When I was 22 I made my first trip to Amsterdam. A really amazing city. Beautiful. Relaxed. Interesting. A city with bikes on dykes, rather than the other way around.
It was 1998 and Amsterdam had legal prostitution. There were windows with girls in them in the red light district. Seeing these half naked girls really reinforced my sexual preference as being into men. The sight of half naked women was doing nothing for me at all. However, the sight of all this sex on show made me want to do something sexual.
I was a pretty innocent guy and I daringly decided to drop by the BlueBoy – a complex that included a bar, adult cinema, adult book shop and a male brothel. It was pure curiosity.
I sat at the bar, drinking three dollar Pepsis (which was expensive back then!) and trying to work out how it all worked. The barman was lovely and answered a lot of questions.
As I was sitting there, a young shaggy haired Canadian walked up and asked if they had any positions available – he was applying to be an escort.
He was cute but to my untrained eyes looked a little bit drug fucked. He was a brunette but with light hair. Pale skin. Good looking. Great cheek bones and defined facial features. Very mellow. I would have done him in a second.
They decided to interview him at the bar – the same bar I was sitting at. I was sitting at one bar stool, there was an empty stool to my right and he was at the next one – being interviewed across the bar.
He was 22 – the same age as me. But as the interview continued I quickly became aware of the massive gulf existing between our respective sexual experiences. Mine was limited to hurried fondling and inexperienced blow jobs. The interviewer asked detailed questions about what he did, didn’t do and what he preferred. There were discussions of bondage, fisting, topping, bottoming, sounding. His work as a prostitute in Canada and in Europe. Spanking, rope work, threesomes and moresomes.
There may have only been one stool separating us, but there was a wealth of sexual experience between our two lives. It was incredibly interesting, very sexy and profoundly depressing how little sex I had experienced.
Can you guess why they didn’t hire him? It wasn’t that he wasn’t pretty enough, or experienced enough. He just didn’t have an EEC Passport. If he had been French or Czech there would have been no problems. They offered to refer clients to him for offsite work – for a referral fee – but couldn’t have him on the premises. I knew the sex industry was legal in Amsterdam but to see a practical demonstration in front of me about how this was a legitimate business was a real eye opener.
Afterwards, I wandered into the adult cinema where two working boys were sitting at the front just chatting – using it as a place to chill out. When I walked in they saw me and politely exited.
Later the barman asked the working boys who would give me a tour of the private room. When no one volunteered, a young czech boy drew the short straw and pouted in front of his colleagues at being picked. However, once we were alone together he was very nice and friendly. He showed me the various rooms, including the bdsm room. He picked up a massive dildo and waggled it at me to demonstrate the absurdity of such a large size. We both giggled. I think he was enjoying showing off for another young guy.
He explained the pricing. It was certainly something within my budget. But as I hadn’t yet been all the way with a guy I didn’t feel I was yet ready to deal with a professional. They suggested I come back that evening – and I said I would think about it really seriously – but I didn’t go back then, and I haven’t been back since.
I took a few things away from that experience. First was a desire to have more sex – at that point I hadn’t even gone all the way way. Second, it reinforced the sex industry as a legitimate business.
I have no idea if the Blue Boy is still open, but I found the following review online.
Blue Boy Club, Where Fantasies Do Cum True
And if you prefer Dykes on Bikes to Bikes on Dykes: