…sweet, natural, refreshing, sensual, juicy 
just like the forbidden apple from which Adam 
took a bite…

They are forbidden: Occasional Blow Jobs, French Kissing, Quickies at the workplace. They are not supposed to happen on the time clock. These three among other taboos are also well known as stumbling blocks for politicians, preachers, teachers and many other great people alike. They are much lied about, but loved as leading headlines in the gossip pages.

Why does everybody want to read about this kind of on the job socially unacceptable behavior? Career soldiers get to retire early if caught and marriages usually end in divorces for the same reason. How does sexual-intimacy at the workplace happen to happen?
I know a fellow who knows. His name is Helmut. I know he knows. I read his diary. He is a foreigner, who grew up in Hamburg. Back in the sixties, when the Beetles (then called Pilzkoepfe) became popular, Helmut was fourteen. As a piccolo (a young waiter apprentice), Helmut was fishing for tips and compliments. He became the target of a rich homosexual client’s interest. Asked to join the guest at a private party, Helmut’s answer was meant to be negative. Yet he said: “Not today! Another time!”
Some coworkers misinterpreted this. Helmut desperately looked for ways to establish himself to his peers, to show them that he wasn’t gay. Unfortunately Helmut did not have a clue how to approach the female sex. Therefore he was overwhelmed with gratitude when his roommate, Heinz, promised to set the record straight.
Two days later, back at their room, Heinz introduced him to Luise. Helmut had heard men and women talking behind her back, whispering “Hure!” “Bordsteinschwalbe!” “Nutte!”(2). Rumor was that she, Luise, was selling her body not only on the weekends at the Strich.(3) Luise was average looking. Her long medium blond hair was wavy from being braided. Her eyes were inquisitive and blue green. She wore no make up. Luise laughed a lot, especially about her own wordings, whispered huskily. And did she have a vocabulary, dirtier than the city sewers, all untreated, undiluted gutter-talk. A bottle of ice-cold Jaegermeister removed all barriers. Luise stripped. The temperature was rising.

Alcohol, cigarette smoke, cheap perfume, Heinz’ after shave and a heavy musk scent were taking Helmut’s breath. Teasingly Luise stroked Helmut’s leg. She reached for the buttons of his fly. Beyond his own comprehension, Helmut felt his hormones go haywire and was utterly embarrassed when tiny little explosions wetted his pants.
By the time Helmut returned from the bathroom, where he had immediately retreated to, two co-workers were applauding Heinz and Luise in their endeavors. Coming to find out that Heinz had invited some of his friends for the occasion, Helmut just stood there, gazing, his mouth open. He wasn’t important anymore. Drunken cajolery, indecency, freelovism was happening under his eyes.
The next day, grinning from ear to ear, Heinz told everybody at work that he had witnessed Helmut and Luise together in bed. Yet not everybody believed Heinz’s story. A week later in the afternoon, an angry Helmut, banned from the dining room for dropping a few strings of spaghetti on a guest’s lap, was stacking canned kitchen supplies, in the brick-walled five-hundred-year-old storage cellar, two stories under the restaurant’s main-level. A young scullery girl, whom the Chef de cuisine(4) had sentenced to cleaning-duties throughout all the storage rooms, quizzed Helmut: “They say you are gay?”
“No!” He answered. Angry at her remark he added, “You want me to show you?” She was not going to reject his offer. Unknown to him, she had been waiting for this opportunity. He also didn’t realize that she had been looking for him for quite some time and the right timing. His answer quickened her heartbeat, getting her in a euphoric stage. Her mind had been set on him from the moment she saw him. She wanted nobody but him as her boyfriend. He was going to be hers at last. Her cheeks turned apple red. The arousal as she kissed and touched him, put Helmut into a state of drunkenness. She knew what she was doing.
Less than an hour later, he just layed there on the cool brick floor. Imbedded between Sauerkraut, plum and mushroom cans, empty cardboard boxes and wooden crates, Hannelore cuddled up against him, to his right side. Staring at the ceiling, he listened to her voice. He was hearing, ” . . . done this before haven’t you? . . .haven’t you?”
She suddenly put him on guard, ” . . . love me, don’t you? . . . always love me?” She had a lot to learn. Hannelore was anxious to explore new territory, but she could not compare to Luise, or could she? Luise! Yes, Heinz had coaxed him into staying. He had watched her and Heinz. Helmut also had followed with great interest her continuation with the other guys. However by the time when Luise announced that it was going to be his turn, Helmut had felt utterly disgusted and deeply offended by her actions. It was not only that she had skipped Helmut on purpose, giving Heinz’s demanding friends’ preferential attention. It was for he could not comprehend that any woman would do what she had been doing to and with any of these other young men. Helmut felt shame, something she apparently did not have. When she finally motioned him, to come to her, he had run out of the room, had gone into hiding, scared of the unknown.
For Helmut, Hannelore was different. She was his very first. Nevertheless, Helmut had no plans for a snub-nosed short-legged overweight kitchen helper in his future. On second thought, she was cute and what was much more important, she was available. Regaining some strength he answered her questions with a “Let me show you how much I love you.”
All Helmut really wanted was to establish with her and everybody that he was man enough to do what all men, in his limited understanding, were supposed to do with a woman. Sex in the storage cellar had little to do with Hannelore. It was Helmut against the world. He was finally able to validate himself, the fears that maybe he could not do it, that he might be unable to perform as required by the opposite sex, turned out to be unfounded. She was warm, cuddly and he experienced, that she, Hannelore, craved sex as much as he did. On first sight it was ego boosting to him that she also wanted more, that she wanted him! She was as naive as he was stupid at the time. Nonetheless, he was smart enough to know that he was far too young and inexperienced to start a family way of life.

From here on Helmut kept on collecting endorsements from any woman who felt that he was not only cute, but also worth her time and effort. Between shifts, on a rainy afternoon, a married waitress, visited Helmut’s room in the attic of their workplace. She asked: “What do you know about Geschlechtsverkehr(5)?” His lips, firmly planted on hers, stopped further questioning. His hands probed, searched and discovered her softness as she was holding his hardness. Passion replaced any connection to time or place. Both had to rush to get dressed and go back to work, a few minutes late for their dinner shift.
Regardless of the most pleasurable afternoon, that’s not how she explained, the mouth shaped red-blue and black spots – left by Helmut’s biting and sucking on her tender skin – to her husband.

More than a month after the theoretical initiation, Helmut finally got to spend a night with Luise. It was meant to be the ultimate fun. No matter what she did, she was not living up to his twisted expectations. Now being with Luise did not at all compare to how she had teased, directed, acted and talked the time he had watched her. True, it was Hannelore with whom Helmut had his first physical sex. Nevertheless, it was during the night when he was watching Luise that Helmut had lost any innocence he had had. After that he was no longer a virgin. In the flesh he still was, but his mind was not. From then on he looked at women in a different way. His eyes were searching under any skirt passing by. Hannelore had offered herself to Helmut, who used her body solely to practice what he had seen others do with and to Luise. Any thought of Luise aroused him. Thinking of Hannelore did not create much of any excitement. Helmut had never stopped to fantasize about Luise: Her dealing with men; her treating them like children lining up to play in a sandbox too small for all to fit in. He remembered her, like an experienced coach, without hurting anyone’s feeling, lining her men up to play the game exclusively by her rules. Here, now, he was in bed with Luise, skin to skin, but the first wave of passion had crashed onto the rocks. She was polite, sexy and pleasing. Nevertheless she didn’t cackle and chuckle, hoax and frolic as he remembered her doing, to keep the males in line. With him she was motherly caring, not at all like the harlot he recalled watching. With him she was trying to show and teach him ways of self control. She explained in her robust voice when to, what to do, which way and how. She emphasized that sex is the fun event, it is supposed to be, and it has to be pleasurable for both man and woman.
By morning she left finger marks on his face, by slapping him hard, when he asked, “How much do I owe you for the lessons?” in his attempt to pay her. He did not know then that professional women ask for money up front. And he did not know that Luise had never worked as a prostitute. She had fun to explore the limits which were part of the times and the carefree sex which came with the pill. After this he had much explaining and apologizing to do. She forgave him.

Another adventure happened a few months later. After a busy lunch, on a muggy hot summer day, between shifts this young lady asked him to help her. She needed someone to scrub her back. Helmut gladly did so under the employee shower, getting wet himself. She was beautiful to look at, sinful to touch, wicked, a young body but a seasoned temptress. He, who had learned the mechanics of lovemaking from Luise did not know the meaning of untamed wild passion till Rheena. Helmut could hardly wait to continue his education with her. There was just a slight problem: The Sous chef. Rheena was an exchange student from Nigeria, and a head turner for any man. She was staying with the Sous chef’s(6) family, who rightfully thought very little of Helmut. The guest family was strict and kept a close eye on the exotic chocolate brown lady. Still Helmut, known as a hard worker, gigolo and adventurer managed to spend short periods of time with her. Rheena, bursting with energy, wanted, what the young man had to offer. The more the Sous chef insisted on her avoiding Helmut, who was said to be only after one thing, the more she wanted him. For Helmut had just what Rheena’s body needed. Despite the limited time available, she made every effort to hold Helmut in her arms, whenever she could escape the sight of the Sous chef. Their uncontrollable hormones gone haywire did not question passion. Neither one of the two knew nor wanted to know if ecstasy is a choice or if ecstasy is purely a reaction. Hasty and ecstatically their bodies found each other, filling the void. Half an hour in his room, ten minutes in the linen closet, seven minutes in the maintenance room, five minutes in a deserted dark upstairs banquet-room, twenty minutes on the covered flatbed of the company truck, three minutes in the garden tool shed, forty five minutes in the bushes on the hillside, sixteen minutes in the dusty attic or four to six minutes a time in the cellars beneath the restaurant, each of these became sufficient for their single purpose. Animalistic instincts were running wild, taking its course, powered by youth and raw energy. They knew that the Sous chef did not approve of it. Much like stealing cherries from the neighbor’s tree, they did it. With a smirking face he went right back to work. Guilt was written all over her glowing cheeks after each session.

Nevertheless, she tried to act like nothing had ever transpired, until the day when she had to confess. From that day on the Sous chef, thought even less of Helmut. That was when he found out from Rheena that she was pregnant and nobody else but Helmut the culprit. The abortion ran 2000 Deutsche Mark.


by helmut schonwalder