Dimitri questioningly.
“Dimitri, I told you my rate is 150 euros!”
“150?”
“Yes! That’s my hourly rate!”
“No! Fifty!”
“No, I said 150 and you agreed. — What the hell!”
“Oh, no! I didn’t hear that. I thought you said 50! 150 is way too much!”
This is not acceptable! What am I going to do? I understand he might have misunderstood me, considering his broken English. Maybe that was why he agreed so quickly, thinking he was getting a great bargain! Still, I cannot leave it alone. Is he laying it on a bit thick? Let me see if I stand a chance.
“Dimitri, I’m sorry, but I did say 150. I believe you when you say you only heard 50, but that’s quite a misunderstanding.”
I do my best to look disappointed, which has the desired effect. He is embarrassed.
“Could we meet again, Anika?” he asks shyly, still visibly embarrassed.
“Not for 50, Dimitri, but I might be willing for 70.”
“Okay, Anika!”
He pulls out his wallet again and with an awkward smile, hands me a 20. I take it and thank him with a look of forgiveness. Remembering that I caught him calms me somewhat because such customers always get a better rate. When it comes down to it, he was an easy client, even with three rounds.
“So, Anika, can I have your phone number now? — I’d also like to go with you to a hotel. Maybe in Piraeus. That would be convenient since my office is there.”
“That’s not a problem, Dimitri. Piraeus also suits me. Okay, get your cell phone and I’ll give you my phone number.”
While storing my number, I smile at him again. He immediately calls me and as my phone hums, he says:
“Now you have my number!”
“Great, Dimitri, thank you!”
I kiss him on the cheek. He smiles, relieved. I am terribly embarrassed by the entire incident, but something like this can happen, especially when there is a language barrier. In the future, I should ensure customers do not get my rate wrong. Perhaps I will ask them to repeat the fee. Such misunderstandings must be avoided! I know I am solely to blame. As we step on land, he asks:
“Can I drive you somewhere? Maybe back to your place? My car is right over there!”
“That’s sweet of you, Dimitri, but no thanks, not today.”
I brush another kiss on his cheek.
“Take care of yourself! And thank you, Dimitri.”
“Good night, Anika. I’ll call you!”
“Okay. Until then, darling! It was nice meeting you,” I say, giving my best to part on amicable terms. Then, I turn around and leave.
I walk to the marina’s nearest exit and hail a taxi for the ride home. My phone has not rung during the interim, but business was good today. Granted, I could have accepted Dimitri’s offer, but considering the awkwardness between us regarding my fee, I prefer not to spend more time with him. I simply want to be alone.
to be continued
Sunshine, Sex & Easy Money: Diary of a Call Girl, Maria van Daarten
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