The Deuce

I går så jeg de fire første afsnit af tv serien The Deuce. I åbningsscenen ser man 2 sorte alfonser sidde på en togstation og vurdere de ankomne kvindelige passagerer som potentielle ludere. En ung kvinde udvælges af den ene alfons og han går op til hende og begynder at smører hende.

Under andre omstændigheder ville jeg nok vurderer denne scene lidt vel fantasifuld. Hvorfor skulle hun snakke med ham, så nemt er det vel ikke i virkeligheden.

Men det forholder sig sådan at jeg faktisk godt kan genkende situationen.

Jeg var 18 år og au pair i Philadelphia, USA. Jeg passede 2 nyfødte tvillingedrenge hos et ungt jødisk par der også havde en 3 årig dreng. Jeg røvkedede mig. Tvillingerne var søde og jeg elskede dem så højt mit umodne 18-årige jeg kunne – men det var på ingen måde nok for mig. Jeg havde mødt en dreng som var soldat i marinen. Vi havde haft et hedt forhold nogle uger – kneppet alle steder vi kunne komme til det. Nu var han udstationeret i Cuba, han skulle være der nogle måneder. Jeg modtog hede breve fra ham. Kan huske at jeg synes de var lidt overdrevne og mente at nogle af hans venner drev gæk med ham og havde forfattet dem i hans navn. Det skrev jeg til ham. Men jeg savnede ham og sexen

Når jeg havde en fridag tog jeg som regel ind til byen og gik rundt i det store shoppingcenter. Sådan noget i den størrelsesorden havde man ikke i 1982 i Danmark der hvor jeg kom fra, langt ude på landet i Jylland.

Det var en af de her fridage, jeg trissede rundt i centeret og så satte jeg mig ind på en cafe for at få en pause fra alt den trissen.

En mørk ung mand sad ved et bord i nærheden og jeg lagde mærke til ham fordi jeg synes hans så virkelig dejlig ud. Mulat-chokoladebrun, fine træk, flot lyst jakkesæt. Jeg tror ikke han havde hat på, men det kunne han ligeså godt have haft. Han var optaget af at læse en avis.

Så pludselig kom han over til mit bord. Undskyldte at han forstyrrede, om han måtte sætte sig. Han gjorde meget ud af, at forsikre mig, at dette ikke var noget han gjorde hele tiden, antastede unge damer og at han var pinlig bevidst om at det kunne virke lidt grænseoverskridende. Det var bare fordi, han havde lagt mærke til mig inde i centeret. Jeg så så trist ud, som om der var noget galt. Jeg var også umådelig dejlig at se på, men det var min tristhed der havde grebet ham.

Jeg forsikrede ham om at jeg ikke var trist. Og så var samtalen startet.

Vi talte så godt sammen. Min ensomhed eksploderede i en overvældende snakkesalighed. Jeg fortalte alt jeg kunne komme i tanke om, om mig selv. Han var en opmærksom og engageret lytter. Jeg var nok verdens mest interessante person.

Han spurgte om jeg havde lyst til at køre en tur i hans bil. Lige dér var han nok den mest trygge person jeg kendte. På intet tidspunkt havde han været lummer eller vagt min mistanke om at han havde andre hensigter end at være rar mod en ensom ung kvinde. Jeg selv havde alle mulige andre bagtanker, hensigter, længsler og begær og jeg ville bare være ved siden af ham længst mulig, men jeg tror jeg ville have automat reageret med tilbagetrækning hvis han havde været mere tydelig. Det var han ikke. Han var bare fin, appetitlig brun, smukt formet og høflig, sød, betænksom.

Så selvfølgelig satte jeg mig ind i hans store lækre flyder af en bil og da han foreslog at jeg så hans hjem, var jeg helt og aldeles med på den ide.

Hans lejlighed lignede et amerikansk udstillings hjem. Hvide lædermøbler, glasbord, tykke tæpper. Noget der skulle se eksklusivt og imponerende ud. Jeg var da også pænt imponeret, men måske mere interesseret i at se soveværelset, ligge på kæmpe sengen og mærke hans blide bløde fingerspidser kærtegne min krop. Han hældte olierende amerikanske overdrivelser over mig og i løbet af kort tid svømmede jeg vægtløs, friktionsløst rundt i hans ord og kærtegn. Med en fjer kunne han skubbe mig hvorhen han ville.

“Vil du elske?” spurgte han pludselig, i en meget forretningsmæssig tone. Det ville jeg bare ‘så gerne. “Så skal du først gå ud og tage et brusebad. Vask dig meget grundigt. Jeg vil ikke risikere nogen sygdomme” Jeg adlød, men med en lidt flov og forvirret følelse i kroppen. Tonen og ordren var så markant anderledes end hans tidligere måde at være på og jeg følte lidt at det vi nu skulle til, at være virkelig intime, dyrke hed og kærlig sex, for ham var en lidt anstrengende pligt.

