I wake up in the middle of the night and go outside on my balcony. Loud music radiates from the bars in the surrounding area, but the hellish noise from cars and mopeds zipping around is even worse, at least to my ears. That is how it is in Athens; quiet nights are unprecedented. Most Greeks do not become active until late evening, long after the sun has already set. They drive their cars, mopeds, or motorcycles around, or go out to dinner, music bars, or nightclubs, amusing themselves into the wee morning hours. This is unfamiliar to me as it is unheard of where I come from.
SUNSHINE, SEX AND EASY MONEY: CHAPTER 15
There, after eight in the evenings, sidewalks are empty and families sit at home in front of the TV. Stark naked, I grab a bath towel, spread it over the white plastic chair, and settle in. I am thrilled I can sit outside unclothed without being cold! In Germany, this would only be possible on a few summer nights.
Thinking about the previous day, the day my ad appeared in Athens World for the first time, considering I made 450 euros, I am extremely pleased. I am not used to that either. The clubs I worked at, my payment was 30 euros, half the fee the customers paid. Each evening, I had to satisfy quite a few customers so I could also go home happy. Granted, if I provided special services I made more money. For anal intercourse, I received an extra 20 euros on top of the regular 30. As a dominatrix, I earned as much as 100 euros. Earning more money with that service was the reason I developed an interest in that type of work early on. When I was 26, the first club I worked at as a prostitute clarified it for me: A dominatrix or mistress plays the dominant role by giving orders and at times, acting sadistically — the man plays the submissive — obedient or subservient, or as we in the profession refer to it, the slave or the degraded. The club also had a torture chamber in the basement.
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The room measured four by six meters and the floor was gray tiles covered in different sized, dark-red Persian carpets. Affixed to one of the chalk-white walls hung a man-size, red-lacquered diagonal cross with soft leather straps on all four legs for tying and holding a man captive. On the opposing wall hung a large mirror where the bound man could watch. In the middle of the room stood a piece of decommissioned sports equipment.
The height-adjustable pommel horse had its handles or blocks removed, but, if necessary, they could be quickly re-attached. A dominatrix would command the man to bend over this horse in order to whip him — and this room only saw men — or to lie on his back or belly on it so as to tie him up in an uncomfortable position to inflict further pain. It all depended on which abuse the customer enjoyed more. In one corner was a badly built prison cell. It consisted of round iron bars embedded in a wooden frame on the ground as well as on the ceiling with welded crossbars to the longitudinal pipes. The door contained the same iron bars inside a wooden frame. Inside, there was nothing but gray tiled flooring and a metal bucket. Once, I witnessed a prisoner pee in the bucket and then bring it to his mouth to drink his own urine. Two metal-screened ceiling lamps provided sparse lighting.
There was also a moveable spotlight on a telescopic stand used for interrogation. This allowed a dominatrix to shine the light on whatever part of the man’s body she deemed necessary. A sturdy, large wooden dining table and matching chairs stood against one wall and, at times, depending on the game, came into play. The shelves of a simply constructed cabinet, approximately three meters in length by two meters high, held a selection of masks, whips, hand and foot cuffs, dildos, crucifixes, tin cups, chains, and various other items for creating a sinister atmosphere.
The torture chamber also contained a black lacquered throne upholstered in dark red velvet for the dominatrix. It stood three steps up on a dais against one wall. The elevated platform was also covered in red velvet. It was large enough for the subject to lie down or kneel in front of his dominatrix in order to kiss her boots, to worship her, or to jerk off in a bowl for her.
Even though the club had an elaborate torture chamber, it did not employ a full-time dominatrix. She was only by special request and always arrived in a white Mercedes with Belgian license plates. With a suitcase full of equipment, she immediately entered the basement’s torture chamber to meet her customer. However, she also played the submissive, which earned more money than the role of a dominatrix. My boss told me being a customer’s slave was lucrative, making anywhere between 400 and 1000 euros per session. After such sessions, I saw welts on her body or red skin from being beaten at times. She always applied ointments and tinctures to these to speed up recovery.
I asked my boss if I could assist the dominatrix during the next session free of charge. I wanted to learn the skills. The dominatrix agreed, providing the customer had no objections. From then on, I was the dominatrix’s assistant. I was allowed to hand her whips and cuff the customers. Oftentimes, I merely stood there with a glass of champagne or some kind of torture device, never uttering a word. My role was to play my mistress’ servant and to obey her every command. Some customers found it erotic to be in the presence of a young, completely naked woman who also had to follow the directives of the mistress. It definitely made the dominatrix appear more authoritative.
I found those S&M sessions mysterious and I never discovered anything personal about the dominatrix. Even though I was allowed to assist her in the torture chamber most of the time, she was always reserved toward me. Depending on my role and the duration of the session, she gave me a tip because she knew I could not service customers and make money as her assistant. She never spoke to any of the other women who worked for the club either. With my boss, she only talked business and only when absolutely necessary. Other than that, she did her job, collected her fee, and disappeared in her white Mercedes as quickly as she had shown up. I believe she wore a wig. Whenever I saw her outside the torture chamber, she always wore large, dark sunglasses. I admired that woman, but mainly because of all that money she made with her services.
Later on, while working at other clubs, I offered to play the role of a dominatrix and simply copied my teacher’s performance. So far, I have never offered to play the role of slave, mainly because I am afraid of the pain I might experience. As all this goes through my mind, I stretch in my chair again and look out at the illuminated houses of Piraeus with the dark sea in the background. Damn, I am doing great! Just the fact that I no longer have to worry about being recognized at work is a huge relief. Back in Germany, constantly coming up with excuses and sneaking around bothered me.
I always lived with the fear that my family or friends might discover my part-time job. Now without this concern, I am actually aware of how much it had weighed me down. The employees at the Lilo Hotel assume I am writing an article for a German magazine about ‘Germans Living in Mediterranean Countries’. I wonder if George the manager or Spiros the front desk clerk bought my story. Nevertheless, I do not care.
I finish my glass of water and go back to bed in my air-conditioned room. I really do not like the way beds are made up in Greece. On top of the fitted sheet, there is only a sheet and a blanket. I miss a proper duvet with a nice, soft cotton cover. Maybe I should buy my own bedding and, perhaps, a new suitcase or a sizeable handbag for all my new acquisitions, in case I move out of my current residence.
The next morning, I realize I forgot to recharge my cell phone overnight. It is dead. I slept so soundly not even the beeping of the low battery warning woke me. Then again, I was actually able to sleep in. It is already 9:30 a.m. when I get out of bed. Momentarily groggy, I snap out of it and plug in my phone. A couple seconds later, I hear it beeping. I missed three calls, each one from an unknown number. So what, no big deal.
Nonetheless, I must make it a habit of plugging my phone in before I go to bed and switching the ringtone to low so I can still hear it but it will not wake up any of the other hotel guests if it rings in the middle of the night. I walk out onto the balcony. Although the traffic noise is no quieter than last night, it is daytime and a part of it, thus I do not perceive it as disturbing. This morning’s breakfast is toast with butter and honey, Nutella and Tilsiter cheese, as well as a banana and a small bowl of yogurt. I like starting my day this way. On my cell phone, I check out the latest news. Greece won last night’s soccer match against Russia, one to zero. I am pleased to read this as it will guarantee cheerful, happy customers. Men can get so upset when their team loses, so much so that they are not even interested in sex.
This evening, I have an appointment with that weird yoga teacher. Cannot wait to see what type of man he turns out to be. Until then I have to figure out how to spend the day. A swim in the sea? That is wishful thinking because if I receive a call, there is no way I can meet a customer with unmade hair, salty skin, and my massive beach bag. Going for a dip in the big pool has to wait for the time being. I am going to do that when I take a day off and can fully enjoy it. At the moment, I can live without knowing when that day will occur. Getting my business established takes priority. Nevertheless, I should definitely do something to maintain my tan. The last time I visited a tanning studio was in Germany. Therefore, that is on today’s agenda!
After I lay out a floral, turquoise short stretch dress that emphasizes my curves, I grab my big silver handbag with everything I need for work. Impulsively, I consider packing and taking along my laptop bag with clothes and equipment needed for playing a dominatrix. If I had that bag with me yesterday, I could have taken my time with the club sandwich and gone directly to George instead of rushing back to my hotel first. — What would I need? A dominatrix should have thigh-high boots, black strapless fishnet stockings, and a pair of black patent leather stiletto heels. Also, a matching vinyl bra and panty set with a zipper along the crotch. All these items are not heavy and do not take up much space and therefore, not a burden to carry around. I also pack elbow-length mesh gloves without fingertips so my red polished nails are exposed and a belt. The belt consists of two chains attached to a leather piece and a buckle.
