August 21, 2026 - Fucking Moskau

Victor and Victoria

Victor explains Moscow to me: if you want to do business, you come here – timber from the forest, diamonds from the Far East, it all runs through this city. Out in the country people earn 200 euros a month; here it’s one to three thousand. In the evening two women are at the door, fur coats off, high heels out of the handbag. Victor talks about his girlfriend as if she weren’t in the room – she doesn’t speak English, after all. Meanwhile I’m on the couch with a gynaecologist who earns 200 euros and does abortions on the side. And later, in the kitchen, I learn who’s underestimating whom.

The First Time

Five days in Moscow and I already want out. Nobody smiles, the managers serve arrogance with the coffee, and every interview ends the same way: without Russian we can’t use you. Victor sees it differently. Every evening he drags me through the best restaurants in town, closes the deal with girls in three minutes flat and introduces me as a professional surfer. Then he slips the bouncer a thousand roubles and walks me into the Shambala – private party, Bentleys on the pavement, nobody inside older than nineteen, free drinks paid for by daddy. And above us, a dance floor made of glass.

Arrival

Victor picks me up from the airport. “Welcome to Moscow, the city of sin,” he says. For two hours, we drive through bleak suburbs full of concrete blocks. The closer we get to the center, the nicer the buildings, the flashier the cars—Ladas alongside luxury vehicles with flashing lights. When we hit traffic, our driver veers onto the sidewalk. A woman with a stroller jumps aside. I’m shocked. Victor just shrugs: “Time is money.” Welcome to a world that plays by its own rules.

My spanish lady

The moment after

The morning after, we lie next to each other, exhausted from a night filled with passion, music, and dancing. It was a transgression, a forbidden adventure that briefly united us like Bonnie and Clyde—honest and free from expectations. She rests in my arms, seeking comfort, while I wonder if she could be the one. But thoughts of a shared future quickly fade, as we both know there is only the here and now. Every moment with her feels like a stolen second I want to hold onto before reality catches up with us again.

Svetlana the Swinger

The Swingers

An evening at an exclusive sex party in Moscow – driven by curiosity, I follow a friend’s invitation into a world that is both bizarre and fascinating. Amid high heels, collars, and unexpectedly profound conversations with the hostess Svetlana, a woman as passionate as she is charming, I immerse myself in a game of desire, power, and taboos. As the lines between freedom and control blur, I reflect on longing, fantasies, and the extraordinary stories that connect people. And in the end, one realization remains: sometimes life surprises you in the strangest ways.

Girl and Private Jet

Sex above the clouds?

A Thursday night at Solyanka, one of Moscow’s hottest clubs. Banker Chet dances in his suit, Elena flirts unabashedly, and Matt, the pilot of Russia’s elite, shares tales of wild parties above the clouds – the Mile High Club Deluxe. Between champagne, long legs, and tempting encounters, the night feels like a test. Temptation is everywhere, but reality catches up with me in the end. At home, I sit on the couch, reflecting on the evening and wondering if life is really this crazy – or if I just wouldn’t have it any other way.

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Victor and Victoria

Victor explains Moscow to me: if you want to do business, you come here – timber from the forest, diamonds from the Far East, it all runs through this city. Out in the country people earn 200 euros a month; here it’s one to three thousand. In the evening two women are at the door, fur coats off, high heels out of the handbag. Victor talks about his girlfriend as if she weren’t in the room – she doesn’t speak English, after all. Meanwhile I’m on the couch with a gynaecologist who earns 200 euros and does abortions on the side. And later, in the kitchen, I learn who’s underestimating whom.