To be here is like returning to your ex who hits you: It is like arriving home, everything is familiar and still feels all wrong.
The woman guiding the tour, Juanita Henning, introduces the woman to us us? I just wonder, could I be confused with the other participants, most if not all of whom are unlikely to have anything to do with prostitution and who therefore have hardly any idea of it? Thank God. If I now had to smell this brothel mix — cigarette smoke, sweat, sperm, rubber — I think I would lose it. She looks tired and wearied, and this is visible even in spite of the lack of light in this room. She started 10 years ago.
This, while the data provided by the police etc. I ask D. I remember that I always experienced being a dominatrix more exhausting than other things, I hated it, being booked for this. But I do not say this. There are no sexual acts here. Very rarely a guy satisfies himself. That is nothing really. Now and then I slap them a little, very lightly. This here is only phantasy really, nothing more, no sex or anything. Nothing real. A woman asks if she ever feels disgust. Nothing happens.
I wonder what the connection is between this obsessive minimisation, this diminution and denial and disassociation. I am sorry for D. And to be honest, what else could she have said faced with more than 15 bourgeois, settled women? To feel disgust means to find someone attractive. I feel very dizzy by now. Is that because the place is so hot or because the situation is so absurd? The entire room is full of bourgeois women, and D.
And how can this be, that this has nothing to do with her while she is in here, after all, when it happens. And then disgust is attraction. My head spins. A woman asks if there were transgressions sometimes. No, says D. No violence, ever. That is not prostitution! How many punters does she see a day? What happens then, one woman wants to know. The longer we stay the more I feel sorry for D. Whether she talks about this to her acquaintances, a woman asks.