If need be, I can use the belt as a punishment or restraint device. Naturally, I also pack my black leather, 2.3-meter long bullwhip. After one final look around to make sure I have everything I need, I close my laptop bag satisfied. The bag looks conservative and reveals nothing. It is more suitable for hotel visits. Having made my bed and tidied the room, I shower, shave, and lotion my body head to toe. Using a hairdryer and a round brush, I style my hair into its usual lion’s mane. Today, I have decided on turquoise eye shadow to go with my everyday eyelash lengthening, waterproof black mascara. I tint my lips with a touch of pink. Now I wear discreetly applied makeup and look attractive, not overdone. Appropriate for a summer day. One final touch, a dash of my favorite perfume and I am done.
With two stuffed bags, I leave and walk toward the town square. While searching for a tanning studio, I also examine the upper floors of buildings because I have noticed they are often rented out to businesses such as cosmetics, nail and hair salons, and medical practices. Shortly before the town square, I find what I am hunting for on the second floor of a commercial building. After climbing the stairs and searching the hallway, I see the small reception area of the tanning studio through a thick glass door. A bell tinkles as I push the door open. A young, dolled-up woman rattles off something in Greek and looks at me, obviously annoyed at having her idleness disturbed.
“I’m sorry, I speak very little Greek. Do you speak English?”
“Ne,” she replies in Greek. Ne means yes. I inquire in English about prices, the type of sunbeds, and if there are any available right now. In appalling English, she answers my questions and points to a sign. It lists the prices for eight, ten, twelve, fifteen, twenty-minute sessions for a strawberry sunbed or a kiwi sunbed, which is the cheaper one. Unfamiliar with the differences, I ask. She explains that the more expensive model provides a quicker tan. Okay, makes sense. Interrupting her busy schedule again, I ask which tanning bed and length she would recommend considering my current tan. She merely replies:
“Strawberry, twelve minutes.”
Next, she opens a drawer, pulls out a flyer, and hands it to me. What do you know, a brochure with all the information in English! I buy a card for 80 minutes. It is cheaper than paying for individual sessions. Considering I am going to be here for at least another two months, it is a good investment. While chewing gum unabashedly, the young woman shows me to the strawberry sunbed booth. It is bathed in red light in accordance with the strawberry theme.
I hope I do not end up looking like one. Even though I do not really trust the recommendation of the seemingly disinterested young woman, I know a 12-minute session will not do any harm. After stripping out of my clothes, I lie on the sunbed. In Germany, I really enjoyed going to a tanning studio especially in winter. It made me feel so much better. Outside it was freezing and I was inside naked exposed to intense heat. Having received my artificial yet intensive sunbath, I leave the studio with a slightly red tone to my skin, although I know within a few hours the slight redness will have turned tan.
Checking my cell phone, I see there are no missed calls... I could explore the area where my appointment with Lucio is tonight. Alimos is not far away from Piraeus. I find it unbearably hot again. It must be around 38 degrees Celsius. Standing in the shadow at a bus stop, I wait for one with A1 on the front. After what seems like an eternity, the bus finally pulls up and opens its doors. I quickly squeeze my way in and validate my ticket at a machine, immediately regretting having boarded this bus. All seats are taken. Making my way through the crowded aisle, I stop at an open window and grasp the bus’ handrail tightly with one hand. I must hold both bags with the other hand, making me regret having taken my laptop bag.
Both bags in one hand is too heavy and cumbersome. The bus departs Piraeus and bounces down the road. Every time it slows down, swerves, or accelerates, I really have to hold on tight to the rail and balance myself and the bags so I do not slam into the other passengers. As we cruise down along the coastal road, the equal amount of passengers disembarking is replaced with those boarding. I still have not snagged a seat. Standing there, shifting my weight from one foot to the other, I enjoy the fresh air flowing through the open window, but at times, it also becomes quite breezy.
This is anything but a smooth ride. Why did I do this? I could have as easily made myself comfortable on my balcony while listening for possible calls. If someone called, I would only have to dress, grab my bags, and hop into a taxi in front of the hotel. I would actually be relaxed. Oh well, now it is too late! Therefore, I enjoy the scenery on both sides of the bus.
One is a six story high-rise building with shops, cafés, and restaurants on the ground floor. The floors above are rented or condominiums. On the other side of the road, I see parallel-running train tracks. Next to them, along the sea, is a palm-lined promenade packed with people. However, it is not unusual considering today is a Sunday. Countless colorful umbrellas occupy the beach and young and old people enjoy frolicking in the sea. One of the next stops should be Kalamaki or Alimos. For a better view of the upcoming bus stop signs, I move while making sure no other passenger touches my laptop or handbag. The entire trip is absolutely stressful! After another five minutes, the bus finally stops at the station in Alimos.
