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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. <<<
27
Since I do not think I will find a taxi in this residential area of Vouliagmeni, I decide to walk downhill toward the sea until I encounter a thoroughfare. Glancing at my phone, I see I missed two calls, each one an unknown number. Well, that is how it is. It only takes a few minutes to reach the coastal road with its restaurants, ice cream parlors, bars, and cafés. Since there is still time, I go into one of the bars for a drink and to change in the bathroom. My new dress is more appropriate for an evening visit at the Metropolitan Hotel than my denim mini skirt and striped top with spaghetti straps. In the bathroom, I am happy to find the toilets are clean. This is something that cannot be said of all Greek establishments. Using the bathroom’s lounge area, I quickly change into my other clothes. My newly purchased summer dress looks stunning on me. Satisfied with my reflection, I return to the table and pass the time perusing online newspapers. A few minutes after 8:00 p.m., I call the Metropolitan Hotel. A woman rapidly answers in Greek and then English.
“Good evening. Please connect me with room 351. I’d like to speak with Mr. Bauer.”
“One moment please!” she replies curtly as she connects me. I recognize Arnold’s voice when he picks up after a couple of rings:
“Hello?”
“Hi, Arnold, it’s Anika. I’m calling to let you know I’m on my way and will be there at 9:00 p.m. Okay?”
“Great, Anika. See you soon. I’m excited.”
“See you, Arnold!”
After paying for my coke, I roll the plastic bag containing my denim skirt and top as small as possible and cram it in my handbag. The handbag’s capacity is definitely exceeded. I should keep an eye out for a larger one. It does not need to be an expensive designer bag, but it should be stylish. Arriving on Athinas Street, I see plenty of taxis. I do not wait long by the curb before one stops and I hop into the back of the car.
“The Metropolitan Hotel, please!”
Hearing the taxi driver’s grunt, I assume he understood me. He does not have the AC on because he is a smoker. Both front side windows are down. It is hot and stuffy in this taxi. And it stinks!
“Could you please close the windows and turn on the air-conditioning?” I ask politely. He shoots me a grim look through the rearview mirror and holds up his cigarette.
“I don’t mind the smoke,” I say graciously, “but please roll up the windows or keep them cracked and turn on the air-conditioning! It’s awfully hot in here.”
“I’m not turning on the air-conditioning!” he replies curtly and turns his attention back on the road. As there is no compromising with the man, I resign myself to my fate. If I could be certain of catching another taxi immediately, I would get out. Between wallowing indecisively and my eagerness to arrive too early than too late, I stay put. Therefore, I allow myself to be driven along Athens’ coast in a drafty, yet stinky taxi. Then again, I can imagine putting up with worse.
Approaching from the coast, the first hotel we encounter on Syngrou Avenue is the Metropolitan. The driver stops in front of the hotel entrance. The meter reveals my fare is 16.70 euros. Considering the driver’s manners, I dispense with a tip and hand over the exact change!
It is 8:40 p.m. when I enter the Metropolitan Hotel. I take great delight in escaping the heat and into an air-conditioned building. As I inconspicuously glance around the lobby, I think about how to pass the remaining 20 minutes. I decide to visit the restroom to inspect my hair, given the drafty taxi ride. Crossing the grand lobby as if I belong, I make my way through a few seating areas with small side tables and follow a sign showing the direction of the restrooms. In front of the mirror, I see the breezy cab ride did not do much harm. After a few brush strokes, some hair spray, and quick lip touch up, I look presentable again. All that is needed now is a few drops of perfume and I am ready for my next performance. Once in Arnold’s room, I will use the bathroom to change into my rhinestone-studded bra and panty set. It simply looks breathtaking with my tanned skin as the backdrop.
In the lobby, I sit on a couch and retrieve my phone. It is a great device for passing time. Shortly before 9:00 p.m., I ride the elevator to the third floor and walk down the corridor until I reach room 351. Since the corridor is deserted, I promptly knock on the door. I feel a little nervous, but before I can calm myself, the door opens and Arnold beckons me inside. Thankfully, the room lighting is muted and my beating heart immediately settles down. Arnold closes the door and faces me, smiling:
“I love how Germans are always punctual! — Hi, Anika. Nice to meet you. How are you?”
