It was a foul evening when I arrived at Berlin’s Tegel International airport, but I quickly located my luggage and jumped into a taxi to take me to the Mitte district of the City. The detectives had booked me into a Hostel on Oranienburger Strasse, which was apparently in the heart of the most popular red light district in Berlin.
During the taxi ride I had a chance to reflect on my last morning with Mary, after what had been an enjoyable night together. I would always love the way that men lust over my body, but for the first time in my life, I discovered that the attentions of a passionate woman could be just as exciting and fulfilling an experience.
We went shopping together for my travelling clothes and had a lot of fun combing the rails. We toured the charity shops looking for clothes to provide me with a semi-homeless image. Mary was great in finding the stuff I needed and I was surprised to find that the jeans, t-shirt and matching denim jacket, all fitted me perfectly and didn’t look too bad at all.
We decided to carry out a few modifications and went to a lot of trouble to make the denim jacket and jeans tatty, to fit with my image as a street worker. Soon, the light blue washed jeans had cut and frayed holes on the legs and the jacket’s edges and pockets were also frayed. I liked what I saw in the mirror and might well have worn the cloths out and about, before I went into prison.
The red bra and thong were thin and skimpy, while the black thigh length, 3″ stepped boots looked cheap and tarty. I immediately felt in character though, once I had put my shorter hair in bunches, applied heavy lip gloss and black eye liner. The final picture was such a contrast to my previous image that it gave me real confidence that I wouldn’t be recognised.
Mary made a big dinner and afterwards waved me off, as I sped away in a taxi. I was at Heathrow by 3. 00 pm for my flight, while Mary was due to catch a flight a couple of hours later. She was planning to meet up with Jack when she arrived and would be operational before I started work in the morning. My flight took off at 4. 00 and I was waiting for my luggage at the conveyor belt in Berlin, by 6. 00. I understood why I had to go it alone, but it would have been reassuring to have had some company.
I questioned what I was doing, sitting in a taxi in the middle of Berlin, embarking on a clandestine mission. Fucking hell, I reprimanded myself, what could possibly go wrong when such an important assignment had been planned so well? I was taking one last look at the instruction, when the taxi pulled up outside a dark, dank-looking building. The rain had almost stopped, so the wet and misty windows were blurring my view.
“Is this the Hertzberg Hostel?” I asked in German.
“Yes Miss.” Came the reply. I paid him 30 Euros and climbed out of the taxi, took my bags from the driver and climbed the steps to the front door of the hostel.
The building was dark and foreboding and I had to buzz before the door was unlocked. I guessed there was a surveillance camera system which was confirmed when I arrived at a small reception desk at the end of a wide hallway. Behind the stocky receptionist sat a bank of monitors which obviously covered the entrance and all the halls of the Hostel. I immediately felt a lot safer, although the tone of the establishment was downbeat, almost equal to that of a Dosshouse.
“Who are you?” asked the woman, clearly bored with her job, for she didn’t even bother to look up from the magazine she was reading.
“Beth Hudson. I’m booked in here for a week.” I responded, trying to put life into the conversation.
“Passport!” She pushed her paw out and I handed it over to her.
She thumbed through it, then turned round, opened a safe and threw it inside. I’d been expected to keep it with me, but shrugged and decided it was safer locked away. She then started leafing through a registry of rooms and names.
“Right, you’re in 35 with Cherry. You clean your own room, or you get chucked out! You clean the bathroom and hallway on your floor, or you get chucked out! If you bring a John back here, you get chucked out! Any fighting, you get chucked out! You don’t pay on time, you get chucked out! Is that clear?”
Fucking hell, I thought, it was like a detention centre! I nodded, knowing I had little option.
“Yes I understand. Is there a lift?” I asked.
She handed over a key and scoffed.
“You got the 20 Euro’s for tonight?” I took the money out of my pocket and handed it to her. “No lift.” She added, as she checked the notes weren’t counterfeit.
I picked up my bags and began the long climb up two flights of wide mahogany stairs. The edifice was more like an office building. There were lots of glass doors sectioning off landings and bare polished wooden floors. The stark yellow walls desperately needed a fresh coat of paint and a few pictures hanging on the bare walls would have brightened the place up.
I reached the third floor, found my room and got a surprise when I turned the key and threw the door open. A naked young woman with cherry red hair stood in the centre of the small living space. She turned to face me with a startled expression on her face. I stepped into the room.
“Who the hell are you?” She demanded in German.
I let the door close behind me, dropped my bags and kicked my heels to one side.
“My name’s Beth, you must be Cherry.” I spoke in English hoping she would understand.
“Ha, British! How long you staying?” To my relief, she responded in English, but with a heavy German accent.
“A week,” I replied. “Depends on the money.”
She gave me the once over. “With your body you won’t have to worry about money!”
Her comment pleased me, but I ignored it.
“What’s it like here?” Does it pay well?”
I waited while she sorted through an assortment of her clothes that were scattered over the double bed. Cherry was a couple of inches taller than me, but very thin, almost emaciated. Her breasts were small and her hips were narrow, almost boy-like.