My name is Kazmir Swenson, I'm thirty-four years old and I write for a magazine that writes cutting edge stories about culture. It bills itself as a magazine for those who live life to the fullest. We only accept advertising from high end products like expensive cars and watches.
Who am I kidding? Our magazine is known world-wide for its centerfold.
"Kaz, you broke up with your girlfriend, didn't you?" My editor asked. My editor, Bob Piotrowski, was the son of the founder of the magazine, V. Edgar Piotrowski, called Vee by everyone. It was Bob who had the vision to make the magazine a world-wide success.
"Yeah, Marilyn and I broke up six months ago." He knew I was also divorced. "What's up?"
"I want a story on the brothels of Amsterdam."
"Shit, Bob, everyone's done that."
"Not like this. I'm thinking of a working title ‘The Hidden Brothels of Amsterdam.' You leave next week. Gwendolyn has the details."
Gwendolyn was Gwendolyn James, Bob's administrative assistant, but she was much more than that, and I don't mean in a romantic way, and she was always Gwendolyn, never Gwen.
Over forty years ago, then seventeen-years-old, she walked into the magazine's office and asked for job. With no experience and no discernible skills, she was rejected.
Undeterred, she came back the next day and then the next. The answer was the same. On the fourth day, Vee saw her sitting there and asked her what she was doing there and why had he seen her there the last three days?
"Sir, I need a job. I'll sweep floors, clean toilets, empty the trash, anything."
"Have you graduated from high school yet?"
"No, sir. I dropped out of school to have a baby."
"Here's what I'll do, you come back tomorrow and I'll find something for you to do, but you're going to get your GED, is that understood?"
"Yes, sir. I'll be here at 7."
"We don't open until 8."
As promised, she was sitting by the front door at 7. Vee had her help the janitorial team, but a month later, she was doing filing, and other go-fer work for the secretaries. She was the hardest, most efficient worker anyone had ever seen.
Less than a year later, Gwendolyn had her GED and Vee gave her raise, but that's not at all. He made sure her child care was taken care of and sent her to a secretarial school where she learned to take shorthand, which was a thing back then, and to type.
Two years later, Gwendolyn was hired as a full-time secretary, making more money than she ever thought possible. Vee sent her to the top women clothiers in the city, with the bills sent to him.
When Vee retired, Bob promoted her to his administrative assistant. Over time, he sent her to school to learn editing and creative writing.
Ten years later, she'd become indispensable. Before any article, story, photograph or even ad appeared in the magazine, it passed through her hands before Bob gave final approval. If Bob became incapacitated in some way, as long as Gwendolyn was around, the magazine would continue to operate efficiently.
"Here's what I have for you, Kaz," Gwendolyn told me, we've come to an agreement with a woman named Anki van der Bruijn who will be your guide. This woman was born in Amsterdam but went to Vassar. Her English is perfect, although in talking to her, I suspect that Vassar did not teach her many of the words she uses."
She handed me a folder with my airline tickets, a check for my expenses and a detailed brochure about the whorehouses of Amsterdam.
"You leave Saturday. Anki said she'd arrange lodging. And Kaz, Bob expects you to give us a first-hand account of what goes on in these brothels," she smiled.
I was quite sure I understand what she meant. When I saw the amount of my expense check, I was certain. "And Kaz, I want a finished article in three months, in time for the April edition."
That expense account wasn't large enough for a first-class ticket, but the plane wasn't too crowded; the seat next to me was empty. After a couple of Scotches, I slept most of the way.
Anki van der Bruijn was waiting for me after going through immigration and customs. I was surprised; she was a sixty-year-old gray-haired woman and Gwendolyn was right, she had a mouth that might make a sailor blush and she was blunt.
"Kaz, after Vassar, I came back here, married well, but when my husband died, I couldn't just sit around my ample ass, so I took a job as a tour guide."
"Guiding men to brothels?"
"It didn't start out that way. The tour company I worked for gave tours of the city: the traditional sites, but men, and sometimes a woman would take me aside, and ask about the brothels."
"And you guided them in the right direction."
"Not exactly. I started my only little company."
By this time, we were at her van. It was bright pink and on the sides in big black letters, "Brothel Tours." The ‘o's in brothel and tours looked like boobs.
