by Pea Jung
Then Take my breath away starts and a man I don’t know comes over to me. He’s wearing light blue faded jeans, sneakers, and a gray sweatshirt. His brown hair is somewhat disheveled. He’s good looking, no question. Therefore, I don’t hesitate and take a step towards him, he looks at me silently and makes a small bow.
He draws me so close to him, that I can not see his face, yet he keeps my hips at a distance, so I do not embrace him. We dance much more slowly than the rhythm of the piece would actually suggest. He’s practically not moving, I submit myself to the electrifying feeling that is traveling through me. Although he has placed his hands on the sweater which I wrapped around my waist, I can feel his warmth on my skin. After a while, I close my eyes and let the music work on me.
The song finishes and he leaves before I can open my eyes. I turn back to our table a little shaken, there Carina immediately asks me: “What was that?”
I reach for my glass and take a big gulp. “No idea,” I reply and look around the crowd for the man, who was dancing with me. But I can’t see him, or the other two guys that I danced with.
“Were they all together?” I ask Carina.
“It seems so. Now they are definitely all gone,” Jana responds a bit disappointed.
Once again I look around, and this time discover a man who looks like Henry. Briefly, I see him from behind as he is leaving. Was that really him?
“Now I’m seeing things,” I mumble to myself.
Chapter 10
The weekend and Monday rush past me. It almost seems like I am living from Tuesday to Thursday. I think about the muffled voice under the mask a lot, from the captivating eyes to the body in the well-fitting jeans and tight shirt. I cannot shake the memory of the moment when his face touched mine.
I go to work with these thoughts on Tuesday. I am absolutely excited about the evening, even though I’ve been plagued with a headache for hours. Over the course of the morning, I get a sinking feeling in my stomach.
“You’re so pale, Josi,” says Jörg to me.
“Honestly, I feel pretty bad.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought it would pass,” I whisper.
“You’re going home right now and going to bed,” Jörg orders, and I leave my job gratefully.
Fortunately, none of the guests noticed my illness. Herbert hasn’t been in for a few days and Henry is in the bathroom when I leave.
I don’t even make it home because I get such an urge to vomit that I have to pull over at the edge of the road to throw up in a bush. Unfortunately, I don’t feel better, as I usually would, but rather worse. I feel like I’ve been forced to eat all my old packed lunches at the same time.
In my apartment, I tear my clothes off, put on a top and pajama pants, and snuggle up on the couch with a hot-water bottle and blanket. A bucket is standing on the ground next to me and my phone is nearby if I need help.
It doesn’t take long before Jörg calls me. “Should I get you something?”
“I haven’t got any tea, although… at the moment I can’t even keep water down,” I answer softly.
“I’ll bring something by later. Take care of yourself until then!”
I don’t know when I fall asleep. But the ringing of the phone tears me from a more than strange dream.
“Yes?” I answer the phone completely disoriented and I am afraid I might throw up again. My limbs are trembling and I feel weak and shaky even lying down.
“Where are you? I’m here and I’m waiting,” I hear a familiar voice hiss annoyed.
“I’m sick.”
“Don’t give me excuses. Our deal is hereby null and void,” he grumbles and I try to sit up.
“No, I’m really…” I can’t get any further than that because a wave of nausea comes over me and I have to hold my head over the bucket.
I reach for the phone again, shaking and gasping for air, but he has already hung up. I sink back on the couch and, in a strange mood, I doze again. My own breathing sounds unusually loud and I feel out of touch with my own body. I can not even get up to empty the bucket.
Something’s ringing. I jump in shock, I probably fell asleep for a moment. Perhaps it’s Jörg. As soon as I can I push myself up. I’m feeling dizzy so I hold on to the wall as I walk down the hall to the front door. I can’t see anyone through the peephole.
Then I hear him: “Open the door and turn around.”
“Please, I’m sick,” I manage to say.
“I want to help you. Let me in.”
Slowly I push the handle down and turn around. A new wave of dizziness comes over me and I hurry into the bathroom. Barely hanging my head over the toilet bowl, I vomit a lot of bile. I gag for some time and am hit by violent chills throughout my body. Once my stomach has finally calmed, I can’t move away from the bowl from weakness.
Suddenly, he is standing behind me, wearing his mask. He supports me and helps me up before leading me to the sink. Then he wets the washcloth, which he takes off the towel hook, and wipes my mouth and hands clean for me.
“Bed?” he asks.
“No, living room,” I whisper and because my legs give out under me, he supports me and pulls my arm over his shoulder. I indicate the direction I want to go in.
Finally, he sees my sickbed made up on the couch and simply carries me the last few meters until he gently lays me down on the couch and sits next to me in a squat. His hand touches my forehead. I’m shaking all over.
“You have a high fever,” he notes and pulls out the hot water bottle from under the covers. “You made a hot-water bottle?”
“Yes,” I whisper shivering. I can only dimly recognize that he’s shaking his head, and then puts his other hand on my forehead. His gaze falls on the bucket and then I become more aware how embarrassing it is that he can see my vomit. I make a move to sit up.
