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St. Pauli Girl

By: bobfr



Chapter 1

The American couple was, understandably, exhausted and anxious as they claimed their checked- baggage. This was their first trip to Europe. The eight-hour flight from Atlanta to Hamburg-- and the seven time zone changes-- had taken a toll on them.

After clearing customs, they took turns watching the luggage as each visited the restroom to freshen up before they departed the airport for their hotel. Being a gentleman, Kevin insisted that his wife, Marcy, go first. Even though she was exhausted, she liked what she saw as she looked in the mirror and applied a fresh coat of lipstick. Not too bad, she thought, for a tired 35- year-old mother of two. She and Kevin had been married for fifteen years, he was just a few months older than she was. 

"Your turn," she said as she assumed responsibility for the pile of bags he had been guarding. She wished they had paid more attention to the Fodor Guide's suggestion to pack light and especially that Kev hadn't brought the extra bag. After all, they had agreed to each bring only one carry-on and one large roller bag. Two days before they departed, Kevin insisted that he couldn't get everything into the two bags and so he bought an extra one. Men, she thought, I'll never understand them. 

As he walked toward the men's room, she had a few minutes to think about this adventure. Every vacation since they were married involved either camping, visiting relatives or touring nearby national parks and, always, with the kids. They had planned this trip for more than a year--well, actually, Kevin had planned every detail-- and it was to be their dream vacation. Several days in Hamburg and then by Eurail to Switzerland, Austria and northern Italy before they returned home in ten days.  

In the men's room, Kevin's thoughts weren't on scenery, museums, castles and cathedrals. They were on Marcy. God, she still made him hot. It wasn't by accident that their first European vacation began in Hamburg rather than London, Paris or Rome. He had read on the Internet that it was the hottest city in Europe and a far cry from their structured life in a suburb of Atlanta. Kevin hoped that before they returned home Marcy would break out of her shell and become the hot sexy woman he alone knew she was capable of being. If things worked out the way he hoped they would, this would be a very different vacation than what Marcy expected. He would do his part if only the German City would do its part. 

A half hour later they had checked into the hotel that would be their home for the next five days. The Kempinski Hotel Atlantic was everything, and more, that he hoped it would be. It was located across the street from a beautiful park that surrounded Lake Alster. Their room on the third floor overlooked the lush park and dark blue lake. The deluxe room wasn't cheap but Kevin didn't think of the expense as splurging but as investing. 

They intended to just lay down, rest for a few minutes and then go exploring. However, they had underestimated the impact of jet-lag. When they awakened, it was 4:00 in the afternoon. Their short nap had lasted nearly six hours.

After quick showers, they talked about dressing for their initial exploration of the city. Marcy pulled a pair of jeans, a T shirt, sensible white bra and underwear, white sneakers and athletic socks out of her bags. Seeing this Kevin said, "honey, how about a dress and high heels, we may want to go out for dinner before we get back. Also, we're not home and I understand that this is a very sophisticated city."

"Gee Kevin, I only brought a skirt and blouse, everything else is jeans, slacks, T-shirts, sweat pants and comfortable flat shoes. My wardrobe is much more casual than what you seem to have in mind. Sorry, but I thought you knew what I had packed." Then, with real concern she asked, "Do you think they'll think I'm a hick?" Before he could answer she began to take things out of her bags and sorted them into the top two dresser drawers.

Kevin smiled and said, "but you do have dresses and heels."

"No I don't, I told you I packed for lots of walking and sightseeing, just like the guide books recommended."

Kevin took her into his arms gave her a big hug then grabbed the extra bag, tossed it on the bed and said, "check this out."

Marcy unzipped the extra bag expecting to find men's clothes. What she pulled out of the bag surprised her in several ways. First, there were four dresses, dresses that she wouldn't think of buying for herself or ever wearing. Second, as she held up a little black nothing of a cocktail dress she saw that the size was exactly right, size six, as were the other three. Third, she found several pairs of high heels. Two pairs of pumps, one black patent leather the other pair white, each with what must have been four or five inch heels. The other shoes were strappy little sandals with heels that were three to five inches. Fourth, the shoes were exactly her size, six- and-a-half AA. Fifth, in the bottom of the bag were: two evening bags that would coordinate with the dresses and shoes, several pairs of sheer stockings in beige, black and white and three garter belts, one black, one white and one beige. There were also three matching thongs. She had never worn a garter-belt, or a thong, in her life even though Kevin had begged her to many times. Lastly, carefully rolled up was a tailored dress jacket that must have cost a small fortune. She realized that it could be worn with any of the dresses because the beautiful stripped fabric was black, white and gold. 

"Aren't we full of surprises?" She asked.

Kevin had been watching her intently and could not read if she was pleased or upset. "I knew you wouldn't buy yourself anything nice for the trip because you're so practical. I thought it would be fun to surprise you so, for the past month, I shopped on my lunch hour and smuggled this stuff into the house."

That was so sweet, she thought, so she just didn't have the nerve to tell him how she really felt about most of his purchases. No self-respecting woman would be caught dead in the clothes he had bought. They looked like hooker clothes. "Well, the sizes seem about right and I really love the jacket, but, I don't see how I could wear those dresses in public. I mean look." She held a short summer dress up in front of her that buttoned down the front and looked as if it had been spun from gold. "Really, don't you think it's too short?" She didn't wait for him to answer and added, "also, it doesn't have a back Kevin."

Kevin wasn't surprised. This was exactly what he expected. Over the years he had wanted her to dress sexy but hadn't been successful. He knew that she had a fabulous body but the only other men who knew that were her doctors and the few lucky enough to see her in a swimming suit at the beach. Even at the beach she insisted on a one-piece that mashed her breasts and completely covered her rear. Nonetheless, he said, "honey you'll look fabulous in those dresses. And, when you wear the jacket I don't see why you wouldn't be very comfortable in public. Try this one on." He handed her the gold dress that she had held up moments before. 

"It can't hurt to try it on here in our room," she said. Then she reached for the underwear and bra that she had placed on the bed. 

Kevin grabbed her hand, looked into her big brown eyes, and said, "honey you can't wear a bra with that dress and, with your boobs, you don't need one. Also, were 4,000 miles from home so skip the panties, skip them for me, okay?"

"I can't go out in public without underwear. What are you thinking?"

