the car ride back was exhausting. R. was driving, i could overhear the conversation he and maiko were having. it was scattered over the insanely loud techno tracks that maiko put in the cd player. they were shouting to one another, recapturing the day. it was dark outside, the lights of the other cars shone into my eyes way too brightly. R. was speeding. at some moment we just dashed by every car that was ahead of us. i had to convince myself that we would not crash into a truck or slip over to the other side of the highway. i had to keep my eyes on the speedometer, to try to make it go under 200 with my sheer will. Under the 200 we would be safe. i wanted to be safe. R. and maiko were elated, apparently the meeting in cologne had gone well. i kept counting the distance we travelled in my mind, to figure out how much longer i would be stuck in that car with them. the speed we were going, it should not take any longer than an hour. towns i used to pass with my parents in the seventies and eighties, back then, in our Simca, slowly getting along in the traffic jam, now just seemed to vanish before i even knew we had reached them. i kept begging for the car to slow down, i tried to imagine that R. had to go to the toilet or something, so that i just could get out for two minutes and regain my breath. the air we slid through seemed to congest my lungs, it pushed itself onto my sternum, the sound of it drumming into my ears, in a counter-beat to the drums of the house music that pumped through the speakers. that whole journey we were only once taken over by another car. The men seemed duly impressed by that driver. R. turned to me: "did you see that guy, crazy, i say crazy. cool!" i did not have the courage to ask R. to slow down, he would have surely found it amusing, and would have only sped up even more. i tried to smile, and counted the distance passed, deducting it from the distance ahead of us. ignoring all the traffic we passed.
i had once heard that BMW had a special treat for rich Chinese customers: after the purchase they are allowed to do a test drive in Bavaria. no speed limits there on the highways. one road is called the panorama highway. it is leading through a fairy-tale landscape. The main asset of that highway is the road as such. it folds itself like a garland around the mountains. curves, bends, tunnels in abundance. The clients are accompanied by a professional rally driver. They can speed along for as long as they like, as fast as they want to. not even a speeding ticket, just good clean high-speed fun. I even had to think of a movie i once saw, or maybe i only saw the opening scene. it was a baptism. of BMW´s. by a priest. a long line of cars, one after the other having sprinkled holy water onto them after leaving the factory doors for the first time. a welcoming of the new generation. i just hoped this car had been baptised too, and that we would make it. and on we drove.
when we finally reached the hotel i wanted to just lie down and go to sleep, but R. had other plans. he wanted a story. and afterwards he said, we would go out. there i sat, on my chair. in Frankfurt. again. i gave him the only story i knew about a highway.
hotelroom on the highway (trafficjamslambang)
Schiphol hotel van der valk, the Netherlands.
I know this guy who works with the technical department on many filmsets. I was working on the same set as he was, and since we lived in the same neighbourhood we started commuting together that week. Every day we would pass schiphol airport and the motels just behind it. On the third day, out of the blue, just after our first coffee he started telling me that this was the hotel he took girls to fuck. I knew he was a married family man so I was rather confused about the announcement. But, then, as it was obvious he was not intending to take me there, for if he were that surely would have been the absolute worst pick up line I had ever heard, I was ok with it for now. We just talked about the day ahead of us, the filmschedule. All day on the set I found myself looking at the guy and wondering who it was he took there, and how he invited the girls, and then what he would do with them.
On our way back home, about half an hour before we would pass the hotel, my curiosity won.. I just had to know. So I asked him: Who are the girls you fuck there, not your wife, I suppose? He answered, no, it was definitely not his wife, it were girls from filmsets, mostly the make up or clothing department, they were the most fun, and if not available he would take the production girls, who were always very much available, but less fun. Actresses, he said, where out of his league, they where for the directors of photography or for the directors themselves. I was a bit baffled by the very soberness and earnestness of his answer, I remember looking at him to see if he was kidding me, but obviously, he was not. His nose did not wrinkle in the way it did when he was joking. Plain, that was what his statement was, just like I had asked him whether he had sugar in his coffee or not, and today I even wonder if that question might not have puzzled him more than the very personal one I had just asked him. I wanted to know whether his wife knew about it, but the more pressing question on my mind was whether it was always this hotel or whether he had places all over the country where these fucks would occur. He really started enjoying our conversation at this point. He had several hotels, this one was ok, but actually not quite cheap enough, he liked the really cheap formula one motels even better, the ones where you just needed a credit card to get into a room. Right. ..but this one is ok too, if I really like a girl, and think we can have big fun I might even take the swimmingpool room, you know, it has its own swimmingpool, but mostly I just go for a standard room. Swimmingpoolroom is good to impress a babe. And you know, it is not always on my mind, but then, if there is a traffic jam, I think to myself, we can sit here, frustrated about the traffic not moving, or we can really have a ball in a sleazy room, and then I know what I like best...
We were silent for about five minutes, I looked out of the car, at all the passing cars, wondering if the people inside those cars would ever have a trafficjamslambang. Looking at the characterless faces wearing their dusty blueish grey suits sitting in their nondescript cars, I was quite sure that even in their dreams they would be too penny-pinching to indulge themselves on such a highrolling fantasy. One driver looked at me when we overtook his car, and for a second I was scared that he read my mind, so I looked in front of me again. My expression must have been rather weird.
Then I made the decision to ask the technician to join me in one of the rooms. I told him I would pay for the room, and not have sex with him, but asked him to go through the details with me. I wanted to know what he did inside one of those rooms. He thought about it for a second or two and then said: OK.
We got off the highway and went to the motel. The reception was incredibly plastic, but the kind of plastic that is meant to look like something else, and therein, completely fails. There were would-be leather chairs and couches, the wooden floor was laminate, and the greenery was made of polyester. There even were plastic victorian lamp posts with real fake gaslight in them. My colleague told me that we were too late for the dayroom rate. Turned out, your could get a room for just daytime and that it would be much cheaper that way. So maybe my traffic jam bores did go to such a place afterall.
There were still a lot of rooms available. I could choose between: the Mexican suite, of which the only Mexican seemed to be in the name, it was terracotta and blue coloured, as far as the leaflet told me. That would not do, I wanted cheap overindulgence. The technician said I had to pick the room I liked best, he knew most of them anyway. The swimmingpool suite of course sounded brilliant: ..feel like a millionaire! unique in the Netherlands! a double bedroom and a swimming pool to yourself!.. my friend smiled. But that one was above my budget. The Jacuzzi suite seemed to have his approval too, when I glanced at that one, but in the end I decided to take the jungle suite, as the catalogue told me that this was the room you needed if you wanted an adventure. And this was surely going to be a safari into a another man´s sex jungle for me. The suite was not taken, so we took it.
It was hideous. My god. I had to laugh out loud. The walls were covered in a murky greenish paint, and all the furniture was actually made out of plastic bamboo, and so horribly done, with no adventurous imagination what so ever. Some of the palmtrees were real though, to say something nice about it. There even where these scented candles, tangerine flavour, the ones that make you carsick immediately once you light them. My friend pointed out that it had a waterbed. He sat down on it, all of a sudden he became real shy in his movements, now, being here not to fuck he must have felt more naked fully dressed than he ever had before, there was not a trace of the filmset tarzan left in him. He sat, his hands folded in his lap, slightly bend over.
And then I started asking the questions, for I wanted to go all the way now. This was exiting!
