Gentlemen’s Club
A brand new column — ‘From Nina With Love’
Welcome to the first instalment of a brand-new column— ‘From Nina With Love,’ written by a guest blogger — Nina, a former madam, writer, dreamer and all-around old-fashioned lover of beauty in all its forms …, the way it used to be.
Dear Reader,
Thank you so much for stopping by — I am delighted you are here!
It is my pleasure to make your stay enjoyable and memorable.
My name is Nina, and I run a genuine Gentlemen’s Club in a country where this is still possible even if it necessitates the discreet transfer of a certain amount of banknotes from mine to the local chief policeman’s hand every month and an occasional overnight stay with a lady of his choosing. It is a time-honoured business transaction that has never failed.
I am no longer young, but in my time I’ve seen my share of police chiefs, and their side-kicks and not one has refused. Why would they?
After all, my ladies and I are doing nothing harmful or criminal. That politicians have seen fit to pronounce what we are doing, which essentially amounts to meeting one of themost basic human needs, illegal speaks more of the politicians than us.
I know there are countries where the so-called sex industry has long been legalised, but mine is not one of them.
Mind you, not that I am terribly upset about it.
Firstly, going under the radar makes it a little bit more intriguing, a little bit more daring, don’t you think? Who doesn’t like to be a part of an illicit intrigue?
Secondly, sex or, as my ladies and I prefer to call it — erotica, once known as the art of seduction — might be many things, but it sure isn’t any kind of industry! Whoever called it that must have been either dreadfully boring or dreadfully unsatisfied …, or, come to think of it — both! Alternatively, they might have fancied themselves as directors of some industrial plant à la those run by the old communist regimes.
Anyway, as you can see — I love talking, which, you guessed it, is the reason behind this column. That and my lifelong love of the written word. Oh, I see — you are surprised! That an old (ok, not THAT old) madam loves reading and writing. Well, my dear fellow, I don’t blame you. It is not your fault.
Like millions worldwide, you too have been brainwashed into buying wholesale all the garbage that endless porn sites produce every minute of every day where barely articulate models are made to emit primal moans and groans, or (at best) short exclamations of vulgarisms.
How many of those can you endure hearing before becoming bored out of your mind? Clearly, the producers must think that the mind is superfluous in both — participants and consumers. Moreover …
How many close-ups of the most intimate human act do you need to see? From each imaginable and unimaginable angle.
How many so-called products do you need to buy to achieve those acts and ecstasies they allegedly induce?
Many and then some with predictable results — making a handsome profit for the sellers and ruining your relationship(s) or even the hope of ever having a deeply sensual and thus profoundly human relationship with a woman.
That I know to be true as I have long lost count of how many young and not-so-young traumatised men my girls and I have seen over the years.
Even in a country with a strong patriarchal tradition, albeit it must be said that most of the traumatised ones come from other parts of Europe, English-speaking especially. Which is how I started learning English.
Yes, you have likely already noticed — it isn’t my first language, but I’ve come to love it! I’ve even taken some classes and hope to write sufficiently well for you to stay and, most importantly, come back.
So, what is this column all about?
It is about You first and foremost. It is also about Me.
When you enter here — you are entering the virtual equivalent of my real, brick-and-mortar Gentlemen’s Club.
I’ll open the door for you, greet you with a genuine smile, take your coat, hat and gloves if you have those, usher you into one of the tastefully furnished suites, serve you your favourite drink, and listen to you talk.
Perhaps we will chat about the weather, or politics, or art, or your troubles at work or at home.
I’ll always listen and offer as much or as little input as you need or want.
In the tradition of great courtesans and geishas — beautiful, educated women whose art was that of love, yes love, long before it became relegated to algorithms, cyber-worlds, sex robots, and porn sites.
Long before militant feminists, various self-proclaimed social vigilantes and politically correct brigades reduced men to a guilt ridden species, killing the fine art of seduction in the process.
I hope they are happy with their achievements, but hand on heart, they don’t seem to be. On the contrary, they appear to be in worse shape than ever — angry, frustrated, tired …, in a word — every inch opposite of feminine. While their men (partners, they call them as if they are conducting a business transaction or signing a legal contract) walk on eggshells.
Never mind that … so, how are we — You and I — going to achieve our little tete-a-tete in a cosy, softly lit room where time is still, music gentle and scents refined?
Easy — every week, unless I’m too busy of course, I’ll bring you a new story, or a poem, or a portrait of one of the great femme fatale from times gone by, or even some club’s gossip! Without any identifiable details, of course. I am never indiscreet.
If you like — you can write me a letter back. Perhaps the two of us might even become friends … I’d like that!
Lastly, in case you are wondering — no, there is no charge. None at all. Just a simple exchange of our shared humanity, from Me to You and back. Nothing more. Just like it used to be. Once upon a time.
Hope to hear from you soon,
With Love From
Nina -:)!
P.S. To avoid any confusion or misunderstanding — Nina is a guest blogger and the column ‘From Nina With Love,’ is entirely her creation and the content written exclusively by her. Thank you.
