Just as I turned to return to my hotel, my brain said fuck it—go back. I turned around back onto St Annenstraat and met her in the neon light as sh... opened the glass door for me. I began my much thought out monologue of what I wanted from her. I had crafted it after reading many posts about Amsterdam’s red light district. She said yes with a cute Dutch accent and turned to climb the ladder steep, narrow stairs. I took in the great view of her spinner’s body and particularly nice ass—Amsterdam. " Which was Vincent.It would be a great feature for the college newspaper, the kind of thing that would get me in good with the editors and blaze a trail for my burgeoning journalism career. Maybe the city paper wouldn't even steal the story and rereport it, as it was prone to do.But I needed, you know, a story. That didn't come out of my first call to Vincent. So when he asked to meet, I was a solid yes. It was the Saturday after Thanksgiving, with most folks away visiting family, so what else. More

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