Well, she followed all the program about those maladjusted and molested children like me, a program which the land of tulips offers so generously, making children believe their secrets will be only shared by a social worker, whereas, actually, these recorded tapes (where you might see me giving fingers to the camera hidden behind the false mirror) get handed over to his/her parents, the police, and the psychologist who cared about me...

In short, instead of doing his work this guy would ask me what was my lover's feeling when I pissed in his mouth (well, he liked it – that was my answer), and whether I liked it too, and if I would do it again, etc. ... My dearest one, if you want me to pee in YOUR mouth as well, just let me know, for I can't now give a fuck about it anymore after undergoing 4 gynaecological  tests... And this would take place in front of a policewoman and a social worker, to find out whether my intercourse with him was of a vaginal kind (no use telling them again and again we DID fuck!)... So let's go for one more golden shower in public, even in your mouth if this can help you healing me... There, let's go back to my dear mummy and her confidential tale:

You know, your father and I fell in love in the early 80s, the age of punkers, rebels, and squatters... You see, we were a lot different those years, we would sleep all together in some big rooms where, after a party of music, alcohol, and smoke... the drunken and dazed young people would split up by groups with a final voice, a sentence born from the very last glass before abandoning themselves to warriors sleep...

We all felt special, but your father showed up in the group: he would be standing with his six friends lying down around to listen to him... He was so beautiful, he had a reputation of possessing and satisfying all the girls he could get hold of... No woman could resist to his appeal... When I looked him I was all of a tremble... My girlfriend then believed I was cold and began to lightly touch my shoulders and hair in a sweetest way...

Your father suddenly raised his eyes and caught sight of me... I... I don't know what was up with me, I didn't want him to stop looking at me... So I let myself go and helped my friend to caress me by leaning my head sideways... I could feel her hand on my back languidly following the line of my shoulders, and I quivered in front of your father's dazed look... I could feel on my skin his friends' looks too... Meanwhile, she who was sitting behind me brought her hot hand nearer the shoulder straps of my bra, gently sliding it down my bosom... I let her do it, I didn't offer any resistance and she went on. She touched my breast and took it all in her hand... She held it tight, then lightly... She kept sliding her fingers between my nipples... I felt her breath become deeper and deeper... I was in raptures... And your father, saying no words, slowly started to draw nearer to me... His eyes were injected with lust... Soon he was in front of me, bent down and had a look at my friend, who silently gave him her consent... He put his hands on my knees... I was stiff as a poker, I could barely breathe... I wished he went farther but didn't dare to move... It was such a magic... I was excited and my panties did make it clear... His hands kept scouring my body, taking my breath away... I felt my legs being spread in a tender but resolute way... No resistance from me and then... His fiery mouth was on my thighs, my hand between his hair where my mind couldn't go further... unwillingly suggesting his red-hot tongue a slow and gentle landing... on my languid body exhausted by thrills... and then... that ecstasy of throbs, and the sweetest torpor before giving way to sleep... I woke up and he was there sitting beside me, whose body was wrapped by my girlfriend's, caressing my face with a delighted look.   

That's why my mother, a fashionable punker at that time, has always seen this stinking shantytown of Amsterdam as the most romantic place in the world, and that idiot of my father, a punker wearing an iroquez, dark leather and chains, besides the badge I wanna be your dog, as the most beautiful man on Earth... Trapped as she was in this pseudo-romanticism of the 80s, whose followers were firmly convinced that the world was about to change, she was then disappointed by discovering that the market had absorbed punk and made it one more marketing product, also turning punkers into an occasion of advertising... what a bitter disappointment!

And she went on: Love was born... then you were... I wanted to give you a name which would be somehow connected with my fight I had left behind (poor fellow!)... Anneke was my granny's name, but I called you Anekee: if you pronounce it correctly it sounds roughly like Anarchy (how great was the suffering of my mom because of that lost ideal)... Afterwards, I had to face hard compromises, to come to terms for getting a job, a loan, and a house; your father instead got a very good job, he even wore a double-breasted jacket... With the passing of time our love fell ill with routine and he began to love money instead of me, he even become violent and when I realized... Oh! My God (here she burst into tears)... forgive me... I shouldn't have let you go to that damned boarding school... (then her regret made her bend, so I got up and left the room)...

Will you think she was nothing but a poor woman made out-of-date by time, married with a violent man and an unsuccessful parent? Well, that's just not the truth: that day she underwent this little examination of her conscience, nebulous and shrouded in self-pity, but reality was far more gloomy and mercenary. I was 12 then, and after being molested at the boarding school I looked for my parents' support but they didn't believe me or listen to me. I found by chance that entrepreneur (who became known also because of his going bankrupt after his intercourse with me) who owned a well-known shopping center (I'm not going to say more for the moment). His wife was a colored woman, and they lived in probably one of the biggest private houses in the Netherlands (I can still remember the absurd chessmen of a 10x10m in the garden). After becoming aware of our relationship, her wife asked him to get divorced, and I think she still hasn't left the house as yet... Well, he took advantage of my frailty, as I looked for a mature person who would fill the lack of my parents and he could listen to me... blah blah blah... the same crap of a lost young girl... He promised to help me and I grew fond of him, I knew my way about sex and he asked me to prove it. Anyway, we'll talk again about this business, I just wanted to say that when our affair became known to everybody, he managed to hush up the rising scandal. Do you want to know how he did? He offered my father some money so that daddy wouldn't file a complaint against him, and that asshole accepted it. That was just enough to demolish all my version, for once again I did lack the backing of mummy and daddy who thought of me as the usual spoilt child. After this total failure in the eve of my leaving for Italy, my father who was taken by remorse of conscience and impotence had a last try at getting the situation under control (please, my beloved psychologists, have your say!) and brutally raped me (her little whore guilty of ruining his life... he shouted) in my room. I left the day after for Italy with some semen of his roaming in my uterus still unfertile. I was sold at 13 and I couldn't help it.