"Who in the world is going to know that you're not wearing underwear but you and me? I don't think the Wal Mart underpants go with the dress, shoes and jacket, do you?"

Marcy didn't want to argue or correct him because her panties came from Target not Wal Mart. She slipped the dress over her head and stepped into a pair of very high heel gold sandals that seemed to match the dress. Her gorgeous full-length image was reflected on a full-length mirror attached to the bathroom door. What she saw caught her breath. She really did look beautiful. The dress fit perfectly and the shoes weren't nearly as uncomfortable as she thought they would be. She slipped on the gorgeous jacket which was as long as the dress. Both fell to mid-thigh. 

"My God Marce you look beautiful."

"Think so?" She asked. She twirled around looked over her shoulder and said, "maybe you're right. With this jacket there's just a mile of leg. Okay, let's go discover Hamburg.

Chapter 2

Kevin had already discovered Hamburg. For months he had surfed the Internet planning the trip. When it was decided that the trip would begin in the northern German city, and more than half of their time in Europe would be spent there, his searches became more focused. He hadn't shared his plans with Marcy but phase one was complete as she stood before him in only the dress, covered by her elegant jacket, her new shoes and absolutely nothing else. It didn't take long for Kevin to slip into a pair of grey slacks, loafers, a black silk shirt and a blue blazer. 

They grabbed a cab and Kevin directed the driver to take them to the zentrum, the center city. Within two hours they had seen the Dom, the large Ratsplatz, or plaza and walked hand-in-hand along a canal. It all seemed spontaneous to Marcy who was having a wonderful time and was no longer conscious of her lack of undergarments or the length of her dress.

Even though it was after 9 o'clock, it was still light out because it was June and they were so far north. He had made reservations for dinner at a restaurant that was very near the area he hoped they would visit later. A moment of truth came when the Maitre D asked Marcy, "May I take Madame's jacket."

Kevin was happily surprised as she cooperated and slipped out of it. There she stood. Now everyone knew she wasn't wearing a bra and the way the dress fit they also knew that the most that could be under her frock was a thong, if that. Kevin saw her blush as they followed the Maitre D' to the corner table.

Marcy felt wicked as her long legs flashed through the slit in her dress. She could feel that her nipples were getting hard. Like every woman, she knew when men were looking at her and if they liked what they saw. Plenty of the male diners in the restaurant saw her and, she sensed, they liked what they saw.

The meal was wonderful. Marcy couldn't remember when she had more fun. No worries about the children. A sense of freedom that she had never felt before. They were laughing, holding hands and enjoying each other's company like they hadn't since they were dating. At home they seldom drank but here, over the last two hours, they had finished a bottle of wonderful Bordeaux wine.

"Are you tired?" Kevin asked as he helped her slip on the jacket.

"Oh no. What time is it here?" She asked.

"About eleven."

"Then it's only, let's see, it's only four in the afternoon for us. And, we had that long nap. Also honey, I don't want this wonderful night to ever end."

Kevin knew exactly where to walk. Within a few blocks they entered the St. Pauli district and, specifically, the notorious Reeperbahn. The sidewalks were crowded. Marcy didn't stand out here, at least her attire didn't. Many of the women were dressed like she was. This was the sex capital of Europe. Hamburg is a port. The St. Pauli district is the area that has been satisfying the needs of horny sailors for centuries. Since the end of world war II it had become a popular tourist attraction. They Beatles made it even more famous. Few visitors to Hamburg left without paying a visit to this naughty place. 

Marcy didn't have to be told that they had entered a place unlike any that existed in Atlanta or any other place she could have ever imagined. Not only were there small gambling casinos but sex shops, video arcades, discos, topless and bottomless bars and signs that referred to live sex shows on a side street. "Kevin, do you think we should be here?" She asked as she held his arm more tightly.

"Of course, this place is famous Marcy. Look at all these people, they don't look like rapists to me."

She realized that Kevin was right, there were more couples than single men. He wanted to take his time and help her become more comfortable in this seedy area before he led her to their final destination for their first night in the German city. They walked the full-length of the several block area. They stepped into a couple of the small casinos and watched the raucous gamblers. He even persuaded her to sit at a small table in a lounge that boasted totally nude dancers and sip a drink. Kevin could tell that the place and the dancing made Marcy uncomfortable but before they left she seemed more relaxed and accepting that things were sure different here than in Georgia.

It was midnight when they left the club. The right time for their next stop. On a side street, Grosse Freiheit Street, they walked toward a neon sign that read Club Colibri. They passed barkers on the sidewalk encouraging pedestrians to come into their clubs, the Tabu, the Bambi the Safari. Each barker seemed to have a knack for guessing the language of the passersby. When they approached one he switched from French to English and said, "good evening, come see the hottest show in the world, sex acts between men and women and women and women."

Marcy pulled Kevin past the entrance of the Colibri Club and said, "honey, let's not go in there."

"Why the fuck not? This is what people do when the come to Hamburg Marce. If you haven't been to a sex show here, you haven't really seen Hamburg."

Marcy didn't resist as they walked back a few paces and entered. They were told that the next show would begin in 15 minutes and the cost was 100 euros for a couple. It better be worth it, Kevin thought as he signed a travelers check. He didn't mean worth it for his own enjoyment but rather for Marcy's transformation which was, be believed, so far so good.

After relinquishing her jacket to the cloak-room girl they were led to a small table against a wall. Within a few minutes the room began to fill up. The lights were turned down and then an MC announced the show in three languages. He invited those who didn't want to see a live sex show to please leave. Marcy had been gripping Kevin's hand since they sat down and increased the pressure when the MC extended his invitation. Kevin looked around and saw that no one had left. Then, it was on with the show.

The show lasted an hour and a half. There was humor, at least an attempt at humor, and there was sex. Lots and lots of sex. Two of the acts featured a single woman who would dance, quickly strip naked and then pleasure herself with a dildo. Two acts featured male female couples who did about everything that a couple could do. And, one act was an all female act. The performers were attractive and one couple in particular was movie star beautiful and handsome. However, it was obvious that they didn't hire the male performers just for their looks but also for the size of their genitals.

