Amsterdam, Netherlands
Wednesday 1st July, 2015
I had been to Amsterdam a couple of times before, but this time was different for so many reasons. Two prominent changes to the circumstances were; I was alone, and I wasn’t on a holiday break. Probably more important than either of those things was my reason for leaving the UK.
My flight from East Midlands Airport had been relatively short in travelling time which suited me. I wanted to get away from all I knew, get unpacked and relax with a few quiet drinks in a local bar. The bus which took us from the plane to the terminal building took about fifteen minutes, which I thought was peculiar when the flight from the UK to the Netherlands had only been about an hour.
I approached one of the kiosks and fished out my passport. My laptop bag was over my shoulder, and I was dragging a small trolley suitcase behind me. I had one large suitcase to pick up—my luggage was my world.
“Is your visit for business or pleasure, Mr Dewar?” The pretty brunette had beautiful eyes.
“Pleasure.” I had to concentrate on smiling which shouldn’t have been the case looking at such a pretty girl, but she reminded me of my wife when we’d married—my vindictive ex-wife.
“I hope you have a pleasant stay.” Did I detect a hint of sadness in her eyes, a note of pity in her tone?
“Thank you—I hope so too.” I accepted my passport and headed out to find my big suitcase on whichever carousel it would be trundling around.
Part of the attraction of flying into Schiphol Airport was that within a few minutes of being cleared at the passport control I’d be buying my train ticket, and five minutes later I’d be downstairs waiting for one of the regular shuttles into the city.
I went upstairs on the blue and yellow, two-tier train, and although I sat gazing out at the dykes and the canals my mind was trapped in the life I’d left behind. For twenty minutes the greenery, small towns, and the occasional large business park zipped past.
When I negotiated the crowd in Amsterdam Centraal, I checked my notes. “Number 12 bus.” I didn’t know if it was because I had absolute freedom, or because I was sexually frustrated, but I noted that there were a lot of attractive young women around.
A few minutes after leaving the station I was on a bus, and twenty minutes later I was alighting at Haarlemmerplein, checking my directions for Westpark. I was told it was a five-minute walk.
Stefanie, my landlady, would be at the flat with a set of keys for me so I didn’t have the usual runaround I’d sometimes found on holiday. I had to remind myself, this wasn’t a holiday. I reached the block with the red front door and buzzed Flat 4—De Kroon.
“Hello,” a female voice said.
“Hi, it’s Mr Dewar.”
“Come on up.”
There was a low buzz, and I pushed the door. I adjusted the handle of my larger case for carrying and set off up the four flights of stairs.
“Hi, Martin.” A tall and handsome woman of forty-something was standing at the doorway. “Our stairs are a bit steeper than those in the UK.” Her shoulder-length platinum blonde hair was centre-parted with precision.
“They certainly are.” I struggled to get inside with all my luggage in one go. I waited in the hallway and followed the woman into the main room before I put down my bags.
“I’m pleased to meet you,” The curvaceous woman extended a hand. “I’m Stefanie.”
I took her slender hand briefly. “Martin, and thank you for making time to meet me here.”
“It’s no problem, and I don’t live far from here. I bought a few basic groceries for you. I know it can be tedious arriving somewhere and then having to go out to stores.”
“Thank you, I didn’t expect such hospitality—just a set of keys.”
Stefanie laughed. “Sometimes, a little bit extra doesn’t hurt.” When she smiled, it made me feel warm inside. “I recall you asked about whether it would be better to buy a cheap bike or rent one. I had two, so I left one downstairs in the back lock-up area—the key is lying beside the map on the table there.”
I laughed. “You’re making this feel like a special trip already, and I haven’t unpacked yet.”
“You said in your last email that you weren’t sure about how long you’d be here, but it might be over a month—do you know any departure dates yet?”
“Would it help you to plan future bookings if I gave you an estimated date?”
“If I know you’ll be here for the whole of July, it will help, but if you might be here longer, it will help us both, because I’ll reduce your rates.”
I inhaled deeply. “May I contact you after about a week, and by then I’ll have a better idea what lies ahead for me?”
“Of course, and keep in mind—the longer you want to stay, and the more notice you can give me, the less it will cost you.”
“Thank you, Stefanie—I do appreciate all you’ve done already. The bike and the groceries are unexpected, but two more small worries out of the way.”
“I’m getting the impression you have a lot on your mind my friend, so I’ll show you all the things you need to know about, and I’ll leave you to get on.”
Stefanie gave me a tour of the flat, including how to switch on and operate the cooker. The main room was a large kitchen/diner/lounge area, with a small balcony. Back along the short hallway were a wet room, a toilet, a utility room, and at the end a sizeable bedroom. It was adequate.
“I hope you have a pleasant stay, Martin, and remember, if you have any problems, please give me a call. I only live around the corner from here.” She paused at the door. “Oh, before I forget, an engineer is coming to do a physical check of the electricity meter. It takes about two minutes.”