"Kaz, I suspect that like most men you just want to get laid and perhaps a blowjob, but there are men, and sometimes women, who have much more exotic tastes. There are over one hundred legal brothels in Amsterdam. I found brothels; like boutiques that cater to those unusual requests."
"Like what?"
Anki laughed. "Oh, you'll see."
We'd arrived at my accommodations. "I thought you might be more comfortable in an apartment for the month you'll be here. It's much homier. There are a couple of near-by restaurants; two are open all night. The food is excellent. Across the street there's a restaurant that serves a good breakfast. Everyone speaks English."
She took one of my bags and led me upstairs to the second-floor apartment. Anki was right, it was much more comfortable than a hotel might be. Kitchen, dining area, living room and a separate bedroom with a modern bath. There was a desk for my laptop.
"You probably need a shower and some sleep. I'll pick you up in the morning, 10AM."
I got a good night's sleep, shaking off the jet lag and when I walked across the street to the restaurant, I saw Anki's van down the street; you couldn't miss it, but she wasn't in the restaurant.
She was double-parked outside my apartment building when I left the restaurant. "Ready?"
"I just have to get my notepad and some other stuff' I'll be down in a minute."
I hopped in the van a few minutes later. "Did I see your van down the street earlier?"
"Yes. That's where I live. It makes this very convenient. I can be here whenever you need me in just a few minutes. Here's my plan. I'll give you an overview today. We'll drive by the brothels you might find interesting and then tomorrow or the next day, you can decide where you want to start. I should warn you some of these are in narrow alleys my van can't drive down. We'll take the e-bikes. There in the back, and there are three brothels on canals. We'll go by boat."
We drove for ten minutes. "Unlike Nevada, USA we don't advertise in neon lights, but they're here. "Ah, here's the first one, it's called Big Ones. Every girl who works here has at least 44DDD tits. You can fuck these girls, but men who go in there want to play with those titties, have them rubbed in their face and get a titty fuck. Do you enjoy big tits, Kaz?" Gwendolyn warned me Anki was blunt.
"My wife had big ones; not that kind of big, but I did enjoy them."
"Well, keep this place in mind. Down the street is a place called Barely Legal. How old are you, Kaz?"
"Thirty-four."
"In Amsterdam, girls must be eighteen to work. Barely Legal is right here. The other thing is that at the legal brothels, there's a set price for various services; there's no negotiation. The street walkers, you can barter with."
We'd stopped on a street of non-descript building. It didn't look much different than the street where I was staying.
"All these girls are between eighteen and twenty, but dress much younger. Some men like that. What about you?"
"When I was eighteen, I did. I think I'm past that."
"From what I'm told these girls are very talented and have unbelievable energy."
"Across the street is a house called Rabbits." She laughed. "I've never seen rabbits fuck, but according to rumors, they are non-stop fucking machines. These girls are like that; they'll wear your cock out. Now, Kaz, I'm going to find a place to park; then we're going for a bike ride."
In the van, I took notes. Much of it was scribbles as Anki drove faster than I expected on the crowded, narrow streets. "What about the women?"
"What women?"
"You said men come here for the brothels, but occasionally a woman does."
"Oh that. I was surprised myself and had to confirm it with the house managers. Some girls in the brothels will do women as well as men. The women that are interested in the brothels are looking for women who will eat them in a way a man just can't and will allow the girls here to let them reciprocate."
"I've never heard of such a thing."
"Neither had I, but if someone's buying, someone's selling. It's the way of the world. In Amsterdam, when it comes to sex, everything is for sale."
It had been years since I'd been on a bike and I'd never ridden an e-bike. They say you never forget how to ride a bike. That proved to be true and it took Anki only a minute to show me how an e-bike worked.
A few minutes later, we were riding through winding alleys. She was right, her van or even a Mini-Cooper couldn't drive here. I could almost reach out and touch the walls on both sides. Anki stopped at a doorway that barely looked like a doorway at all. "Kaz, this is IHOP; no, not the one you know in the states. This is the International House of Pussy."
"Aren't they all?"
She giggled, "not like this one. The girls here are from just about every country in the world. There might be only eight or nine girls working at any one time, but the manager can make a few calls and within an hour or two you can have just about anything you want from anywhere you want."
"Anything?"
"Anything. You want an Eskimo. They'll find one for you and she'll do a sensuous striptease for you that will have your cock on the rise in minutes. Pygmies, Dinkas, whatever?"
"Dinkas?"
"They're an African tribe who are among the tallest people in the world. Imagine a girl almost seven feet tall with her legs wrapped around your back or your face," she laughed. "Japanese, Chinese, a Middle Eastern girl who will do a belly dance while your cock's in her pussy. My clients say it's an unbelievable fuck."
"Now, those do sound interesting."
"Ready to see more? There's another house around the corner." We rode on. "Kaz, I didn't think men would have an interest in women my age, but apparently there's a market."
"What do you mean?"
"This house with the blue door right here is called Mama's. Every woman who works here is at least in her fifties, some over seventy or so I've heard. I can't tell you how many men have said, ‘Anki, I want my mommy.' Well, Kaz this is the place."
Thinking about all the young pussy Anki described, I couldn't imagine fucking someone as old as her or as old she described.
I wasn't a mama's boy, however, when my wife and I split up, I went home and lived with my widowed mother. She consoled me. Cooked, did my laundry, even made my bed and insisted, "don't worry, Kazmir, you'll find another girl." The same happened with other break ups. My mother was always there. I never thought about it and with all the young pussy here, I had no interest in anyone my mom's age.
We biked back to her van. This time we drove to the other side of Amsterdam. "Kaz, these two houses, right next door to each other, are the exact opposite."
"I don't understand."
"This one is called Hairless. Every woman in here doesn't have any pubic hair. Their pussies are as smooth as the day they were born."
"And the other?"
"Apparently there are hormones women can take that makes their pubic hair grow. It's call Bushes. From what I'm told, they have almost as much pubic hair as they do hair on their head. I can't imagine, but apparently some men like to stick their faces in those big bushes. The houses here cater to just about every taste."
We drove on until Anki parked along a canal. "The only way to get to these next three houses is by boat. We'll take the bikes with us."
Soon we were watching Amsterdam go by. Anki pointed out some of the sights; like an ordinary tour guide. It was a different perspective from the van or the bikes. It was a beautiful way to see the city. The boat docked, we unloaded the e-bikes and Anki led me down the street. A few minutes later, "Kaz, this house is called Moby Dick."
"I'm not sure what that means."
"Centuries ago, whalers used to spot whales by shouting ‘Thar she blows." You'll get the best blowjob you can imagine. The manager only hires girls who have unsurpassed expertise."
I didn't say anything but Anki could see by the look in my eyes that I was interested, very interested.
We walked about two blocks through more twisting alleys. "Kaz, I only learned this from years of doing this. There are men who enjoy nothing better than eating pussy. This place is called The Tasting Room. I have no idea how they do it and although I know the manager, she won't tell me the secret."
"What secret?"
"The girls supposedly have the best tasting pussies. Men pay for an hour of two of just eating. Do you eat pussy, Kaz?"
"I certainly enjoyed my wife, but I couldn't imagine paying just to eat it. Those men want nothing else?"
"Oh sure, they get fucked or blown, but only after an hour or two of eating pussy. The girls won't do anything until they're sure the boys have had their fill," she laughed aloud.
We continued our walk. "Remember the house called Big Ones?"
"Of course."
"This one is called Big Girls. Not big like those Dinka women, but big as in fat or chubby. There are also some girls who are just big all over: big shoulders, big boobs, big ass, thick legs. From what I've heard, men who enjoy those kinds of women get the fucking of their lives. Let's get back to the boat and the van. There are two more houses you should see."
In the van, we drove back toward my apartment. "Here we are. Kaz, this is called the House of Pain. It's a sado-masochism house. They'll hurt you, humiliate you, embarrass you, laugh at you, make fun of your tiny cock, whatever."
"Men, really like that?"
"I'd say once a month, I have at least one customer who requests such a place. The manager of the house tells me she's always busy."
We drove on. "The last place I'm going to show you is something I personally don't understand. When I was younger, I'd much rather have a cock fill my pussy than my ass. Oh, we tried it, but apparently there are some men who prefer fucking assholes than pussy. This house specializes in anal sex. What about you?"
"Anki, to be honest I'd rather put my cock in a pussy or a mouth than an ass."
"I fully understand. Now, tomorrow, you tell me where you'd like to start and I'll make some calls to make sure the very best girls are available."
TO BE CONTINUED
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