The Girls of Club Aphrodite

I spent many hours staring out of coffee shop windows, thinking about Fatima and haunted by old judgements. When I was a younger man, I viewed older men in love with pretty girls as sad, even pathetic figures. Yet here I was, a middle-aged man myself, being given a lesson in humility. I deserved this for my past arrogance.

Even so, I was pissed off with Fatima. Not with her not returning my feelings -- that I understood. It was her remark about thinking I had some kind of fetish. For a girl as intelligent as her, it struck me as uncharacteristically dumb. Fatima was a beautiful young woman -- surely this wasn't the first time one of her clients developed feelings for her? But I was also annoyed at myself. I'd had fifteen minutes to say something about it and I just lay on the bed being massaged, letting her prattle on about nothing. I should have spoken up and I didn't, because I didn't want to make things more uncomfortable. Or, to put it more bluntly, I was chicken.

Nevertheless, as the days passed, the feelings of embarrassment died down and receded into the background of my life. Okay, so I'd made a fool of myself over a younger woman. So what? It happens all the time. Besides, after you've had a woman divorce you, strip you clean and take your son away, what happens with other women is small potatoes by comparison. My thoughts turned to the sexy woman with dyed blond hair whom I'd nearly chosen over Fatima. Curiously, she didn't have a profile on the Club Aphrodite website, and it was only when I saw her name under 'Working Today' that I remembered it: Denisha. A month had passed by this time and I decided it was time to pay the club another visit.

Denisha was the first girl to walk into the private reception room and she was as sexy as I remembered. She wore fancy blue lingerie with gold high heels, and she had the same confidence -- even swagger -- as she walked in to show off her amazing body. The other three girls followed to shake my hand and I said hi to them politely. But I was surprised to see that one of them was Lydia, whose name was not on the website as working today. She was still beautiful in her own way, she still didn't smile, and she showed no sign that she remembered me as she shook my hand. Probably just as well, I thought. The hostess returned and I paid for an hour with Denisha.

Denisha had a wide mouth with a big smile and, now that we were alone, she became highly talkative. She took me upstairs to the same jacuzzi room as with Carla and, by the time we got there, I learned that she was Dutch, had spent four years living in London, and had failed five driving tests. She asked me to shower in the jacuzzi tub, but instead of busying herself with the condoms

et al

by the bed, she sat on the edge of the bath—legs crossed, folded towel on her lap—and told me about a girlfriend whose cat had been diagnosed with cancer.

I soaped myself with shower gel as Denisha chatted away. And, as I showered foam off my tummy and genitals, she finally asked me a question about myself.

'Is there anything I should know about you?' she said. 'To do with sex, I mean?'

I thought of Fatima and said: 'I sometimes have problems coming.'

'Oh, you won't have that problem with me!' said Denisha breezily. 'No, what I mean is: do you maybe have a particular fetish?'

I pulled a face at the word 'fetish'. Denisha saw my expression and jumped to the wrong conclusion.

'Hey, listen!' she said. 'Everything that happens in this room is private. I don't gossip to the other girls about my clients. Well, not unless you're really fucking weird. I have a German guy who likes me to stub out cigarettes on his legs. I mean: What the fuck! But I reckon if you're into shit like that, you can't expect girls not to talk about it, right?'

'Um, I suppose...'

I finished my wash and replaced the shower head in its holder. Denisha stood up and handed me the clean towel. She was still wearing her blue lingerie and heels.

'You look lovely,' I said, as I dried myself off.

'Thank you!' said Denisha. 'But I look even better without clothes on.'

'I'll bet you do.'

'You won't have to bet! I'll show you! But not right now. I know most of the girls strip off as soon as they close the door, but I don't believe in that.'

'Why not?'

'Because undressing for a man is part of the foreplay. Men like to be seduced. There's nothing quite like the look on a man's face when you open your legs and show him your pussy for the first time.'

My mouth went dry and I felt the blood rush to my cock. Denisha saw the reaction and smiled.

'You see?' she said. 'Even the thought of it turns you on. But so many girls waste that! What you have to understand is that a man should be on the brink of coming before he even enters your pussy. That way, when he does push his dick in, it's the last straw that makes him explode.'

'I'll have to remember that.'

'You should! Most girls don't listen. And then they complain about sore pussies because their clients bang away at them for twenty minutes with nothing happening.'

