Woning Van Bloed ~ Het Meisje Achter Het Raam


 

Woning Van Bloed
✖✖✖

Een Verloren Meisje
Tegen
De Meiden Achter het Raam

House of Blood ~ A Lost Girl Versus the Girls Behind Windows


In May 2012 I hooked up With a Guy named Matt. He was a well off jet setting Mobile Software designer. We got together at his hotel monday night and got high and drunk while I modeled lingerie for him and we took turns who was on top. We partied until we passed out exhausted just before sun rise. I was burnt from partying and that’s why I didn’t think too hard when we left the hotel and got on a plane to Amsterdam. Wednesday Morning I woke up at a Hotel at Schiphol Airport. Matt had Left and paid only for the one night, leaving no netherlands contatc number and paying in cash.

With a suitcase full of only lingerie and less than 200 € in my pocket I wandered the Gracht and Sigel of Amsterdam trying to figure out a plan. I checked in to a tall skinny crooked old tower on the edge of the red light district and decided to try my luck strolling the Achterburgwal. The first thing I learned is that the entire city of Amsterdam is not overrun with girls in lingerie plying the oldest trade. The entire Centrum Stad certainly is overrun with dirty young boys selling cheap drugs and robbing tourists and molesting foreign girls. Some one told me that first day to avoid trouble simply always act like someone could at any moment try to swipe your phone and throw it in the Gracht {a city canal flanked by cobble stone streets sharing the same name} Sure enuff my phone was defended against that fate twice.

The Red Light district has many names. Locals call her de Wallen {the walls} for the narrow gracht running between tall narrow brick houses stacked together. Window Girl Enthusiasts call her De Walletjes {which means Cake but its not used to describe any pastry, Walletjes is as in “to have your cake”, “that really takes the cake”} Girls are not walking the streets working the guys. They sit behind windows along the gracht, often lounging on soft chaises of little stools, wearing stripper outfits and chain smoking. dildos and bottles of alchol strewn across the bottom of the window, a little room with a bed visible in the back. They tap on the windows with their nails and keys to get your attention. typically you can party with them for about 20 minutes for 50€ euro ($60). then they demand more money or throw you out, they can call their friend in the next window over if they need help to bounce you.

I walked about 3 quarters the length of Bloed Straat {Blood Street- the domain of the Nederlands Shemale Het Prostitutie meisjes achter het raam // girls behind the windows} defore a powerfully build afrikan Girl with Double H cup tits and corn rows opened her window a crack and called me over.

“Hey you there ! Yes You !!!” she tried in 3 languages before settling on english. “you look really cool, we would like you to come party with us. Lets have some fun and some drinks. yes you come party with me and my girlfriend. you seem so cool and we want to party with you.

Her tone was Ominously friendly. I was uncertain as i walked over allready detecting something really off as she struggled to adapt her usual flirts with tourist to adapt to this strange tourist tattoo covered punk rocker tranny flirting down the street with all of HER tourists. when i got to the door she pulled it between us and spoke through the glass. “wait just one second. We usually take 50€ so 50€ each to party with us should be good. give me two 50s and we can have some wild fun.”

I was still processing that i had been pulled from my bed less than 24 hours ago and now was abandoned 5982 km (3717 miles) from my bed in my lingerie. Now an afrikan amazon with tits bigger than watermelons with a tiny leather a fur harness holding heart shaped panties over her nipples and Disco Stick was trying to play me ??!

“ok sure babe, whatever you say” i had no dutch she had pidgin english “I’m just trying to put together a few euros to pay for my room, i need one guy and I’ll be outta here” She stared at me not understanding half what i said and still flabergasted at this weird tourist shemale hoe on her staat. she Looked frustrated that the language gap was bad enuff that she couldnt tell to what degree she should hate me yet.

“Well… hmmm… COME IN HERE NOW, LETS JUST HAVE FUN TOGETHER” and with that she pushed the window open and waved me in.

 

The second I stepped over the threshhold she snapped the curtains shut and pushed me in to the back room. her next door window girl, a skinny blond with modest d cup in a bikini came in to “party with us”

Double H pulled my nighty up over my head and grabbed me by the front of my panties. “is this the type of surgery you have in america ? you have your Vajay ?? your amerika make you the Vajay ?”

 

“sure?” I managed.

If anything my ignorance of dutch might have saved my ass. DoubleH interogated me through DcupBlonde who had more english. I attempted to explain that I’d been abandoned by a bad date and needed about 600 € to get home and about 100€ to live on a day. DoubleH sort of ripped in to me for talking to guys in front of her window that she rented by the night, her protitutie liscence taped in the upper corner. Her harsh bitchiness lost edge with the back and forth translating. Blonde got bored and started asking me questions about whoring in canada. I figured I made more money less often. Bloedstraat is approximate to Toronto’s Shemale Strip club during the busiest summer night possible with much nicer 400 year old fuck booths.

“I think  it adds up to about even ?” I figured.

Just then a german guy who’d been following me along the Achterburgwal appeared at the window peeking through a crack in the curtains to see the tattooed “america” with the big black amazon pushing her in to the corner and a perky slightly drunk blond Dutch in a dayglow green bikini having a party. “I want to talk to the tatoo girl”

“Oh !! well you need to work? then you go work then “ she laughed/spat and grabbed me away from talking trade with blonde and shoved me out the door. “You best get a new nose, new tits, and learn dutch then may you come on my straat !!” she jeered.
“Stay off Bloedstraat untill you have the 100 euros for me and my friend you owe for this party you have not paid yet !”

German just walked me down the straat to the Achterburgwal so his friend could photograph me with him. He slipped me 30€ just cuz he was high on powerful coffee shop grass. He gave me his bizznizzcard and told me to call him and tell him stories of my wild punk life america and his drunk friends took him away in a peddle cab. I didnt have enuff money to make a long distance call to his german cellphone but thanks.

I made the mistake of walking back down Bloedstraat the way i d come.

As I walked two dozen nearly naked dutch Tgirls angrilly tapped their windows and jeered at me. More windows opened up and more meisjes sneered “come here and party with us !!!”

With curled lips and nasty glares I made it almost to De Waag van Nieumarkt {a flower market/church named “the scales” as in scales for money} some sketchy brown boy was leering at me and saying somthing in middle eastern that I understood perfectly as “hey baby where you goin so fast” with his hands moving for my tits.

DoubleH came out of nowhere and shoved the kid/junkie/pusher aside. She stared at me agape, I hadnt left the street after id made 30 € for nuthing infront of her window and now I was letting junkies pull my tits out in the middle of the straat.

“YOU want to work ? Go to her! She wants to talk to YOU.”

She pointed at another slightly meaner looking slighly more amazon afrikan Girl watching us from infront of a closed cafe. “What are you thinking you do ?!? Go with her NOW!!!”

With that DoubleH lit a cigarello and pulled up the collar of her fur lined coat and walked off behind de Waag. Meaner Bigger girl  looked me over once rolled her eyes and started a slow walk north, turning through a fence in to a dark parking lot glancing back to double check that I was following. Maybe there really was a job offer in this but even if there was who knew what the hell that was. Especially in a dark parking lot.

I walked forward 5 steps and then took advantage of a teen arab cab driver slowing down to lewdly proposition me to break away and then cut through the flower stands and cut down monnikenstraat {monk street} back to the Achterburgwal and flee with my 30 euros back to my lil room near the Dam overlooking Walmstraat {smokey Street} the gay rotterdamn techno fuck club straat. with flocks of teen boys who pay for blowjobs with sketchy drugs they carry wrapped in plastic sammich wrapper in their mouths ready to swallow if interogated or spit in their hand to show they’d fuck you.

 

 

 

———-E p i l o g u e ———

Over the next two days I wandered the infinite brick maze of 400 year old buildings tilting in wet earth and Gracht full of drunken boaters catching the mobiles their friends riped from the hands of tourists and threw to them and had increasingly worse and more despeartely inept missadventures doing terrible dirty attempted street walking on cobbled streets full of lewd teenage drug dealers in ceaseless fog and rain. I lived on 1 euro deep fried meat stew burgers {Febo Krokket van rundvlees} out of vending machines and swipped a pink plastic umbrella from a vedor who was to stoned to care to notice. I moved to a 300 year old hotel 6 blocks from Bloed where the staff where always wobbly on pruimenwijn and where having a party the few times i brought a boy back. By day 3 I’d touched about 7 penises and been dragged all over the city in increasing stupid situations, breaking in to boats to give BJs in the rain and falling twice for this trick where a dutch 50 euro note is almost identicle to the 10 euro note.
 
I got my friend to rummage my room in toronto and find my bank info and wire me all of next months rent money.
I had to wait all night for the transfer cuz of time zones. got a decent boy who paid me the full 50 only once, that night when I was most desperate. I picked up a british student  was lurking the flower stalls trying to grab the boys before they made it to Bloedstraat. Unfortunately, Matt had taken my lube with him when he left me. The bottle of olive oil I stole from a cafe to use for lube made the condom break when he came.
 
And that is the story of how I introduced a new STI to canada that the clinic was unfamiliar with. Fortunately It was cancelled with my second round of antibiotics.
 
Unfortunately, The way I got back to canada was that after a week  I tracked down Matt and blew him to get my return ticket.
 
So if you meet a mobile programer named matt do not fuck him ! Dont go on vacation with him either.
 
————————————————-

Woning Van Bloed

Een Verloren Meisje Tegen de Meiden Achter het Raam

I'm navigating Bloedgracht in my comadeered runabout, the good ship zeemeermin {the mermaid}. I m loosing my condoms and passport. All I have is lingerie and vending machine burgers. i have no paddles.

Before me is Woning Van Bloed {house of Blood} which is sort of real alltho the organisation of the window girls is a little hard to discern. they are a woning {family house} as close as their individual friendships. Kamerevrhuur means the rooms are for rent. i think the sign is for the girls as the girls are for rent for 50 for 20 minutes. Het Meisje achter het raam hold the windows half open closed so they can deny you access if they dont like you. they tap on windows with nails knuckles and keys to call your attention. their windows look Gezellig {cozy/lovely/inviting} with thick drapes and soft chairs and sex toys and alchol and vitamin water scattered about.

The Girl with the Double H is Misstress Dominic. I found her by reading nederlands walletjes message boards with google translate. Shes a switch with a big piece of candy and enjoys savagely dominating guys. Shes been a Bloedstraat fixture for over a decade. I’d be interested to go give her the 50 euros she sez i owe her. I’ll deal with the blonde second.

To the left is a chorus of middle eastern and afrikan boys palming eachother rocks and fondling their junk, mixed up with them is the lanky black UK student boy who i played foreign cooties exchange with. and all along de Bloedburgwal are the sinking Wallen van het Walletjes.

Ik Hou Van Bloed Straat ♥ ✖✖✖ ♥ Ik Zal Terug !

 

!!  Er is Nike Aan te Doen  !!