by Opal Cole
"James, why are you doing this? We just met a couple of hours ago and you took me out to one of the best dinners I ever had, you let me drive your wonderful car, you are trying very hard to make me feel comfortable. Why are you doing this? Not that I do not feel flattered and pampered, but why? And why me? I am just an ordinary philosophy graduate student who has never left Australia, and you have worked all over the world."
I leaned forward and took her hand.
"Because you are not an ordinary graduate student -- you are a young woman who anybody (and now especially I) would be very proud to have at his side. I don't feel lonely when you are with me; I have worked without pause the last six months since I arrived, and today is the first night where I feel human again, not a computer. I enjoy looking at you, I enjoy hearing your voice, and I enjoy telling you that you are absolutely wrong when you believe that Aussie Rules is the greatest game in the world. I know that I am pushing you, but I don't want to walk away and feel sorry for the opportunity missed."
"You're not making this up, are you? Having tickets for Joan Sutherland is a miracle!"
"No, this is the truth. The tickets are in my apartments and there are two of them and one of me. Just say yes and you will remember the performance forever. After all, she is close to retirement, but I've heard her voice is still absolutely brilliant. What can you lose? Another day of boring studies?"
She stood there, looking at me and wondering what was happening. This evening had ended completely different from what she had imagined, and I hoped it had been much better than planned. Suddenly she smiled, nodded and agreed, asking how we should do this.
"I'll pick you up at 18:30, the performance is at 19:30. Now, my dear, I will have to work during the morning on my presentation to my boss, but I shall be hungry at noon. Even you must feel some hunger pains at that time. So let's do the following: I'll make reservations at Doyle's at 13:00 hours and pick you up here at noon. You will drive the Porsche to the restaurant and if you want to go anywhere else in the afternoon, we'll do this. At night I'll pick you up with another car so that we can enjoy the evening without having to worry about traffic or parking lots. OK? Here's my card with my telephone numbers if anything happens."
"Sir, Yes Sir ... Any other orders?"
"No, just go up to your room and relax. Sleep well and dream beautiful dreams."
The lift appeared and she turned to me. I bowed a bit and kissed her hand.
"Thanks once more for a beautiful evening. And thanks that you agreed to stay another day."
She started to enter the lift, but suddenly turned back.
"You are a German - I am not. Come here!"
She put her hands on my shoulders, leaned forward and kissed me. It was not a spine-tingling kiss, not an explosion of emotions, but a sweet, warm, heartfelt, affectionate and trusting emotion. She put her head on my shoulders for a moment and I dared to hug her lightly. Then she smiled, gave me a peck on my cheek and told me to go home. We would see each other at noon.
I do not know how I got back to the apartment, but I certainly was smiling all the way.
Chapter 2: A Sweet Follow-Up
I woke up still with a smile on my face. It was early and even having to work for at least two hours I decided to stay another few minutes in bed and reflect what had happened the last night.
During the last years of focused work and lots of travel I had become accustomed not to get attached to anything or anybody. My career was going full steam ahead, and this position was another step to be tested and trained. I enjoyed the company of pretty women -- who wouldn't -- but they were not a priority in my life. There had not been a serious date for years, and I did not like occasional flings. What Luigi had told Maureen was true: work, eat and sleep, and, mostly in this order.
Yesterday was different and I could not explain what had happened. There was this uppity young girl that had turned into a challenge. The problem was that the challenge had become much more difficult than I had imagined. I let her drive my Porsche, for heaven's sake! I practically begged her to stay another day and go to the opera with me! Peter would have loved that ticket! And still -- there was this warm feeling thinking about her lovely face and how had that girl suddenly turned into a woman? the eyes you could drown in, the conversation that never stopped and never was boring, and the teasing little smile. And that last kiss! I closed my eyes and relived it once more -- and it was plainly wonderful.
What was I going to do with her? Luigi said to keep her, but how? She in Brisbane and I in Sydney? Long distance relationships never did work well. I stopped: what was I thinking? Relationships? I had just met the girl and had no idea what she thought about all this. I better put these thoughts aside and concentrate on my work as I would have better input on the personal emotion later, but I still smiled when I got up.
I remembered the wine that had started everything and decided that I wanted to keep the bottle as a memory of a lovely night. I called Luigi and told him once more not to throw the bottle away as I would pick it up early next week. Breakfast was next, so I got some muesli, yoghurt and a cup of coffee and started to work since I wanted to have no distractions when I met Maureen later. And to my surprise, the faint idea that had been lurking at the back of my mind last night decided to come forward to be processed. Move him to admin, get his colleague into his position and things should move faster. All these months the lack of drive and ambition had bothered me, and I was wondering whether it came from the bottom or the top.
A few notes to myself on the laptop and I was ready to meet her. I had made reservations at Doyle's in Watson Bay and off I went. Taking down the hood of the Porsche, I slowly drove to Liverpool Street and gave the keys to the valet. Tipping him well I was assured that it would be available immediately.
I was early and stood before one of the Lobby shops with beautiful flowers when somebody touched me on my shoulder. I turned around and stared.
"Wow! Who are you? Do I know you?"
