The gods smile on the prostitutes

There’s a point at which I’m getting off, I said. I haven’t been there yet. So, I counted, concentrated on the money I still needed while I drank my champagne and dragged on a cigar. I spoiled myself, but I never really got the taste. The women who let themselves be begged for money were too stiff in their thinking of fun.
I loved the cheap booze and simple women. When it came to procreation here, in the circle I lived in, the children were thrown into the next dumpster and the bottles were handed over to get a few cents back, all on a Tuesday. It was much more real than the bubbly foam, much more likable.
“What brings you here?”
As if I had just stood naked on the main square and let myself be tarred with chicken feathers. She looked at me like I was crazy just trying to talk to her.
“I know corny. But. It’s tried and tested, and with some women, it’s hard to say anything funny or clever on command”
I had her attention. Her left hand embraced the edge of the bar. She held on tight.
“I’ve noticed that it’s especially the case with the beautiful. Especially if you don’t want to miss the chance to get to know them”
She didn’t smile like I expected, but sometimes I was too slimy.
“I’m Nathaniel, obviously a real charmer, but you can call me Nat”. She turned away.
I plucked my mouth, dropped my head, smiled at the floor and went back to the bar. I ordered a drink and stopped paying her attention. That even worked for some women. I let go of her and got into a conversation with a Romanian. I had ordered him a tequila after I had spilled my beer on his sleeve and together we drank as I sat down with him on the stool at the bar next to him. The words we exchanged turned into more tequila. We took turns inviting each other, alternating between drinking and speaking a few words. The more we drank, the more fun we became.
Soon someone else joined us. Robert, a man with a ring on his finger, late ’40s. He bought himself into the round with more glasses and told us how his life is out to kill him. That his children didn’t love him, that the wife only let her boyfriend have a go and that the laughter with us was the most beautiful thing that happened to him for a while. I thought I’d do him some good. I opened my contact list on the phone and called my hooker connections.
They should never blow me, I was just a man of decency and in possession of far too many hair bands, who wanted to make life easier for the young women. Though the benefit of dismantling the dams that some men, rarely women, had built for their lust could not be denied. You don’t touch each other enough anymore, especially when they’ve plead pledged allegiance. And among the single people, the call of wickedness was now more feared than the easily avoidable diseases that can be contracted in the groin area. There piled up a lot of jams in some of them, and even a hand could help not to explode the kettle. I’d be for the health insurance to pay for the fuck. Less frustration in the marriage bed leads to fewer suicides because if you pay the service it does not matter how long you make and what shameful fetishes you have adopted. It’s only about yourself.
Robert here was a man with a shameful grin and a Hoover dam of pent-up lust, as he asserted. I promised him I’d pay for his health insurance. He kept smiling all the time when I introduced him to the lady who would take care of him later.
“Renja is a great girl” I had raved to him and he thanked me with all his heart when he finally saw her in front of him. I had met her near Felixstraße years ago. The light girls stood two crossroads further Ätz’s apartment, outside, smoking, sharing war stories and mocking the vows of the love of their suitors. I liked those women who had a lot to do with themselves for little money. I couldn’t help to see myself in them.
In my second year in town, the professionals gave me fire once and I cracked jokes for them. We met under good conditions. They laughed – a beautiful laugh, one born of despair. Vera from Somalia or Renja from Romania had the most beautiful laugh. Vera laughed with her eyes, while Renja laughed with her whole body. I never could decide whose laughter was more beautiful. When I passed by and had time to join them, I lit their cigarettes. Laughter and smoke were all I wanted from them.
“Nat honey, will you take me home?” Renja asked and made her fingers dance on my forearm.
“No, I don’t sleep with whores”
“The way you’re acting, I think only whores would sleep with you”
“Renji, you know you’re a feast for the eyes, but I’m in love and men in love don’t give a damn about sex”
“Sweetie, don’t you think your special adored is being brushed somewhere by a strapping fellow?”
Robert, our fallen asleep slipper hero, drove away with Renja and I was alone with the Romanian again. Eugene, that was his name, as he told me when we said goodbye, called me a generous man and I took off my hat, paid both our bills and disappeared home alone with a taxi. The next day I had a message from Renja on my cell phone “Don’t ever bring me weirdos like that again”

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– First Chapter: The Romans Would Have Eaten Fries



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