The little hotel I am staying at in Piraeus is located on a hill behind the Zea Marina. Standing on my balcony, looking over the houses in front, I see the circular-shaped marina with its variety of berthed boats and the vast sea beyond. Although my room is small, it features a fridge, air-conditioning, a TV, and Internet access. It is all I need for the moment. The room rate is 35 euros per day without breakfast. Considering I want to set up shop in Athens until sometime in September, I do not want to spend more than 5000 euros in the next two months. That should leave me enough for the start-up phase. Obviously, I still need to budget my money.
If I come across a cheaper hotel in a good location, I will probably move even though I am quite happy with my current accommodations. In front of the hotel is a taxi stand and a bit down the road at the Piraeus town square, a bus station servicing all areas of Athens.
This morning I have something important to do: I need to prepare my ad for Athens World. I go into my bathroom to get ready for my outing. Once my hair is nicely combed, my makeup decently applied, and my entire body rubbed with suntan lotion giving my skin a velvety-look, I slip into some summer clothes. I love wearing light airy clothes! It is not like there is a guarantee I can do so in Germany during the summer.
I hand in my room key at the reception desk, leave the Lilo Hotel, and walk toward the town square. Once there, I treat myself to breakfast, a Nescafé with milk and a puff pastry. Everything is so different compared to Germany, the coffee, the pastries, the heat, the hustle and bustle, and all the noisy people — simply everything. I am delighted at how great the pastry tastes that I have chosen for today’s breakfast. It is called bougatsa and so I do not forget, I write it down in my notebook the way it sounds.
I really must learn the Greek language and its weird alphabet so I can read words spelled out only in Greek. For example, on menus or bus stop schedules. I already learned the Greek number system on a previous vacation here. Back then, they had the drachma and it was important to me to understand the Greeks when I asked the price of whatever interested me. — It is surprising how well I retained it. I can still count to one hundred.
Finding a nice shady place under a sycamore tree, I get comfortable, take out my notebook, and try to come up with the right phrasing for the ad I want to place in Athens World. It is Tuesday and if I want to see my ad in this week’s Friday edition, I have to submit and pay for it at the editorial office by Wednesday afternoon. I definitely do not want to miss this week’s deadline! I think about the wording and write down in my notebook:
Charming Lady from Germany would like to meet nice gentlemen… cell phone number. — I am not happy with it and try again: Attractive Lady from Northern Europe would like to meet nice, outgoing gentlemen who like to have fun… cell phone number. — No, that will not do either. Playing around with it in my head, I come up with this: Incredibly attractive lady from Germany would like to meet a generous gentleman… cell phone number. — Yes, that is better. I like it. I read and reread the sentence until something even better pops into my head! Very attractive and charming lady from Germany would like to meet a generous gentleman… cell phone number. — There, that sounds much better! I am extremely satisfied. Paying for my breakfast, I use the opportunity to ask the waitress where I can find a cell phone service provider close by. The pretty, young Greek woman points down the road and tells me there is store not far away. In reality, I end up walking at least a kilometer before I discover the store. I look at the SIM cards and available numbers. I have almost 20 to choose from and go with the number 69978 69 22 69. It is the easiest to remember. I pick a smartphone in the lower price range that has all the features I need for my work as a call girl, and inquire about an extra battery in case the one in the phone goes dead when I am on the road with no way to recharge. My entire purchase comes to 388 euros. Now I have the most important device a call girl requires: A cell phone! Next on my agenda is the Athens World editorial office, which is located downtown in Omonoia Square. Violet told me where the newspaper’s offices are, but she also advised me not to explore the area after my business is concluded because it is supposedly swarming with drug addicts, dealers, pimps, illegal immigrants, and all kinds of crooks. I look at my tourist map for bus and subway stations, but regrettably, I cannot find one in my immediate vicinity. The closest one is at the Port of Piraeus, which, from my present location, is quite far off. Considering I have to budget my money and I am new to the city, in the beginning, I plan to avoid taking cabs and instead use public transportation to meet clients. Violet may discourage me from doing so because it may take too long to get wherever my destination is — but at least I want to try. Right now, it is important for me to acquaint myself with the available public transportation so I get to a hotel or a client’s private address as quickly as possible. I get out at Omonoia Square and walk up the stairs instead of taking the escalator. At least this time! It keeps me and my figure in shape. Once topside, I refer to my tourist map on which I had marked the location of the Athens World editorial offices. It is ahead around a few corners. I follow the route and enter the building. The small room is separated by a long counter, clientele on one side, on the other, two desks, one of which is manned by a lady who I address: “Good morning. I would like to place an ad in the next edition of Athens World.” She briefly looks at me, nods, and continues typing. Eventually, she gets up and walks over to me. “What category do you want to place your ad?” I place my prewritten note with my newly added cell phone number in front of her and say: “Under Escort, please.” She