My first Escort Date in Berlin
All night I had tossed and turned in bed thinking about this meeting. With weak knees I entered the glass elevator that led to the fine restaurant on the top floor of KadeWe – the abbreviation for the famous “Kaufhaus des Westens” – and recapitulated the last two days. Everything had happened so fast: The rejection of my credit application at the bank and the ever-present thought in my head “How do I pay my horrendous bills?”, then the conversation with my friend Sara, who suggested I try out the side job she’s been doing for two years now, namely to hire herself out as a call girl. The appointment with Uwe, a nice man in his mid-forties, who noted down my data, my measurements and hobbies. The moment when I hesitantly handed him the sexy photos that I had actually taken last year as a Christmas present for my boyfriend at the time, Jonas. He left me two days before Christmas Eve. “What am I doing here anyway?” went through my mind as Uwe nodded and eyed me appreciatively. “I’ll be working as an escort soon enough, and I have to give pleasure to strange men. What if I can’t do that? And is the money needed urgently?” Those doubts hadn’t left my mind since yesterday, and now here I was, in my classiest Chanel outfit, with shoes borrowed from Sara that I could barely walk in, and a lot more makeup on my face than I usually wore, not knowing if I’d better run away screaming. “What if he doesn’t like me at all, if he calls Uwe right away and indignantly demands someone else? How far will I go? And what if he is completely repulsive?”. My head was spinning. My stomach rumbled. When the soft pleasant “pling” of the elevator sounded and the doors opened, I took a deep breath. Everything would be all right. I thought of the promise Uwe had made to me: “If all else fails, ring my bell and I’ll get you out of there right away”.
I recognized the man immediately. Not because he was holding the “Zeit” in his hand, as we had discussed, but by the red tie he wore, which we had agreed on about Uwe. He was much younger than I had thought, brunette with warm brown eyes and looked stunningly handsome and somehow…how to say…smart in his smart, tailored black suit. He smiled kindly at me. “I’m Isabelle,” I introduced myself. Crap, that had slipped out a little shakily. “Martin,” he said in a calm, confident voice, looking at me admiringly. I guess the outfit had worked. Thank goodness. As I sat down and crossed my legs, I noticed the little freckles on his tanned nose. Cute! We began a self-conscious conversation about the good weather and the strange beauty of Berlin. There was something soothing in his voice, my trembling fingers became quite still and I relaxed. The fact that he ordered the finest champagne and mussels for me bothered me, I was still overwhelmed by the first impression. “And someone like that orders an escort?”, I thought doubtfully. “Why?”, I wondered, while he went on about his professional activity in a solar company. The next second there was a silence that made me feel queasy all over again. This would be the part of a normal date where I would now have to tell about my job. Damn! But I quickly pivoted to my love of beautiful travel, expensive brand name clothes, and exquisite restaurants. Of course, I didn’t mention that I could hardly afford this as a simple travel agency employee. Martin tilted his head, barely noticeable, and grinned. He understood. His eyes sparkled. After we had dined deliciously, without any physical contact – I wondered at myself that I could hardly get anything down from all the excitement – he stood up and helped me into my dark purple coat. Where would we go now? But in the elevator, with the tension palpable with my fingers, I realized that the journey would not take long. It led to the women’s department of the department store. There Martin quickly headed for the lingerie department and without many words pressed a few really classy pieces into my hand. “Try these on for me,” he said softly. I disappeared into the changing room. The black corset looked good on me, the skimpy panties too. I slowly pushed the curtain aside. “Excellent, we’ll take that,” Martin decided. I swallowed. That bit of sexy fabric was worth half a fortune. Martin just casually pulled out his credit card and grabbed my hand on the way out. “No problem, don’t think about it,” he continued. We walked to the store’s parking garage. A flashing black BMW was his car, not bad. “What do you want to do now?” he asked me. He seemed to have all the time in the world. “What do you think about a trip?”, I groped. I told him the address of my favorite hotel in nearby Brandenburg. There was a huge wellness area there. The dream for such a bon vivant like me. But before we even reached the suburb, we had to take a long break. Martin had started kissing me passionately at a traffic light, after he had carefully stroked my thigh beforehand. It was exciting. A stranger, even more so a good-smelling well-heeled man with manners, I had never demonstrated my willingness so quickly. Slowly I began to like the whole thing with the escort service, which I had cursed a few hours ago as a snap idea. Also, what followed was just tingling and dangerously stimulating. Under the green trees of a lonely parking bay, through which the still warm autumn sun winked through every now and then, he slowly slipped down the strap of my black silk dress. I got goose bumps all over. Gently he pushed up the hem of the dress, under which I wore nothing. Acknowledging my slender legs, round but firm hips and taut belly, his eyebrows rose. A vein at his temple pulsated. He looked deep into my eyes. “Ready?” his gaze seemed to ask. I put my head back and closed my eyes. A breathed “yes” was the answer to his unasked question as his fingers slowly inched their way up the inside of my thighs.