I finished drying myself off, wondering whether she ought to be telling me this. Wasn't it like magicians giving away their tricks? Denisha reached over and gave my arm a friendly rub.

'Come on, darling,' she said. 'Let's go over to the bed and get started.'

I dried the soles of my feet as I climbed out of the tub and followed Denisha to the bed, admiring her body as she walked. She got me to lie on my back with my head propped up using a pillow. She sat on the bed next to me, making sure the condoms were in easy reach and selecting some music on her phone. I was suddenly treated to some kind of electro-tango.

'This okay?' she said.

'I like it,' I nodded back.

'Good.'

Denisha bent down and brushed her hand through my hair. She smiled and said: 'Well, you got yourself ready for me, so now it's my turn to get ready for you.'

'Sounds great.'

'Two things I want you to know. The first is that I like it when a man watches me undress. It turns me on. Sometimes, I get wet enough that I don't have to use lube.'

Once again, my mouth went dry. Denisha smiled and went on.

'The second thing is that my body is here to be touched as well as admired. You don't have to be shy. I like it when a man isn't shy. But if you should do something I don't like, I'll say stop and you stop. Okay?'

'Of course.'

'Good,' she said. 'Now, my darling ... it's time for me to get naked.'

I lay on the bed and watched Denisha stand up and start swaying to the music. Her hips gyrated, bringing to life the muscles of her back, animating the sensuous curve of her spine. Her arms moved like snakes, fingers stretching and circling, as the woman lost herself in the pulsing rhythm of the tango. She pushed her beautiful ass in my direction and looked over a rolling shoulder to see if I was watching. I gazed at the dancing woman, utterly fascinated. Denisha smiled, turned around to the music, and placed her foot next to me on the bed. She bent forward to undo her high-heeled shoe.

This is going to sound crazy, but watching Denisha take off her shoe was the sexiest thing I've ever seen. I lay there, breathless, my gaze transfixed on that beautiful white thigh, her beautiful smooth leg, those long elegant fingers undoing the tiny buckle on that elegant foot. I was awestruck, mesmerised. 'How the fuck is she doing this?' I thought. How is she making something so simple, so utterly erotic? There was no suggestive stroking or sighing. Yet, aside from the occasional downward glance, Denisha kept her eyes on me the whole time, a crooked smile on that great big mouth of hers. Something about that look was fiercely arousing and, by the time she removed the second shoe, my cock was rock hard and aching to fuck her.

Denisha stood by the bed and looked down at me. She blinked curiously and slid her hand in her panties. She brought it back out, looked at it, then held her hand up to show me -- the middle finger glistened.

'You see?' she said.

I couldn't take my eyes off that finger. Denisha noted my attention and moved her hand slowly towards me, climbing onto the bed to get closer. She held that shiny finger a foot from my face and raised her eyebrows to say: You want? I swallowed, nodded and opened my mouth, waiting to feel her finger on my tongue.

Instead, she wiped it on my nostrils and upper lip. The sudden smell of cunt hit my brain, and I thought 'You dirty slut!' I let out a gasp of laughing surprise.

Denisha picked up a condom, tore it from its wrapper, and rolled it onto my erect cock with an efficiency I found incredible. That done, she stepped off the bed, pulled her panties down her legs in one movement, then climbed back on and straddled me. Looking me in the eye, she took one of my hands, checked my fingernails, then pressed it between her open thighs. My fingers began their exploration, finding a firm pubic bone and her fleshy labia. The opening was a line of moisture which my fingers teased open, sliding through into a warm, slippery mess.

I looked at Denisha. Her eyes were upon me, demanding I watch as she removed her brassiere -- the final garment between her and total nakedness. I watched, spellbound, my fingers ever more slippery, her crude cunty smell still in my nostrils. Denisha reached both hands behind her back, unhooked something, and suddenly I was looking at a glorious pair of breasts, round and firm, the nipples dark and well defined. I sighed in wonder at their sheer beauty, barely noticing Denisha toss the brassiere aside. She removed my hand, lifted herself above my hips and raised my cock with her hand. I watched entranced as she teased the head of my cock into her opening, then slowly she sank down, engulfing me, devouring me, taking me inside her with no hope of escape. She circled her hips to cement her position, then lay forwards on top of me, her breasts pressing against my chest, her face an inch away from mine.

