Back in the early 1990's I had a rough few months. I was on the down from the breakup of an eight plus year relationship that had ended politely enough in the circumstances. But I was still working to deal with a big hole in my life on the now non-existent home front. Work had been extremely demanding. Not the reason for the breakup - and actually a bit of a blessing in the circumstances. Kept me busy.
The firm was struggling to keep up with a number of complex build projects that we were trying to complete. It was not helped by the number of sub-contractors on the jobs plus the fact that some subs were working on more than one of our projects. As the Quality Control manager I was having a nightmarish time traveling all over, demanding reworks when stuff was not to spec and making myself thoroughly unpopular with our firm's project managers and the subs who we hired. It was like a constantly moving chess board where every night you had to revisit it and see what had fallen over or been lost during the day and then redeploying what we had left to get the jobs done. My inspection tours over Europe were a constant series of cancelled and rebooked flights as things changed. I was frazzled.
And for the next three days I was in Hamburg in Germany. At a conference that the firm had to have a face at to ensure people didn't forget we were in the business. Honestly it was a complete downer from the point of view of doing my day job. On the other hand, it meant I could take it a little easier and try and relax and recharge slightly in the decent hotel where the conference was being held. In those days rudimentary email and incredibly expensive cell phone calls kept things going in an emergency. The hotel fax machine (remember those?) did a number for me. My box was full of rolls of paper. I could deal with most by scribbling some notes on them and faxing them back, keeping my copy for reference.
Still, it was slightly relaxing. The room was decent and comfortable. Large king bed. Bath with water jets. A well stocked mini-bar. The TV had English language channels and others that if I paid a little more - provided other entertainment. They spoke a universal language where grunts and moans stood in for meaningful dialog.
My main job was to attend a couple of sessions and make sure I asked some questions to get our business name on the record. That and trawling the booths on the show floor, leaving my card on multiple stands and checking that nothing new had appeared in our line of business that I should be aware of. A big plus was no client meetings and no need to entertain anyone in the evenings. After checking the faxes - the evenings were mine.
I decided it would be fun to go check out the famous red light district of the Reeperbahn. Not really with any intent to partake. More to have a look and see what all the fuss was about. And it might be fun to find the Kaiserkeller where four lads from Liverpool got their start in the early 1960's. While I was sure it would be completely commercialised at this point - at least I could say "I've been there".
In preparation for the evening I "safed" myself. I divested myself of all items that would be a pest to replace if I got robbed. I ended up with just a roll of cash in my pocket and my hotel room key. All my ID and the like I left in my hotel room safe. Worst case I would have to get back to the hotel and ask for a new room key. I took a cab into the St. Paul's district and on the advice of my cab driver - he dropped me at one end of the street so I could walk the length of it taking in the atmosphere.
The Reeperbahn proved to be bright and gaudy and busy. Lot of stores selling tourist tat. A big emphasis on the "leather" look. Whether it for bondage or because people just liked leather waistcoats, jackets and boots. Much of it was overpriced - though the quality of some was pretty good. Most was pretty poor stuff.
There were LOTS of night clubs and bars. From what I could tell there was a distinction between those selling drink and food and atmosphere. And those that were strip clubs selling overpriced drinks and naked ladies. Or boys - if that was your thing. The Germans are so pragmatic about sex! Me - I was hungry for dinner.
I picked out a bar. My German was extremely rudimentary. Enough to be polite, ask where the bathroom was and order some food. And in a tourist location like the Reeperbahn - you were quickly "placed" and the reply would be in pretty good - if not impeccable English. Still, I liked to try and after the German had probably had a good laugh over my accent and limited vocabulary - there was usually a little respect for at least trying. I kept it simple and ordered a pig knuckle with fries and beer. German working man fare. Safe pub/bar food and it filled you up and set you up for the evening. I ate it pretty quickly and ordered another beer to help get a buzz on. Two beers wasn't really doing it and so as I got ready to leave and go and explore the streets a little more, I ordered and downed a Jägermeister to increase my blood alcohol a little before heading out.
