Window 7

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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.”


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 gaziantep escort 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.

At dinner later that evening I asked Bill, “Have you ever been to either the Quarter or any of the other places in that district?”

He paused before answering. “Nope, not yet. I’ve thought about it a few times and I’m sure I’ll eventually try it but ’til now all my illicit activities have been in coffee shops where I smoked a little weed.”

I slept restlessly that night, my mind flooded with unbidden images of girls on display in storefront windows who only left those windows because they’d been chosen to have sex with random passersby who had the money it took to buy them.

I was awakened to the sound of Bill knocking on my door. I mumbled, “Wha…?”

“Breakfast is ready Em. Try and hurry, little sister, I have news.”

Bill had outdone himself; waffles with fresh blueberries and Vermont Maple syrup, eggs with both sausage and crisp bacon, croissants and sourdough, O.J. and G.J., all topped with two pots, one of a hearty Brazilian breakfast blend and the other Earl Grey.

“This is quite a spread; what’s the occasion?”

“It’s all part of an apology. My office called and I’ve got to go in today to take depositions from last minute witnesses the lead attorney just thought of deposing. I honestly believe he’ll change his mind again and not use them in court but it’s his nickel, or actually the client’s.

Anyway do you think you can fend for yourself today?”

“I’m sure I’ll muddle through. You’re easily bored in galleries and we passed three yesterday I’d like to go back to.”

“Do you think you can find your way back?”

“For sure! I can’t remember the street names but the first two galleries are… let’s see; out the door, turn right, then turn right on the fourth street, five blocks to a left, then one block to the yellow façade.”

“Impressive, but you’ve always had a great spatial memory. Anyway I’ve got to get going. Call you later.”

I wandered over to the first gallery but discovered fairly quickly I was more interested in finding a coffee shop where I could read a little while sipping an espresso and smoking a joint. ‘What the Hell’ I figured, ‘When in Rome’… or Amsterdam as the case might be.

The book was good but the joint was better. I paid my check and started some aimless wandering. I guess the wandering wasn’t entirely aimless as I found myself headed in the direction of the red light district. I’d found myself thinking of it frequently since meeting Ms. Krupp last evening.

Many of the famous display windows were vacant, it being mid afternoon, but quite a few were occupied and I found myself assessing the girls in them with the same critical eye and at the same speed as I had earlier used on the art in the galleries. Many different girls with a variety of heights and figures, but just as in real life the faces determined their sexiness and their eyes were the windows to their souls. A few, a very select few, gave me unbidden thoughts about switching teams. I was staring at one such girl when a voice behind me said, “She’s one of the most successful girls on the block.”

I turned even though I knew it was Helena Krupp behind me.

She continued, “You have that look and if you were to give it a try I have no doubt you could be at least equally if not more successful.”

I smiled, “Thanks but I could never bring myself to do anything like that.”

“But you’ve been thinking about it all night, haven’t you.”

I’d been caught. How did she know? I looked at her and didn’t say anything, which I guess was an answer in itself.

She put her hand behind my back and started guiding me to the left. “Let me show you something.” We stopped in front of a darkened window. “Look toward the right side of the window.”

As much as I looked I couldn’t see what she was showing me. I turned to Helena with a questioning look.

“There’s a young lady in there. I frequently meet young girls who are curious about what it might be like to work here and I allow them as much time as they want getting the feel of the place. She can see the gentlemen passing by but they can’t see her. Of course there’s less foot traffic at this time of day…”

For some reason I kept staring at the darkened window. Helena continued, “You know, Emily, why don’t you come back after supper and I’ll show you what it’s like?”

I quickly shook my head, “Thanks but I really couldn’t… and besides I’m not sure what my brother and I might be doing about dinner. But thanks, really…” I turned and walked up the street as quickly as I could without seeming like I was running away, which of course I was.

At five fifteen Bill called to say he still had hours of work left to prepare himself for an early morning start the following day. I tore some lettuce and started assembling one of the most basic salads I could by raiding as many leftovers in the ‘fridge as I could find.

The TV couldn’t hold my interest so I changed into cargo pants and a well worn hoodie looking, I thought, as unsexy as I could before going out. I took up station across the street from the Quarter and was looking less at the girls as I was watching the men walking down the street before pausing, staring, considering, and in most cases walking on. After around thirty minutes I saw Helena come out the door and cross the street heading in my direction. She said, “Come with me Emily, I know a spot where you can get a better look.”

I followed her across the lane and into the door from which she had just left. She led me down a hall and into a small room which was decorated like a Romanov sitting room. The entire wall opposite the door was covered by heavy black drapes.

“This is one of our display windows, number 7. The young woman working in it would typically show herself to best advantage to the gentlemen walking by in the hope of attracting one who’d like to spend some time, and money, with her. The lighting in the room, as well as the drapes, is computer controlled by this remote control device. The lighting is on a dimmer so it can be raised or lowered at the occupant’s discretion. As long as the lights are on, even a little bit, another light in the hallway above the room door is also lit so the staff knows if the young lady is available. Let me show you.”

Emily watched as Helene turned out the lights and opened the drapes. She watched fascinated as her own private window onto the street displayed the various passersby. The drapes remained open for a very short time before Helene closed them and turned up the lights. “I’m sorry but I forgot, the experience is ever so much improved if we get you changed into something a little sexier.” She went out of the room for a moment and returned with a translucent black teddy. “Here, try this on.”