Men det måtte jeg bide i mig, for jeg ville utrolig gerne.

Da jeg kom tilbage, skrubbet og uskyldig, dyrkede vi fantastisk sex. Han var så dygtig og så vidunderlig dejlig. Han var hundrede gange bedre end min marinesoldat som ellers også var helt speciel god.

Bagefter lå vi og røg og sundede os og pludselig gik døren op og ind kom en ung kvinde. Hun havde langt mørkt hår, der var lidt latinolook over hende. Lidt buttet, men sexet buttet. En sød flæsekjole og høje hæle. Han introducerede hende som hans søster. De boede sammen i lejligheden. Jeg hilste pænt, var en smule forvirret over at mulatten og latinoen kunne være søskende. De lignede ikke det mindste hinanden, men jeg ligner heller ikke mine søskende, så jeg forfulgte ikke forvirringen.

Vi sad alle på sengen og snakkede. Fjernsynet kørte i baggrunden. Pludselig var de 2 søskende meget interesseret i det der foregik i fjernsynet. Jeg kunne ikke rigtig se at der foregik noget spændende der og jeg begyndte så småt at funderer over om jeg skulle tage hjem og hvordan det skulle foregå. Programmet sluttede og mulatten spurgte om min mening om den udsendelse vi lige havde set. Det kunne jeg ikke rigtig svare på. De forklarede at programmet havde handlet om prostitution. Hvad jeg mente om det emne. Jeg havde stadig ikke rigtig noget svar. Det var helt ærlig ikke et emne jeg på nogen måde nogen sinde havde beskæftiget mig med. Ikke interesseret.

Mulatten og Latinoen kikkede hurtigt på hinanden og så forklarede mulatten mig at det var det Latinoen lavede. Solgte sex. Mulatten var hendes alfons. Han havde flere “piger” i sin stald, men lige nu var Latinoen hans favorit.

Jeg lidt overrasket, men i det mindste var søskende problematikken opklaret. Stadigvæk havde jeg ikke rigtig nogen mening om sexarbejdet. Det var vel fint nok. Spændende. Men uvedkommende.

Han kørte mig til stationen så jeg kunne komme hjem og jeg mødtes med ham et par gange mere. En tidlig morgen var jeg med ham ude og hente Latinoen efter endt arbejdsdag og så tog vi alle på morgenmadsrestaurant sammen. Det hele var meget spændende, men jeg var kun interesseret i hans krop. Det var tydeligt at hans plan var at gøre mig forelsket i ham så jeg også kunne trække for ham. Blive en af hans piger. Men der var jeg slet ikke. Dels var jeg en forbeholden dansker. Jeg synes hans kærlighedserklæringer var alt for gennemskuelig overdrevne, min værtsfamilie fandt ud af hvilken fyr jeg så (har vel selv fortalt om denne spændende nye mand) og de blev forfærdet og forbød mig at se ham. Det havde nok ikke afholdt mig, men jeg fik mine egne problemer. Jeg opdagede at marinesoldaten havde gjort mig gravid inden afgangen og det er ikke så ligetil at få abort i USA. Projektet holdt mig og mine følelser intenst beskæftiget i nogle uger og jeg holdt mig fra alfonsen, gjorde det klart at jeg ikke ville se ham mere, besvarede ikke opkald og regnede affæren for ovre og glemt.

En dag stødte jeg så på Latinoen i centeret, hvor jeg igen var begyndt at trisse rundt. Hun inviterede mig på en kop kaffe og begyndte så at flirte intenst med mig. Det var så underligt. Som om at de regnede mig for lesbisk siden jeg ikke faldt for mulatten. Jeg forklarede hende at jeg ikke var interesseret og siden hørte jeg ikke mere fra dem.

Jeg følger “The Deuce” med stor interesse. Nu identificerer jeg mig nok mere med Candy, den modne og selvstændige sexarbejder, men den gang, for 35 år siden var jeg nok mere Lori, den unge pige nylig ankommet til NewYork.


Yesterday I saw the first four episodes of the television serie The Deuce. In the opening scene you see 2 black pimps sitting at a train station and assessing the arriving female passengers as potential hookers. A young woman is chosen by one of the pimps and he walks up to her and starts to talk to her.

In other circumstances, I would probably consider this scene a little imaginative. Why should she talk to him, it’s not that easy, actually.

But I recognize the situation.

I was 18 years old, and au pair in Philadelphia, USA. I took care of 2 newborn twin boys whose parents were a young Jewish couple who also had a 3 year old boy. I was dead bored. The twins were sweet and I loved them as  much as my immature 18 year old self could – but that was by no means enough for me. I had met a boy who was a soldier in the Navy. We had a hot relationship for some weeks – fucked everywhere we could. Now he was stationed in Cuba, he would be there for a few months. I received letters from him. Can remember that I thought they were a bit exaggerated and thought that some of his friends made jokes with him and had written them in his name. I wrote that to him. But I missed him and the sex

When I had a day off, I usually went downtown and walked around the big shopping center. Such a big Shopping mall you would not see in 1982 in Denmark where I came from, far out in the countryside of Jutland.

