prose in progress part 6

2008 cont.

The group slowly dissolved around half past one in the morning. Wolfgang brought the tap sheet in to make up everyones bill. As she sat counting out the twelfe or so Euros she owed for her drinks this evening, Joe turned to her and said: “I am hungry now.” Food. She tried to remember the last time she had eaten anything this day. At two in the afternoon she has had her usual breakfast/lunch at work, consisting of two sandwiches. And that was it. “I bought king prawns today. I’ll make a soy sauce with honey to go with it. Want some?” “Yes.” Fifteen minutes later she sat in his car, passing the street she lived in, headed to, oh my god, where was his place? She recalled it was outwith city borders, one of the northern suburbs. Or at least there it was, where she had visited him and his woman a couple of years ago when they had moved into a rowhouse in Glienicke. Maybe half a year later she noticed the absence of this woman from the bridgeclub. And heard that Irin had moved out again. So the two obviously had split up, Irin also withdrawing from card play. But was he still in the same house? “Do you still live in Glienicke?” “Yes. Just a few hundred meters down the road from the place you know. I’m starving. What would go with the prawns? I have some baguette left. I’ll just crisp that over.” Sounded good to her. Concentrating on her hunger, she managed to keep the question from popping clearly into her head. Until later. It worked right through the trip, the front door, the time it took him to prepare the food and her to register his place. And almost all the while they were eating. The meal was delicious. Albeit not big. Clearly, the amount of food was planned for one person only. So, why was she here? The question. Here it was. Unavoidable and clear now. She decided to not even start to consider her own motives for the time being but to just play it by ear. Keep the answer open. “What now? I don’t have my car. You’ll have to take me back to town at some point.” “Or we can just go to sleep. It is almost three in the morning.” “Also an option. I can take the sofa.” She sat in the huge chair next to the settee, her legs drawn up. He streched his arm out, putting his hand on her knee. “I’ll just make this one small advance. In case you…” “Let’s go to bed, then.” Without thinking, she got up and took his hand. For him to lead the way to the bedroom. The physical strain of not thinking helped her to deal with her excitement. The havoc and irritation. How did this work? If only there were some more meters to walk. Maybe she could come up with any idea how to do this without embarrassment. What kind of underwear had she put on earlier when she changed her clothes after work? No idea. Best to keep the lights off. No. He had flicked the switch. Too late. She would have to undress in full light. When was the last time she had undressed in front of a man? It was years ago. And suddenly she realised she wanted this so much that it didn’t matter how she looked. Or what he thought. She wanted to find out again how a hand touching her skin feels. One minute later she knew. Somehow, both had gotten out of every stich they wore in record time and, each choosing their seperate side of the bed to get in, met in each others arms under the covers right in the middle. She regretted that she had not really looked at him. She would catch up on that later, she decided. Now, the sensory input was almost too much to handle as it were.