“No. You stay lying down” I hear him growl. With his hand pressing so hard on my forehead, I have no chance anyway.
“My bucket!” I gasp. “I need to empty it.”
“No, I’ll do that.” He rises and then I hear the flushing of the toilet in the bathroom. Then he turns on the faucet and the noise tells me that he is washing out the bucket. Crap! If he’s cleaning for me, then he could at least have worn a raffia skirt or a loincloth like Tarzan.
When he returns, he’s carrying several towels, some of which look wet. He briefly opens the window in the living room to let fresh air in. Then he lifts the covers and exposes my feet.
“I’m going to make you a leg compress,” he says and I nod. “Your pants are very tight. Are you wearing underwear?”
I don’t answer.
“Understood,” he mumbles and leaves the room.
From the noise, I can hear that he is in the bedroom pulling open my dresser drawers. I wonder if he is on all fours? He returns with underwear and shows it to me. “These ones?”
I nod and his eyes twinkle at me. “You like panties?”
“Caught!” I can only whisper.
His eyes look at me intensely. “I will touch you now. Is that alright?”
“As long as you don’t clean my apartment afterward,” I joke, although I am nervous and completely powerless.
To make it easier I try to push my pants down under the covers, but my hands don’t obey me. Exhausted, I give up.
“Let me help you. You will always be covered” I hear him say.
His hands move under the blanket and when I feel his touch on my legs, a pleasant shiver runs through me, even though I am sick. He moves very slowly upwards with his hands on the sides of my legs until he reaches the elastic waistband of my pajama pants. Then he pulls and I raise my pelvis slightly to make it easier.
Finally, he threads my feet into the underwear and pulls it upwards. The
panties are tighter than the pajamas pants so I have to grab them under the blanket to help. I touch his hands as I do so and although I actually want to pull away from him, I catch myself stroking his hand gently as I do. Nevertheless, I am of course glad when I finally have a pair of pants on.
“So,” he says. “I’ll make the leg compress now.”
Already, I can feel him holding one of my legs and wrapping a damp towel around it. Then the other, and finally he wraps up both legs in dry towels.
“Do you want a glass of water?” he asks me as he stands in front of me.
“No, Jörg is going to bring me tea,” I say, and at exactly that moment the doorbell rings.
“Don’t move a muscle,” he orders and I watch from the corner of my eye, as he pulls the mask off his head, as he leaves the living room. The voices of two men only vaguely penetrate my thoughts. I realize quickly that Jörg does not want to leave that quickly. Shortly thereafter, he appears next to me in the living room. “Josi, for God’s sake. You’ve really caught something bad.”
My glassy gaze can hardly focus on him. “I brought tea for you. Your friend is just making it,” he says, and I nod gratefully. Then he disappears again.
I perceive movements around me again and again. Is he still there? A cup of tea and a glass of water are sitting on the living room table. How much time has passed? My top is completely soaked and the calf wraps have been removed.
Slowly I get up. Where is he? I go into the bedroom and pull off the wet top. I open the wardrobe door and rummage for a t-shirt and when I find one, I slip it quickly over my head. I stagger a little and all of a sudden he is there to take me in his arms. “I told you, you shouldn’t move.”
“My shirt was all wet,” I whisper into his neck and cling to him. “Where were you?”
“Just on the toilet,” he says, carrying me back to the couch.
He turns on the TV, and because the best view is from the couch, I sit up, point to the place next to me and say: “Come sit here.”
As he sits down next to me, he pulls my head onto his lap, so I can lie back down again. “Don’t throw up on me!” he growls.
Amazed, I look up at him. His eyes under the mask seem fixed on the TV set. I relax and fall asleep.
In between, half-asleep, I almost think that his hands are gently stroking my hair, but this is probably a fever dream. Why would he do that? Once, I even think that I can see his face, although it is double and completely out of focus. I can see a long narrow nose and very soft full lips that are not curved and not wide. This must be a dream.
The next morning, I wake up in my bed. I feel better, but my head is still buzzing quite horribly. I’m thirsty and that’s probably a good sign, I think to myself. Slightly shaky, I grope in the kitchen and find a piece of paper.
Jörg has given you the rest of the week off. I as well. See you next Tuesday. Get well soon.
A look into the living room shows me that he has tidied up. I can see no traces of his visit. The tea cup is washed up next to the sink, the water glass as well.
By Wednesday evening I’m feeling so much better I decide to go back to work on Thursday. Jörg will certainly not be annoyed, as he also has problems without me there to manage the day to day things. On Thursday afternoon I also call the lawyer, so that she can tell her client, that I will be in the apartment that evening as usual. Unfortunately, I do not manage to speak to the lawyer, but leave a message on the answering machine with the request for her to call me back in any case.
On Thursday Herbert is back again after a long time away. I notice that he is behaving taciturn and reserved. Henry is not there, I’m surprised.
I show up at the apartment on time that evening and hesitate for a moment because there are two jackets in the cloakroom and already two pairs of shoes on the floor: fine, glossy men’s shoes and women’s walking shoes.
