The Right Place
In The Wrong Town
-- Part 2
I prayed for a mission,
And for my sins, I was given one.
All those big smiles and little waves, from a stereo
off in the distance Hotel California fading in and out, and the girls
wearing those impossibly high moon shoes. A few girls even remember
my name from the last trip. How do they do that?
It would be a dream come true if I were in The Big
Mango, but oh lord, stuck in Hannover again.
If you want some additional information on the game
in Hannover, check out Part 1.
~ ~ ~
After the long flight, I thought it
would be a good idea to head over to Reitwall for a massage -- there's
nothing better than a Thai massage to work out the kinks that being
cramped in a Coach seat for a dozen hours worked in.
On the walk from the Hotel Am
Leineschloss to Reitwall, I stopped by the Brauhaus Ernst August for a
beer or three, and to chase the growlies away. I ordered my
traditional first meal in Hannover (Brauhaus Steak Spezial vom Schwein mit
bratkatoffle, ohne pommes).
I was disappointed I missed Spargel
season this year. Oh well, there's always Grunkohl in the winter.
To say Spargel is like asparagus is not really fair; Spargel is like
asparagus with the benefit of being grown a little too close to Chernobyl
-- it's giant mutant asparagus! But it is indeed good, so I do order
it when it's in season.
Making quick work of the meal (and
beer) with a shot of Brauerschluck for afters, it's time to continue my
walk to Reitwall. It's 9:45 and it's still light out. It's a
little weird to be going to a balls-out Red Light District with the sun
up.
As I enjoyed the time I spent with Ae
on my last trip, my plan is to see if I can find her again. Ae's
house is the last one on the block, so I took the opportunity to visit all
the other houses on the way to check out the talent.
The Reitwall area has rubbed the sleep
of winter out of it's eyes, and the place is pumping. I haven't seen
it this packed with girls for a couple years. I was thinking maybe
the business was shrinking the last few years (because of the fear of
AIDS), but it seems to be back in full swing now.
Watching the skirts, you start
to flirt, now you're in gear.
I've got nothing to say, but it's OK!
It amazes me that a few girls remember
my name from 6 months ago. It's exactly like Cheers, only different.
Of course I would like to stop, but I'm on a mission; a mission to find Ae.
Up and down I go from house to house
until I reach the very last floor of the very last house and Ae's room.
The door is closed. Damn, damn,
damn. I was looking forward to her massage. The closed door
could meant that Ae is in Berlin (Ae works 3 weeks in Hannover, and one
week in Berlin), taking the evening off, or is unavoidably detained.
It's also quite possible that she is no longer in Hannover.
Ae's house has a couple of great
looking girls, but I'm thinking it wouldn't be the best idea to spend time
with another girl in Ae's house if I expect to spend time with Ae again.
There was that girl in the first house
that responded well to my "Sawadee Krap," but even better
than that was the big sign next to room advertising massage. I head
straight back to her room and see that she is still available.
Great!
I introduce myself to Bee, and say I'm
interested in a long time massage. Bee says, "Can do, 50
Euro." I'm thinking that's a little steep, but I'm encouraged
by the big sign. Not every girl has such a grand sign in front of
her room.
The deal is sealed and I enter her
room. It's a smaller room with only a bed, sink, small closet, and a
small fridge. As we are taking off our clothes, Bee asks if I would
like something to drink and opens the fridge to show bottles of water,
soft-drinks, and beer. Nice touch. I don't remember being
offered a drink before. Usually the girls offer candy (or more
correctly, a Fisherman's Friend) if anything.
I take off the rest of my clothes and
lay face down on the bed. This is going to be great! I am
really looking forward to an expert Thai massage after that long flight.
Bee is an "older, but wiser girl." The 18 year olds can
have a lot of energy, but I find the "older, but wiser girls"
consistently give the best service.
Finally Bee shed the rest of her
clothes and padded over to the bed. Just as she knelt one knee on
the bed, Bee's cell phone began to ring. Damn, damn, damn. It
seems that every time a girl gets a customer, the other girls have to
call. I wished I knew enough of the language so I could understand
what they were talking about. I choose to believe that one of her
friends is calling to make sure Bee is okay, and Bee is telling her friend
that I have a good heart and she will give me the best massage ever.
The call doesn't last long, and Bee
comes back to the bed. Bee puts a little lotion on my back and
begins the massage.
I really like a good massage.
There have been so many times that I thought I had received the best
massage ever. But not this time. As a masseuse, Bee was simply
horrible. As I lay face down on the bed with Bee working on my back,
I was reminded of village women taking their weekly wash down to the river
to scrub them on a rock. I think that describes the massage I was
getting pretty well.
At first I was philosophical about it.
I mean, every massage can't be the best one ever. I'm sure I should
have to suffer some horrific massages to satisfy the Law of Averages.
After some more of this abuse, I start
to think about what I should say to Bee. Maybe if I tell her what I
like or how to do things, the massage will get better. Trying to
communicate with the girls usually works for me, but they're usually
light-years ahead of Bee in the massage department. Could it
possibly get worse? I struggle for a few moments with what to do,
when I'm surprised to hear Bee say, "Me finit." And with
that, she slaps me on the back twice and hops off.
"What was that?" I ask.
"Me finit. Friend me come. Friend me finit for you"
was her answer. Damn, damn, damn. Is Bee thinking I'm going to
pay for two girls, or was that really a call from the Pro from Dover?
I don't consider myself a Cheap Charlie, but I'm not going to pay €100
for a crappy massage.
Still face down in the pillow I say,
"I pay 50 Euro for massage."
"No ploblem. Friend me good
for you. You see."
And with the kind of timing that only
comes with countless sessions of practice (I'm sure), the door swings open
and in strides her friend.
Brika braka fiya kraker, sis
boom-bah.
Here comes trouble in a push-up bra.
Her style is as sharp as a carpet tack,
Puts you out of your box and way off track.
She entered the room saying "Sawadee
Kaah." The sound of her voice interested me enough to open one
eye and see that her high heels (not moon shoes) and short skirt did a
fantastic job accentuating her long legs. This new girl is hot
stuff. It was also the perfect time to watch her kick off her heels
towards the corner of the room. Hmmmm.... My kind of girl...
Ceh was lighter skinned than her Lao
looking friend Bee. Ceh's long attractive face made me think she
might have a little Chinese in her blood.
She took off her top and laid it on the
back of a chair. She then took off her bra revealing adequate
juggage with dark pencil eraser sized nipples. I did notice a
strange scar on her rib-cage, but didn't think they could be plastic for
two reasons; if it was a boob-job it was too perfect, and for some reason
I thought superfluous nipples. Don't ask me why. Maybe it was
because the scar was only on one side of her rib-cage (as far as I could
tell), and the scar was round instead of the usual boob-job scars I've
seen. But that's what I thought.
After wiggling out of the tight skirt,
it was folded and placed on top of her bra on top of her top. Then
she turned her attention to me and whispered in my ear to ask if I was
okay.
PANTIES!! What about the
panties?!?! A quick look in the mirror on the other side of the room
showed she was indeed wearing them. And that she had a fine rear
that just might be getting a workout if I had anything to say about it.
Ceh is from a small town outside
Bangkok, she went to Phuket for a short time and has been living in
Germany for the past seven years. (Maybe that's how she learned to
dress.) She has been bouncing back and forth between Stuttgart and
Dusseldorf since coming to Germany, but another girl told her the money
was better in Hannover so Ceh has been here for two weeks. Ceh's
plan is to work 3 weeks and take one week off to travel. I asked Ceh
if she visits Thailand, but the way she answered made me think there's not
much for her go back for.
I tend to run with the competition.
If the girl is sweet, it's a sensuous encounter. If she's a
high-octane girl, furniture usually gets broken. I'm thinking Ceh
has been around the block a couple times, and it's not because her mother
won't let her cross the street. This could be fun.
Watching her take off her clothes, she
had that wonderfully sleazy yet polished manner about her.
I really came here looking only for a
massage, but now I was thinking maybe I had set my expectations a little
too low. Ceh was making me think I had the energy for more than just
a massage.
Ceh gave a pretty good massage.
It was the sensual kind that is not easily forgotten; Ceh would drag her
hair across my face, write her name with her nipples on my back, and then
put her eyes 2 inches away from mine to ask me if I felt good.
I didn't say it was a Wat Po massage; I
said it was good. But she did have strong hands and was good at
relaxing my knotted muscles.
As I lay on my stomach, Ceh knelt
between my legs and would massage all the way from they small of my back
to my shoulders. When she would reach my shoulders, I could feel the
weight of her breasts resting on my back.
She's finer than a painted
rose,
Her kind of love is what I adore.
What kind of trouble am I in for?
My kind of heaven lies at hell's back door.
And I've got more than I need.
Deciding my back had received enough
attention, Ceh moved her attention to my legs. Ceh's fingers were
magic at getting of stiffness out of my calves and thighs. Of course
no massage would be complete without accidentally brushing past the
naughty bits every once in a while.
Now she goes back to the back.
But this time Ceh decides to lay on top of me to whisper in my ear to see
if I feel good.
~
~
~
And that is when it happened.
Damn, damn, damn.
I notice a bulge where no girl should
have a bulge.
"What in the name of all that is
holy...." I exclaim as I do a push-up lifting my body completely off
the bed. Riding all the way up, Ceh jumps off at the top and runs
off to cower in the corner of the room. And there........, peeking
over the top of her panties is a d*ck. It's not a big d*ck, but a
d*ck indeed. And big enough to consider changing my plans for the
evening.
Sitting on the edge of the bed watching
Ceh cower in the corner, it occurred to me that maybe s/he's been beat up
a few times. Maybe I overreacted. Maybe Ceh thought s/he was
going to get beat up again.
