Insomnia

Berlin's Wild Nightlife

Page Three

By Cindy-Lou Dale

Insomnia

Insomnia, a members’ only club of self indulgence, was reportedly slightly more upmarket than the KitKat Club. Access was closely guarded by a giant of a man, with prickly blond hair, cropped into a military style. His voice was callous, like an angry Norse god.

“No cameras!” he demanded. “We have a private party tonight.”

I handed him my press card and a letter of introduction from the Tourism Board, which seemed to placate him as I was waved through.

A flight of stairs took me up to a large dance floor with a bar down one end. Off the dance floor were a number of smaller rooms containing larger-than-life dayglow painted images of one’s intimates on the walls and ceilings.

Some of the patrons were engaged in foreplay on the dance floor whilst others had gone beyond that and taken their desires to one of the adjoining rooms, one of which was bondage.

A room I found particularly fascinating was one which contained a gynaecological chair on which a female patron was seated.

Her pretty blonde-haired partner spread what appeared to be freshly whipped cream over her privates, then disappeared somewhere south with a strawberry between her teeth. She reappeared a moment later without the strawberry but with a face lathered in cream. The recipient seemed immensely pleased with her dessert. I was rather impressed that nothing I now saw shocked me.

A Safe Room

The other apparatus in the room was also intriguing; I could only but hazard a wild guess as to their purpose. I ventured further and found a mezzanine level overlooking the dance floor; several enormous tented beds where spaced around the area for singles, couples or groups to partake in enjoying themselves or one another, an act which was already in play.

Insomnia

I asked statuesque owner, Dominique, what inspired her to open Insomnia.

“Sex is one of the most interesting aspects of my life. I study it, I talk about it, I do it and I teach it. When I was 18 my mother (also a domina) and I opened SM studios - a family enterprise which later changed to Insomnia TV Productions & Party Events, that’s when I started fetish, sex and dance parties.

"In 2006, my partner and I opened this club – Insomnia. This is a safe room, where the different influences of swingers, S&M, dance, music and fetish combine”.

I hung around the dance floor for a while, taking photos of the performers, but again felt conspicuously out of place. Quite clearly I was intruding on a secret playground for grown-ups, where erotic fantasies took place. I felt certain these folk could see through the rubber-clad façade I was professing.

The Nachtrevue

I stepped out of the wild-west alternative club and wound down my evening of entertainment at Kleine Nachtrevue, a small cabaret club whose owner, Sylvia Schmid, was once a concert ballet dancer.

Making up for the Nachtrevue

“About 15-years ago I danced semi-nude in a modern production. The experience was somewhat revitalizing, stimulating even. This was when I decided what I wanted to do with my future.”

Following what I had seen thus far I felt positively refreshed when I saw Sylvia’s first act. Her performance was less of erotic dance and more of cabaret showmanship - she just ends not wearing anything.

However, I had only caught the first hour of her show and was lead to believe it gets a little more brazen. Her audience both, male and female, ranging in age from about 30, clearly enjoy her show. When I left there was only standing room available.

The world outside was bathed in that predawn light that seems to come from nowhere. I felt a stab of despair when no cabs were to be found and headed off in the direction of where I thought the underground station lay.

I walked past a couple of roughneck bars and found myself in an unfamiliar area – unfamiliar as in I had not walked by it that evening. Looking around with pursed lips and a thoughtful gaze, I tried to recall which direction the cab had taken.

The Nachtrevue

A One-Finger Salute

I continued and briefly inserted myself into the red-light district but soon retraced my steps when a she-man scowled at me in a somewhat threatening manner. Evidently she had seen a curb crawler propositioning me but failed to notice the one finger salute I gave him. Back past the rough neck bars I went, then I spotted the underground.

Coming from a long line of anti-sobriety activists - and my research now concluded - I hastened to a little bar across the way from my hotel. I uttered a small cry of pleasure when my G&T finally arrived.

An hour or so later I wandered across the road to my quarters by way of several shrubs and one uncompromising lamppost.

I celebrated my safe arrival by making a full circuit in the revolving door so that I materialized into the open once again, before plunging back in and being tossed with startling suddenness into the hotel’s luxurious and towering lobby. The night staff were silently watching me.

“Oh, I say,” I announced to the pretty young receptionist. “I’m going to need a hand getting out of this rubber dress; don’t suppose you could…”

She smiled knowingly. “I’ll get the talcum powder and the shoe horn.”

 

 

 

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Cindy-Lou Dale is an award-winning writer and photo journalist with bases in Brussels and London. Visit her website, cindyloudale.com.

 

 

Visit our Cindy Lou Dale Page with links to all her stories.

Comments on "The Other Side of Midnight":

I wanted to thank you for the Erotic Berlin story on GoNomad. You definitely DID find the right words. Another writer friend and I praised your excellent style and smart way to describe the scene without making it sound sleazy. This is almost child-proof, still leaving everything to the adult reader’s imagination!

Great job!

Kirsten Schmidt

Berlin Tourism Marketing North America

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