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 Right Place In 
 The Wrong Town 

Part 1

Part 2

 

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 Ç100 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.

"Why you stop massage?" -- maybe it's too late for that.
 

"Hey look!  A pen*s!!" -- usually good for a laugh, but I don't think it would work in this situation.
 

"I need to take a shower" -- isn't that what the guy in The Crying Game did?

But I didn't feel like I needed to run off and vomit in the shower.  I truly felt sorry for Ceh.  Could this be why Ceh doesn't go back to Bangkok?  Is this why....  Is this why a lot of things?  It just don't matter right now.  I feel responsible for Ceh feeling afraid.

I decided to turn my back to Ceh and said, "Can you do my shoulders again?"  From the mirror on the other side of the room, I could see Ceh's face blossom into a beautiful smile as Ceh scampered onto the bed behind me.  As Ceh was working on my shoulders, the thought occurred to me that maybe it's not such a good idea to let someone behind me with a loaded weapon.  But there were no additional incidents.

Ceh finished the massage with no happy ending offered, and I paid (including a small tip).  In return I was given a perfect wai. 

~   ~   ~

This was my closest encounter with a katoey (as far as I know).  Looking back, maybe there were a lot of clues I could have picked up on; long face, perfect breasts, sharp dresser, great legs, strong hands....  But I didn't.

The whole thing has just left me confused.  The massage Ceh was giving was pretty good up until that p*nis incident.  If that wouldn't have happened, I might have tried for more.  But now I can't imagine myself going back for another massage.  If Ceh would have had the p*nis removed, I might have never known.  Scary, all my nice and neat lines I've drawn have seemed to get all blurry.  I hate it when that happens.

Well, that's what happened to me.  And that's how I handled it.  I would be curious to hear if you guys have some better ideas for handling the situation.

Viel spa▀.

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Ommmmmm

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This page was last updated on 03 March, 2005
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