“Do you know which day or time—”
“No, I’m sorry. They only do a check about every three months, so I know it’s due. I’ll try to let you know when, but if you don’t answer the door, would it be okay if I let him in and stay with him until he takes the reading?”
“Certainly, it will, we have a similar system in the UK. It’s done online every month, but they insist on a manual check occasionally.”
“Right, I’m going now. Have a lovely stay.”
“Thank you, Stefanie.” I placed the door keys down on top of the city map that my landlady had left for my use. I’d have to remember to buy her a small gift to show my gratitude. It was only after spending a short while in her company that I decided, Stefanie was probably a young-looking forty-something. Whatever—she was easy on the eye.
I organised a coffee and sat out on the balcony for a short while. The view below and to the right was a school for younger children, so it wasn’t awe-inspiring, but it meant that for most of the time it would be quiet. To the front and left were a couple of large trees, all of which were higher than my little balcony. I enjoyed relaxing and watching the antics of birds, so that was good.
This end of the apartment was in stark contrast to the south side of the building where the bedroom window faced out towards the Westerpark, which was on the other side of a large embankment … and the main railway line. I had to hope the double-glazing was efficient.
The bed was a big double, and the wardrobe was massive, taking up the entirety of one wall. All three of the sliding wardrobe doors were mirrored, and they filled the space from ceiling to floor. I smiled at my reflection when I realised that I’d only had to use two of the three parts of the large wardrobe and it swallowed all of my clothes.
I grinned as I thought about the amount of space it left for new things, and I tried to imagine what I might see filling the third section and the shelves—if I dared. I knew it was going to be hard buying things the first time, but once I got started, I should be okay. I had to locate just the right store, and also find confidence.
My choice of an evening meal was to use one of the small local restaurants—I didn’t want to cook on my first night, and I fancied a couple of beers with my meal.
“Enjoy.” The young man who brought my food gave me a big smile, and when I returned the gesture it felt like I’d turned a corner—the smile I gave him felt natural. My new temporary break from reality had started. At thirty-five, I should have been settled into suburbia with a wife, kids, a car, a mortgage and a monotonous existence. Of course, that would have been normal.
*
Thursday 2nd July
“Good morning world.” I sat up in bed and looked around, having enjoyed a restful sleep—the double-glazing was up to the job of blocking the noise of trains.
An hour after waking, I’d enjoyed my first extensive shave, showered, fed and was ready for a walk around the local area. Before leaving the block, I checked out the old bike which Stefanie had left for me. I was impressed by the overall condition and knew I’d be putting it to good use soon enough. For the first couple of days, until I’d settled in, I would walk.
It felt incredible getting out and knowing I was away from all that had troubled me the day before. The sun was shining, the sky was blue and cloudless, and I was free to do as I wished. I smiled—not for any special reason other than an overwhelming sense of freedom. After walking street after street for about an hour and a half, I checked my whereabouts on my map. I was satisfied I’d seen most of the local scene, so I sat at a small table outside a cafe.
“Hello—a coffee, please.” I smiled at the young woman who’d come to attend to me.
“Of course. Would you like anything else?”
“Only coffee, for now, thank you.” I thought she might not have much of a bust, but she had a pretty face, shoulder-length auburn hair and dark lashes. She looked like twenty-something.
She smiled and nodded politely before going inside to fetch my drink. I knew that uniforms were not a prerequisite in most parts of Amsterdam—a historical thing dating back to the war. The girl wore a white blouse, and a long black apron covered most of her front, including her legs.
As she went indoors, I turned to get a look at her, and I wasn’t disappointed. The view from behind was lovely—a cute pair of buttocks encased in a tight, short black skirt, and unless I was mistaken, black stockings; not tights. Shoes with heels would have been nicer than the ballet pumps, but she was probably on her feet for hours.
While I enjoyed my coffee the other three tables outside attracted customers, which pleased me because it meant I’d get another look at the girl as she dealt with the orders. I was doing okay until the third table when she unexpectedly turned and smiled at me over her shoulder.
“Another coffee, please.” I felt my face warming and hoped she’d think I’d been waiting for her to turn.
The girl looked at me knowingly, gave a broad smile and nodded. “I’ll be two minutes.”
“Thank you.” I picked up my map to occupy myself, and true to her word she was standing at my table after two minutes.
“Are you on holiday in Amsterdam?” She openly appraised me as I sat there in my T-shirt, shorts and sandals. I hoped I’d achieved a local look, but I supposed the map was a giveaway.
“Actually, I arrived yesterday. I’m on a break for a couple of months.”
“Surely not on your own?’
“Yes, I had to get away for a while, and when you live alone, it’s easier.”
I finished my coffee, paid and gave the girl a decent tip which got me another broad smile.
I got back to my apartment block, but instead of going inside I crossed the road, went under the rail bridge and walked around a section of Westerpark. It was spacious and relaxing to stroll where the paths were wide enough to allow pedestrians to wander and the occasional cyclists to go cruising past in both directions.
