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The heavy steps of white over-knee boots rushing towards me suddenly interrupted my thoughts. It was about 9 pm as I walked down Oranienburger Street to the next subway station. I instinctively looked back over my shoulder. She must have been talking to somebody behind me. But there was no one there. Yes, she was talking to me - and I'm a woman.
I'd never received such an offer before and it took me quite a while to kindly convince her that I wasn't interested. She was a beautiful woman: perfect figure, pretty face, like most prostitutes I've seen on Oranienburger Street. They're quite different from the girls on the legendary Reeperbahn in Hamburg, or in Amsterdam's red-light district. Later, I read that the prices of these practically-luxury-prostitutes in Berlin start at 80 euros and are negotiable.
Maybe that's why you can find almost as many German men in brothels as in supermarkets. Statistics show that about a million gentlemen pay for pleasure every day in this country. Most of the women on Oranienburger Street could get jobs as classy call girls, so I'm perplexed as to they choose to work on the street instead.
I get goose bumps, when I pass by in winter and see them wearing next to nothing. There are plenty of others, though, who opt for better conditions and more concealment. I was at a conference in Berlin when I met Jasmine not her real name , a smart woman in her 40's; we had a very inspiring chat about political philosophy. I found out later that she used to work as a luxury prostitute to finance her PhD. It all started with an "indecent proposal" by a millionaire while she was on vacation.