Chapter 21: Season 7 - Rhine Maidens

After biding a fond farewell to the von Furstenbergs the Chevalier and I booked into the Prince Rupert Hotel although we had been invited to remain at the hunting lodge.

“We need rest and recuperation after a month with a pair of nymphomaniacal man eaters like those von Furstenbergs,” the Chevalier said. “We will stay in Vaduz for a day or two. I have to visit my bank and...”

“You bank here in Liechtenstein?”

“Indeed I do. Liechtenstein’s banks are even more secretive and secure than the Swiss, and no revenue snoopers will find their way into my accounts. I would advise you to also bank here.”

“That would be a bit of an inconvenience as I doubt I will be in the area again for some time to come.”

The Chevalier fixed with me a gimlet eyed look. “Is this your way of saying you wish to terminate your employment with me?”

“Not at all, Chevalier. I will stay with you for as long as you want me to, but it must be obvious I am no longer attracting December females for you to take up with their young, April, companions. All we have for the rest of the season are Cougars and Targets for me to ... err...”

“Bumse?”

I wasn’t absolutely sure what the word meant but guessed it was something to do with fornication since that is what I did with Cougars and Targets. “Yes, bumse.”

The Chevalier pursed his lips and slowly nodded his head. “I have been thinking much along the same lines. In the past, when my companion became too old for the mature women to fantasize over as a teenage son or nephew I would dispense with his services and engage a younger model. You are probably the fourth such companion, and the best by a long chalk. It might now be time for me to cease using the Grafin’s webpage and indulge my appetite for young girls in those houses that cater especially for men of my age and tastes.” He gave me another studied stare. “Would you continue as a gigolo on the Grafin’s website? You could make a good living; Cougars pay good money for your services.”

“I have spent nearly eight years training to be a hotelier. I might not make as much money in the profession as I would as a stud-for-hire, or have as many women, but that is what I want to do.”

“You want to manage a large and prestigious hotel?” the Chevalier asked.

I shook my head. “I would rather run my own small, boutique type of hotel, as Leilah does in Agadir.”

That is my dream but it takes money -- and a chef -- to set up that sort of establishment. I am saving my money and I am a passable Commis( junior) chef but a boutique hotel requires a top rate chef to draw in customers. No matter, the dream will have to wait, and in the immediate future I had assignments with a number of Cougars/Targets in Coblenz, Bonn and Cologne to look forward to.

The Chevalier hired a car and drove the 100 kms to Zurich, where we stayed overnight. We took a 6 hour train journey the following morning to Coblenz, where we remained for two weeks and I serviced five Cougars. None of them were one night stands and I mentally changed my title from ‘stud-for-hire’ to ‘male escort’. The women I escorted wanted to be squired to restaurants, night clubs, and sites of interest before being well and truly bumsed in their hotel room, where I would spend the night Two of the Cougars were also Targets, and it was so much easier to tag a target when staying overnight in her bedroom. I had plenty of time to pin a transmitter onto their clothing hanging in the same wardrobe as where I kept my suits and jackets.

From Coblenz we moved to Bonn, where the Chevalier got back in the saddle, so to speak, after Sabrina had ridden him to near extinction. He hired a young girl for two days and nights and I saw nothing of him while he expended the sexual energy he had only recently regained. The young girl was from a house, one of several, that catered solely for elderly gentlemen who lusted after barely legal female flesh. These houses of pleasure were first established in 1949 when Bonn became the capital city of what was then West Germany. As it was the legislature and legal centre of the country, the men who had manfully shouldered the burden of running the country required some relief and relaxation to make their stressful lives more bearable. And what better way to accomplish that than by porking young females?

After the reunification of East and West Germany the legislature and legal centre moved to Berlin, to which most of the Bonn pleasure houses relocated, with only a few remaining in Bonn. The two hectic days/nights with a young girl greatly diminished the Chevalier’s energy but put a smile back on his face as he recuperated at a casino. Our stay in Bonn was of two weeks and I had three Cougars to service. I took time out from porking them and made a pilgrimage to The Beethoven House, where I stood in silent respect for five minutes to honour the great man’s genius, before signing off by humming the first four notes of the masterpiece that is his Fifth Symphony – Da-Da-Da-DUM. During the two weeks I was servicing/escorting the three Cougars not one of them mentioned the composer or chose to visit his birthplace – the Philistines! No matter, I had four more Cougars waiting for service in Cologne.

The Chevalier spent his time In Cologne at casinos playing cards while I spent my days and nights attending to my clients. The last Cougar on my list was Swedish and also a Target. She – Germund was her given name but she preferred to be called Gemma – and I spent a week together. In fact I stayed with Gemma at her hotel for the duration of the ‘escort’. Gemma thought me Spanish as I used my ‘stud-for-hire persona of Carlos, and since her Spanish was as non-existent as my Swedish we conversed in English. Mine had improved over the years but was pitiful compared to hers. Even so we knew what the other required when it came to the more physical aspects of escorting. It was probably easier for me since I knew full well I was just man meat for her, and as long as I stayed rampant and fully extended she was as happy as a pig in mire.

