(FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO MISSED YESTERDAY’S POST)
This story is written by two people; yet it is only one story. A romantic makes the rounds of Europe while a D-list professor makes out his asinine lesson plans. Every other post written by one or the other; antagonist or protagonist, you are free to make up your own mind who is which.
Yesterdays post was “Lecture 1”, the first asinine lecture.
The Hotel Henn, Bern, Switzerland (Chapter 1)
I sat at the bar of the Hotel Henn pondering two things; my current life in Switzerland and my previous years in Italy, Germany and Spain. I wondered if they were still looking for me, or possibly, if they had never looked for me.
I supposed that I may have already lied to you. There was a third thing that I was pondering. It was the delicious thirty-something blond sitting next to me. We had made eye contact across the bar several times. I finally asked the bar tender if I could buy her a drink. She accepted. The dance of lust had begun.
After she had taken a few sips I walked around the end of the bar and asked if I may join her. She smiled and responded with a bright “Please do.”
I immediately questioned myself. Maybe she did not say “please do,” possibly she had responded with the usual Germanic “Bitte.” I resolved the question in my mind before I had even taken a place on the bar stool next to her.
I decided to introduce myself and proffer a conversation opener. “They call me Dieter and you are already a mystery to me.” I was sure that all women liked to think they are mysterious. Therefore that was my typical conversation opener.
She offered her name “Gabriella” and continued with “A mystery? Do you think that I, specifically, am a mystery or do you believe that all women like to think of themselves as a mystery?”
Her insight into what I was thinking threw me for a moment. However, the delicate balance that the dance required kept me on my feet.
“Possibly the latter but definitely the former” I half admitted while trying to gloss over my embarresment. As I had hoped, it kept the conversation going.
She responded with “Tell me about the mystery.”
“Well “ – – I hesitated for a moment and then followed on with “I expected a ‘bitte’ from you. But, instead, I heard a ‘Please do’. Not only was it a ‘please do’ but one absent of the typical dialect of this area. Italian? Spanish?”
“Chilean” she responded and quickly followed with “Temuco.”
I knew very little about Chile and absolutely nothing about Temuco which I immediately assumed was her home town in Chile.
“That is an interesting ring you are wearing” I commented. It was not a lie. I was attempting to determine in my own mind whether I liked it or not. It was definitely unique. The gemstone, as opposed to being mounted flat, was standing on end; clitoris like.
“A gift” she responded simply.
We continued our conversation, and our mutually understood dance, sitting beside each other at the bar. The conversation was a waltz but promised to become a samba. We exchanged room numbers with a promise to meet each other for supper the next evening. I laid awake half the night wondering if she was looking for me or I for her; or was it the natural act of searching for each other?