looks as if she is judging me. Does she think I am too old or not pretty enough? I do not know. Who cares! At least she reads my text thoroughly. Then she looks at me again and asks: “How many weeks do you want your ad to run?” “Four weeks, please.” “That comes to 44 euros. That is 11 euros per week.” I hand her a 50-euro bill. She takes it and walks back to her desk, opens a drawer, reaches in, and returns with my change. There is also a receipt book and she writes me an invoice for 44 euros. “Thank you!” I say. She does not acknowledge me, simply turns around, and returns to her desk with the receipt book. Oh well, I have completed my mission! As of Friday, my ad will be in Athens World! I am happy about my accomplishment and think about what I can do with the rest of the day. Omonoia Square does not look like the terrible place Violet made it out to be. Three lanes of traffic with noisy cars, scooters, taxis, and buses go around the square. Also, it is the middle of the day, what could happen? I do not see any harm in exploring the area a little. All over Omonoia Square are peripteros, Greek kiosks, where a person can buy all kinds of things: baseball hats, reading glasses, T-shirts, magazines, porn magazines, cigarettes, toys, drinks. While walking, I pass a large Greek department store, a hotel, boutiques, shoe stores, a small shop that sharpens knives, a cell phone store, fast-food restaurants, an old, seemingly traditional coffee house, and many subway entrances. Street vendors offer fashion jewelry and sunglasses. I see beggars, tourists, in addition to well and poorly dressed people from various countries. I pass a tiny sex shop where I sneak a quick peek, but do not see anything interesting. As I reach a main thoroughfare running along Omonoia Square, I take out my map again. I see it is Stadiou Street and it runs from Omonoia Square to Syntagma Square. Relishing the chaotic hustle and bustle on the street as well as on the sidewalk, I stroll slowly down it. Moped riders park wherever they can. Numerous times, I circumvent obstacles such as chairs, tables, and boxes of delivered goods.
Many men look Pakistani or Hindu. Some men stare, some try to chat with me. Then I discover on the third floor of a commercial building a display window of a sex shop. I could use a well-equipped sex shop in my line of work. Entering the store, I see I am the only customer. The shop is run by a sinister-looking man in his 50s and a dolled up woman of the same age who seems to have let herself go. I ask in English if I can browse. Apparently bored, both merely nod. I not only see toys, movies, and books, but also a large collection of sexy lingerie. I love it! What do I look through first? The leather clothes, the vinyl clothes, or the great outfits made from mesh, satin, and lace? I decide to rummage through a stuffed basket of discounted panties. Some have no bottom; others have strings of bead where fabric should be. Although I already have a fantastic collection of this type of underwear, I admit I like them and cannot have enough. Examining the mesh clothes, I discover a red bodysuit edged in vinyl and held in place only at the neck, back, and instep. Trés sexy! I must try it on. I grab the hanger and drape the bodysuit over my arm. I hope it fits. Together with my red strapless fishnet stockings and red patent leather high heels that I only wear for work and never on the road, it would make an awesome ensemble. Most men adore red sexy lingerie. Me too. Most of my undergarments are either black or red. Although, during the summer when I am nicely tanned, I also like wearing brightly colored underwear, like orange, yellow, gold, acid green, and pink. Just not purple or blue! I search a bit longer and among the leather items, I find an exceptionally nice set. The mini skirt’s front and back panels are only connected by simple silver metal rings. The top is held in place with a Velcro strap around the neck and back. It is tailored so that the breasts are pushed upward and the nipples remain exposed. I am truly mad about this outfit and pile it on top of the red, fishnet bodysuit. That is enough. I ask the saleswoman where the changing room is. Not exactly the same, but they have something akin to what I am used to, a little nook separated by a curtain where customers can try on revealing clothes behind it. It comes with a stool and a large wall mirror. I look around for a hook to hang my selection on, but no luck. I end up hanging the clothes on the rod from which the curtain hangs and remove all my clothes except my panties. Wow! The red fishnet bodysuit fits like a glove and looks damn sexy on me! The price tag says 59 euros. Well, items like these are always expensive in sex shops. I take it off and carefully place it back on the hanger. Looking at the leather outfit’s price tag, I see it costs even more — 149 euros. I try it on anyway. Viewing myself in the large wall mirror, I conclude I simply look spectacular. My nipples protrude magnificently above the push-up bra’s cup. I play with them and they immediately harden. When I look at myself in the mirror while wearing such sexy outfits, I sometimes cannot help but get turned on, which I take as a sure sign men will feel the same. God, it is a hell of a sexy leather outfit! With my black leather thigh boots, whip, and handcuffs, I would make an extremely provocative dominatrix. I tug on my nipples again and briefly rub a finger over my clit simply to see if I can stimulate it. Delighted, it pulses. Too bad I am currently in a sex shop or I would pleasure myself. However, I can always do that later back in my hotel room. Now it is time to dress and exit the store. I hope the items I like will not sell quickly, so I can come back later. Once I make a good chunk of money, I will upgrade my work wardrobe to include black leather and red mesh clothes!
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 me. I allow only to use them to publish on Tickle.Life.
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