Crazy Penis Over To You
Chapter 9:
We are approaching the most important part.
Above, I wrote that some clients fall in love with prostitutes. Let me clarify. I fell in love… with Barbara. Much later. Today is September 22, 2020. I have known her for 96 hours.
Barbara has finished her contract and is flying back to Romania.
*With this confession, I may be destroying my future family, but I cannot do otherwise. I am no longer afraid of anything.
After the Persian goddess, Yulia appeared in my life. My possible Ukrainian wife – someone who cooks well, listens attentively, gives advice, and waits for me after work. But this is my illusion. She is in Ukraine. We have never met. We met through a marriage agency I contacted, realizing that I would die alone in Europe. Everything was going well until the cursed Corona arrived. I didn’t have time to invite her before the borders closed. We talked on the phone for a very long time. Yulia brought me back to life. We became close in mind, but not in body. And my physical shell demanded union, while I had no intention of starting a relationship. One day she wrote: “Denis, I understand that you have a woman for sex.”
The day before that, I had met Barbara in a brothel. Yulia, two thousand kilometers away, simply felt it.
BARBARA
( Beginning – September 18, 2020 )
Only a few hours remained before meeting Barbara, who would turn my understanding of love as a phenomenon upside down. Sayud and I were sitting in a small Spanish restaurant in Düsseldorf. He was trying to get acquainted with women passing by. They looked at him as if he were foolish. I said, “Leave them alone – we will remain alone here ( in Europa ) forever.”
I barely spoke to my friend, because I was in deep depression due to the loss of my family and the complete absence of any prospects, both in business and in my personal life. Sayud calmed me down and said that my whole life was still ahead of me, that everything would work out. At one point Sayud said:
“Denis, you need to rest. Free your head. Relax.” My friend closed the bill and commanded:
“Let’s go!”
We got on our motorcycles and rode off. The whole way I was thinking about how I had ended up without a home and without a family in my new world. What had I done wrong? But the destination turned out to be very close. It was Ratingen. An industrial zone, a dark street, and illuminated doors. Another brothel.
The Road to the Temple of Love
This puff was inexpensive but very active. The interior was below average; the girls sat with dull expressions. Some of them were pretty – though not all. The men were mostly Turks, the women – as always – from Romania, Bulgaria, and other Eastern European countries. I had seen all this before and wandered through the expanses of the love factory without much interest. It felt sad there. The interior left much to be desired. Turks in white robes were not exciting. Turkish music played on all the monitors, at least slightly enlivening the everyday life of the Ratingen brothel.
Sayud immediately took one of his acquaintances upstairs. I was left alone. I approached a girl I called “the Ukrainian” – she looked very much like one of ours. She told me I had beautiful eyes, to which I replied that I paid the same as everyone else, without discounts. We started talking at the bar. Then other girls joined us, and we were laughing – I no longer remember at what.
At one moment, Barbara pushed the girls aside and walked straight through our group. This was done deliberately – she was choosing me. There were many ways to go around us; we weren’t blocking her path. She was going out to smoke and could easily have bypassed us. Instead, she spread the prostitutes apart with her hands and passed through the center of the group – where I was standing.
– Stop.
– Look at me – I’d stopped a cheeky stranger. The world around us froze for a few seconds, as if someone had put life on pause. She slowly closed her eyes and looked down, as if out of shame. Her gaze was like a gentle prick of anesthetic straight to the heart. Straight black hair, blue eyes, eyelashes… I’d seen this before, but this time I felt a warm wave gently spreading through my body. I started to feel hot. She was wearing a mask, just like me – we were all wearing masks back then; the coronavirus was raging across the planet. It even added a certain charm. I gestured for her to lower her mask. A face I recognized all too well was revealed before me. I’d never felt this way before; it felt as if I’d known her for 800 years. Slanted blue eyes, beautiful black eyebrows, a straight nose, full lips. The thing is, she looked like a girl from Odessa – a cheeky smile, self-assured, aware of her own beauty. In a word – a sassy little vixen. That’s exactly the type I’ve always been attracted to. But in Odessa, it wouldn’t have stood out so much. I’ve been living in quarantine for five years now, without a normal relationship, without beautiful and happy faces.
Barbara gave a gentle smile and continued on her way to the brothel’s terrace. Denis ran after her, leaving his friends behind. By then, Sayud had already returned and was right behind me. I liked her so much that I didn’t dare invite her to my room right away. Such a romantic. I tried speaking in German, then in Russian… it didn’t work. Only English. Romanian and English. After a while, things finally happened between us. We went upstairs and entered the magical Room 8, which contained nothing but a huge bed. Sitting in the lotus position, the couple tapped their fingers on the touchscreens of their phones in complete silence. The translators on the two smartphones shyly yet excitedly translated the nervous messages of people from two different worlds. It seemed to me that our bed was floating in outer space, where, instead of stars, glowing hearts with transparent wings were flying alongside us, spiraling and gradually drawing closer.
Denis and Barbara weren’t just close – they were so close it was as if they’d been together for years and knew exactly what it took to give each other the most pleasure. This escort did everything differently from the other girls I’d been with in places like this. In other words, she showed genuine interest in me. I liked that. I texted Barbara that right then and there I wanted to stay with her forever, flying into the unknown on our spaceship, which looked like an ordinary old bed with a washed-out sheet. Barbara was nervous, sensing that the flight into infinity had already begun. Denis did everything with her that he hadn’t done in several years, and he didn’t hold back at all. Our bodies seemed to merge into one another. Our faces were flushed, and shivers ran up and down our bodies in quick succession.
At the end, she asked through the interpreter: “What’s wrong with me, and what am I doing here?” – exactly as the prostitute Di Di had once asked me. I explained everything briefly and clarified that I would never be able to be with a German woman. I told her how I’d ended up alone, and that I wanted to love and be loved.
And then Barbara typed on her phone:
“If you can’t be with a German woman, then get a Romanian one,” and pointed at herself.
It was our first date at a brothel. But our meeting in Room 8 didn’t feel like a meeting between strangers. We’d been messaging each other, completely certain that we’d be together from now on. It was as if we knew we’d been together before—perhaps in another life. And the question of our future life together was a matter for the next few days. After exchanging messages, we lay down on the bed, embraced, and fell asleep. But this is a brothel! You’re not supposed to sleep here. I jumped up after about 30 minutes, woke Barbara up, and we quickly gathered our things and ran out of the room. The lovers ran through the brothel’s hallways, laughing at themselves. Could something like that really happen? A client and a prostitute fell asleep in a room.
When Barbara said, “Take a Romanian woman,” Denis, without hesitation, replied:
“Pack your things and let’s go home.” I said it absolutely seriously. Barbara lowered her eyes and explained that she needed to work a bit longer – she wanted to buy a car. She had made a bet with someone. I never fully understood the situation.
In the lobby, I kissed her and immediately left the brothel so as not to see her give herself to another man. A terrible feeling. Sayud ran out half-naked and asked what was wrong with me. I said nothing. During my date with Barbara, Sayud had been entertaining himself with his familiar prostitutes. I told him I wanted to go home. Ah, I almost forgot – she left me her phone number, which doesn’t always happen at first contact.
I fell in love for the first time in my life at first sight. I injected myself with a concentrate of love. That magical drug is still inside me.
Six months later, when I send the book to Denisa, she’ll read it and ask me, “What are you planning to do with this book?” After a brief pause, I’ll reply that I might sell it, to which Denisa will say something that will stay with me forever: “Denis, love isn’t for sale.”
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