We spent the days exploring the city as tourists; neither of us had visited Cologne before and we signed up for a guided walking tour of the city centre. This mainly consisted of trekking around, and into, the famous cathedral, the Dom, which among many other treasures houses the bones of the Three Wise Men. We also visited the nearby German-Roman Museum, with its many Roman relics, and viewed an impressive assortment of pre-Gothic Romanesque churches, for which we discovered Cologne was justly famed. Evenings we visited nightclubs/music venues and danced around the miniscule dance floors before returning to her hotel room and danced horizontally, using all the facilities particularly the shower room and the balcony that overlooked a huge square. Even at midnight there would be people walking about the square and Gemma, bent double over the balcony railing, would muffle her guttural yelps of pleasure as I rammed into her from the rear. Sometimes her yelping would be noted and I would yank Gemma back into the room to save her embarrassment and my anonymity. These days the world and his wife has a portable phone that takes excellent photographs, and I had no wish to trend on YouTube or Facebook.

The night before Gemma left to return to Malmo I slipped the tracking pin into one of her jackets in her suitcase. I reasoned that even if the pin came out of her jacket it would still be in her suitcase and thus still operate. Next morning I took my leave of Gemma. Actually we first had a room service breakfast before I gave her a final servicing and left. As I exited the elevator into the hotel lobby my portable rang. It was the Chevalier who was staying in a hotel on the other side of the river from me.

“Where are you?” He asked.

“I’m just leaving the hotel and should be with you in...”

“I’ve just seen Gaston Roux! He must have been staying here in this hotel. He is checking out and has ordered a taxi to take him to Cologne Hautbahnhof. If you are near the station can you get there and see what train he gets and where he’s going?”

“I’m just across the street from the main entrance to the station. I will be in position to spot him in about five minutes. What does Roux look like?”

“He’s about one eighty centimetres tall (5ft 10 in) and weighs about a hundred kilos (220 lbs). He has a mop of dark brown hair and is wearing a light grey suit. He is accompanied by a young girl in a blue denim mini skirt, and she is carrying an orange and green crocheted shoulder bag. It should be easy to pick her out.”

It was the long, slim, bare, legs of the girl that first caught my eye. If she was fourteen then she must have only just celebrated her birthday. She was sex on a stick, and I could see the attraction of a nymphet like her to older men – in fact, under the right circumstances I could be tempted. Roux had his hand on her elbow and was hurrying her towards the ticket office. I breathed a sigh of relief as I worried he might already have a train ticket and would have disappeared onto the platform. I sidled up as near as I dared and heard him say, in even worse German than mine. ‘Two single tickets to Geilenkirchen.’

The ticket clerk asked him something that I didn’t quite hear and Roux didn’t quite understand because the clerk spoke again, slowly and more distinctly so that Roux, and me, understood him.

“Do you want to go the direct route via Julich or change at Duren? It is quicker but more expensive going the direct route.”

“The direct route,” Roux said, and pushed his credit card across to the clerk.

“Your train leaves platform three,” the clerk held up three fingers, “at ten a.m.” He held up ten fingers (OK, it was eight fingers and two thumbs.) “The journey time is one hour.” And he held up one finger. If it had been me behind that ticket window I would have used my middle finger, although Stephen, my English brother-in-law would probably have used two fingers to express the same sentiment. How strange is that?

Roux nodded and took the tickets. The station clock showed there were fifteen minutes to wait before his train left.

“I want a Coke.” the girl spoke in French with a Breton accent that could skin an onion. She pointed to a booth. “I’ll get one there. Give me some money, Papa; I’ll pay you back tonight – with interest.” She gave a lascivious grin as Roux fumbled in his wallet and pulled out a ten euro note.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he smirked. The girl gave a brief, but zob hardening, twerk as she walked to the booth. I rearranged my underwear then moved away from Roux and rang the Chevalier.

“They are leaving in fifteen minutes for Geilenkirchen, wherever that is, but it is only an hour journey. Will we be able to have someone pick them up at the other end in time?”

“Damnation!” The Chevalier said. “It will take several hours to get through to the relevant surveillance section.”

I had a sudden rush of blood to the head. “I have a spare tracker pin with me. I’ll try and tag the girl’s shoulder bag.” I looked towards the booth where the young girl was haggling with the attendant, and then strolled over towards them, still talking on the phone. “Hang up now, Chevalier. I have a cunning plan.” He did as requested and I continued to ‘talk’ into the portable in German as I walked up behind the girl who was speaking French and trying to get served.

“I don’t speak French,” the attendant said in German. The girl obviously did not understand him.