Art-House Research Study
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It was a few weeks ago on an impulse my partner, Helena, and I decided to take a few days away from what I suppose are 'high-pressure jobs' and take a weekend break in Amsterdam. I work in finance in the city which pays well but, I have to admit, the job is a bore. Helena is a senior researcher working in a university psychology department; studying human behavior, I have never been too sure what that means but she is open-minded and forever interested in what people get up to in their daily lives, Indeed, she is regarded as some kind of expert in the field and she has written and published quite a few scientific research papers summarizing her findings on different aspects of the subject which have been well-received by academia.
We both frankly find that our work does get all too much for the pair of us from time to time and it comes to a head when we need to force ourselves to take time off and relax... albeit that Helena never seems able to fully switch off her inquisitive mind.
For me relaxation comes in the form of photography, I love to wander the streets taking pictures of, well, almost anything. Helena, not so much, she is a bit more Bohemian, more culturally inclined and her delight is to visit Art Galleries or, her favorite when she can find it, 'Art House' cinema where she can view avant-garde movies; Amsterdam promised to serve both our interests.
A short flight from Gatwick and soon after landing we were checking into our hotel and taking ourselves off to 'explore the sights' knowing that we only had a couple of days in which to do so. Helena's intention was to go and visit the Rijksmuseum which was a bit of a walk from where we were staying and I, well, I was just planning to wander the streets and 'do my photo-taking thing'. However, once out of our hotel it was a huge disappointment to find that the skies had become overcast and that rain was threatening to spoil our plans.
"No matter," we said, "let's make the best of it and we'll meet up later and compare notes." So, we checked the map and our travel guide and identified a restaurant where we could do just that.
We parted and with the rain beginning to fall and went our separate ways. I had only gone a few streets when I saw a poster for the Rijksmuseum which had an overlay sticker that apologized for the museum being closed for the weekend in anticipation of a new exhibition that was being prepared. 'Oh dear, Helena, what will you do about that?' was my thought.
For myself, it was not such a bad situation for I am of the opinion that the addition of rain and weather can apply its own kind of beauty to a photograph but as time went by that theory was tested when the rain began to get heavier and I began to fear for the well-being of my expensive camera, conceding that water and electronics are not a good mix. I tucked the camera back inside its bag and zipped it up deciding to find shelter where I could wait hopefully for the rain to pass. It was then that I found that I was approaching Kanaalstraat, the Red Light District where, I understood, prostitution and everything and anything relating to sex had been elevated to some kind of art form... and all legal under Dutch law. Brothels, Peep Shows, sex cinemas, Gay bars, 'dungeons' where willing participants could indulge in whatever it was they fancied, it was all there (according to the brochure that I had seen), and did I mention, it was all legal?! "Hmm, this could be interesting," I thought as I passed over the threshold.
I joined the parade of other interested tourists and punters and delighted in the imaginative window displays where ladies belonging to a certain genre were displaying their charms. There were signs up that discouraged the taking of photographs which was a disappointment as the subject matter was certainly of great interest to me but, no matter, I continued along the street delighting in the images that I was storing in my mind of the window displays; the sex shops and other establishments that catered for one thing and one thing only, sexual satisfaction. I found it thrilling and even more so because of the blatant way in which everything was presented, with not a hint of embarrassment or apology for catering to mankind's most basic needs.
However, despite such philosophical musings there was no denying that the rain, rather than abating, was getting heavier and I took the brave decision of ducking inside the doors of a 'Sex Kino' where, if nothing else, I figured I could escape the downpour and hopefully dry off. As I went through the doorway I spied the kiosk ahead where at the head of a short queue a lady had just bought her ticket. She disappeared through the curtain into the 'auditorium' and I advanced and taking my turn in the queue of guys who had the same idea as me, bought a ticket from the scantily-clad usherette seated inside the kiosk. Full of curiosity I parted the curtain and went inside.
After being illuminated by the garish neon signs for which Kanaalstraat was famous, I found the interior of the cinema to be almost pitch dark and it took a few moments before I couldn't see a thing in front of me so I stood for a while at the back wall of the room to allow my eyes accustom to the gloom. Soon I saw that there were only a few rows of seats facing the screen of which the back row of 4 was occupied. Other rows had an odd space or two as did the front row which had a few that were empty. I walked down and folded the padded seat of one and sat down and settled back to enjoy the show.
I glanced around at the rest of the audience and most of them were concentrating on the screen where a movie was playing of a young girl being fucked by a group of black well-hung men with cum splashing around. I had to admit that it was quite an energetic and erotic performance. I glanced to my right and I was a little taken aback to see that my neighbor had his pants open and was playing with his erect cock without any shame and in a way that was visible to all who might look in his direction. The combination of seeing and hearing what was happening on the screen at the same time as being in close proximity to someone actually playing with his stiff cock made the scenario seem even more arousing and I felt my own penis begin to stiffen and tent my pants.
As my eyes became accustomed to the gloom I was able to see that my wanking neighbor was not alone. On his other side, I could make out that there was the female who had bought her ticket ahead of me who was also taking great interest in both the action on the screen and what the guy alongside her was doing. She leaned over to presumably get a closer look at what our neighbor was doing and as she did so she looked up and caught my gaze; oh my God, it was Helena.
She seemed to be unfazed that I was in her company. Indeed, she gave me a welcoming smile and beckoned me to come and sit on the empty seat alongside her. The wanking neighbor (WN) grunted his disapproval as I stumbled past him to take up her invitation, I wasn't sure what to say to her other than, "What are you doing in here?"
