He surprises me my dipping me at the end of the song and I laugh. He pulls me up and I lose my balance and fall in to him. The music begins again, a slow sultry number. He keeps me held tight against him and we sway slightly, barely moving. We stare in to each others eyes, messages of questioning and acceptance pass without even a word being spoken. Finally as the song ends we slowly make our way back to the table with hands lightly linked. We pay the bill and walk out in to the crisp night. We turn the corner in to the darkened parking lot where the rental car awaits. Again our eyes meet and instantly awareness zings through me as I know where this is headed. Will leans down to kiss me and I eagerly meet his lips. It starts slow, an exploration, but the drinks or the strained marriages on both sides, whatever the blame can be, we begin kissing more and more aggressively, more fervently. He backs me up against the wall grinding his hips in to mine as we almost savagely kiss and nip. His nostrils were full of it. It was a heady mix of aromas, and a confusing one, at first. As Helmut strode deliberately along the paving stones next to the canal, he was gradually able to sort it out — the omnipresent smell of salt water, plus the sharp (Helmut did not find it unpleasant) scent of the fumes from boat motors, and finally the heavenly aroma of freshly baked bread that wafted from the nearby shops. He liked the olfactory cocktail, he liked the way that his path was alternately brilliant with the morning sun, then subdued with the deep shade of the buildings he passed, he liked the feeling of the espresso he drank in place of breakfast, assaulting his central nervous system. Helmut walked close to the water’s edge, smiling to himself as a bright yellow, red and blue ice cream vendor’s boat glided past on his left. He wore his blond hair stylishly long, and had worn it that way over the past year as he had grown into his identity as Herr Pagel. He was wearing a pricey.
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