“If the room is completely darkened and the men from the street can’t see me what difference does it make what I wear?”

“It matters because this entire experience isn’t about them; it’s all about you and whatever it takes to make it pleasurable for you. You’ll know how sexy you’ll look and what those men would see if you only were to adjust the dimmer up a little. Trust me it will definitely enhance the experience.

Look, I’ll leave the teddy and here’s a robe you can wear over it if you like. I’ve got to see to a few things so why don’t I leave you here. You can remain in your street clothes, change into the teddy, cover it with the robe, hide behind the sofa, do whatever you like. Just remember that if you turn the lights on and a man comes in asking for the girl in Window 7, I’ll assume you want me to collect the fee and lead you both to one of our private meeting rooms so you can be with the gentleman.

Oh, if someone comes in asking for you and the light has been turned back out I’ll take that as a sign that you’ve changed your mind and don’t want to go through with it. I’ll just tell the gentleman that you’re otherwise occupied with a client who’d just come in.

You can either do or not do whatever you want.” With that she left me.

I was simultaneously fascinated and intimidated by the entire situation. All I had to do was leave the light on and open the drapes and I’d be offering myself for sale to whoever might walk by on the street. I picked up the remote and felt a slight tingle between my legs.

There was a Queen Anne chair with a back as high as a throne in the room so I sat in it. As I darkened the lights and opened the drapes, the tingling returned. The passing men acted in the same fashion as they did when I was across the street but the knowledge that they were a simple flick of my finger away from seeing me, in that setting… The tingling sensation departed as soon as I realized that if I had raised the lights their ardor would have been dampened by the outfit I’d chosen to wear.

I trusted to the darkness and pulled the hoodie over my head exposing my breasts to… no one. It didn’t matter. The heightened sexual tension produced by my topless pose brought me so close to the edge of an orgasm that the mere act of putting my hand over the crotch of my pants brought me onto a very short road to completion. I had barely started to rub my clit when it hit me. I cried out from the paroxysm and in so doing I was certain that everyone in the surrounding rooms had heard me and knew what I had just done. I put my top back on and headed out the door and back to my parent’s house.

That night as I lay in my bed I must have masturbated myself to completion at least four times before shutting my eyes for the night.

I was up fairly early the next morning and took it upon myself to fix breakfast for Bill. My internal meters must have been telling me I needed protein since I prepared a Western omelet with petit sirloin steaks charred but bloody rare. I was about to knock on his door but discovered the smell had already ejected him from his bed and he came to the breakfast wearing only his boxer shorts.

“Meat! I crave sustenance!” He immediately dove in.

“Good Lord, Emily, I thought you were home last night.”

“I was. Why?”

“Because the Cheshire grin you’re sporting is usually only worn by someone who’d spent the night fucking! Are you still a virgin this morning?”

“Billy! Can’t a girl wake up in a good mood without having you think the worst of her?”

“Not the worst, Em, only the best. You getting laid would be a good thing. My thoughts for you always involve happiness and satisfaction.

Anyway, thanks for the breakfast but I’ve got to run. What’ll you be doing today?”

“Wandering, I guess. I’m determined to learn as much about the city as I can.”

“Left three blocks to a right for five blocks to another right for two blocks. Then just turn left and watch.”

I was working it out in my head and suddenly realized he’d unwittingly just given me directions to where I’d already intended to walk this afternoon. “That’s the block with all the prostitute’s windows!”

“That’s where the Quarter is. Remember the woman from the nightclub? That’s her domain but I’m impressed you knew that. You must have covered a lot of ground yesterday!”

“I already told you, my goal is to learn this city.”

“You ought to apply for a job there.”

I snorted. “Yeah, I’ve thought about it but wanted to wait until the folks came home so Mom could come with me!

Get out of here, jerk!”

I did wander the city for the bulk of the day but as the sun started to close in on the western horizon my feet started drawing me ever closer to the window I’d begun to think of as mine. I pushed the door to the Quarter open and as I entered I practically bumped into Helene. She picked up the mail from the desk and as she began looking through it she said, “The teddy and robe are on the sofa.”

“In Window 7?”

“That’s right, Window 7.”

“You were expecting me?”

At that point she looked up from the mail and gently ran her fingers down my left cheek. “Let’s just say I had a hunch.” She went back to her mail. “Stay as long as you like.”

The drapes were pulled shut and I sat on the sofa looking around; my eyes flitting from here to there until finally coming to rest on the teddy. I picked it up and looked at its sheerness. I was reasonably sure that a spy satellite at eighty thousand feet would be able to read a newspaper without much interference if I’d taped it to my chest and donned the garment.

I began to undress in a very atypical, very slow, very deliberate fashion. I carefully folded each garment as I took them off; first the shirt, then the boots, jeans, then my bra. As I started to reach for my panties I changed my mind and removed my socks next. I stood and reached for the waistband of my panties and found I couldn’t do it. The drapes were closed but I couldn’t do it. No one on earth could possibly see me but I couldn’t do it. I even donned the teddy pulling it over my head but I still couldn’t do it. Finally I donned the robe and turning my back to the covered window was able to push my panties to the floor. I carefully folded them and added them to the pile of clothes. I sat in my chair.

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