ariosto
Celestial Navigator
- Joined
- May 19, 2001
- Posts
- 5,961
This thread is in part autobiographical...
In the lights and shadows of my late adolescence there is a place that glows with a unique charm.
It is best accessed by water on a moonlit night for that is how I often came to it .
As we approach the shore we see the lights of a pretty town glittering ahead. We pass ominous dark concrete obstructions , the twisted geometry of an old war. The Coxwain cuts the engine and we drift to a stone wharf, the same wharf that Napoleon stood on when he returned from his first exile. On the other side of the dock are a string of private beaches, one of them called La Plage Bleu, the blue beach, which will figure in our story later on.
As we young men step from the liberty boat in swishing bell bottoms and brash bravado, we see the Mediterranian town of Golfe Juan. Once a quiet fishing village, it has been host to American sailors in pursuit of pleasure for nearly three decades. Bars and brothels and cheap souvenir stands vie with the Cafés, shops and the Markets of the old village. When we reach the head of the dock we divide and divide again going to those places we look to for the evenings adventure. My own path invariably led straight up the street that climbed the hill just one block, then a right turn and in the middle of the street on the left was my Mecca. A flight of stone steps going up to a landing ,often filled with chattering sailors and the girls of the house and above the landing in flickering pink neon a verticle sign spelled out in verticle letters...
LE CRAZY HORSE...
The House, the Girls and some notes on prostitution.
There is a Crazy Horse in Paris. It's a showcase for scantily clad, incredibly gorgeous women to put on scandalous variety acts for the pleasure of men. The Crazy Horse in Golfe Juan was different, although the women were gorgeous and they were there to please men.
On the ground floor was the bar. It stretched along the left hand wall as you entered and was presided over by a huge bartender called the Turk. If you came here only to drink, you stood at the bar. There were about a dozen tables filling up the rest of the room, except for a tiny dance floor next to the jukebox. The drinks were poor and overpriced but it wasn't the drinks you came for. It was of course the girls.
La femmes...they were beautiful. I might atribute there imagined looks to the wishful thinking of memory except that I have pictures of myself with them taken in the bar and at the beach and they were beautiful. I can still remember quite a few...
Paula was a dark haired beauty with deep black eyes. She was Genoese not French and had been in the business two years. Her voice was soft and kind. She was the first to take an interst in me as more than just another customer.
Gianna was her sister and no more than eighteen. She was blonde and like Paula brown eyed and olive complected. Their body types were different, Gianna was elegantly slender, Paula was the more voluptuous. She'd just started in the business and towards the end I was with her most often.
Violette was perhaps the most striking girl in the House. She was tall and beautifully formed, auburn hair and flashing green eyes but she was not for us. She would only fuck french sailors, though she didn't draw the line at American officers if the price was right. We all lusted after her and hated her as well.
MamaSan, yes I know, wrong hemisphere, but the woman was from French Indo china, before it was Vietnam. She was a tiny version of the Dragon Lady, very sexy and ran the girls in the Crazy Horse with an iron hand.
There were more, probably a dozen girls worked out of the place, I remember, Anne Marie, and Julie...
the rest have faded away.
The way it worked was this...
When we entered the club, we'd find a table, very soon a girl would join us. We'd buy her a drink,...the girls would only drink tea or coke...and if we liked her we'd indicate we wanted more than conversation. At this point we'd buy a bottle of Champagne (awful stuff!), and go up the staircase with our lady.
At the head of the stairs was a table behind which MamaSan or one of the girls would be sitting. You paid right there. The going rate when I was in was just under ten dollars. The girl was given a blue poker chip.
At the end of the evening all the women would gather at the empty tables and turn their chips in to Mama
for cash. You were also expected to tip your partner for a good performance.
