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Berlin's Wild Nightlife: The Other Side of Midnight What I love about Berlin is its unique and irrepressible ambience which exudes from each building and every citizen; one of acceptance and freedom, tolerance even; embracing all things decadent. There is an air of unpretentiousness amongst Berliners who are open-minded and non-judgmental. As such the city is a magnet for non-conformists and creative minds drawn by the bizarre nightlife. Europeans have a healthy outlook on one of life’s remaining pleasures - Berliners especially so; and flirting with a little irregularity myself I succumbed to the promise of bearing witness to the city’s uninhibited erotica scene. The KitKat Club
I’m not certain exactly what I expected when I met Nada Njiente, one of KitKat Club’s erotic dancers, but petite, genial and butt-naked was definitely not it. I endeavoured to avert my gaze from the tiny buds suggesting a bosom and instead fixed my eyes on her lavishly rouged and over-powdered face (and quietly wondered if a coffin scene was part of tonight’s show). Feeling rather prim and somewhat overly dressed, I ordered a Mineral Water. We exchanged smiles and agreed how good it was to finally meet. Then I began coaxing details from her about how her erotic dancing career got started. Emotional Baggage
“Throughout my adult life I managed to get myself entangled in relationships that would end in tears. I didn’t want the emotional baggage that came with these liaisons but hankered only after the physical aspects.” She paused for reflection. “Thirteen years ago I attended an S & M event which I would personally liken to a born-again experience. A Domina on stage invited all those wanting to ‘come out’ to join her. In an instant I knew that this was me. I was overcome with the need for myself and everyone around me to know me for exactly what I was." Nada also stars in a couple of x-rated movies, participates in live sex shows and performs tantra massages. “I have an insatiable appetite for physical intimacy and need to express these desires as often as I can.” She considered this statement for a moment then added: Unrelenting Pressure She lit another cigarette and placed it in a cigarette holder.
“And should this be the vehicle they need in order to express themselves, to be themselves, or just to be in the company of others seeking fulfilment, then so be it.” Nada tossed her glossy mane to one side and sucked back on her cigarette. The light fell across her gentle face, instantly making her look every day of her 48 years. “I have an 18-year old daughter,” she proudly announced. “We have a very open relationship.” “How does she view your profession?” I asked with difficulty. “She knows what I do for a living and so do her friends. In fact, my daughter’s friends seek my advice and confide in me about personal aspects of their relationships.” Top Hat and Tails
He swabbed her throat with his tongue then whispered sweet nothings in her ear. Clearly they adored one another. Nada excused herself saying she had to prepare for her performance. The nightclub was an extraordinary place, musty and dark, unusual art, a swing - I felt my way through the gloom, seeking a good vantage point of the stage. Something nicked the edge of my gaze and made me turn. Nobody seemed too bothered by what others were doing, so neither was I. In fact, I felt it unusually refreshing to see so few inhibitions.
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. The Show
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. Insomnia “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.
A Safe Room 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. 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
“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. 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.
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. “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.”
Great job! Kirsten Schmidt Berlin Tourism Marketing North America
Visit our Cindy Lou Dale Page with links to all her stories.
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