Before me was a very pretty young woman, with long lustrous gold-red hair curling elegantly to her shoulders, a face lit up by a teasing smile, and dressed in a light green summer dress. This was not a graduate student anymore -- this was an image of cheer and exuberance. The dress was simple, but elegant: small little straps, a row of buttons down the front (with two at the top already open) demonstrated that she had curves in the right places, a small cleavage showed a bit of her pert breasts, and her long and slender legs were a pleasure to behold. A small golden belt accentuated her narrow waist. She had put on some makeup (not that it was necessary) and it highlighted her cheeks and eyes. I don't think that she would be a good poker player - her eyes were too expressive, unable to hide her feelings. At this moment they were visibly filled with fun and anticipation.
"Well, kind sir, I was to meet a charming gentleman who offered to take me to a splendid mansion to nourish me with exquisite tastes of fish and beef. Have you seen anybody who would fit this description?"
"I saw an old and creepy man looking around a few moments ago, but you should certainly not be in his company. May I offer not a mansion, but a folksy place where people are merry and enjoy themselves? My carriage is waiting outside, my Lady."
She stepped closer and I could sense her perfume -- like she herself, perfect. I wondered what I should do. Shake her hand, give her a peck on her cheek and probably messing up her makeup, or trying a chaste kiss?
She decided for me coming still closer and offered her cheeks for a kiss. Much better than nothing! I presented my arm and placing her arm on mine, we left the hotel. Life was beautiful!
The valet brought the car and I gave her the keys.
"My lady, the fun is all yours. If you're afraid that the wind messes up your hair, I'll put the hood up again, but it's warm and the day is beautiful. I reserved a table at Doyle's in Watson Bay. Do you know the way?"
"Yes, I do. My mother goes there occasionally and when we are both in Sydney, I accompany her. The food is good a
nd honest. Keep the hood down -- I want some fun!"
"We have time so if you want to take a long route around to Watson's Bay, please feel free!"
I handed her into the car and off we went. She was driving carefully, but decisively, using the car as a Porsche should be used. She never passed the limits, but we enjoyed the growling of the accelerating engine and the rushing through corners was pure adrenaline. I watched her face after a few minutes - I was satisfied that she knew what she was doing and for me, it was much more fun watching her and the emotions that passed through her face. She was attentive, with her tongue following the direction she was turning into, her smile was delightful, and just watching her made me happy. She looked at me for a moment and smiled again: "Would you please stop this? Watch the road and the directions and don't keep looking at me -- you make me nervous!"
I just smiled. "Maureen, my dear, at this moment there's nothing that gives me more pleasure than looking at you and watching you drive the Porsche, Sorry."
"We'll have to discuss this soon -- I'm getting confused about a lot of things."
Slowly we arrived at Doyle's and parked the car. It wasn't anymore the traditional restaurant I had been told about, but more a bistro. The food was still extraordinary, however. I asked her whether she liked spicy or mid dishes and, looking at, she said she wanted to be surprised. I ordered some steamed Chili Mussels and a hot seafood platter for two with lobster, prawns, scallops and whatever was available on this day. A glass of the Seppelt Imperial Reserve Great Western Sparkling Wine for the Chili, and a half bottle of the Penfolds Bin 10A Chardonnay for the platter. Maureen looked at me and questioned my choices.
"Why did you select these wines? Yesterday you told me that the Grange was an 'acceptable' wine and today - and without any hesitation - you select some of the best wine that Australia produces? Did you bend the truth yesterday or are you lucky today?"
I smiled. "I'm always lucky when I'm with you."
She moaned and told me to stop this nonsense and answer her question.
"Well, I've heard about the sparkling wine and you said yesterday that Penfold's is a premium brand, so I selected this wine. The price seems to indicate that it's one of their better wines. Am I wrong?"
"No, James. but I'm really confused about you -- and I must admit also about myself. Tell me something about yourself, please."
Before I could start, the Chili arrived with the wine. It was as good as I had imagined and both of us concentrated on the food. Perhaps I could escape an answer? What could I say? That out of the blue I was fascinated by her? That I was as confused as she seemed to be? That I did not understand what had happened yesterday, but that I did not want to finish it? That I wanted to see her again, and as often as possible? Was this a foolish fantasy or something more serious? After one day?
The waiter took the plates away and served the fish platter and the Chardonnay - it was really good, with extraordinary balance, fruity and fresh nose, and an intriguing yellow/golden/greenish color.
"Good choice, James. You perhaps learned something yesterday, but I asked you a question and I want an answer."
"What can I tell you? My family has lived in Germany for many generations and with honor, we lost everything in WW2 -- our estates, money, officers in the armed forces. My mother died early, and I was raised by my father moving from town to town as he was transferred to different positions in the Army; he had to start everything from zero and I had to work to get through university. I joined the company after graduation and did well, first in Germany, fast track to the States and I hope, now in Australia. This period here is another step in my career, to be trained and to produce."
"I congratulate you on your career, but that is not the question I asked. I want to know something about yourself, what you thought yesterday, why you took me out after I tried rather rudely to get rid of you. It was a wonderful evening, but why did you make it happen? I was rude, practically insulted you, and you always behaved like a perfect gentleman. I'm not used to this."