'Remember,' she said. 'Don't be shy.'

She grabbed my head with both hands, pressed her cheek against mine, and her hips began to move. Denisha fucked me to a tango, as I gasped and grabbed and grappled her. My hands slid over her back, her spine, her buttocks, as her cunt slid up and down my cock. On its third journey down, I held fast to her rib cage, mere seconds away from coming. Then her cunt made a sudden wet noise. Before I could react, Denisha drove her tongue into my ear, and mere seconds hit zero in an instant.

The orgasm came so fast, it took my body by surprise. Semen ripped through my cock and I roared in pain, clutching Denisha's body to me as my hips jerked and shuddered. I groaned as the spasms kept coming, my shaft fighting the cunt that was pressed tight around it. Denisha's hips pressed down over my cock, her fists pulled my hair at the roots, and her breath was hot in my ear as she hissed, 'Yes ... yes...' over and over.

My God, I loved this woman.

After what seemed an age, the contractions diminished. My breathing slowed and my system began to recover. Even so, I didn't want to let this woman go. I held her tight, my cock still hard inside her, breathing in the smell of her perfume and sweat. She was the most wonderful thing in the world. And Denisha -- the lovely, lovely Denisha -- seemed to know this, seemed to sense this, and her body seemed to say that she would stay for as long as I needed her to stay. After so many women telling me to get out, I felt a wave of intense gratitude towards this lady. I moved my head slightly to speak softly in her ear.

'Thank you,' I said. 'Thank you for letting me do this.'

'Oh, my darling,' said Denisha, stroking my hair. 'This is what you pay me for.'

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

But all good things must come to an end, and the time came for me to leave this lovely woman's body. Denisha left the room to use the bathroom and to fetch us some bottled water, while I cleaned myself up. When she got back, she sat in the middle of the bed, leaning her arm on one knee, while I sat with my back to the bedstead, legs stretched out comfortably in front of me. We could have been two nudists sitting under a tree in the park, drinking water and chatting.

Well ... not so much chatting as Denisha talking and me listening. In the past, she had worked behind the windows in Amsterdam's red light district and she was telling me about an incident involving a British couple illegally filming her with a video camera. Denisha was a committed storyteller, waving her hands and doing voices, and I laughed several times. But I was also struck by the contrast between her relative silence during the sex and her mile-a-minute way of talking now. Despite being in possession of a fabulous female body, it was as though Denisha had switched off the sex button, and I felt hardly any stirrings even when her breasts moved up and down with her gestures.

'So, there I am,' said Denisha, 'standing in the street in my fucking underwear with a video camera in my hand. I'm trying to figure out how to wipe the film they took of me, and this woman is screaming at her husband to get the camera back. Well, he doesn't want to do that, of course -- big guy grappling with half-naked woman in a public street full of tourists. He knew it wouldn't look good. So his wife says she's gonna get the police and I say to the guy, "Hey, while she's gone, do you want a free blowjob?" Well, his eyes light up before he can stop himself and his wife goes absolutely ballistic! Screams things at him that you wouldn't believe! So, the poor bastard walks off and she chases after him, trying to whack him over the head with her bag!'

'And the video camera?' I asked.

'They left it behind,' said Denisha. 'I took it to work for the next couple of nights, just in case they came back for it, but they never did. So that's how I got myself a video camera!'

She raised her water bottle in a toast, tossed back her blond head and started glugging in a very unladylike manner. I smiled and shook my head. This girl was quite a character.

'By the way,' said Denisha, wiping her mouth. 'Lydia says hi.'

I gave a start.

'Really?' I said.

'No, of course not.' Denisha grinned. 'But she remembered you!'

'Oh.'

I looked down at my legs. Denisha looked puzzled.

'You should be flattered!' she said.

'Well...' I hesitated. 'Things with her didn't go so well.'

'You didn't manage to come?'

'Oh, I did. But I was quite aggressive about it.'

'Well, fucking

is

aggressive.'

'Yes, but—'

'Listen, darling,' said Denisha. 'If you had done anything to hurt Lydia or piss her off, she wouldn't have come in to shake your hand.'

'But how would she know it was me until she came in?'

Denisha rolled her eyes.

'Honey, we have security cameras,' she said. 'And there's a huge monitor in the lounge where we wait for clients. So as soon as the doorbell rings, we can look up from our phones or whatever, and check out the guy standing at the door. And if a girl doesn't like the look of a guy, she stays in the lounge. Simple.'

'What if none of the girls like the look of a guy?'

'Then the hostess goes down and says: "I'm sorry, sir, but I'm afraid all the girls are busy with clients." '

'Does that ever happen?'

'Of course!' Denisha was gesturing with her water bottle. 'There was this one Saturday when there were seven of us waiting in the lounge. It was a sunny day, so business was slow and none of us were in the mood to be picky. I mean, if we had to be stuck inside, at least we wanted to earn some money, right? Well, the doorbell rings and we all look at the monitor to see this guy at the front door. Not bad-looking, although he was a bit scruffy. But then...'

Denisha shook her head and composed herself. 'But then, he sneezes into his hand ... and starts licking his fingers.'

'No!' I cried.

'Yes!'

'That's

disgusting!'

'I

know!

Every single girl screamed at the same moment. It was incredible! And the guy on camera was completely oblivious, just licking his hand like he was finishing off some Kentucky Fried Chicken or something. It was like watching a horror movie! Anyway, the hostess showed him in, then came to fetch us, and every last one of us said no. She had to go downstairs and tell him to come back later!'

'Did he come back later?'

'Yes!' said Denisha. 'And he got refused all over again, the poor bastard. That was not an image anyone could forget!'

Denisha stretched her arms over her head. Her breasts rose with them and I found myself staring. That was not an image I would forget either. My cock, up to now lying on my thigh like a snake sleeping on a rock, began to move. I saw Denisha's smile widen into a grin. She glanced over at the clock.

'We still have nearly fifteen minutes,' she said. 'Any requests?'

I laughed and looked down at my ever-growing cock. Denisha approached me on her hands and knees like a cat and knelt before me. She too regarded my cock with interest.

'You know, for a man who says he has trouble coming, you have a pretty responsive penis,' she said.

'Thank you,' I said. 'But it could also be that you're a very sexy woman.'

'I wasn't born sexy. I had to learn it, just like everything else.'

'Oh, come on!' I said. 'You have a fantastic body.'

'I should bloody hope so!' said Denisha. 'I work hard enough to keep it in shape! But even so, I know plenty of so-called sexy girls who are still no good at sex.'

I laughed and shook my head. Denisha looked annoyed.

'Oh, come on!' she said, copying my previous tone. 'Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about! You're a regular here. How many times have you had a girl lie on her back, open her legs, and expect the magic to just

happen?'

'Well, okay,' I said. 'But it's a difficult job.'

'No, it's not! Being a lawyer,

that's

a difficult job! This is easy by comparison and you don't have to go to law school first! And even if there are things which are difficult about this job, you fucking

learn,

don't you?'

'I suppose.'

'There's no supposing! Bringing a man to orgasm is a learnable skill. There are things which work and things which don't, and it's not all that hard to figure it out!'

'Yes, but don't different men have different ... preferences?'

'Yeah, but so what? Generally speaking, you ask a man what he likes and he tells you. That's hardly rocket science, is it? And even if he doesn't know what he wants, it's no more difficult than a salesman trying to figure out how to get someone to buy something. It's the same principle!'

'Okay, I do see your point.'

But even as I said this, I heard the lack of conviction in my voice. It wasn't that I disagreed with Denisha; it was more that I felt uncomfortable with the idea that sex workers should learn skills to please their clients. According to the feminists, it was bad enough for a man to pay for sex in the first place, let alone expect the woman to be good at it. But Denisha clearly thought otherwise and she took my scepticism as a challenge.

'I'll give you an example,' she said. 'There's a girl who works here who has everything going for her. She's beautiful, she's super-smart, and she is a genuinely lovely person. She should have clients booking her left, right and centre. But she doesn't because she's not actually very good at sex! And we're not talking about a dumb blonde like me -- this girl has a university degree! She's a qualified psychologist, for fuck's sake! Yet she can't get her head around the idea that being a good lover is something you have to learn! She says that "Being Yourself" is enough! I mean, do

you

believe that self-help crap?'

'It depends,' I said, my mouth dry.

'Depends on what?'

'On what kind of self-help we're talking about?'