My name is Rahel Kaléko. Rahel is my “other” sister – she´s a part of me. I’ve retired my birth name and separated it from my job. Rahel is freer, more easy-going and braver than I am.
But, instead of sitting behind a desk, a register, or serving coffee with a smile; I provide people with a good time. By doing so, I become extremely close to them – as close as my clients want. I allow Rahel to be desired. This creates a diversity of stories – some dramatic, erotic and even crackling stories, which I share with my colleagues from Hetaera in our regular meetings at the Freundschaft Bar. And now during corona times, I share them here with you. Hetaera is a high class escort service, we work independently but in a collective structure. And by the way, we are the most expensive bitches in Germany and Austria.
Falling In Love With A Client
It was a perfectly normal inquiry; during the time between lockdowns, we were allowed to work again. A man from Munich, with a perfectly normal first and last name wanted to meet me. We misunderstand each other from the get go: he wanted me to fly to him and he wouldn’t come to me. How could I have got it mixed up? Then it occurred to me: in this case, I would be the traveling noblewoman who goes straight to her client. Client-noblemen usually travel a lot, mostly to Berlin where they stay in hotels.
Sex workers are being used to distract and help them be functional again.
A well protected and expensive secret for the most natural need in the world, for any individual who wishes or asks for the service: SEX. I wanted to say love. Occasionally, I’m thinking:
The next part of our conversation was about climate change and the reason behind me choosing to take the train from Berlin to Munich. After all, there’s a high-speed route with the ICE.
Even before the climate change discussion, I was wondering what I should wear for my dates.
“Munich… is a fine city!” – I thought.
80%..no let’s say 87% of the motivation for my job comes from the high possibility of wearing fine clothing, high heels and long jackets, and lipstick of course.
Rahel Kaléko © hetaera
Textiles that gently glide along my long, slender body and tickle my nipples or caress my ass. High heels, make me taller and give me the chance to look my customers in the eye (or sometimes I actually look down on them). I internally decided on the long Ralph Lauren dress with the plunging neckline. This looks good on small breasts like mine because the flounces tendril over the “flat” breast – the subtle curve comes to light; as well as Balenciaga’s – my work shoes: pitch black suede high heels with elastic to secure the foot. I have wide feet. These shoes squeeze them in nicely and because of the elastic I can get over Neukölln cobblestones and railroad crossings…Small body changes to heart palpitations.
This customer. That’s what we call the men who are willing to pay and are hungry for love. He and I. We wrote to each other – it has now become about 200 emails…Short, long, small, large. During work, while watching Bayern Munich scoring 3:0 with his son…at night, after the shower and before going to bed lonely. Conversations we had during his half hour of freedom and I could feel my voice vibrating over car speakers. It is a half an hour that I also enjoy very much. By the way, he also offered me money for our communication. Since we can’t see each other right now because of Corona, I gladly accepted. I responded:
Already after “You are rich” my colleagues at the Hetaera regulars’ table broke out in laughter. That’s cheeky! But also true! And I am amazingly anti-capitalist although I perhaps work in the most capitalistic industry in the world.
I am now thinking about his last lines from yesterday’s mail. Never before has language, momentum and eroticism led to touching myself and even led to a climax. I would like to share his mail with you:
“…heart pounding. Is it allowed to do that? It could write about pictures and what these feel like. My heart has also pictured your silhouette, but now that it doesn’t see a picture, it sees you. It has to write about you, it can’t think of pictures now. It wants to touch you, your hands, wants to follow them, and go under them. Where my hands go it is warm and soft. All I want to do is hold and feel them, breathe you in and breathe out.
Everything it wants to do is very lightly graze along and taste more and more until I grip you tighter. – “
As it always goes, he has the last word. Actually, most of the time he is the one being naughty with me.
Is that love? Or is that work?
And is love that is paid for sex work actually free at last? Can sex and love be separated, or does sex always equal love?