“I’m fine, thank you. — No one saw me knocking on your door! The hall was deserted.”
“Great. I appreciate that you remembered!”
Arnold, wearing round wire-rimmed glasses, a dark blue polo shirt, and blue jeans, is about 1.80 meters tall with thick blond hair.
“You look good,” he says.
“Thank you, Arnold. So do you! May I use the bathroom to change? I’ll be right back!”
“Yes, of course. Help yourself to whatever you need!”
“Thank you!” I reply and disappear into the bathroom. A large bathroom is always appreciated in my line of work. I like that it has a big mirror and a stool on which I can place my handbag. Now in my acid-green lingerie set, I feel extremely sexy. After switching my phone to silent mode, I grab my toiletry bag and return to the room. Arnold is still standing in the middle of the room, fully dressed.
“Hey, darling, how come you’re still dressed?”
Walking up to him, I wrap my arms around his neck and then run them down his body. I immediately realize how tense he is.
“How about you get undressed and lie on the bed so I can start you off with a nice relaxing massage,” I suggest.
“Yes, that sounds nice. Let’s do that,” he manages to say, sounding somewhat relieved.
“By the way, that green lingerie looks delicious on you. I like it.”
“Thank you, darling,” I say happily and release him. Arnold undresses as he walks over to the bed. In his navy blue underwear, he pulls the comforter back and lies down on his stomach. Kneeling beside him, I grab my massage oil and a normal and large condom from my cosmetic bag.
“Is this your first visit to Athens?” I ask, attempting to get a little small talk going.
“Yes, I’m here on business. When I was vacationing in Greece, I spent one day in the Plaka, but that was years ago.”
Great, he can speak after all. After I warm a few drops of oil between my palms, I rub his back with even, circular hand movements and ask:
“So, how long will you be here?”
“I’m leaving tomorrow. You know, I’ve never hired a prostitute on any of my previous business trips. And I thought before I call a Greek, Romanian, or Russian girl, who might speak only passable English, it would be nicer to chat in German.”
“Yes, I also enjoy it when I get an opportunity to talk with my customers in German. — Since it’s your last evening, are you and your colleagues going out later on?”
“Yes, at 11:00 p.m. we’re meeting downstairs at the bar for a drink. Then we’ll go out for a bite to eat and then to a club. A local we met through work and with whom we’ve become friends is taking us to one of the clubs on Syngrou Avenue. I’m sure we won’t get back to the hotel before early morning. By the way, your massage feels great! It’s very relaxing. Did you take a course?”
“No, not really. I taught myself. — I’m glad you’re enjoying it. — May I?” I ask and before he replies, I tug his underwear below his ass cheeks. He does not resist. Again, I warm a few drops between my palms and gently massage his buttocks. However, for what I have in mind, his underpants will be in the way.
“Arnold, darling, do you mind if I completely remove your underwear?” This time I wait for a reply.
“Yes, of course, Anika. Do with me as you wish!”
Oh, I like his offer! I pull off his underwear and place it on the other bed. Now my oily hands can reach between his legs and continue massaging him. He jumps and says:
“Oh!”
“I hope you like that, baby!”
“Oh, yes! Keep going. I’m placing myself in your capable hands, Anika!”
“That’s what I like to hear!” I reply happily.
Encouraged, I grasp his balls and massage them lightly. I slide my hand even further between his legs until I reach his penis. Wrapping my slippery hand around it, I knead it until he is rock hard. Arnold obviously enjoys it, for I hear:
“Oh! — Oh!”
I devised this technique for my more timid clients. This massage gives them a chance to relax. They slowly become properly aroused without having to do anything, minus the embarrassment because they do not look at me. Arnold is getting to the point where he is nice and loose. I will be able to flip him over on his back soon. I kneel between his spread legs, take off my bra, and lower myself so my bare breasts brush over his oiled backside. Arnold utters:
“Oh my!”
Shortly thereafter, I tell him I want to continue the massage on his front and he immediately flips over. As he lies there with his hands crossed behind his head, smiling unconsciously, I know I can resume my performance. Kneeling on his right side, I let his cock slide through my left hand while my right gently kneads his balls. After a while, I change positions and squat over his thighs. Using one hand, I rhythmically rub his cock. Arnold remains passive, apart from uttering the occasional oh! With my other hand, I gently and erotically caress my breasts and seductively move my hips, hinting at a fuck. As it is obvious Arnold will not make a move, I take matters into my own hands to prepare for the finale. Since a rubber tears easily when encountering oil, I slide off him, bend over his cock, and take it entirely in my mouth, licking off as much oil as I can. Once again, Arnold rewards me:
“Oh — Oh my!”
Believing I have cleaned enough oil from his proud member, I rip open a normal size condom wrapper and roll it on. Now it is time for the conclusion of my performance. I squat over him, push my thong aside, shove his cock all the way into my pussy, and ride him. Arnold loses his inhibition. He uncrosses his hands and brazenly grabs my breasts. While fondling my nipples, he repeatedly says:
“Oh, oh, yes — oh, yes!”
Now, his hips are matching my rhythm. Abruptly, he rears up and thrusts deep into me while uttering a prolonged oh…yeah during his climax. There you go! Everything worked out nicely. Now that the deed is done, Arnold becomes talkative. He tells me about his longtime girlfriend who broke it off. That he is still in pain about her leaving and that he is not ready to get involved with another woman. And having sex with me was important because he wanted to know how it felt to be with another woman after being in a loyal long-term relationship. I ask him how it felt. He answers — good, though it could have been reduced it to the fun of sex, but he did not know what to make of it, if that was good or bad. I reply that the only thing that matters is whether he regrets it. He responds:
“No, I don’t regret it. I believe I’ll do it again!”
We both laugh and he offers me a drink. I politely decline and ask if it is okay to use the bathroom.
“Of course!” he answers.
By the time I am fully dressed and back in the room, Arnold has turned on more lamps. Luckily, the subtle light is flattering, making me and the Metropolitan Hotel simpatico. Arnold walks over to his desk and grabs a few bills from his wallet. When he comes back, he hands me 170 euros.
“Here you go, Anika, thank you!” He smiles.
“Thank you, darling!” I reply, pleasantly surprised.
“And I hope you and your colleagues have a nice evening! Goodbye, Arnold!”
“Thank you, same to you. Bye, Anika!”
We exchange pecks on the cheeks. Arnold opens the door, peeks into the corridor to see if the coast is clear, and then beckons me to leave. As I walk with brisk steps to the elevator, I hear his door close. While waiting for the elevator to arrive, I think about my good fortune. Yippee, I am 150 euros richer and I received a 20-euro tip. I simply love my job!
Riding down in the elevator, I check my phone. I missed one call, a Greek cell phone number. It happens! He will call back if he really wants to see me. It is now dark outside. In front of me on Syngrou Avenue, cars and mopeds race by in both directions. Considering the early evening hour, I mull over my options for the rest of it... Although I have already made good money, it is definitely too early to knock off work.
As I stand there debating with myself, a taxi pulls up and the driver asks me something in Greek. I assume he is inquiring if I need a ride. So I merely say:
“No, thank you!”
He rolls up the front passenger window and drives off. I am thinking about grabbing a bite to eat, but of course, it should be a light meal. Yeah, that is what I will do! — It is best if I first go to the city center. If someone calls, I am in a central location, where I can easily reach every corner of Athens. Not far from the Metropolitan Hotel, I see a bus stop. Two minutes later, I am on an E22 bus that will take me directly to Syntagma Square.
to be continued
Sunshine, Sex & Easy Money: Diary of a Call Girl, Maria van Daarten
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