Next stop was at one of the bars offering entertainment. There wasn't a cover - just expensive overpriced drinks. Being a single male - I was placed on a seat near the stage where numerous girls would twirl and quickly divest themselves of their skimpy clothes and then gyrate and display in front of you. The girls were not what you might call "pretty". They were hard bodied working girls who looked decent enough. Putting on a show in return for money. They rolled naked right in front of you, thrusting breasts forward rolling onto their asses and splaying their legs wide right in front of you leaving nothing to the imagination about the folds and shape of their shaved pussies. Looking you in the eye and mechanically smiling. After a couple of acts I cottoned on. Watching other guys - if they nodded and smiled at the girl - after her routine - she would come over and sit on your knee and lean into you. Pussies pressed onto your thigh, breasts brushing your chest as she asked you to buy them a drink. Within reason touching breasts and thighs seemed to be OK. Pushing a hand between the girls' legs was off limits. And you did have to buy them a drink first. They always asked for champagne. A bottle was an outrageous sum. Tiny "piccolo" bottles seemed to be the norm for which you got to feel the girl up a little - no doubt while she was figuring her cut from the bar and continuing to smile at you.
With another couple of beers in me - I had a good buzz on and figured perhaps I would at least get me a feel. I hadn't had any action since my breakup. It was a night off to relax after all. So as one statuesque blond with nice medium tits splayed her pussy at me during the next routine - I smiled and nodded at her. In due course the routine finished and a girl came and sat on my knee. But not my blond. A smaller, dark haired girl. Good looking enough in her way - but not the blond of my ambitions. I looked around and saw my blond getting ready to go on again. I caught her eye and gave her a quizzical look. She came right over and leaned into me from behind - her firm naked breasts pressing into my shoulder.
"New girl - she needs some practice. Be nice and buy her a drink - she will be very nice to you". All in English. Talk about spotting the tourist!
I bought her a "piccolo" and she let me feel her soft breasts and I also ran my hands over her tight ass hanging off the side of my thigh. I twitched slightly but she wasn't really what I had in mind. It also turned out that she had absolutely no English and my limited German didn't stretch to talking about sex. We fumbled around a little more and she gave me a pleading look. I bought her another drink, thanked her and decided to move on.
Out in the street again - the evening was hotting up. Crowds were surging up and down. Lots of couples were holding hands and taking in the sights. It wasn't all just single guys. Seemed like a night out on the Reeperbahn was fair game for all. Those ever-pragmatic Germans. I walked down the street till the action petered out, crossed over and worked my way back up the other side. I was slightly discouraged by the previous experience and didn't try another one of the entertainment bars again. I did pop into one bar and have another beer and a Jägermeister - just to keep the buzz on. But that was about it.
As I neared the top of the street again, I came to a large building where girls and some guys and some T-girls were ranged along the entire frontage and down either side street. It didn't take long to figure out that all these folks were for hire. It was like walking along the front of a department store checking the goods in the window. In the main the workers just posed and smiled. One or two said "Hello" or "Nice time?" But really the initiative was in my hands completely. As I walked along I looked ahead to the next block on the street. It was the main police station for the St Paul's area. Talk about making sure you were working in a "protected" area.
I decided to circle the first building and just check out the many folks on display, their bodies and costumes and just enjoy the view before heading back to the hotel. Along the front, down the side street. It seemed like any fantasy might be catered for. Leather was popular, but pretty, butch, those hip high bikini bottoms from the 1980's, mini skirt, midi-skirt, maxi-skirt, business attire with deep "V'd" blouses, sheer dresses, heels, boots, sandals, MILF look, even GILF look. All was there to be sampled if you were interested. It was October and not the warmest of nights. A lot of hard nipples were poking through costumes and many of the girls were wearing parka type jackets with fur lined hoods to stay warm. As you approached, they would open the front to let you look see, as you passed they would close them again to stay warm.
At the end of the side street I got to the back corner of the building. I could either walk across the back of the building and pick up the side street on the other side, which would be efficient in walking terms but probably disastrous in terms of getting robbed. Alternatively, I could retrace my steps and then work the other side of the building from the brightly lit front. Though quite buzzed I had the sense to decide that retracing my steps would be a good idea.
As I turned I glanced down the street at the back of the building and was intrigued to notice that part way down the street it was blocked off with a wooden fence. There was a gate and a bouncer on the gate. But I decided to walk around the bright lit side across the front and then back down the other side street. Again the multitude of possible kinks and fetishes and plain sex were on full display. It was interesting enough and I was mildly aroused by it. Semi-hard and just enjoying the feeling without rising ridiculously to the occasion. I got to the end of the second side street and looked around the corner at the back of the building. Another wooden fence, gate and bouncer. Clearly something interesting was going on at the back of the building. I had just enough of a buzz on to throw a little caution to the wind and go find out what.
I approached the bouncer at the gate. His first question caught me by surprise:
