Sex, Media & Culture 

Chapter 7: Sunshine, Sex & Easy Money - Diary of a Call Girl

Maria van Daarten Sep 16

Chapter 7: Sunshine, Sex & Easy Money - Diary of a Call Girl

This chapter has been reprinted with permission. Get the entire book here!

It is still early morning as I sit with a fresh, self-brewed cup of coffee on the small balcony of my room on the fourth floor of the Lilo Hotel. Since last night, I am the proud owner of a toaster, a kettle, a glass French press, and everything else I need for an enjoyable breakfast.

SUNSHINE, SEX & EASY MONEY: CHAPTER 6

This is the first time I have prepared breakfast in my room. Toast with cheese and one with orange marmalade. Basking in the morning sun and gazing out over the sparkling sea, I feel like I am on vacation. I have never enjoyed a nice breakfast as much as this.

 At 11:00 a.m., I prepare to go out. I made an appointment for a manicure and pedicure with Maria in Glyfada. In front of the open wardrobe, I opt for a white, sleeveless stretch dress. The way it is cut and arranged at the seams gives it a nautical flair. Since I do not know how much walking I will do today, I once again slip on my solid, cork-soled, gold high-heels that allow me to run around for hours without my feet getting sore.

Read Previous Chapters here 

Checking my purse, I exchange the black satin lingerie set for one in red lace. Today, red is better. As is my habit before leaving my room, I examine myself in the mirror: Yes, I look great! I spend two hours at Maria’s modern cosmetic salon in Glyfada. When she finishes, I have beautiful, red lacquered finger and toenails. I call Violet to thank her for the recommendation and to tell her about yesterday’s fishing encounter.

“Congratulations, Anika! You did well with Richard! Don’t worry about the money. I told you the situation is different when you pick up men on the street versus when a man contacts you through your ad. Many of my initial customers have remained faithful to me over the years because I haven’t upped my rate much. It all depends on what they can afford. Like Dimitri, he only pays 50 euros! 

That’s been his rate for fourteen years. Back then, he paid me the equivalent in drachmas. Several times, I tried to make him understand that living costs constantly increase and that he should correspondingly dole out more obols. — However, I know he can’t afford to pay more and so I let him come for that amount. Let him come! Ha, ha, ha! — Don’t forget that I’ve been seeing him almost every week for more than 14 years! 

Looking at it from an annual perspective, it totals a good amount of money. And Dimitri doesn’t demand much. I guess he simply needs to have regular sex from time to time with a woman he can grope a little so it’s not only him jerking himself off. I only have to touch him and his little weenie pops up! 

Then I rub it a little and he comes! He can come on whatever he wants, my tits, my stomach, my butt — but not in my face! I’ve never used a condom with him in all these years and I have never had his cock in my mouth. You can certainly not complain about making 70 euros from a guy like Richard who doesn’t need long and is undemanding. That’s how you create regulars. It won’t happen if you say NO to every guy not wanting to pay your regular rate.”

“I get it now. And Richard literally threw himself at me! It all happened so effortlessly, I still hardly believe it myself. God, I was proud of myself once I was out of there. — So, what are you up to today?”

“Socrates is coming over this evening. He always brings a bottle of red wine and we first have a nice time chitchatting and drinking wine. When he’s ready, we retire to the bedroom. He always stays at least two hours. We’ve never talked about the price for an evening because he’s exceedingly generous. I leave it up to him how much he wants to pay.

He’s tactful and usually puts 400-600 euros on my nightstand when I’m in the bathroom. At Christmas and on my birthday, I get flowers plus an extra hundred. He’s a real gentleman. He’s my only appointment for the evening. I’m going to make a crab salad now and eat it watching my favorite TV show while I wait for Socrates to show up.”

“Well, have lots of fun then, Violet! — I’ll get back in touch. Maybe we can go out together again, perhaps some evening next week?”

“Yes, we’ll do that! In the middle of the week, we can search hotels for bored businessmen and during the weekend, we can try our luck in a bar. I know of one frequented by lots of Englishmen in Glyfada. I went there often many years ago looking for customers. Anyway, we’ll see... bye, darling, and don’t forget to call me!”

After my phone conversation with Violet, I stroll along Metaxa Street and window shop. It is time to eat, but I am not in the mood for fast food again. Maybe I should have a sundae and in the early evening, a nice warm Greek meal. The Ammas Hotel, where I went with Violet, is not far away. I could go there for ice cream and at the same time check out the roof terrace and swimming pool in daylight. 

Maybe it is a place to spend a summer afternoon while waiting for work! I should see how it is during the day. I cross Glyfada’s town square and walk toward the Ammas Hotel along Poseidonos Street. It is a major three-lane thoroughfare that runs from Glyfada to Piraeus.

Traffic is heavy. The narrow sidewalk I am on is more like an extra lane for speeding cars to avoid sideswiping each other. Some motorists blow their horns and yell something at me through already rolled-down windows. About 200 meters away from the Ammas Hotel, a black Jeep pulls up next to me and the passenger window opens. The driver is a handsome, slender man with dark blond hair no more than 50 years old. When he looks over at me, he removes his sunglasses and asks me nicely in English:

“Can I give you a lift?”

In a situation like this in Germany, I would never reply to a stranger, let alone get in his car. It is different here though, I think to myself: He did not stop to offer an unknown woman a ride so she would not have to walk on the badly paved sidewalk. This man saw me walking down the road in my white snug-fitting summer dress, my blonde hair blowing in the breeze, and was attracted to me. That is the reason he pulled up next to me. And since he asked me to get in, he obviously finds me attractive. He likes to flirt. But I am ready for even more! He could be my next fish, which is why I cast my net. Smiling politely, yet still hesitant, I answer:

“No, thank you! It’s not necessary. I’m almost at my destination.” I point ahead to the Ammas Hotel, which is already within view.

“Oh, come on, get in! I’ll drop you off in front!” The driver of the Jeep is insistent. I see no harm, open the passenger door, and get in.

“Hi!” I say. “I’m Anika.”

Climbing onto the passenger seat sends my dress riding up my thighs to just below my panties. Amused, the driver gazes at my bare legs.

“Hi! I’m Adonis. Nice to meet you!” he says.

He glances in the rearview mirror and merges into traffic. I adjust my dress a little and look at him from out of the corner of my eyes. Adonis is wearing dark blue trousers, a white short-sleeved shirt, a Rolex, and a wedding ring. His clothes look expensive like his car with its tinted windows, leather seats, air-conditioning, and built-in dashboard navigation system.

“That hotel over there?”

“That’s the one. The Ammas Hotel. You can drop me off there.”

“Do you live there? Are you on vacation?”

“No — I go there for drinks and ice cream. The hotel has a rooftop terrace with a swimming pool and fabulous views.”

“Oh! I didn’t know and I drive by it every day. May I join you? Now I’m curious to see the rooftop terrace. — Of course, the drinks and ice creams are on me!”

“Oh... — Okay, why not,” I reply somewhat hesitantly. “I don’t mind.”

In fact, I am quite pleased how quickly and effortlessly he swims into my net. Adonis pulls into the parking lot adjacent to the Ammas Hotel. We get out and walk together through the lobby to the elevator. Once we are inside, I push the button next to the sign — Roof Garden. 

The elevator is cramped, forcing us to stand close to each other. Smiling cheerfully, Adonis looks at me, giving me the feeling he is looking for the price tag. Or, am I imagining it because it is exactly what I want? 

Whatever the case, I am presented with another opportunity to practice my fishing. The best views from the roof terrace are to the south over the sea and north to the distant green hills behind Glyfada. Here and there around the pool are benches and lounges with pullout side tables and umbrellas.

The pool area looks incredibly inviting. Nevertheless, I do not waste time thinking about when I might use it. I am focused on catching a fish. So far, I have no clue how to get Adonis to become a paying customer. We sit down at a large round wooden table in the shade of an umbrella and Adonis speaks to the waiter. Michalis must only work evenings. Adonis turns toward me and says:

“They have an assorted ice cream, Fantasy, mixed ice cream with fruit salad, ice cream with hot raspberries, a chocolate cup, and naturally, whip cream, if you like. So, which ice cream would you like? And what would you like to drink?”

“I’ll have ice cream with hot raspberries and a Nescafé with milk.”

“Would you like your Nescafé hot or iced, a so-called frappe?”

“Hot, please.”

Adonis translates my order for the waiter who then disappears. I have no clue what Adonis ordered. Uncertainty spreads within me. It is time to strike up a conversation. What do I talk about? Maybe I should ask a few questions about him. But what? Have you finished work? Are you on your way home? Where did you come from? Where were you going before you met me and became sidetracked? Why do you have time to invite a woman you do not know for ice cream?

“So, Anika! Tell me, what are you doing in Athens?”

“Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing!” I reply quickly.

“Yes, of course, forgive my rudeness. I work at a shipping company in Glyfada but live in Piraeus. I got off a half hour ago and was on my way home when I saw you. Well, as is obvious, I enjoy talking to pretty ladies I see on the roadside and offer them a ride. Or, like in your case, invite them for a drink.”

