Yom Kippur in Amsterdam


"It's seventy guilders for a fuck or a suck. You pay first."

Jake was amazed by the sheer automatism with which this pale face commanded him. He opened his wallet and paid. The woman stashed the money away, rolled down her underwear, then undid her bra and laid it out carefully on a wooden chair. The room was lit by four large red candles, each burning in a corner. The bed was narrow and covered with an Oriental bedspread. A glass-topped coffee table. Two chairs. Bare painted walls. A mirror mounted on the ceiling above the bed. Jake stepped in place, unsure of what was next.

"What are you waiting for? You can take your clothes off."

Jake blushed to the roots of his hair.

"May I have some water? My mouth is very dry." He sounded like a teenager buying cigarettes.

"I don't usually do that for customers, but I'll make an exception for you. Please don't break the cup." The prostitute filled a blue porcelain cup with tap water. "It's a gift."

Jake greedily gulped the water down.

"Water tastes good here. Thank you."

Copyright 2009 by Maxim D. Shrayer. All rights reserved worldwide.



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