All the way to the end of Rue d’Aerschot and Zinip—big mega-bosomed Turkish Zinip. She was simpatico. I like her. Just 30 euros. Back to Brussels Grill. I didn’t see her come in to Café Jimmy earlier, but when I looked around there was Beatrice—black coat, black trousers; always surprises me how voluptuous she is. She didn’t even talk to me this time. In Fifth Avenue no one for me, too early even for Inna. Again, I’m not even getting bread & butter. I pinch some from another table. I’d like to go back to Fifth Avenue before sleeping, and maybe go back for Beatrice, but after this steak I’ll probably just be ready for bed. Bearnaise or mayonnaise, said the waitress, mishearing my sauce. Now I understand why I got mayonnaise last time. 457pm. Hopefully I can get up and out to Empire tonight. Tomorrow? I suppose I could keep Beatrice till tomorrow, last thing I do before I go home. Cine Paris had a half decent film—Anisa & Lola at Nurse’s School, and I was undisturbed by the perverts. And the upstairs cinema was closed, for some unknown reason.
So one last walk up to Rue d’Aerschot and finally did something naughty with Antonia, a blonde big-bosomed white girl from Congo (she claimed). A tawdry, pleasureless experience. I don’t think I even enjoy sex. That is why my sub-conscious keeps steering me away from doing it at the last moment. Unless I meet a girl who really blows my mind, like Lucy, or Andrea, or Julia, or Adelina, it is really better if I don’t do anything. Still was nice to finally lay with a naked woman, the first of this 6-day trip. As time goes by, it will come to seem increasingly pleasurable, as is usually the way. After 6 nights away, I am looking forward to being home, to be honest.
How strong my sub-conscious is. It keeps me away from Rue d’Aerschot, even though my conscious mind is telling me the sexiest girls are there. My sub-conscious propels me, and keeps sending me back to Rue des Commercants (and Beatris) and Fifth Avenue. So on my 6th day, I remain celibate. Chaste. Un-violated. Disappointed I didn’t get the bread & butter this time at Brussels Grill; perhaps it is only for early afternoons. Starving. Think I will die of hunger. For sure, I need a Domino’s Pizza to follow this Brussels Grill. Indigestion be damned. My sub-conscious is always saving my money for Lucy; or for Adelina in Vienna. It is a strong resistance. I listen to my sub-conscious, then I know what to do. So a 6th day in Brussels goes by, without sex. Bravo. Still that money in my pocket, for next time, or for Vienna. 6pm. Doubt I will be awake in time for Empire tonight. No chance. Let’s be honest.
There must be a reason why I never want to walk up to Gare du Nord—even though it is probably a shorter distance to Gare du Nord than to Fifth Avenue. And I think my sub-conscious tells me I really do not feel comfortable in the Rue d’Aerschot—even though the sexiest, most beautiful girls are to be found in the Rue d’Aerschot. My sub-conscious always directs me to where I feel MOST COMFORTABLE. In Vienna, that means Manhattan—because it is opposite my hotel probably. If I stayed at a hotel opposite Angelique no doubt I would be in Angelique every single night and would not feel comfortable in Manhattan. If I’m going to have sex, I really don’t want to have to walk far, before, but especially afterwards, when I’m shattered, and emotional. In Brussels, Fifth Avenue and Rue des Commercants, even though the quality of girls in these two places is so much less than at the Rue d’Aerschot. My sub-conscious is my river deep underground, my underground Nile, which directs me towards my true desires. So, I did not go to Rue d’Aerschot today after all—and always at back of my mind, Empire and Manuela. 1749. In Brussels Grill. Felt like a Brussels Grill steak and fancy a Domino’s Pizza back with me to follow. Indigestion heaven. No bread this time at Brussels Grill? Food, food, food, all I think about is food. No Inna at Fifth Avenue after 5pm. Monday night—unbelievably—busy like a Friday night. Party night. Packed with men. Celebrating the end of the weekend.
Yes, the Rue d’Aerschot window girls are stunningly beautiful but walking along a cold street trying to shelter from the biting wind and avoid stepping in dog shit is not conducive to a sexy feeling, so that is why I do not feel like actually doing anything. Fifth Avenue is a warm, sexy environment but just hasn’t had the quality of girls this time (Inna never there when I’m there, and no Lucy at all). Le Coin has come nice women but of the heftier variety; don’t come here looking for sexy young slim things, which I don’t.
No, I couldn’t do it. Once again I came back to the hotel without having done anything naughty. There is just something about the Rue d’Aerschot environment that kills my ardour despite the girls being the most beautiful whores you are ever likely to see in your life. People told me got to Maxim’s in Vienna, but the Rue d’Aerschot girls are a million times better than Maxim’s scrawny b*tches. Better than Le Coin or Fifth Avenue (1 or 2 possible exceptions) or the street girls of the Rue des Commercants, but still, despite there being at least 3 amazing contenders, I could not bring myself to do anything. Another divine Domino’s Pizza then back to bed. 1115 Monday morning now, my last full day in Brussels. I was awake all night till after 430, masturbating mainly, and I came 3 times in the space of 5 hours; long time since I managed that prodigious feat. Bravo.
1045. A McDonald’s breakfast to start my day. Now my first beer. I don’t know if the Rue d’Aerschot windows are still open on Sundays. I know the Mayor of Saint-Josse had them closing at 11 every night and all of Sunday but I’m sure I read that Rue d’Aerschot is just outside the borders of Saint-Josse (in Schaarbeek). Only one way to find out.