About five years ago I was IMing with a print model I had shot before and was thinking about using in a project I was involved with. She told me this story about her first semester away from the USA as an exchange student in Holland and what follows is based upon what she related to me.
Last year my dad was offered a major promotion at the bank he worked for. As was the custom in our family we had a meeting after dinner one evening to discuss any major impending change in our lifestyle. The promotion was a big one both in terms of salary and prestige but it necessitated moving to The Netherlands for at least four years. The Hague for one year and then to Amsterdam for at least the following three. My brother elected to go with my parents but because I was about to graduate the following spring from high school and was already accepted at UCLA for the fall, I chose to stay in California. UCLA had a student exchange program with many corresponding overseas universities and although there were none in The Hague, there were two choices in Amsterdam so if I wanted to spend the second semester of my freshmen year abroad I could do so.
I was seventeen at the time so my mother arranged that I could spend as much time as I needed using my Aunt Margo's house in the Valley as my base while I stayed in the freshmen dorm. I was actually beginning to look forward to the trip overseas since my social life was one step away from being nonexistent having just broken up with my boyfriend but mainly because I missed my family.
My Dad's job meant frequent travel back and forth from their home in Amsterdam to The Hague and even though my brother was allowed to stay in the house my folks rented they insisted I get a room through student housing for those times they were traveling. He was male and three years older so he got this privilege. I really didn't care but pretended I thought them horrible chauvinists.
My brother and I had a relationship which could be referred to as 'benign coexistence'; although there was no overt sibling rivalry and we rarely had spats, we also didn't really know much about each other's lives. So after my flight landed and I cleared customs I unpacked my boxes and had lunch with the family just before the folks flew off to The Hague. I was rather surprised when my brother Bill volunteered to be my tour guide for the next several days.
Okay, it didn't take all that long for me to get completely filled up with useless, irrelevant trivia (my description) about the different varieties of tulips in Holland, so after three and a half hours I finally cracked. "
Billy, enough already!
That someone who's in the bulb exporting business knows all this stuff is kind of depressing, but that
you
know it convinces me that you have no life at all; and
I'm the virgin here!
"
Bill laughed. "Does this mean you're a potential blackmailer because you've discovered my deep dark secret of liking flowers?"
I lightly punched him on the shoulder. "I guess we're even, then." He raised his eyebrows with a questioning look.
I shook my head. "I can't
believe
I just told you I'm still a virgin at eighteen!"
"Yeah, what's up with that?"
"I don't know, I'm not dogmatic about it. I never wanted to when I was with Kenny and since we broke up I guess I just haven't met anybody I wanted to give a special present to."
"It doesn't have to be about that you know. You could be doing it just because it's a fun way to spend an afternoon!"
"There's that, too, I suppose. So what's next on our schedule, brother of mine?"
"We head back to the house so we can get cleaned up and dressed for dinner and then on to the opera. You've got an appropriate dress?"
"I'll raid Mom's closet. I don't own either a cocktail dress
or
anything more formal."
Bill chuckled. "Mom knew that so she said she bought you and I quote, 'a little black something'. It's still in its box on her bed."
"Great!"
After I'd showered, done my hair, and applied most of my makeup I opened the box I'd retrieved from Mom's bed. The dress was the most beautiful thing I'd ever worn but leave it to my mother to buy me something I couldn't possibly wear with
any
of the three black bras I owned. She had always given me a hard time about my penchant for trying to stuff myself into a 34 D cup but I could never bring myself to cop to reality and buy DDs. But it wasn't just that. The dress was cut so low that
any
bra would have looked silly. It felt weird that for the first time since I'd been at the beach someone could see the underside of my tits. I had very little sag so even though the nipples were covered you could still read a newspaper through the gap between the fabric of my dress and my ribcage under each breast. 'Thanks Mom!' I thought sarcastically.
At least Bill was enough of a gentleman not to make any juvenile comments about my high level of exposure as he helped me into his Mercedes. The nightclub he took me to was nothing short of elegant. With the U.S. drinking age set at a ridiculous 21, I'd never been to a bar except two dives near the campus where the staff didn't look too closely at my phony ID. In the Empress Club it looked like at least my dress was right at home.
Bill leaned toward me at the bar. "See the blonde guy at the other end of the bar? Well in a few years he'll be the new King of Finland. The short guy with the brown hair is Ulrich Abt. His family owns Nestle, like the whole fucking company! Sister Emily, you're surrounded by some
serious
movers and shakers."
A woman with long auburn hair sitting behind me chimed in at that point. "Your brother's quite right, Emily." Her right hand started pointing out various people in the room. "That one's Fiat, the House of Rothschild, the Editor-in-Chief of Elle magazine, the Bank of England; this Club frequently entertains the mighty. Mick Jagger was here a last night."
Bill held out his hand to the woman, "Bill Gibbons; and this is my sister Emily."
"Helena Krupp, very pleased to meet you both." She placed some bills on the bar and wished the bartender a good evening. "I'm afraid I must run, you two. I'm meeting some people for a drink and then on to the opera."
I answered, "Traviata? We'll be there too. I'm
so
looking forward to it."
After she left Bill leaned in again. "Wow! Helena Krupp makes the mover and shaker list herself."
"Really? Who is she?"
"Helena owns the Quarter. The Quarter's a half block enterprise in the Red Light district employing between eighty and a hundred or so of the most magnificent women in the city. It's a testament to sexual excesses."
The evening's performance was excellent. Traviata had always been a favorite of mine but as much as I enjoyed it I couldn't get Helena Krupp out of my mind. Sitting next to her at the bar was as close to the industry of prostitution as I'd ever been and I felt as if something sexual had happened within me.