Berlin's Wild Nightlife -
By Cindy-Lou Dale
Rubber Ladies' Clothing
Cheered by his comment, I wandered back to where I’d placed my camera bag. I sat beside a couple who had evidently tired themselves out with their new battery operated toys and were now in a light, if somewhat delirious slumber; but were instantly revived when a spotlight beamed down on Nada who was dramatically descending a flight of stairs onto the stage.
She acted out what was evidently an emotional portrayal of a historic siren’s sexual fantasy. At the conclusion of her performance the audience clapped and cheered politely but were evidently more intent on her next performance.
Nada stepped down from the stage and walked across to a giant tented bed beside the dance floor. The crowd drew closer and a cameraman, who was filming the event for a paying internet audience, knelt beside her.
She reclined seductively and took a sip of wine, some of which she spilt down her front and salaciously rubbed over her body. Soon her co-performer joined and began mopping up the bits she had missed. Soon she had him reclining, encouraging his arousal.
Not Much Variety
It must be said, there wasn’t much variety in their performance which included unprotected penetration and, as I had half expected, the event did not conclude in a happy ending. I’d like to think this joyous intimacy was reserved for their truly private moments.
The audience seemed hooked on this voyeurism and did not venture too far as there was talk of a repeat performance soon.
As Nada and her boyfriend disappeared into the shadows, their performance was replaced with hip grinding music which boomed across the dance floor. Batman had latched his mouth around one of the sagging bosoms belonging to the cupless corset who clearly found this immensely pleasing.
The bearded mini-skirt invited me to dance, but after a few minutes I must confess I felt rather foolish; more accurately I felt like a fraud. I was intruding in an inner sanctum of inhibition free individuals who understood one another’s needs. I feigned another appointment and left for my next port of call.
Living in the Real World
A bow-legged man with a dickey knee and a gruff manner came sauntering around the corner. His dog was frantically trying to pee on every vertical surface and in consequence wasn’t so much walking as being dragged along on three legs.
Clutching my inadequate little map I approached him and asked if he could direct me to the underground. He looked at me darkly.
“Kannst du nicht das landkarte lessen? Dummkopf!” I presume it was an impolite statement as he peered at me in bemusement and then proceeded to direct me towards Eastern Europe. I watched him swagger off, dragging his dog along in search of some more uprights.
The Real Freaks Are Outside
“Could you take me to Alt Tempelhof 17?” I pleaded.
The cab driver asked where I had been and I naively told him. He began to laugh lasciviously, which progressed to a lung shaking cough of a hardened smoker.
His eyes looked back at me in the rear-view mirror; they were shiny and rat-like and from the back seat I could smell his primeval breath.
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