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Michael Beretin, a partner in Paradise Island Entertainment, which is about to open its sixth ‘mega-brothel’ in Germany (Albrecht Fuchs)
More than 55,000 men come to Paradise every year. Everyone – punter and prostitute – pays a 79 euro entry fee. That includes food (there is a buffet right by the Jacuzzi into which a naked middle-aged man is lowering himself) but the sex is extra. That’s negotiated between the men and the women and all of the money from that activity is kept by her. The going rate at Paradise is about 50 euros for half an hour, slightly cheaper than the hammam – another extra – which is offered at 53 euros for 30 minutes.
“Prices are going down,” says Suzi, a 29-year-old Romanian who’s been working at Pascha for two years. “Every day less.” Paradise is near the top of the market. Pascha is a couple of rungs lower and there are many more rungs below that. At the “sex boxes” in Cologne’s Geestemünder Strasse it’s possible to buy sex for as little as 10 euros. “One woman here will even do it for a Big Mac,” a prostitute called Alia told a German newspaper last year.
Germany has been flooded with foreign sex workers, mostly from Eastern Europe. Their sheer number, and willingness to accept lower rates, has driven prices so low one American punter, who takes three sex trips to Germany each year, calls the country “Aldi for prostitutes”.
A s in many German cities, Saarbrücken’s sex industry really exploded in 2008 when Romania and Bulgaria were acceded to the EU. “Prostitution has reached intolerable levels here,” says Saarbrücken’s mayor, Charlotte Britz. There are at least 100 brothels in the city. I walk past five in the ten minutes it takes me to get from the train station to her office. Their garish hoardings look strikingly out of place in the pretty cobbled streets.
Britz, 55, sips tea from a china cup as she recounts stories of men being approached by prostitutes in supermarket car parks and even, once, at a funeral. Residents complain about used condoms littering the bus stops their children use to go to school. “I am not OK with that,” she says.
“Saarbrücken used to be famous for its food,” a 52-year-old local called Stephanie tells me. Its candlelit restaurants were known for their fine Mosel wines. “Now it’s famous for prostitution,” she says, complaining about the loutish behaviour of sex tourists at the weekend. A man in his forties with two young children describes the awkwardness of having to explain who the ladies on the side of the road are. “You don’t want to answer these questions to your children when they’re small.”
The law leaves Britz with her hands tied. “It’s easier to open a brothel in Germany than a chip shop,” she says. That’s actually true: while premises serving food need special licences there are no restrictions on brothels. That’s because all they do, technically, is rent rooms. The prostitutes are their customers just as much as the punters are. Sometimes, more so.
Karina, a dancer from Latvia, has been working in Pascha’s ground floor strip club for eight years. Popular acts include the on-stage shower and performances in a giant gold bird cage (Albrecht Fuchs)
“Pascha’s main income is the rent we get from the girls,” says Hermann Müller, the club’s chain-smoking 39-year-old night manager. Müller s office is on the top floor of the brothel with a clean view of the area’s slaughter-houses. There’s a black leather penis-shaped stool – “a present from an artist” – and, weirdly, the skulls of 13 mountain goats mounted on the wall. His dad, who is also called Hermann Müller, is Pascha’s founder.
Müller senior took the building over after legalisation but this tower block covered in blinking lights has been used by prostitutes for 40 years. It was purpose-built by the city of Cologne in 1972 in an attempt to get them off the streets, and its age and institutional beginnings show. It has the blue-and-orange colour scheme of a municipal leisure centre.
At Pascha (which Beretin calls “the shit shop”) women pay 175 euros for 24 hours’ use of a room. They sit on stools outside their open doors in long, dark corridors that smell of cigarettes and air freshener. Rock music is pumping. They will need to sleep with at least four men to break even.
The punters – around 1000 every day – pay 5 euros’ entrance to an enormous security guard who looks like something out of Grand Theft Auto. They might visit the glory hole on the first floor or the transsexuals on the seventh. As at Paradise, the money paid for sex is negotiated directly with the prostitute and not shared with the club.
Also as at Paradise, Pascha has an on-site hairdresser. The prostitutes can get a colour for 40 euros there. “Cheaper than in the city centre,” says Andersson, the camp, sweet-faced Brazilian that rents the space from Pascha’s management. Pascha has a tanning and nail salon, too, as well as a self-service restaurant (run by a former prostitute called Linda) and a boutique selling glittery platform shoes and condoms in packs of 100. German lessons are free and include a one-hour tutorial in sexual practices taught using disturbingly childlike cartoons drawn by a local kindergarten teacher.

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