..so, you get in to this room, do you first pour her a drink, or do you throw her on the bed immediately?.. ..depends on the girl.. he said ..I mean, as soon as I make the suggestion of going to the hotel she knows what is going to happen, but every girl needs a different approach... I wanted to know how he brought up the idea with the girl in the first place. ..it usually starts on the set, you know, making compliments all day, tease a little, and then make sure you have to drive her home at night. And then, when we are driving, I mostly tell her that it is so odd, that I heard that couples sneak into this hotel to have sex, if she reacts right, she´ll say something like, really, wow. Then I know I just have to wait a little and say that we could just have a look at the hotel bar and check the couples out that have their secret sex dates there and have a drink. The girls always want to. So then I take her in, and if I want it to be this room I would give her a strange tropical cocktail, you know, a ´sex on the beach´ would be too obvious, so mostly it will be something like a ´southern peach´ or a ´pink Chevrolet´... So I suggested we would go to the bar and have one of those then. He sort of felt uncomfortable. He asked me whether I wasn´t trying to seduce him now or anything. I reassured him that this was not the case. I really just wanted to know. That seemed ok with him. We went over to the bar, and I had my southern peach and he had a beer. ..so now what?.. ..well, there usually should be a business meeting with at least one businessman flirting with a girl, and then I would tell the girl: see, there they go, they´ll take a room, and ask her which room she thinks they will choose. The girl always chooses the room for them that she herself does not want to have. So then I know which room she probably likes. And I start to do the flirt thing, but now more obviously, and they always respond, putting their hands on my leg, things like that. I then say I should really be getting home. They are always so disappointed when I say that, but I insist. Then I look into her eyes and say, what the hell, one more drink is ok. The relief on the girls´ face is what you should see. I have her right where I want her. We´ll have another cocktail.. (So I ordered one for both me and him) ..and then I say that we could just take a room for an hour, tell her the discount story and that it would be fun to see such a room. They mostly giggle at that point, trying to look sexy at the same time, you know, throw their hair back, move their fingers up and down their cocktail glass real slowly, and if it..s a really trashy one, she´ll start eating the cocktail cherry whilst looking at me... I picked up the cherry and swallowed it in one piece. ..not that way, they make an effort to make it look really sexy. I then say, oh well, it is expensive you know.. I stall. And then I tell them, but with you it should be fun, you are such a nice fun loving girl.. And then we book the room...
Back in the room, he asked me if I really wanted to know everything. And I said yes. Everything. What would be next? ..Well, the Jacuzzi is always good, you know, leave your underwear on, it should not become to sleazy to easily... So I went over to the Jacuzzi, filled it, and asked him to sit in it. I told him he could leave all his clothes on, for all I cared, I had no desire to see his body. He said that would be difficult, he had no spare clothes with him. So I agreed on the underwear part. He sat in the Jacuzzi. He looked rather silly, all by himself there in that bubble frenzy. I asked him what happened in the Jacuzzi. The obvious stuff he said, the fondling, the kissing, the touching. And then what? They would go to the bed, they would have to take their underwear off because it was wet. So nudity then. I suggested he put on a bathrobe in this case. He gladly agreed. But he was real cool, he went to the bed, lay down. I sat on one of the disgusting bamboo chairs. And I asked: And then you fuck?.. ..Yes, then we fuck... ..are it good fucks?.. ..mostly, yes, depends on the girl, on the room... And they never fall in love with you afterwards?.. ..Some do, but never for long... I found that I was not able to go into the details of the actual fuck, that would have been too uneasy for me. The last thing I wanted to know was whether he smoked an after sex cigarette. And yes he did. So I sat next to him on the bed, and we both smoked a cigarette. He then put his clothes on, without the wet underwear, and we checked out.
It is only a twenty minute drive from the hotel to my home, and we were rather quiet on the road. Eventually, I thanked him, for sharing this intimacy with me. He hoped I didn´t think he was a complete freak, and I said that I thought quite the opposite.
Very fascinating to have been part of somebody else's hotel. Whenever I see him on the set now, flirting with one of the make-up girls, I just give him a big wink, and he smiles back. I know then that I will have to find myself another ride home.
R. laughed. "and you want me to believe you didn't have sex? come on! you fucked the guy and because you don´t want your boyfriend to know you you turned it into this figment of yours."
"i didn't have sex with him, i didn´t even go into the hotel with him. the only thing he said is if i figured a little date there, and he was joking."
"really, is that how your stories work?"
"no, but as all i have done today is hang out in a church filled with bones and skulls and then drove home with you guys and nearly got killed this is all i could think of."
"how did you get killed, nearly?"
"well you drove like a couple of maniacs"
"we just had fun, girl. for crying out loud loosen up a little, you are always so tight. did you get me the present?"
i had forgotten. it was still in the safe. i went up into my room and got it for him. I needed cold water on my face. I kept rinsing my face and my wrists. i felt dirty. when i came back to R. i handed him the necklace. he put it into his suitcase.
"don´t you want to see if it is what you wanted to get her?"
"ah, i am sure she will like it. now, let´s get drunk, we really need to celebrate."
the three of us went through at least five bars, and drank indeed.
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