I am sure Violet would have come up with an apt reply, but his macho remark only reinforces my insecurity. How am I supposed to respond? I silently pray my ice cream and coffee is served shortly, giving me something to do. Adonis must sense my insecurity. He breaks the awkward silence:

“Okay, tell me about yourself. Where are you from? Listening to your accent, I’d guess Germany. Are you in Athens on vacation or for some other reason?”

I take a deep breath before answering his questions: 
“You’re correct. I’m from Germany. And no, I’m not here on vacation. I’m in the process of starting my own business.”

“What line of work are you in, if I may ask? Are you working for one of the German companies here?”

“No. — I’m a call girl,” I manage to say. Not surprisingly, being the coward I am, I cannot look at Adonis as it comes out of my mouth. There is no better way of saying it. Fortunately, the waiter arrives and I focus my attention on him. I wait for him to serve my ice cream and coffee. Once he walks away from our table, I look over at Adonis. His expression is unfazed when he says:

“Enjoy your ice cream!”

I wonder if he even heard what I said. I take a spoonful of ice cream with a dab of hot raspberries and let it melt on my tongue while my mind goes into overdrive. Why do I believe Adonis actually works for a shipping company? Because he said so? He could just as well be a cop. Perhaps even undercover. How can I be sure he is not from vice out catching prostitutes? How can I be so dumb to come right out to a complete stranger and reveal that I am a call girl? 

Violet would never have jumped the gun! I am positive. She would have asked him more questions first. I feel like an idiot and eat my ice cream without really enjoying it. — Calm down, Ilona! 

Do not panic! — I try to calm down by telling myself I am overreacting, that he is not a cop. I mean, what undercover cop drives a Jeep Cherokee? And a cop would not invite an alleged prostitute out for coffee and ice cream. No. This is a normal man who wants you. Eat the ice cream, calm down, and see what happens!

“This is delicious!” says Adonis.

“Yes, mine too,” I reply, but I am still afraid to make eye contact.

“So, you want to work as a call girl. For an agency or freelance?”

It seems Adonis heard what I said. He simply needed time to come up with a response. He managed to turn my embarrassing revelation into normal conversation. Grateful for his openness, I reply:

“A self-employed call girl. I placed an ad in tomorrow’s edition of Athens World. — It’s a weekly English magazine published in Greece. I’ll go to hotels and make home visits. At least that’s my plan.”

I let the ice cream melt on my tongue. It truly is delicious, so smooth and creamy. Slowly, I regain my self-confidence.

“Did you work in the escort business in Germany?”

“No, I worked there as a prostitute in several clubs, not as a call girl. — So what about you? Are you married?”

“Yes, of course. I am a husband and father.” He chuckles. ”And as you might have already guessed, I’m in the mood for an extramarital adventure. — So, since there’s no more need for beating around the bush, how about it? Do you have time to drive to another hotel with me?”

“Oh! — Yes, I have the time for that. — But you have to pay me, you understand that, right?”

“Naturally. So, what deal can I get! How much do you charge as a call girl?”

“150 euros an hour.”

“Ouch. That’s pretty steep! I’m sorry, but I really can’t pay that much. However, I’m curious about you, so I’m willing to pay half. How about it? Do we have a deal?”

“Come on, at least make it 80. It’s a nice round number!”

Panajia mou! Okay, 80 it is. You’re lucky I’m so turned on by you. But for that price, I want to fuck you real good!”

“Sure, darling, you can do that!”

I am so proud of myself, I take another tasty spoonful of ice cream covered in hot raspberries and let it melt on my tongue.

When we finish our ice cream, Adonis says:

“There’s another hotel further down Poseidonos Street, toward Piraeus. Is it okay if we go there? Or, tell me, where do you live?”

“No, that’s okay. Let’s go to the hotel. I also live nearby in Piraeus, but it’s a small, family run place that doesn’t allow male visitors,” I reply, trying to smile slyly. We sip our coffees, Adonis lights up a cigarette, and we chitchat about German virtues, which apparently are especially interesting to Adonis. Finally, he signals the waiter for the bill and we leave. We reach the other hotel after a ten-minute drive. 

The large illuminated sign above the entrance door reads: 6 X Hotel. Violet mentioned this place. Did she not say it was in Glyfada though? I ask Adonis about it and he explains that the 6 X Hotel is a hotel chain where couples can rent rooms hourly for sex. Once Adonis parks the car in an inconspicuous spot behind the hotel, we get out. He quickly grabs a briefcase from the backseat of his jeep and winks at me. I look at him questioningly, yet he keeps me in suspense:

“You’ll see soon enough. It’s a little surprise!” 

Visit us on October 16 2020 to Check Chapter 8 or buy the book NOW

Photo by Anthony Tran on Unsplash


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