The Bad Mom

“Can I call you back in about twenty minutes; some guy is here to have sex with me now.” There was something for everyone, from the little to the big in every flavor; some were the ugliest women you could possibly imagine. Hairy, teeth missing mentally challenged looking women. There were men posing as women and women who were pregnant. Do you think the politically correct Dutch people call black people African Dutch?

Then there were Barbie dolls with angel wings, the most beautiful women in the world. Never in a million years would I have thought about participating in the activities. My curiosity overcame me; this is the trouble about traveling alone, there’s nobody around to stop you. After close observation, I figure out how the system works. If you see a girl you like, you open her door and negotiate a price. There’s a level of anonymity, which could give one permission to do things I wouldn’t ordinarily do. Fuck it; I went up to the door of a chubby girl and knocked. I thought it would be more polite to knock. She shook her head no in disgust and shooed me away.

Strike One.

Ouch that hurts the old confidence level. Fuck it, next time no knocking, I’m going in and I’m gonna tell her it’s not what she thinks. I’m not looking for sex (even I have to draw a line), I was interested in a massage; that and I’m dying to talk to one of them. I noticed a beautiful Swedish woman wearing a skimpy bikini, blond pigtails and high heels. Golden bronze skin and a cute smile she danced in her room to some trance music. She was approachable because she wasn’t on her cell phone. I bet the cell phone cuts down your clientele. “Sorry to bother you, I see you’re on the phone but would you like to have sex, when you’re done.”

I walked in; she stopped dancing and looked at me strangely as if I was lost looking for directions. I had a feeling this might be strike two. “Can I help you?”

I stuck out my hand and introduced myself; I said I would like a massage.

She shook my hand and apologized, she had never been approached by a woman.

“How many other women have you asked?”

“Just one chubby girl, but I knocked; I think that’s where I messed up.”

“No No don’t knock,” she said. “But I will have to charge you what I charge for men, sixty Euros.”

“You’re worth more,” I said as I kissed her hand I was still holding, “Hey time is money and I’m sure you keep busy as cute as you are.”

She locked her door and closed the blinds, still holding hands we walk up some stairs where I noticed the angel wings tattooed on her butt cheeks leveled at my face.

“I like your ass, I mean tattoo.”

“So you are a lesbian?” she asked as we entered her bedroom dimly lit in black lights.

“No, I like men too; I’m an equal opportunist in the love department.”

We got naked and crawled into her pink satin sheets. I’m on my stomach she straddled my butt and began rubbing baby oil on my back.

“Why did you come here?” she asked

“I wanted a story, so when in Rome. Do you say that expression here?”

I think she had mistaken me wanting a story for me wanting her to tell me her life story.

It felt nice to have her greasy hands all over me and I was interested in what she had to say but I was hoping for less talking and more touching. I offered to return the favor and gave her a massage. Her body was so beautiful; I loved rubbing it. I flipped her over and educated her on the importance of massaging breast tissue to prevent clotting.

“My husband would be jealous,” she said.

“Why, because you’re enjoying yourself” I asked as she placed my hand at the entry of her vagina where moisture oozed.

“You’re so wet.”

“I never get wet at work,” she whispered, “I will never forget this.”

“I hear that a lot.” I joked as I put my clothes back on.

“What will you do after this?” she asked.

“Go smoke a joint.” I said as she girl slapped my arm.

“That’s bad for you!” she lectured

“I like to be bad” I teased then I quoted a T-shirt I saw in a souvenir shop that said, “Good girls go to heaven, Bad girls go to Amsterdam.”