"Can we discuss this after lunch? It's not easy for me to analyze, and worse, share my feelings with others, but I would prefer not to do this during lunch. We can take a walk afterwards and look at the Sydney skyline - and if you still want to know what I feel, I'm willing to try to answer."
She agreed, and we concentrated on our lunch, which was surprisingly good. It helped that the wine I had selected was even better. We had a cup of coffee to finish all and I paid the bill. Pushing her chair, I took her hand and we started our exercise. The scenery was glorious: the skyline with the background of the Harbour Bridge, the Opera House, and looking right, the Gap. We found an empty bench and sat down.
She had not forgotten, however. Turning to me, her eyes lingered on my face and then she said: "Please respond, James. This is important for me."
"Maureen, my dear, I'll try. Forgive me in advance if not everything I'll say makes rational sense, because I also do not know what happened and why. All I know is that I am very happy that it did."
She continued to look at me, questioning and interested in what would happen. The sun was high and a breeze was cooling us down a bit, but her serious look ordered me to continue.
"I met you and you are quite right, you were rude and dismissed me without a second thought -- and I didn't like it. You were young, acted like a revolted student, dressing like one and behaving like one. It even reminded me of my own time as a student and it took me years to realize that real life if vastly different from juvenile dreams to improve the world. I decided to show you that I was someone worthy of looking at, and then I could walk away satisfied that I had shown you how to behave in company. It was stupid and infantile, but those were my thoughts. It pissed me off even more when I came back with a bottle of wine that you decided to stay -- not because of me, but because of the wine. Who were you, for heaven's sake? You started to become alive, however, when you talked about the wine and I looked at you again. There was in you a visible familiarity and enthusiasm in a complex subject and you were a person again. Then Peter appeared and practically threw us out. I would take you back to your hotel, give you the remaining wine, and forget about you."
Her lips moved up a bit at the corners -- it seemed she thought that moment funny.
"Then you looked at my car and your eyes were shiny. You were passionate about good cars and to a German, that counts a lot. You drove well, carefully, but with élan and you were a different person when we arrived at the hotel. So, I thought that the night was young, that I was hungry, and eating with company -- even a rude one -- is better than eating on your own. You accepted my invitation and off we went to Luigi's. There I looked again at you: your eyes (has someone told you before that you have beautiful eyes?), the easiness, with which you discussed wines and food with Luigi, the smile on your lips (has someone told you before that you have a dazzling smile?) the evident intelligence in your comments; all of this fascinated me and I decided I wanted more of your company, learn more about you and try to get you to accept me as James, a potential friend. I was lucky to have the tickets to the opera and when you accepted my invitation to stay another day, a warm tingling feeling went through all my body and for the first time in many months, I was happy."
Now her eyes had become a bit warmer -- perhaps the funny part had changed to something a bit more emotional.
"Back at the hotel I wanted to say goodbye kissing your hand -- this is what you do in my family when you leave -- and you turned around and gave me a little kiss. Nothing world-shaking, wall-rattling sensation, but a warm and affectionate hug for me, James, the reserved, long distance emotion rational German."
"Maureen, I went home smiling, and I woke up this morning smiling. I found a solution to my problem remembering one of the subjects you had touched last night -- the illusion of reality -- and could not wait for noon to approach. And here I am, hoping that you feel something for me, and that my company is not unpleasant."
"Did I make any sense?'
She gazed at me and slowly said: "Wow."
I saw surprise in her eyes, and she closed them for a while. I was getting nervous: would she tell me now how impertinent I was, and that I should take her back to the hotel? Then she opened her eyes again and said: "Come here, you fool."
She took my head in her hands and kissed me, not only warm and affectionate, but with much more feeling. She opened her lips a bit and the tip of her tongue slipped out. I put my hands around her and hugged her tightly. This was paradise! Sensual overload caused a hot tingling wave through my body, and I just hoped it would never end. A discreet cough from an elder couple passing by brought us back to reality.
She opened her eyes and furiously blushing, laying her head on my shoulder. After a while she looked up and smiling, asked whether that answer was clear enough? I hugged her again telling myself I should never let her go of her -- at least not for the foreseeable future. And so we stayed, smiling at each other, occasionally touching our lips tenderly, not needing to talk, just being happy in the company of the other.
Then I remembered that there were other things still to be done. It was getting late, and Maureen needed to go back to the hotel to dress for the opera. Reluctantly I opened my arms and pulled her up. We passed Lady Jane Beach with its signs that clothing was optional. I put a leer into my eyes and suggested that we should stop a while. She told me to stop it -- I should have other priorities in my life than to stare at nude women.
"I wouldn't stare at nude women -- I would look at you, my dear, and enjoy it very much."
"James, my parents and I went occasionally to a nudist camp when I was younger and my father was still alive -- and I can tell you that after a few minutes all women look alike."
I turned to her and said that she never would be like other women -- she would always be special. She hit my arm and told me again to stop it, and don't get my hopes up to see her that way one day. I smiled and said that hope was eternal and that we should keep this conversation for another day.