by Hetaera Berlin | Jun 24, 2019 | Salomé Balthus, Uncategorized
I don’t want to belong. I don’t want respect. I don’t want to be accepted, nor proper, nor fitting. I want the resentment, the hate of all who say of themselves they are normal.
After all most are suspicious. One is vigilant against participating in something only because everyone else is. A banal insight, really, anything but creative, the moral of every other great novel. Everyone dies for themselves alone. Nonetheless, people don’t get it into their heads that they’re alone, transcendentally lonely, solo, and can’t talk themselves out of it by saying they’re only doing what everybody does, that they’re adapting to the circumstances.
by Hetaera Berlin | Apr 14, 2019 | Salomé Balthus, Uncategorized
I queued up to Butler’s podium. When it was my turn I didn’t ask her about her theories. I asked her:“Dou you dare to dance?”An enchantingly embarrassing smile flashed across her face. There were so many waiting their turn in line. I should just dance alone.“It’s a party, isn’t it?”What a diplomatic response. My feeling: she was in a funk. It must have come as a horrid surprise for her to realize what was going on here: the enemy was leading her into temptation.
by Hetaera Berlin | Apr 6, 2019 | Home, Salomé Balthus, Uncategorized
What peeves me most about the abolitionists is their hypocrisy. No, they don’t hate sex workers. They just don’t believe that they exist. Prostitutes are for them, namely, not women who work, but rather women who are wronged with violence. In us they see victims, not acting subjects. That they themselves are doing violence to us which they ascribe to the patriarchy, they do not see.No, they don’t want to criminalize us. Only our clients. They don’t want to take away our jobs. They just don’t want anybody to pay us for what we do.No, they don’t hate foreigners. They just don’t want them in their city, in their country.
by Hetaera Berlin | Mar 24, 2019 | Home, Salomé Balthus
The door closes behind me. I am alone in the long corridor of an elegant hotel. It’s the middle of the night; guests are sleeping behind monotonous hotel room doors. In the elevator, a quick glance in the mirror – my hair is wet, my eye make-up is smudged, but my skin is glowing, my cheeks are rosy after sex and I feel pretty. I believe I never look as good as I do after some hours of fruitful sex.
by Hetaera Berlin | Mar 2, 2019 | Salomé Balthus
Humbert is in reality not a nymphet-lover. He rather despises Lolita because her nature is foreign to him.
A nymphet: a little or pre-pubescent girl who acts like a woman towards men, who because of this one may not treat like a woman because in doing so, in using her as a ready-made woman, you ruin her. The nymphet’s intention to please is diffuse. She doesn’t really know what this triggers in a man’s body. She wants to find out but in the next instant she doesn’t, being instead interested in something entirely different. Nymphets do not systematically pursue a particular goal. They play. They play with adults and assume that adults are only playing.
by Hetaera Berlin | Feb 10, 2019 | Salomé Balthus, Uncategorized
What the Tory hog wanted? He wanted my curvaceous blonde colleague, Alicia, and me for a spanking scenario. Spanking. Slaps on the arse, to get a good hiding, to give someone a good thrashing. A fetish one knows in my line of work that occurs with above average regularity among those born in the British Isles, particularly the English. (FYI: in Germany the most common fetish by far is anal sex, which of course is related to our history.)
