"What are you doing the second weekend in April?" asked Jenny, leaning over my shoulder as I tried to type a complicated sentence in my report. I put my hand up for her to wait, finished the sentence and swung round in my chair to face her.
"The second weekend?" I turned to my diary and checked the date. "Celebrating my birthday, actually. Well, going to my parent's as per usual and sitting through a full roast dinner and spending all afternoon doing the washing up, if the truth be known, why do you ask?"
Jenny leant in again. "A few of us are going to have a weekend away. We're thinking of Amsterdam. Interested?"
It was obvious from the chosen destination, coupled with the fact that she was almost whispering, that she didn't want the whole office to know, so I immediately cottoned on to the fact that Amsterdam had not been chosen for its numerous art galleries or diamond cutting tours. This was going to be a cultural experience of the more basic kind.
There were usually five or six of us who let our hair down in this way, once or twice a year. Usually it was an overnight stay in London, where we would go and see a show, or make fools of ourselves on one of those Thames disco boats. Last time however, someone had, on the spur of the moment, booked tickets for a male strip show somewhere in Birmingham of all places. We'd therefore, to my shame, ended up spending a few raucous hours drunkenly screaming at various oiled but flaccid willies, but to my surprise, thoroughly enjoying every minute.
She was grinning, and I grinned back. "I'm in!" I can always go to my parent's at another time, I thought.
So, over the next few days, flights and hotel rooms were booked, Euros were purchased and numerous "meetings" held, where we came to some sort of sgreement on what we would all like to see and do whilst there. This itinerary started off quite tame, until another colleague and I just came out with it and said that we'd like to go and see something rude whilst there, like a sex show or something, if for no other reason than to be able to say we'd actually seen one. After all, it was Amsterdam.
The response from the others was immediate but not really surprising, bearing in mind the great laugh we'd had in Birmingham. All were in favour, and so it was agreed that we would all go to one of these shows together. Safety in numbers, I suppose. It was also agreed that if anyone didn't like what they saw, then we would all agree to leave without quibbling.
The idea of seeing such a show had long been a fascination of mine, and had become even more of a "must do" after I'd sat in on a conversation with a male colleague a few months ago, where he'd recounted what had happened when he'd been there on a stag weekend. Of course, I'd expressed shock horror at the time, but nevertheless, it immediately became something that I just had to do and secretly couldn't wait for our weekend away.
I'd blushed quite a bit during our lunchtime group chat, I think we all did, especially when he went into quite specific detail. I'm also sure that he quite enjoyed shocking us ladies and making us blush, but really, all he did was turn me on to the idea, although I'd never admit that to him.
Like most other people, especially women, what you see on the surface isn't necessarily what is going on underneath, as far as I'm concerned anyway. One could say that I'm prim and proper on the outside, but my inner being is filled with dark and delicious nooks and crannies.
Some of these desires and fantasies have been divulged to tried and trusted friends over the years, but others will always remain private....only to be used for sweet inspiration as and when the need arises and an hour or two of privacy is to hand.
They say that the biggest sex organ is the brain. I'd tend to go along with that.
I suppose my most enduring fantasy during masturbation has been one that has involved someone being "exposed" in some way. Talking about this with other women, I don't think I'm alone.
The first time I had access to a hardcore magazine, I admit that the pictures played some considerable part in my arousal, if only for their novelty value. To see, for the first time, detailed and explicit photos of two or more naked adults having full sex is definitely a turn on for most people, I'm sure. But for me, my mind was also working overtime concerning details regarding that photoshoot.
Had those people met for the first time that day? How had they undressed? Together? In separate rooms and then walked in naked one by one? God, had they actually got round to even saying hello to each other before their bodies came together?
How many backroom staff were there, just watching? How had those people felt during their very first photoshoot? Was this the very first time for one of them?
And that's where the real arousal begins.
How would I feel in that situation? Walking naked into a room full of strangers, everyone staring, noting my obvious excitement as I try to hide my erect nipples, smiling at the fact that my face is beetroot red with embarrassment.
This fascination with the "behind the scenes" aspect of porn, especially the amateur variety of filmed or photographed sex, has accounted for most of my fantasy scenarios over the years, and although the pictures or films are always there as a visual aid, it is invarioubly the thought of someone being watched whilst doing naughty naked things with a total stranger that has brought me to orgasm each time.
I'm therefore damn sure that this is why the idea of going to see such a thing "in the flesh" holds such a fascination for me.
I have found the odd porn vid, from time to time, that almost ticks all of my boxes as far as the natural embarrassment factor is concerned, but they are pretty thin on the ground as, let's face it, most porn is pretty formulaic and predictable.
My ideal film usually has the woman in a scenario where she has to disrobe in front of fully clothed (usually Doctors etc) men, and then ends up with the lady having various pleasurable things done to her.
If the acting is good, then it is almost believable and very much more arousing, but if the acting is poor, then I quickly find myself moving on to something else is search of inspiration.
What really hits the spot though, is when it involves a genuine amateur being put into a situation that causes them acute embarrassment.
Preferably, this scenario should involve an adult male, as it is absolutely obvious (hard to hide an erection) that they are, despite their embarrassment, secretly enjoying the whole thing.
I was lucky enough to stumble across a Japanese film not so long ago that was perfect, and have found several similar films from Japan that are just as good. It seems that they are excellent at this sort of thing, and they seem pretty genuine, not acted.
Anyway, one could regard all of this as rather a almost a fetish of mine, rather than mere fascination, so you can see why I was very much looking forward to our long weekend away.
Time seemed to drag over the next few weeks, but finally the day arrived and a gaggle of excited women, who should know better, boarded the Easyjet flight to Schipol airport.
A few glasses of wine later, we landed in the pouring rain at about noon, and took a train and then two taxis to our Hotel.
The agreement was for us to quickly change in our rooms (grotty hotel not far from the train station) and then set out to "get our bearings" once the rain eased off.
The hotel turned out to be bang smack in the middle of the red light district, which was totally unintentional I must say, and was hastily booked as it was the only reasonably priced hotel which had three double rooms available, meaning that all six of us could stay in the same place. After booking on the net, we then did a bit of research and found it was in the naughty part of town, so we weren't too surprised when we reached our destination and saw the surrounding area.
The first thing that really struck us about our new neighbourhood, were the explicit magazine covers on display in the many adult shops along the way. Full detail of nearly everything imaginable, right there on display for anyone to see, and quite shocking at first.
It must be said, that when we finally set out on our first little foray, it took quite a while to get from one end of that High Street to the other.
Shrieks of "Look at this, look at that," and "God, the size of him!"
It went on and on until the novelty had worn off and the combination of the incessant rain and our hunger had motivated us to find a half decent pub that served food.
After a baguette and a drink or three (purely to bolster the courage, you understand), we decided to go and explore the area properly, to see if one of these mythical sex clubs actually existed. I hadn't seen one on the way to the pub, and wondered whether they'd all been closed down or were in another area altogether.
The rain seemed to be getting worse, so we hurriedly moved down a side street that seemed to offer the shelter of numerous little shop awnings, dashing from one area of cover to the next and not really knowing where we were headed.
Other tourists were doing the same, and I found myself on several occasions, standing next to complete strangers under a small shop awning, having nothing in common apart from the fact that we were face to face with explicit porn glaring at us from the shop window. A very odd experience, to say the least.
About halfway down the side street, and almost opposite our shelter was a small, nondescript grey building with an unlit neon strip across the entrance, which read "Live Sex".
After a bit of quiet nudging, we were all made aware of the place, and watched as Jenny and Liz (the oldest one of our group) ran over there to shelter in the doorway and investigate. It would seem, I thought, that these two ladies were even more keen than me, if that were possible!
They soon beckoned us over.
Upon closer inspection, the place seemed closed, but peering in through the window, one could plainly see evidence of what went on in there, up on the club's tiny stage.
The wall opposite the entrance door was covered with large glossy photos, all depicting various sex acts. It was too far away to make out things in detail, but let's put it this way, it was obvious that not much (if anything) was left to the audience's imagination.
We looked around for opening times, but found nothing. No lights were on, no sign of activity inside, so we decided to move on.
It was then that we heard a man shouting something in the distance, in a tone similar to one you'd hear in a british street market. The words seemed garbled at first, as he was so far away and the amount of traffic noise, but as we made our way further down towards him, we all gradually realised what he was shouting, and looked at each other in amused amazement.