The girls did their best to satisfy. Each girl had their own modest bedroom. In Paula's were pictures of her family, and many personal effects. In Gianna's a guitar she was trying to learn how to play. In another gilrls the picture of a little boy with a tricycle. There was also a sink and a bidet. Usualy the girl would undress as you undressed. Then she would come over and wash your penis with warm soapy water a process that invariably led a young man almost to the edge, then a skilled blow job would follow and finally if you hadn't climaxed already she led you to the bed to finish up. This saved a lot of wear and tear on the tender parts. They were well looked after. After about 30 minutes a knock would come asking if everything was allright. after another ten had passed, MamaSan would be there telling you time was up. 45 minutes unless you wanted to pay again, was about the limit. In my time I saw several incidents of customers getting too rough. They were both literally thrown out the door and down the steps.
Back then except for special overnight passes most sailors were on Cinderella Liberty, over at midnight. The liberty boats began arriving at five, so most of the activity took place between those hours. The girls were free the rest of the time and usually took Sundays off as well. I certainly remember having delicious sex with them, but they come alive for me when I think of them in the off hours, in the shops, on the beach, picnics in the woods. You see what made my experience unique was a decision one morning not to go back to the ship, to risk the consequences and stay at the Crazy Horse for one entire week. 24 hours a day ,
for seven wonderful days.
It's on the night leading up to that decision when the story begins...
_________________________________________________
So to start this is what we need
Sailors: David: I will play myself as I was then, nineteen years old ,dark hair and eyes, about 5'10"
Tex: A big blonde guy from Mississippi (got me). He was loud, extroverted and people
took to him instantly.
Russ: A stocky kid from Grosse Point. He pretended to be tough and beligerent. The family
had money and we all used it.
The Turk: Bartender and bouncer at the Club. He looked like...a Turk. A really big turk.
The Girls: (See descriptions above)
Paula: The kind one (Beryl who posts with me at Sex in Alexandria has claimed this role)
Gianna: The fresh one
Violette: The Icy one
MamaSan: The Boss
Julie, Anne Marie, and any others you might want to be.
I'd like to start with two and two at least. We can add more as we go. I have left my descriptions to mere sketches, feel free to flesh them out in any way you wish.
In spite of this story centering around a brothel, it is a story nonetheless. I may from time to time shift the scenes and settings to make it tick.
Please do not post IC until David makes the initial one.
Thanks to all of you for reading this whether you play or not.
In the lights and shadows of my late adolescence there is a place that glows with a unique charm.
It is best accessed by water on a moonlit night for that is how I often came to it .
As we approach the shore we see the lights of a pretty town glittering ahead. We pass ominous dark concrete obstructions , the twisted geometry of an old war. The Coxwain cuts the engine and we drift to a stone wharf, the same wharf that Napoleon stood on when he returned from his first exile. On the other side of the dock are a string of private beaches, one of them called La Plage Bleu, the blue beach, which will figure in our story later on.
As we young men step from the liberty boat in swishing bell bottoms and brash bravado, we see the Mediterranian town of Golfe Juan. Once a quiet fishing village, it has been host to American sailors in pursuit of pleasure for nearly three decades. Bars and brothels and cheap souvenir stands vie with the Cafés, shops and the Markets of the old village. When we reach the head of the dock we divide and divide again going to those places we look to for the evenings adventure. My own path invariably led straight up the street that climbed the hill just one block, then a right turn and in the middle of the street on the left was my Mecca. A flight of stone steps going up to a landing ,often filled with chattering sailors and the girls of the house and above the landing in flickering pink neon a verticle sign spelled out in verticle letters...
LE CRAZY HORSE...
The House, the Girls and some notes on prostitution.
There is a Crazy Horse in Paris. It's a showcase for scantily clad, incredibly gorgeous women to put on scandalous variety acts for the pleasure of men. The Crazy Horse in Golfe Juan was different, although the women were gorgeous and they were there to please men.
On the ground floor was the bar. It stretched along the left hand wall as you entered and was presided over by a huge bartender called the Turk. If you came here only to drink, you stood at the bar. There were about a dozen tables filling up the rest of the room, except for a tiny dance floor next to the jukebox. The drinks were poor and overpriced but it wasn't the drinks you came for. It was of course the girls.
La femmes...they were beautiful. I might atribute there imagined looks to the wishful thinking of memory except that I have pictures of myself with them taken in the bar and at the beach and they were beautiful. I can still remember quite a few...