Pulled along with the throng of disembarking passengers, I am glad to be outside again and, although it is hot, breathing fresh air. Okay, so where am I right now? I set the laptop bag on a bus bench and consult my cell phone. Ah, — I see, I am not far from where Lucio lives. Looking around, I see a park directly next to a marina with many berthed sailing boats a bit further up the road. If it were not so hellishly hot, I would not mind exploring that area. However, it is now the hottest time of the day and simply impossible. Perhaps I will find a café or restaurant in the park to sit down at and wait for a business call.
I am dragging my feet by the time I reach the recreation area. Thankfully, I discover a place and find a free table inside. Yes, inside where it is nice and cool thanks to the air-conditioning. It is essential I cool off! From here, I see the beach and sea. Sunday is definitely family day. Once the waiter serves my Diet Coke, I call Violet. She picks up after a couple of rings:
“Hi, darling! How are you?”
“Hello, Violet. I’m okay. The heat is getting to me today. It’s so much different here than in Northern Europe! How are you doing?”
“I’m all right. I am sitting comfortably on the sofa, doing my nails, and watching an English TV show on animals that have been dropped off at a shelter and are now in need of a new home. They’re such cute cats and dogs! I’d love to have a dog, a couple of cats, and, of course, live out in the country. Regrettably, I live in Glyfada. At least I feed and give the stray cats in the neighborhood a little attention. But I won’t let them in my apartment. I can’t. What would my clients say? You know cats are unteachable. Who knows what they might do when customers show up. Just imagine if one of my customers was allergic to cat hair. — It’s sad, but it won’t work. No matter how much it breaks my heart the cats simply have to stay outside. — So, how’s business? Were you successful yesterday?
I tell Violet about the calls I received in regard to my ad and the appointment I have in Alimos this evening with Lucio.
“Oh, I know Lucio! I’ve been to his place. He’s a crazy guy, but completely harmless. It’s simply that he doesn’t have much money. How could he, he’s a yoga teacher. — Nothing to be afraid of. It has been a few years, but if my recollections are correct, he likes role-playing. Yes, I’m sure. He wanted to play student and teacher or something along those lines. Anyway, you’ll find out tonight. Strangely enough, he never fucked me. That I remember. I believe he played with himself. Yes, that was it.”
“Well, it’s good to know he’s harmless. I might have been skeptical, but curiosity got the better of me. — What does your schedule look like? Can we get together tomorrow or are you busy working?”
“Oh God, darling, I almost forgot. I’m meeting Bob at the Hilton. Let’s get together another day. How about next Saturday? Business is usually slow on Saturdays, at least in the evenings. Most businessmen go home for the weekend and the majority of Greek men spend time with their wives, girlfriends, or buddies. You were lucky with Jason! Okay, Kifissia might be far away and the taxi ride expensive, but he also paid handsomely. I know it’s frustrating if the entire tip goes to the cab drivers, leaving us with nothing extra our wallets. In our business, we have quite a few unavoidable expenses. But what can I say?”
“Yes, that’s the way is. — Okay, so we are on for next Saturday.”
“Yes, let’s go to the bar I told you about. Is that okay? — It’ll be nice to have a girls’ night out again for a change. Unfortunately, all I do is shop and visit hotels. Other than that, I’m alone at home. I keep busy by cleaning my apartment and watching TV while waiting for the phone to ring. Apart from that, every now and then I take a customer into my bedroom. That’s my usual routine! A little change will do me good. What do you think?”
“Most definitely. And I would love to see you again! — Yes, our profession may make us rich, but it also gets lonely... but that’s only because it has a bad reputation. In actuality, we’re not doing anything bad! Anyway, that’s the way it is. Sadly, we can’t change that... — Okay then, let’s meet next Saturday in Glyfada.”
“Yes, it’s a date! But call me again, darling. One of these days, I have to show you where I live! You’d come and visit me, right?”
“I most certainly would. Just let me know when. Okay, Violet, talk to you soon, take care!”
“You too, Anika! Don’t forget to call to let me how it went with Lucio!”
“I will! Bye, darling!”
The rest of the day I spend on the coast at Alimos reading and walking barefoot along the beach, while the waiter keeps an eye on my bags and shoes. I also eat a proper meal — a salad with chicken meat. Considering the heat, it was perfect. Regrettably, my phone never rang once.
-Visit us on July 16 2021 to Check Chapter 17 or buy the book NOW
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