Marcy let out an audible gasp when the first male performer dropped his shorts and exposed his already erect penis. She had seen pornos but had never seen a penis as large as the one attached to the tall blonde entertainer. Kevin wasn't small and sometimes it was a challenge to completely accommodate him. She doubted the petite girl on stage could absorb every inch. However, within five minutes her doubts were dashed. Not only did Frieda take ever inch but she writhed and begged for more. The shaft, soaked with the female performer's juices plunged in and out for more than fifteen minutes before they shared simultaneous, perfectly choreographed, climaxes. Marcy wished they were sitting closer to the stage so she could see better.

Kevin paid more attention to Marcy's reaction to the performances than he did to the performers. At the beginning he saw that she had a hard time watching the show. Within a half hour she was watching as raptly as most of the audience. He watched for the tell-tale signs that only he would be aware were gauges of her arousal. Sure enough she was flushed, the nips perked up especially during the male female acts. She became fidgety, played with her hair and seemed to squirm in her seat.

When the all female act began she leaned over and whispered, "I have to pee." 

Kevin said, "go ahead honey. The restrooms are over in the corner."

"Honey, I can't walk all the way across the room dressed like this especially during the show."

"Don't be silly, when ya gotta go ya gotta go."

Marcy didn't have any choice. The last glass of champagne made the decision for her. It may have been the longest walk of her life. The room was extremely crowded and she had to navigate her way between the tables and the legs of spectators. She could swear that more than once a hand brushed against her thigh.

Even though the theater was dark, Kevin tried to watch as she made her way all the way across the large room. He thought he saw men, at more than one table, reach out to touch her. He couldn't have been more pleased. In just a few hours his wife of nearly fifteen years was doing things he had tried to get her to do at home but which were always rebuffed. As she made her way toward the ladies room he noticed in the dim light men and women gaze at her as she passed by. Not a huge step but a step nonetheless. 

When the performance was over Kevin asked, "well what did you think of that?"

"Oh, I never knew there was anything like that. What about you Kevin, what did you think about it?"

"Truthfully, I really loved it. The gals were so hot. I mean, they really seemed to love sex. I suppose they might have been acting but if they were, they sure fooled me. I really liked it." Then, he thought he would take it another step. "I've always found women like that much more interesting and attractive than goody-two-shoes."

"I'm not like those."

"I wish you were."

In the taxi it was Marcy who was the aggressor. She pulled his head down for a passionate, wet kiss. She didn't seem to care what the driver saw or thought. She placed her husband's hand on her bare thigh and encouraged its exploration by slightly parting her legs. Before they arrived at the hotel she whispered that she had actual had a climax when the handsome man began to eat the beautiful blonde.

The door to their hotel room hadn't completely closed before she had stripped the jacket and gold dress off and dropped them on the floor. For the next hour they attacked each other on the cool white sheets that covered the queen-size bed in their hotel.

Kevin had known what a hell-cat Marcy could be behind the closed door of a bedroom. But she seemed hotter than ever before. "Oh, Kev, come on honey put it in . . . I feel so empty . . . don't make me wait."

His plan seemed to be working perfectly. He didn't get pissed when other guys leered at her. Hell, he wanted them to. It was the ultimate compliment. Who didn't want their friends to think that their home, their car, their stereo was cool. Thou shalt not covet seemed to be a difficult standard to live by in the materialistic western world of the twenty-first century. And, if you wanted your friends--and those who you didn't even know -- to be envious of your house and your car how much more flattering if they wanted your wife. At least that's how Kevin's attitude on the subject had evolved during the years of his married life.

Now here on the big bed in the dark hotel room she had responded to his oral and digital administrations. She had climaxed over and over but fingers, lips and a tongue were not what she needed. "Oh honey, come on baby love me . . . make love to me, please." She begged him. She didn't realize that he had taken each step to make her hotter and hotter.


St. Pauli Girl



"Don't you mean fuck you?"

"Don't say that, make love to me."

"Did you like it when the women at the sex show got fucked?"

"Oh yes, I really did. The tall one, I thought of him as a Viking, was soooo big. And, I told you in the cab that I came when he ate her." She admitted as she stroked his cock to keep it hard and ready.

"Do you want to get fucked?"

Marcy gave up, what difference did it make what you called it. Right now the most important thing was doing it. "Alright, fuck me . . . fuck my brains out."

No matter how many different positions they tried during a session it always started and ended with Marcy on her back and her legs over his shoulders. Though it was difficult, Kevin held off coming as long as he could. After all, she must have orgasmed fifty times already and they were both exhausted. "Oh shit Marce, I'm going to come," he announced. 

"Oh, no no not yet baby. I'll stop moving, don't come," she pleaded, "I need more, I'm not finished yet." Marcy didn't know what was happening to her. She couldn't remember ever being more turned on. She was insatiable. While she had always loved sex, tonight she was ravenous and didn't want it to ever end. But it was too late as Kevin stiffened and shot deep inside her which brought her to another intense climax, her last for the night.

Before he drifted off to sleep Kevin couldn't help but reflect on her words and said to himself, I know you need more Marcy, more than any one man could provide. If you trust me I'll help you get more soon.

Chapter 3

It was nearly one in the afternoon when they finished their sumptuous room-service breakfast. While they ate they had recalled the events of their first night in Europe. Kevin was pleased that Marcy didn't have recriminations about where they went and what they saw.

"So, Mr. tour-guide man, what's on the schedule for today?" She called over her shoulder as she walked naked toward the bathroom. 

"Really sort of a free day hon." He paused for effect before he continued. "And, what I want to do you probably won't think is a very good idea."

"What . . . tell me." She shouted as she turned on the water to fill the bath tub.

"No, just forget it. It's probably not a very good idea anyway."

She walked back into the bedroom and said, "that's not fair. You can't say you have something in mind but, because you think I won't like it, we can't do it and I don't even know what it is," She turned around and stood before him with her hands on her hips. 

"I'm telling you Marcy, it was a bad idea, I shouldn't have mentioned it, just forget it, okay?"

"No, I won't forget it. Now tell me what is it you want to do this afternoon?"

Marcy would never know that he had indeed made plans for the afternoon. The e-mails of the past two weeks had confirmed an appointment for them in just two hours. Would he have to break it he wondered? Well, he would know soon.

"Okay, but remember you asked for it. Here it is, bear with me." He walked to the big upholstered chair and sat down. Marcy followed him and sat in his lap, put her arms around his neck, and waited for him to continue.

"Obviously, we're away from home. What we did last night and what you wore were real turn- ons for me, as if you couldn't tell." She softly chuckled but didn't say anything so he continued. "You looked so hot in that dress. Your boobs, legs and ass must have given every man that saw you a granite-hard erection. Anyway, you know how much I love ‘Penthouse' and ‘Playboy' well, I was thinking I would love to have some centerfold pictures taken of you."

"What! Are you crazy?" Then she thought maybe she misunderstood. "Oh, do you mean you want to take Polaroid pictures of me?"

"No Marcy, that's not what I had in mind. I meant professional photos. A series by a professional photographer."

"I couldn't do that." She saw the look of disappointed and said, "I'm sorry honey, I just couldn't."

"That doesn't surprise me, like I said I shouldn't have brought it up in the first place, forget it."

Marcy knew that he was upset. She felt somewhat guilty because she insisted that he tell her what he wanted all the time knowing that she would refuse. But it was out on the table. Her husband wanted her to pose for a photographer -- a German photographer -- in the nude. What he said was true. He loved the photographs that appeared in "Penthouse" and "Playboy." They both took great care to make certain that none of the copies were left out in the open where the kids or visitors to their home might see them. She stopped fighting with him about bringing those magazines into their home years ago.

Kevin saw that she was troubled. Let her stew he thought. He knew her, in some ways better than she knew herself, and felt certain that the subject wasn't closed.

"What else do you want to do?" She asked after a moment of dead silence.

"Nothing." Was his abrupt response.

"Come on Kevin, don't be like that. What you want seems pretty extreme to me and, of course, you caught me totally by surprise."

"Does that mean that if I had warned you of my idea yesterday we wouldn't have a problem today?"

"Stop it. I didn't say that. Don't twist my words. What I meant was I haven't had time to think about it. I mean, who wants to see nude photographs of a 35 year-old mother, a familiar body that you've seen thousands of times? Listen, I completely understand why a man wants to see those gorgeous young girls in the magazine but not someone like me."

"Marcy, you're much more attractive than any of the girls in the magazine. Your tight body is so much more sexy. It's a woman's body, not a girl's. You can't imagine how hot it would make me." There, let her deal with that thought Kevin.

"Really, you think I'm prettier than those blonde centerfolds?" She wasn't conceited but had worked very hard to keep her body in shape. There weren't many women her age that could boast a five foot seven inch frame that supported her hundred and eighteen pounds with ease. Her waist was smaller than when she got married thanks to her ab wheel and discipline. And her C cup was a size larger than when they were married.

"Hey, the blondes -- in the magazines -- hair color most likely comes out of a bottle. If you want to change your hair color go ahead but I love your brunette color." He laughed and said, "also, I think it's just better if the hair on the top matches the hair on the bottom."

"Oh you," she said playfully. "Seriously, Kevin, how can you want me to do something like that?"

"Baby, we're on vacation. Let's take a vacation from work but also from what other's expect of us. Let's take a vacation from rules. Thinking of you posing nude turns me on." She was listening to every word he said. He had her total attention. "I'm not a shrink, Marcy. I don't know why but the idea turns me on. Hell, what you were wearing last night didn't leave much to the imagination. Also, who knows, I might not be able to find a photographer on short notice. Why don't you take a long hot bath while I try to find a photographer."

"Don't make any commitment," she warned as she walked back into the bathroom.

Kevin went to his travel portfolio and took out the last e-mail from Gart that he had printed. He knew that Gart's studio was a short cab ride from the hotel. In fact, it was Gart who recommended the Kempinski Atlantic Hotel and the restaurant they dined at last night. He called the number and waited. He interrupted Gart's greeting in German, "Gart, it's Kevin from the states."

"Welcome to Hamburg." Gart's English was perfect but with a heavy accent.

"Well, we're here. Marcy's taking a bath."

"Is she cool with this?" Gart wondered. Kevin had explained in detail what he wanted and that Marcy may object.

"I think she's getting comfortable with the idea. I'll call you if we can't be there, for whatever reason, by three o'clock. I think the odds of her doing it are better than fifty-fifty right now. Hope to see you soon."

"Ciao." Was the German photographer's parting.

He walked into the bathroom, looked down at her naked body soaking in the steaming water and said, "Marcy, guess what, I found a photographer who speaks English and can fit us in at three o'clock."

Silence. "So soon? Kevin, are you really sure about this? What if someone saw the photographs? I'd just die. And, how would you feel about another man seeing me naked?"

"I'll make sure that the photos are never seen. They would be only for me. As for the photographer seeing you naked, I'm getting a hard-on just thinking about it."

"Pervert," she said. "What do you want me to wear?"

Everything was going according to plan, he thought. "I'll lay some things out on the bed for you." 

It was nearly a quarter to three when she spun around and asked, "how do I look?"

Kevin's imagination hadn't been as good as reality. She had looked terrific in his dreams but even better in the flesh, well the covered flesh. The black dress -- that was more suitable for evening than daytime-- stopped at mid-thigh but was slit on the right thigh. Kevin could see the top of the black stocking that peaked through the slit and just an inch of flesh above the stocking top. On her feet were the black patent pumps--because Kevin hated women to wear sandals with stockings or pantyhose . Also under the dress the black thong but no bra.

"You look like a wet dream."

"Kevin, what a thing to say to your wife." Secretly, she wasn't insulted but flattered.

"Well, it's true."

Not a word was said during the short cab ride. Kevin could tell how nervous she was. Gart's studio was on the second floor of a commercial building. As he climbed the stairs behind her he couldn't help but watch her ass move with each step she took. If things went according to plan it wouldn't be too much longer before the only man other than him would see her bare ass.

Gart greeted them at the top of the landing. He was about fifty, thick grey hair about Kevin's height, six feet, but he must have weighed 250 pounds seventy pounds heavier than Kevin. "Welcome my American friends. Please sit down, sit down be comfortable."

They sat down on a black leather sofa. Gart went to a table and returned carrying a large black leather book. "Let me show you some of my work," he said proudly.

The book he selected was primarily of nudes. They were more artistic than pornographic. The models were all very beautiful and sexy. Marcy turned the pages. It took several minutes before she finished. When she finished Gart said, "I'm so sorry. I'm a terrible host can I get you something to drink?" Neither of them cared for a refreshment. Then Gart said, "shall we get started?"

Marcy softly said, "okay, I guess."

She stood and followed Gart to a set of double doors that were closed. When he opened one Kevin saw a large studio that in New York would have been called a loft. In one corner was a paper roll surrounded by lights. Gart took Kevin aside and said, "I think it would be better if you waited out in the reception area. I promise we will get better results without an audience."

"I don't want to wait out there for two hours." Kevin said.

"I don't blame you. I'm going to take both digital and Polaroids of each set-up. Tell you what, I'll slip the Polaroids under the door after each shot. That way you'll share what's happening with just a few minute delay. We'll take a break after an hour or so. What do you say?"

"If you think it will go better with me out here, that's fine. Do you want to settle the charges now or after the session?"

Gart laughed and said, "after the session. You'll be so pleased you'll give me a big tip." Gart actually took Kevin's arm, walked him back to the reception room and closed the door.

Marcy hadn't expected Kevin to wait while the photos were taken but she actually felt some relief. This seemed like going to the doctor, just her and the professional, no audience.

"Why don't you stand over there on the paper roll?" It really wasn't a question but a direction. He turned on lights and made certain meter readings. Then he was ready. "Okay Marcy turn your left hip towards me. That's great. Put your hand on your hip. Moisten you lips. You're doing just fine. Okay Marcy, you're the queen of the world, throw your head back in a haughty way and give me a million dollar smile." Click, click and the lights flashed.

Kevin could hear the faint sounds of voices, usually Gart's, but he couldn't make out what was being said. After ten minutes he heard a tap on the door. Sure enough a photo had been slipped under the door. This 4 X 5 photo, if enlarged, could have been on the cover of Vogue magazine or placed on their mantel in a frame. Marcy looked like a professional model. The full-length photo showed her with her hand on her hip, her legs two or three feet apart and her head thrown back in a jaunty pose.

The next photo that was slipped under the door five minutes later couldn't have been placed on their mantel next to family portraits. In this photo she had raised the hem of her dress above her stocking tops, her brown eyes seemed to be smoldering.

The pattern continued for the next hour. The dress off her shoulders. From the rear, from the side. Buttons undone from the top and the bottom, finally all the buttons undone but she held the garment to her body with her hands covering her breasts. Gart opened the door and said, "Let's take a break."

Kevin saw that Marcy wasn't in the studio. He assumed she was in the john. "These are great shots Gart but when do we get to the good stuff?"

"She's ready, no since rushing it. She's doing great."

In the bathroom, Marcy felt flushed. The posing hadn't been so bad. Gart must have taken more than two dozen shots. She knew what would come after the break and had mixed feelings about it. Her dress had been completely undone when Gart called the break and now was held together by the two buttons at her waist. Would she remove it when he asked? She wasn't wearing a bra. Would she bare her breasts to his eyes and the camera lens? Would she slip off the tiny thong that barely covered her trimmed pubic hair? Would she spread her legs, her lips? Marcy, you are becoming a slut she thought.

When she joined Kevin and Gart she saw that Gart had opened a bottle of champagne and had poured her a flute. The tiny bubbles tickled her cute nose. 

"Marcy, you should become a professional model. You and the camera love each other. You better watch out Kevin, the camera is tough competition," Gart said. When the glasses were empty he asked, "Ready sweetheart." Marcy walked to the posing area as Kevin walked out of the studio to the reception area. The doors were closed once again.

Ten minutes later Kevin picked up another photo. The dress was gone, her bare back was to the camera and she looked over her shoulder flirting with the camera. The thong had disappeared between the cheeks of her ass. The next photo she faced the camera and didn't attempt to cover her pretty breasts. The areola were pebbly, the nipples perky and her face flushed and her skin coated with a sheen of perspiration.

Two photos later the thong was gone. Gart wasn't wasting any time. Kevin heard sounds of things being moved around in studio. When he saw the next photo he understood why. In this photo she was laying on a single brass bed. Her legs were slightly parted and the cleft of her vagina was visible.

Soon the garter belt and stockings were gone but the pumps had been put back on her bare feet. Other than the sky-high shoes she was naked and following the directions of the German photographer. In one shot she was on her hands and knees looking back over her shoulder with her ass high in the air. The cheeks had parted and her wrinkly anus winked at the camera. Kevin doubted that she could possibly know how sexy she looked. 

The last shot was of Marcy laying on her back with her legs spread, the heels digging into the rumpled sheet that covered the bed. Her hands were spreading the lips of her vagina as far apart as possible, she seemed to be very wet or her lips and pillowy ass cheeks had been slathered with Vaseline. Her eyes were closed and Kevin thought she looked like she does when she's climaxing.

Ten minutes later a glowing Marcy and triumphant Gart walked into the reception area. Kevin did give Gart a tip and made arrangements to look at proof sheets of the digital shots two days later. When they left the studio, Kevin had fifty polaroid photos of his wife, in his jacket pocket, that he doubted she would ever have posed for back home. He couldn't wait to see the shots that had been taken with the studio camera. Hamburg was doing its part.

Chapter 4

In the cab Kevin held her and whispered, "Do you want to go get something to eat?"

"I want you to eat me. Let's go back to the hotel. I've got to fuck." Marcy didn't know what was coming over her. She couldn't remember ever being more horny. What a slut she was becoming. She didn't need to follow every single direction that Gart gave her but she did, enthusiastically. Now all she could think about was ripping Kevin's clothes off him and screwing him until they both passed out.

It was going even better than Kevin thought it would. Marcy got her way. They did fuck until they both passed out. It was ten o'clock when they left the hotel. Marcy was dressed in the dress she had posed in but had left the thong, the garter-belt and stockings behind. It was chilly so she wore the jacket but not for the sake of modesty, for the sake of warmth.

Another romantic candle-lit dinner. Another bottle of French wine. Marcy didn't object when she heard Kevin tell the taxi driver to take them to the Reeperbahn. She thought he probably wanted to see another sex show which, she realized, would have been just fine with her. That was what Kevin had planned but by the way she had taken to the posing he decided to accelerate the schedule.

They held hands like teenagers and walked down the Reeperbahn. But this time rather than walking to the side street, where the sex show theaters were located, they crossed the street. They were in front of a police station on Davidwache. A block later they turned left and came up to a red metal barrier that blocked the narrow street. The tall barrier, painted bright red, was covered by a photo of a giant pair of legs. A prominent sign read "Fraulein Verbotten." It was obvious that the barricade had been erected to keep cars, children and women out. Neither of them spoke German but understood that women weren't welcome behind the barricade. As they stood there several men came out. Others walked through. 

"What's behind the gate?" Marcy asked.

"I don't know, let me find out." Kevin did know. It wasn't by accident that they were there, it was just a day early. Kevin stopped the next man that exited the area. Fortunately he understood and spoke English. He explained, "this is the legalized prostitution area of Hamburg. The girls are registered and it is very safe."

Marcy pulled on the sleeve of Kevin's sport and said, "I'd really like to see it. Maybe there's another entrance." 

"Sorry hon, I don't think you are allowed in there." Kevin reminded her. "Isn't it illegal to discriminate against women? I mean, how can they keep women out?" She wanted to know. She didn't get an answer from him. "Well, you go see by yourself then. I'll meet you in that bar across from the police station," she said as she pointed to the small bar on Davidwache.

"Let me get this straight?" Asked Kevin. "You want me to go in there and into one of the brothels? Do you want me to get laid?"

"Of course not. I just want to know what's back there. Won't you please just walk around and then come back and tell me about it?"

She wasn't repulsed. She was curious, as Kevin was so sure she would be. He entered Herbertstrasse having some idea what to expect because he had visited this place on the Internet many times over the past month. But the Internet was no substitute for actually being there. It was a Thursday night but the pedestrian street, just a block long, must have had a hundred men nervously milling about. Kevin saw that on both sides of the street were narrow three and four story buildings that looked something like brownstones in America. The biggest difference, however, wasn't architectural, it was occupational. Sitting behind dozens of windows were dozens of scantily-clad women. Women whose ages must have ranged from 20 to 60. Blondes, brunettes, redheads and even a sallow-cheeked young woman with purple hair. They were fat, skinny and in between. What they did have in common was their attire. Panties and bras, negligees and teddies. Some wore stockings, others didn't. The men slowly walked up and down the street. Every once in a while Kevin noticed shades being lowered and others being opened. 




St. Pauli Girl



Kevin walked up and down both sides of the very narrow street. His exploration must have taken ten or fifteen minutes. She was sitting behind a small table in the corner sipping champagne when he walked into the dimly-lit and smoky bar. "Well?" She asked with great excitement.

"I've never seen anything quite like it. There must be a hundred prostitutes there. The ones I saw were sitting behind windows smiling and waving at the men."

"So tell me more. What do they do? How much do the charge? How long are they with each guy?"

"I don't have a clue. I suppose the only way to find out would be to go into one of those places and ask."

"Oh no you don't buster." They both laughed at her remark.

"Marcy I can't remember when you've ever being so interested in a subject. What gives?"

"I don't really know. Everything is so open here. The sex shows and now this, a Disneyland for men. I think in the states it's much more hidden, much less accepted. I was just wondering about the women. What they're like? How they feel about what they do? That's all."

Kevin thought she had taken the bait. "You should talk with one of them."

"Oh, I'd love to but I don't see how that's possible," she paused took a sip of champagne and asked, "do you?"

"Marcy, I've come to realize that anything's possible." She couldn't possibly have known that what he was referring to was her posing naked, accompanying him to the sex show and wearing what she was wearing and talking about the life of Hamburg's prostitutes. "Let me see what I can do?"

"Do you really think you could find someone who will talk with me?"

"I really do, but it may take an hour or so. I would have to go into one of the places and talk with one of them and then get her to meet you tomorrow."

"Would you do that for me?"

Oh baby, Kevin thought, you know it. "Take a taxi back to the hotel Marcy. I'll nose around and be back in about an hour. You okay with that?"

She was. They hugged and kissed and she was whisked off in a cab. Kevin knew exactly what he had to do. This time, his time behind the metal barricade was much more deliberate. After twenty minutes he was about to give up when a very pretty brunette sat down behind a window at number 7 Herbertstrasse. He smiled and she smiled back. He pointed to the door and she nodded her head. As he turned the knob he heard a click allowing him to enter.

Without either of them saying a word, he followed her up a narrow staircase. At the top of the landing she opened a door and entered a very small bedroom. She was wearing a white teddy and very high heels. He saw that, For what he had in mind, she was more perfect than he could have ever hoped for. "Do you speak English?" Kevin asked.

"But of course. In Germany we study English for twelve years. Also, it would be difficult to succeed here if one didn't speak your language. Sometimes half of my customers are from England, the U.S., Canada or Australia. By the way, I'm Karin. Tell me what you have in mind."

"How much for an hour?"

"That all depends on what you expect me to do during the hour?" 

"Just talk, that's all."

She smiled held out her hand and said, "for just talk the fee is 150 euros for the hour."

As he handed her the bills he said, "I'm Kevin, my wife and I live in Atlanta, a big city in the south in America. This is our first trip here."

"I've heard of Atlanta. The Olympics and Coca-Cola. Right?"

He smiled, gave her a thumbs up and said, "you've got it."

"Kevin, I've heard it said that talk is cheap. Obviously, here it isn't cheap. What's on your mind?"

"Tell me about yourself Karin. I would like to know how old you are. Are you married? Do you have children? How long have you been doing this work?"

"I'm thirty-one. I'm no longer married. I have a son who is six years old. I've been working here for three years." She frowned then said, "Somehow I think that isn't really what you want to know. Am I right?"

"You're both right and wrong. I did want that information but, you're right, I want to know more. May I ask how tall you are, in feet and inches?"

"I'm five-five."

Almost perfect he thought. Marcy's five seven. "And how much do you weigh, in pounds."

"Let's see I weigh 53 kilos that must be about 120 pounds." Almost exactly Marcy's weight he realized.

He studied her. Her legs weren't as long as Marcy's but he doubted that the length of leg would be a problem. Karin's hair style was different but the color was close. Brown eyes, classic high cheek bones. Though not as beautiful as Marcy, she was nonetheless, beautiful by any other standard. She couldn't have been mistaken as Marcy's twin but it wasn't a stretch to see her as Marcy's sister. "When do you end your shift?"