Paula was a dark haired beauty with deep black eyes. She was Genoese not French and had been in the business two years. Her voice was soft and kind. She was the first to take an interst in me as more than just another customer.
Gianna was her sister and no more than eighteen. She was blonde and like Paula brown eyed and olive complected. Their body types were different, Gianna was elegantly slender, Paula was the more voluptuous. She'd just started in the business and towards the end I was with her most often.
Violette was perhaps the most striking girl in the House. She was tall and beautifully formed, auburn hair and flashing green eyes but she was not for us. She would only fuck french sailors, though she didn't draw the line at American officers if the price was right. We all lusted after her and hated her as well.
MamaSan, yes I know, wrong hemisphere, but the woman was from French Indo china, before it was Vietnam. She was a tiny version of the Dragon Lady, very sexy and ran the girls in the Crazy Horse with an iron hand.
There were more, probably a dozen girls worked out of the place, I remember, Anne Marie, and Julie...
the rest have faded away.
The way it worked was this...
When we entered the club, we'd find a table, very soon a girl would join us. We'd buy her a drink,...the girls would only drink tea or coke...and if we liked her we'd indicate we wanted more than conversation. At this point we'd buy a bottle of Champagne (awful stuff!), and go up the staircase with our lady.
At the head of the stairs was a table behind which MamaSan or one of the girls would be sitting. You paid right there. The going rate when I was in was just under ten dollars. The girl was given a blue poker chip.
At the end of the evening all the women would gather at the empty tables and turn their chips in to Mama
for cash. You were also expected to tip your partner for a good performance.
The girls did their best to satisfy. Each girl had their own modest bedroom. In Paula's were pictures of her family, and many personal effects. In Gianna's a guitar she was trying to learn how to play. In another gilrls the picture of a little boy with a tricycle. There was also a sink and a bidet. Usualy the girl would undress as you undressed. Then she would come over and wash your penis with warm soapy water a process that invariably led a young man almost to the edge, then a skilled blow job would follow and finally if you hadn't climaxed already she led you to the bed to finish up. This saved a lot of wear and tear on the tender parts. They were well looked after. After about 30 minutes a knock would come asking if everything was allright. after another ten had passed, MamaSan would be there telling you time was up. 45 minutes unless you wanted to pay again, was about the limit. In my time I saw several incidents of customers getting too rough. They were both literally thrown out the door and down the steps.
Back then except for special overnight passes most sailors were on Cinderella Liberty, over at midnight. The liberty boats began arriving at five, so most of the activity took place between those hours. The girls were free the rest of the time and usually took Sundays off as well. I certainly remember having delicious sex with them, but they come alive for me when I think of them in the off hours, in the shops, on the beach, picnics in the woods. You see what made my experience unique was a decision one morning not to go back to the ship, to risk the consequences and stay at the Crazy Horse for one entire week. 24 hours a day ,
for seven wonderful days.
It's on the night leading up to that decision when the story begins...
_________________________________________________
So to start this is what we need
Sailors: David: I will play myself as I was then, nineteen years old ,dark hair and eyes, about 5'10"
Tex: A big blonde guy from Mississippi (got me). He was loud, extroverted and people
took to him instantly.
Russ: A stocky kid from Grosse Point. He pretended to be tough and beligerent. The family
had money and we all used it.
The Turk: Bartender and bouncer at the Club. He looked like...a Turk. A really big turk.
The Girls: (See descriptions above)
Paula: The kind one (Beryl who posts with me at Sex in Alexandria has claimed this role)
Gianna: The fresh one
Violette: The Icy one
MamaSan: The Boss
Julie, Anne Marie, and any others you might want to be.
I'd like to start with two and two at least. We can add more as we go. I have left my descriptions to mere sketches, feel free to flesh them out in any way you wish.
In spite of this story centering around a brothel, it is a story nonetheless. I may from time to time shift the scenes and settings to make it tick.
Please do not post IC until David makes the initial one.
Thanks to all of you for reading this whether you play or not.
Last edited:
