She was eating a cherry danish and smoking a joint outside a coffee shop near her hotel building. She had just arrived in Amsterdam, and though it was evening, she was desperately craving coffee and pastries; leaning into the delicacies of the city.
It felt safe here. Her main reason for visiting was because of an article she had read online about how Amsterdam is one of the top ten safest cities for women to travel alone. Safety was a feeling she would travel any amount of miles for.
The sun was setting and the joint she had smoked was making her thoughts hazy. She took a deep breath, tasting the crisp, autumn air. The harbor breeze added a salty touch to the blend of perfume, coffee, and smoke that was circulating around her.
After finishing her danish, she crumpled up its wrapping and walked inside to throw it away. She asked the barista to put her coffee in a to-go cup so she would have something warm to hold as she walked a couple of blocks back to her hotel room.
While she waited, she walked around the cafe. The walls were covered in band posters and stickers. The tables accommodated a mix of freelancers who were likely taking advantage of the free wi-fi and tourists who were excited to be somewhere that had legal dispensaries.
Among the dark and grungy wall art, a bulletin board caught her eye. There were a ton of different flyers with tabs offering various services. She approached it to get a closer look. Dog walking, bike repairs, French lessons, meal prepping, babysitting - it seemed like all the flyers had takers... all except one.
Her attention snapped back to reality when the barista called her name. She pulled the lonely flyer off the bulletin board and quickly folded it into her pocket.
"Your coffee is ready to go," said the barista as she approached the counter. "I added in another shot of espresso. Our treat to welcome you to the city." The barista smiled and handed her the cup.
"Wow...thank you so much." She took the cup and smiled back. She liked it here already.
She opened the door to leave and the chilled breeze hit her face. Curling her gloved hands around the cup, she stepped out onto the street and began to walk back to her hotel.
The narrow brick street held the hustle and bustle of bikers, shoppers, vendors, natives, and explorers. The winter season seemed to make everything feel cozy and slow-paced. After the chaos she left back home, this was exactly what she was looking for.
Getting lost in her thoughts, she hadn't even realized she had just walked past her hotel building. A sudden gust of cool air began to blow and she felt a frozen drizzle coming on. She put her free hand in her pocket and turned back, feeling the flyer she had crammed into her pocket at the cafe. Her heart raced and she walked faster so she could get back to her room.
—
Since she had already checked in, she pulled out her room key and zoomed towards the elevator. The rain droplets mixed with the freezing cold air made her skin beg for the warmth and safety of her room. Once she got in the elevator, she clicked the 'Door Close' button and made her way to the 20th floor, grateful that no one else had gotten in. She wasn't in the mood for small talk.
The elevator reached her floor and it was a straight line to her room. She liked having rooms close to exits. As she entered, she couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. She was safe, she was alone. She could do whatever she wanted.
The first thing she did was turn on the shower and strip down. After putting her dirty clothes in the hamper, she took the pleasure of walking around naked in her own room, slowly unpacking her suitcase into the drawers and closet.
Without meaning to do so, a smile appeared on her face. What a relief it was to finally be away from her house; away from her abusive boyfriend. Instead of a home, she left behind a box filled with unwanted memories.
All of a sudden, she felt a rush of emotions flood through her as she thought about her past. Panic. Fear. Shame. It felt as if she was reliving it. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself down, trying to bring herself back to reality.
She pulled the piece of paper from her pocket and flattened it out on the bed.
"ARE YOU A SURVIVOR?
Don't let the trauma from your past dictate your pleasure.
Call our clinic to schedule an erotic massage with a specialist trained especially for trauma survivors.
We respect you and hope to soothe your every need."
At the bottom of the flyer was the phone number to call. Her heart was racing as she read this, both intrigued and overwhelmed by the thought. She had heard erotic massages were something men came to experience in Amsterdam but never had she considered something like this existing. It never would have even been an option where she lived. It felt like a sign.
Her stomach lurched as she picked up the phone and dialed the number on the flyer. The clock on the side table signaled that it was dinner time and she should order some food, but she knew it would distract her from what she was really thinking about. It was better to push through the nerves and call while she still felt the courage.
The line on the other end rang; her chest tightened every time the dial tone paused to restart. What was she going to say when someone picked up?
On the third ring, a woman picked up.
"Hello, who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?" asked a strong, sultry voice.
"H-hi, I'd like to remain anonymous, if that's ok." Never having done this before, she thought that was best.
"Of course - your privacy is of the utmost importance to us. How about choosing a pseudonym so that our specialist can identify you?"
She hadn't thought of having a pseudonym! Her mind was blanking and the only thing that came to mind was the cherry danish she had eaten earlier. "Uh...You can call me Cherry, I think." She had never had a pseudonym and didn't feel very confident about it, but it was too late to turn back now.
"It's nice to hear from you, Cherry. Now, I just have a couple more questions for you and you'll be all set for your massage.
"First - when would you like the massage? We can schedule mornings, evenings, or you can book the whole day. We like to have this option because we find that it can take the pressure off for those that need more time."
She thought about it, and booking a whole day sounded like a good idea. She hadn't done anything sexual for herself in quite a long time and she wasn't sure how she would handle the experience.
She didn't know why she was voluntarily inflicting this upon herself. What was compelling her to put herself into such a vulnerable situation? Maybe it was something about this city that made her feel bolder, or maybe it was the fact that she was thousands of miles away from her past.
This was the first time in years that she was able to make any decisions just for herself. The alone time was giving her space to consider her own needs. And she needed pleasure. She needed intimacy.
And if this was the way she started her journey towards that, then so be it. She was safe now. She was free.
"Excuse me, miss? Are you still there?" The woman on the other end asked gently, snapping her back to reality.
"Y-yes, sorry. I'd like to book the whole day tomorrow if that's available?"
"Yes, of course. We only have one booking left for tomorrow. It's a male specialist, is that okay for you?"
She blushed, trying not to think too hard about the reality of what she was committing to. "Yes, that will be fine."
"Perfect, the masseur will arrive at 9am tomorrow morning. Now, I just need your credit card information for payment and your address." Her heart raced as she made the decision permanent.
As soon as she was finished setting up the appointment, she quickly picked up the dinner menu by the phone to keep her mind from wandering. Her stomach was growling. Time to order room service.
She was in the mood for a mix of things so the best option was to order a few different appetizers instead of a whole entrée. Friets with mayo, bitterballen, chicken satay, and a Dutch ale sounded like the perfect combination for the wintry night outside. She picked up the hotel phone and made her order.
While she waited for the food, she got into the hot shower that had been steaming for the past 10 minutes, leaving the bathroom door cracked. Open spaces felt safer.
As the hot water hit her skin, she could feel her stiff muscles softening, ready for a nice meal and a peaceful sleep.
—
She woke up early the next morning to have a quiet breakfast before the nerves started to kick in. She put on her plush, white robe and walked to her little balcony to peer outside.
The orange city lights shone against the port, illuminating the sea which looked to be a deep, purple hue. The lights surrounding the edges of the harbor twinkled like little orange stars from the 20th floor of her hotel building. The sunrise felt magical with the mysteries of the night vanishing with every flicker of sunlight.
There was a knock on her door and her heart immediately began to race. She heard a muffled voice call out, "Room Service," and then the shuffling of feet walking away. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It was just the breakfast she had ordered.
When she was sure no one else was outside, she opened the door and brought the trolley in. Croissant, coffee, scrambled eggs, and tart cherry jam were waiting underneath the silver cloches that are so typical in room service etiquette.
She rolled the trolley by the balcony and sat down in the velvety, dark green chair that overlooked the harbor outside. It had a little gold side table that accompanied it, perfect to rest her breakfast on.