"Kevin, I think you must have the wrong idea. I don't date. If you want to be with me, anyway you want, it has to be here."

"Let me explain," he said, "I think you're very beautiful, as a matter of fact you look very much like my wife, and I'm sure it would be great to spend an intimate hour with you, but that's not what I want to talk about." 

"Go on," she said.

"There are a couple of things I want. First, I want you to talk to my wife. She's very intrigued by what happens behind the barricades and in these rooms. Obviously, that would have to take place when you weren't working. That's why I asked you when your shift ended. Second, and more importantly, I want your help. . . I need your help. I have an idea that may be of interest to you and should be worth your time."

"Okay, Kevin, you have my attention. I can take off for a couple of hours tomorrow during the day and meet your wife but I'm scheduled to work here nights through the weekend."

"That's great Karin. How would you like to take a day off?"

"I can't take a day off these people depend on me and I need the money."

"Karin, what I have in mind won't cost you a penny -- or whatever a penny is in Euros or Dutchmarks -- as a matter of fact if everything works out you'll make more than if you worked. Also, I wouldn't expect you to take off without being covered." He paused to see her reaction.

"I'm sorry this is so, how do you say in English, oh yes so vague."

"You're right Karin. Bear with me. I told you that you and my wife, her name is Marcy by the way, look very much alike. She's a few years older than you but she looks younger than her age. Anyway, she's been having a wonderful time here. This afternoon I had her pose for some sexy, professional nude photos."

"Who was the photographer?"

"Gart Miller." 

"Small world. I know Gart. He's very good. He does photography for several of the brothels. Every prostitute has a portrait and full length portfolio. I'm sorry to have interrupted you, please go on."

"Well anyway, the night before we saw a sex show and it made her really hot. A few minutes ago when we stopped at the barrier she seemed unusually curious about what was beyond the barricade and the women who work behind it. I can't think of a better way to know about their lives than to experience it directly. Anyway, I thought that if you could meet Marcy tomorrow, say for lunch, talk with her, answer her questions. Then, if the time is right, suggest that she take your place for a day or two, see her reaction."

"Oh, that's impossible." She said shaking her pretty head. "The women who work here must be registered. Even if she were agreeable, and I doubt that she would be, it would take a week to clear her assuming she could get work papers. Now that I think about it, there's no possibility that an American would be allowed to work here, I'm sorry."

Kevin smiled. Nothing Karin had said was a surprise. "Karin, we're only talking about a day or two. If Marcy found the idea interesting then why couldn't she just use your Identification? If there were a big difference in your age or appearance, of course it wouldn't work. Also, you would keep everything she made and I would pay you handsomely for your cooperation. What do you think?"

Karin was interested. To have a day off and be paid for it was appealing. However, the risk was huge. If they were caught she would be barred from ever working again as a registered prostitute. Not only had she made more money than she ever dreamed of, she liked the work. "Kevin, it's risky. Not much would happen to you or your wife but the consequences for me would be great."

"I'm sure you're right Karin. If she were discovered we would stand by the story that we found your ID on the sidewalk and, on a lark, she assumed your identity. The worst anyone could say about you was that you lost your ID. That can't be a crime, can it?"

"Does she speak German?"

"Not a word. But your English is perfect, hardly any trace of an accent. You said lot's of customers speak English so no problem with them. If she were willing, I imagine a few words would be sufficient. Do all of the women have to speak French, Spanish and Italian too?"

"No they don't. You make a good point. We have Turks, Scandinavians, Africans, Russians really men from all over the world. I would say that only 20% are German, some nights even less, and, unlike you, they don't come for conversation." She seemed to be thinking about his proposition. "This might work." She said as she touched her hand to the side of her chin. "Okay, let's say that I can become comfortable with the ID and language problem, what makes you think she'll do it?"

"Karin that's a long, long story. We were married very young. She never dated as an adult or had any sexual experience outside marriage. However, I don't think there's a woman on the planet who loves sex more than my Marcy does. I've been very open with her about my fantasies. Until this trip she just laughed them off or played along when we were making love. In the states nothing would ever happen but here, who knows, I think she just might be game for giving it a try. What do you think?"

Karin thought about his question for a minute before she answered. "It can't hurt to try." Then her mind made up, she became the businesswoman again. "Okay, you give me 200 Euros, that's just for the lunch tomorrow. I'll talk with her and do my best. If it works out, beginning tomorrow night, or the next day, she can take my place for a day or two."

He had thought that he might have to make a proposal to several women before he found one that was interested. But he didn't, he scored with the first one. Maybe this was a good sign. "One more thing Karin. Whatever you do, please don't say that I told you to ask her to take your place. It has to be your idea."

"I understand. Of course I won't. If there's one thing I've learned in three years here it's that discretion is very, very important."

Kevin looked around the tiny room with renewed interest. He saw that the small bed was pushed in the corner because there wouldn't have been room to walk around it. There was an open door that led to a bathroom that didn't seem to be much bigger than the one on the airplane on which they flew across the Atlantic. This room, that had taken on a great significance, could only be described as functional. It's function was a place where prostitutes satisfied their customers.

His observation and thoughts were interrupted by Karin saying, "tell your wife to meet me at noon." She opened a drawer on the night stand took out a pen and pad of paper and wrote down the name and address of a restaurant. She handed him the paper, kissed him on both cheeks and said, "until tomorrow, Kevin."

When he was down on the street, he looked back and saw that Karin had resumed her place behind the window.

Chapter 5

Marcy was having second thoughts as the Mercedes taxi moved slowly through Hamburg's late night traffic. Did I really send my husband to find a German prostitute to tell me about her life? Would he just interview one or would he sample one? Yet, for some reason she knew that she was more than enough for him. There had never been any doubt that he had been ecstatically satisfied every time they made love. She also knew that he wanted, desperately wanted, for her to be wilder in public and with other people.

She didn't completely understand what was happening to her in this port city. She actually liked wearing the clothes that he had selected. When the jacket was off, her bare shoulders, back and the swell of her breasts were visible to all. Two days ago she would have just died if anyone they knew saw her dressed like she was.