It was one of my days off, I walked around the center and then I sat down at a cafe to get a break from all that walking.

A dark young man was sitting at a table nearby and I noticed him because I thought he looked really nice. Mulatto chocolate brown, nice features, nice light suit. I do not think he was wearing a hat, but he could as well have done that. He was busy reading a newspaper.

Then suddenly he came over to my table. Sorry that he was disturbing, if he could sit down?. He made a lot of assurance, this was not something he did all the time, approaching young ladies, and he was embarrassed it might seem a bit too much. It was just because he had noticed me inside the center. I looked so sad as if something was wrong. I was also very nice to look at, but it was my sadness that had caught him. I assured him, I was not sad. And then the conversation was started.

We talked so well together. My loneliness exploded in an overwhelming amount of words. I told him everything I could think of about myself. He was an attentive and committed listener. I was probably the world’s most interesting person.

He asked if I would like to take a ride with him in his car. Right there he was probably the most safe person I knew. At no time had he been inappropriate or alerted my suspicion that he had other intentions than being kind to a lonely young woman. I myself had all kinds of other thoughts, intentions, longings and desires, and I just wanted to be near to him as long as possible, but I think I would have reacted automatically with withdrawal if he had been more clear. He was not. He was just fine, appetisingly brown, beautifully shaped and polite, sweet, thoughtful.

So of course, I entered his big and nice car and when he suggested that I see his home, I totally agreed with that idea.

His apartment looked like an American exhibition home. White leather furniture, glass table, thick soft carpet. Something that should look exclusive and impressive. I was impressed, but maybe more interested in seeing the bedroom, lying on the huge bed and feeling his gentle soft fingertips caressing my body. He poured oiling American exaggerations over me and shortly after I swam vigorously around his words and caresses. With a feather he could push me wherever he wanted.

“Do you want to make love?” He suddenly asked, in a very commercial tone. I would very much like that. “Then go out and take a shower. Wash thoroughly. I do not want to risk any diseases.” I obeyed, but with a little embarrassment and confused feeling. The tone and order were so distinctly different from his former way of talking, and I felt that this intimacy we were about to have, for him was a strenuous duty.

But I had to swallow the feeling, because I really wanted him.

When I came back, scrubbed and innocent, we had amazing sex. He was so good and so wonderful lovely. He was a hundred times better than my marine soldier who was otherwise very good too.

Afterwards we smoked and recovered. Suddenly the door opened and a young woman came in. She had dark and long hair, there was a little Latino look over her. A bit chubby, but sexy. A cute ruffle dress and high heels. He introduced her as his sister. They lived together in the apartment. I greeted nicely, was a bit confused that the mulatto and the latino could be siblings. They did not look like each other, but I don’t look like my siblings, so I did not pursue the confusion.

We all sat on the bed and talked. The TV was on in the background. Suddenly, the 2 siblings were very interested in what was happening in the television. I could not really see anything exciting there and I began to think about whether I should go home and how it should happen. The program ended and the mulatto asked for my opinion about the broadcast we had just seen. I could’t really answer that. They explained that the program had been about prostitution. What I meant about the subject?. I still didn’t have an answer. It was frankly not a subject I had ever thought about. Not interested.

the Mulatto and Latino looked at each other quickly, and then Mulatto explained to me that this was what Latino was doing. Sold sex. Mulatto was her pimp. He had more “girls” , but at the moment Latino was his favorite.

I was a little surprised, but at least the sibling problem was clarified. Still, I didn’t really have any opinion about sex work. It was fine enough. Exciting. But nothing I knew anything about or had my interest.

He drove me to the station so I could go home and I met him a few times more. An early morning I went out with him to pick up Latino after the end of her working night and then we all went to a breakfast restaurant. Everything was very exciting, but I was mostly interested in his body. It was clear that his plan was to make me fall in love with him so I could also be one of his girls. But I was not at that level at all. Secondly, I was a shy and reserved Dane. I thought his love statements were too exaggerated, my host family found out what kind of guy I was seeing (I think I told them myself)  and they were horrified and forbid me to see him. That wouldn’t have stopped me, but I had other problems. I discovered that the navy guy had made me pregnant before his departure and it is not so straightforward to get abortion in the United States. The project kept me and my feelings intensely occupied for a few weeks.  I stopped the relationship, made it clear that I did not want to see him anymore, did not answer calls and counted the affair over and forgotten.

One day I met the Latino in the center, where I once again walked around. She invited me to a cup of coffee and began to flirt intensely with me. It was so strange. As if they were thinking I must be lesbian since I did not fall for the mulatto. I explained to her that I was not interested and then I did not hear from them anymore.

I follow “The Deuce” with great interest. Now I identify myself more with Candy, the mature and independent sex worker, but then, 35 years ago, I was probably more like Lori, the young girl recently arrived in New York.