When I finally arrived back to my flat, I organised a coffee and opened my laptop to check for messages. There was nothing of any importance, so I closed down the machine. I was taking a few days to get settled before I started work, but I had to know there was nothing significant to see.
In the evening I made a meal and had a beer before sitting out on my small balcony for a while.
“Today, and tonight, local—tomorrow, the city.” I gulped my beer and stared into one of the tall trees. Two large bright green birds were fluttering around. Surely not parakeets? When they were joined by two more, it confirmed the species, but it seemed outrageous to see them in the wild in Europe.
After a couple of beers at home, I headed out to check the bars nearby. I found myself sitting each time, enjoying a drink and observing how content and laid back the people appeared to be. I wondered if it were my new outlook, but there were no raised voices—only conversation, laughter, and drinking. This was an environment I could appreciate.
I wandered back to my flat and considered how different and lively it would be in some parts of Amsterdam in the evenings. I’d find out soon enough, but it was good to know that if I wanted to, I could go for a drink in any one of several quiet bars locally.
When I was about to climb into bed, I stood in front of my three massive mirrored wardrobe doors and looked at my naked, almost hairless body. I still had my long fair hair, my eyebrows and lashes, which was all I wanted.“Maybe one day soon I’ll do some special shopping.” I played my fingertips lightly over my body, happy with my full-bodied physique and grateful for not having a beer-belly.
*
Friday 3rd July
My new life and freedom were still fresh to me, and after my morning rituals, I went for a walk in Westerpark. Instead of going back into the block I walked past and went to the cafe I’d visited the day before. I sat outside and was the only customer at a table.
“Hello again … coffee?” It was the auburn-haired girl with the long lashes and athletic figure.
“Yes, please.”
My coffee was served two minutes later, and I got another smile. I wondered if she liked me because I’d checked out her legs and she’d caught me, or due to my previous generous tip.
The girl gazed into my eyes briefly. “How are you today?” Her voice was quiet and husky.
“Better than yesterday, thank you. I think I was a bit tired from travelling, but now I’ve had a good rest.”
“I’m pleased for you.”
It was only when she turned and glanced at me at the cafe entrance that I noticed she was wearing a black velvet choker again. I recalled seeing it the first time and thinking it was an unusual item to wear with certain outfits, so she obviously liked them.
I finished my coffee, paid up, leaving a tip once again, and left for home.
In the afternoon I walked into the city. I considered cycling in or catching a bus, but I had no time constraints, and the weather was great for a stroll. The narrow shopping street of Haarlemmerdijk gave me things to stop and check as I wandered along. It took me no more than half an hour, and I was on the edge of the Grachtengurdel, as the rings of canals are known.
I checked my watch—less than an hour from the flat, and I was in the busy city centre enjoying the atmosphere of such a beautiful place. Dam Square was packed and in various places were the usual human statues—typically students earning a bit of extra cash. I saw a green Statue of Liberty, a couple of Star Wars characters and an impressive pair in orange outfits, mimicking Buddhists. One was sitting, seemingly in mid-air above his colleague. The cleverly disguised rope stretched up between the two was the key to the illusion. I’d seen this being set up once somewhere and knew that the guy on top holding the ‘rope’ was sitting cross-legged on a small platform. It was still no mean feat.
I wandered around a few department stores looking for the items in which I was interested. Yes, I’d find what I wanted. Would I have the guts to actually take some of the things to the cash desk? I’d gone into a department store in Kalvertstraat, a popular shopping area for tourists. I found the section in the store, and it was quiet. Of course, although it was a store in a famous street, it didn’t mean it would be either very busy or tranquil—it was a chance I had to take.
I looked at the lingerie and the reasonable prices. As I checked out a few items, I stood beside women so that it looked like I was with one of them, but after a short while I ended up in the area on my own. A female shop assistant in her thirties was watching and approached.
“How can we help you, sir?”
“It’s okay, thank you.” I walked away. Shit, I forgot nearly everybody spoke English as a second language, and how the hell did she know I was British—probably from my embarrassment when she looked at me standing there alone in front of negligees, underwear, tights and stockings.
Sure, in my mind it was simple enough to go into a store and buy items, but it only took a simple question, and I’d be the colour of beetroot. I wasn’t able to pick up a few things in a department store. How was I going to buy shoes in my size?
I went outside and found a place to have a coffee. There had to be a way of dealing with my problem which didn’t involve major embarrassment. As I sat at a table with my drink, I watched the people going about their business, and I found it easy to spot the tourists among the crowds.
After a couple of hours wandering and people-watching in the city, I walked home to the flat empty-handed and disappointed in myself. I had a meal in the evening and went out for a couple of drinks locally again. I visited a different bar from my first night out. While slipping into an alcohol-induced relaxed state, I looked at the people in the small bar and had an idea for when I next considered trying to buy lingerie.
When I got home, I stripped off and looked at myself in the mirrored doors. I smiled as I caressed my smooth body. “You’ll be depending on your imagination to arouse you, Martin, unless you can follow through with your latest brilliant idea.”
***
Katya Cumming Erotica 