And the photographs, what was she thinking? She hadn't been raised like that. But in less than two hours when Gart said, "show me your pussy," she didn't hesitate to reach down and spread herself. She knew that he could see everything. The hooded clitoris that was peeking out because it was swollen, her pee hole, her moist inner lips that guarded the mouth of her vagina. When he moved in for a close up with the hand-held camera he was within a foot of Kevin's exclusive playground.

Back in the room the time seemed to be standing still. She wondered if Kevin was having any success. She also wondered why she was so curious about the women who plied their trade behind the barrier. What kind of women were they? And then, the question that had been haunting her for the last half-hour--and that she refused to face-- was what would it be like to be one of those women? Kevin would absolutely kill her if he knew what she was thinking. She stripped off her clothes, added new lipstick and brushed her hair. A few sprays of perfume in the right places and she was prepared for his return.

Finally, she heard the key in the door. They hugged and kissed as if they had been apart for days or weeks, not just an hour. Marcy asked, "did you get to talk with someone?" 

"Yes, I did." Her name is Karin. She was very nice and helpful. I found out that she had been working there for about four years. She's divorced and has a six year old son.

"Is she pretty?"

"She's very pretty but not as pretty as you."

"You know just what to say mister." Playfully, she pulled him down on the bed. "What does she do with the men and how much does she charge?"

"I don't know," Kevin said. "I didn't ask her. You'll have to ask her yourself when you have lunch with her tomorrow." He held up the folded paper with the address of the restaurant written on it.

"Let me have it," she said as she reached for it. Teasing her, he kept it out of her reach for a minute before letting her have the victory of snatching it out of his hand. "Are you coming with me?" She wanted to know.

"No. I think it would be better if just the two of you talked. She might be less inhibited. I'd just be in the way. You can catch a cab to the restaurant and another back to the hotel. 

"How will I recognize her?"

"I don't think you'll be able to miss her. She's a couple of inches shorter than you and not quite as pretty. Otherwise, just look for yourself."

Under the crisp sheets they made love for the third time on the hotel bed. They had made love more times in Hamburg in the last two days than they had in Atlanta in the last two weeks. And, on a scale of intensity if Atlanta was a 5, Hamburg was a 10. Kevin was drained and Marcy, like the last two times, was far from finished. Before he drifted off to slumberland he heard her whimper. "Oh, I need more . . . I need more."

Chapter 6

When Kevin awakened there was no sign of room service. No aroma of fresh coffee as there was the day before. Also, there was no sign of Marcy. He saw that it was almost noon. She must have gotten up an hour ago and dressed. Then he saw the note on her pillow.

Good morning my love. You were sleeping like a baby. I didn't have the heart to wake you. I've gone for my lunch with Karin. Should be very interesting. See you later. Love M.

He checked the closet and saw that the white dress and the jacket were missing as were the white pumps. The white garter belt, stockings and thongs were in her drawer so he knew what she was and wasn't wearing. He assumed she would be gone for a couple of hours. Plenty of time, he thought, to take a run around the lake.

Marcy didn't have any idea what to expect. Kevin had said that Karin spoke English but he didn't say how well. Also, she wasn't sure how far she should go with her questions. It was nice enough of Karin to meet with her for lunch. She didn't want to become an interrogator but she certainly was curious.

Karin recognized Marcy immediately. "Hi, you must be Marcy, I'm Karin," she said as she extended her hand. "I reserved a table in the corner where we can talk privately. And, I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of ordering for us."

"That's fine. I'm pleased to meet you too, Karin." She was surprised. She didn't know what to expect but she realized that anyone who saw the two of them together would think that she was the hooker, not Karin. Karin wore black leather pants, a tailored short red leather jacket and sneakers. Her hair was in a pony tail and she wasn't wearing makeup while Marcy's makeup was far heavier than usual. 

Their table was in the far corner of the small restaurant. Karin didn't ask but poured each of them a glass of red wine. Marcy realized that she had drunk more wine and champagne while in Hamburg than she had in months at home. Oh well, she thought, when in Rome . . .

Karin broke the ice. "So your husband tells me you are interested in what I do for a living."

"I really am. I think when we walked to the barricade last night and I wasn't allowed to go in and see for myself I just had to know more about it. Does that make any sense?"

"Of course it does cheri. We all want what we can't have and want to go where we're not allowed. If it is forbidden, it is much more interesting and desirable to us than if it is familiar and available, don't you think so?"

"I think you're right. Anyway, it was so nice of you to meet with me. I'm not sure where to start. Kevin told me that you're 31, divorced, you have a son who is 6 years old and you've been doing this sort of work for four years."

"That's mostly right. I'm not divorced my husband died a year ago, a terrible accident."

"I'm so sorry. I didn't know." Marcy apologized. 

The awkwardness of the moment ended when the food was brought to the table. Karin had ordered large salads for them. The waitress obviously knew Karin and they spoke briefly in German. Karin explained, "I just live around the corner. When I'm not working I eat one or two meals a day here. Go right ahead and ask me anything you want while we are eating."

As she looked across the table at her luncheon companion, Karin thought Marcy was lovely. She imagined what she must look like with the jacket off. From what she could see she assumed that Marcy's body was near perfect. Karin was long in the torso so her legs were not nearly as long as Marcy's. Also, Karin's boobs had been augmented by saline. It was obvious that Marcy's, though not a D cup like hers, were completely natural. As great as she imagined Marcy's body was it was her face that was captured Karin's attention. Perfect oval shape, perfect big brown eyes, perfect nose mouth, chin and complexion--although she thought Marcy was wearing too much makeup. Somehow it didn't seem fair that one woman could have it all, including a handsome and adventurous husband. She also sensed that Kevin was right. This American woman seemed to be exceptionally sensual. 

After Marcy swallowed a fork-full of the delicious salad she said, "You know Karin, I'm interested in . . . Oh, Like how much do you charge? What do you do with your . . . the men? How do you feel about it? Things like that." 

"Fair enough," said Karin. "The minimum is usually 150 euros, that's about the same as 100 DM. There's no such thing as a maximum. Every girl tries to get as much as possible for as little as possible. We do about everything a man and woman can do. Men who want to be humiliated or dominated or tied up go to specialists. I can't help you much with that, my dates are more . . . I would say more straight. And, oh yes, you asked how I feel about it. Well, for the most part very good. I don't hate myself for what I do. I enjoy sex and I get paid for it. That's a nice combination. Before we go on tell me something about yourself."