Quietly, I go to the bathroom, where instead of a costume for me, I find the clothing of another woman, who is obviously completely undressed. The dress style suggests a fine society lady.
As I leave the bathroom, I breathe quietly: “Hello?” Of course, you don’t receive a response when you ask so softly.
I hear noises coming from the bedroom and although I can very well guess, on the basis of the recurring gasps, what is happening in there right now, I go over to the closed door anyway. Slowly and softly I push down the latch and the door slides open a little.
I see an ass from the rear, thrusting again and again between the spread legs of a black-haired woman. Both seem to be naked. No one is wearing a mask. As if in slow motion, I close the door again and sneak unnoticed out of the apartment.
I don’t let myself think about what I saw until I arrive home. He’s sleeping with another woman. Why has this shocked me? I can’t imagine that it is enough for any man, just to have a cleaning woman who comes to the house twice a week, and whom he doesn’t even touch. Besides, I should have realized when I made the rumpled bed. It wouldn’t surprise me if I have to make it again during my next visit to the apartment.
Why am I so hurt? I am only his employee. I don’t know how he looks and he never gave me the feeling that he was interested in me as a person in any way. He only wants me to clean for him and to unabashedly watch me doing it. No commitments, except perhaps financial.
But why did he take care of me when I was sick? It remains a mystery to me. Is he only interested in getting his half-naked cleaner healthy again as quickly as possible? I would prefer to cease immediately. But then, I make a different decision.
The lawyer calls me late at night. She is unusually agitated. “Ms. Wagner, glad that I reached you. Unfortunately, I have only just received your message because I was on the road and unreachable all day. I hope you have not been to the apartment. I couldn’t inform my client you would be coming.”
“No no. I thought that I shouldn’t go unless I heard from you,” I lie.
“Thank God!” She sounds relieved.
“Don’t worry, everything is alright. I’ll be there again next Tuesday as usual.”
Chapter 11
I’m glad that I have to work all weekend and don’t have much time to think about my latest discovery.
On Monday Carina and her husband Björn bring the children over as agreed. I eat breakfast together with the two of them. Annika is seven years old and Markus five.
We are busy all morning, we visit the city park and every single playground, until noon when we stop to eat in a well known fast food restaurant with big yellow letters. We have to stand for a long time as we look in vain for a free table. I spot a relatively large table with one man sitting alone. He is so absorbed in his newspaper that he barely notices me when I speak to him: “Excuse me, would you mind if the children and I sit with you?”
The newspaper falls and I look into the gentle eyes of a business man who is wearing a fancy suit and is probably only here because of the good coffee. He looks at me astonished, and I am considering whether I might have a dirty stain on my face from the playground. Then his gaze moves to my tray and the two children, who look at him expectantly. Now he takes his coat from the seat and says: “no, of course not. Sit down.”
Because the two children slip onto the opposite bench right away, I have to sit next to the man, who stands up to let me slip past him.
While we eat, he sets his paper to the side and watches the children happily eating their fries.
“Not your children are they?” he asks me, finally.
“No. But is it so obvious?” I answer wondering.
He smiles at me. “You look too young!”
“Thank you, but actually you’re wrong. I’m old enough to be their mother.”
I can’t get rid of the feeling that I’ve seen this guy before. “Do we know each other from somewhere?” I ask him easily.
>
“We danced together recently,” he says cheerfully.
“Oh,” is the only thing I can manage to say as I remember the man I just perceived in the semi-darkness of the bar before he pulled me towards him.
“Were you in a dance club?” Annika asks me.
“No,” I smile back. “But your Mom, Jana, Anja and I were at the Steak House and we danced.”
“My mom danced with you too?” asks Mark.
At this, the man laughs softly and shakes his head. “No, I only danced with…” He looks at me questioningly and I fill in: “Josefine”. “…with Josefine.”
“Are you in love?” asks Mark further and giggles.
“No,” I say quickly. “We don’t know each other.” My eyes fall on the stranger who looks at me from the side, smiling.
“I’m Adam,” he introduces himself and holds out his hand. I take it briefly and am surprised how warm and tender the hand that has already been on my hip feels.
We continue eating silently until Annika suddenly says: “Mama says she hopes that you find a man soon, otherwise you’ll end up an old maid.”
I almost choke on my food and most likely blush bright red, while my neighbor sips from his coffee cup grinning.
“Children, do you want to go out and play on the climbing tower? You’re already finished, right?” I am glad that the two run away cheerfully, I had not considered, however, that I would now be left sitting here alone with this man. He makes no move to release me, but rather drinks his very large cup of coffee with pleasure. I rush to eat my salad.
“Are you in a hurry?” he asks.
“No, not really,” I reply and keep eating.
“The children are playing nicely out there. May I buy you a cup of coffee?” he asks and I look at him amazed for a moment “Why not?”
As he gets up and goes to the coffee counter, I quickly sit down on the other bench. He makes no comment as he returns with two cups of coffee.