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Her best friend, Vanity, lived one block down from the International Rotary House where another party was raging. Before she could pass it, Sahara heard her name being called. She turned and recognized two people from her econometrics class. They waved their arms welcoming her, and she went up to the ante-bellum building where a bunch of folks stood around on the porch with plastic cups and lazy grins. Sahara found herself laughing and chatting comfortably with her classmates. She spoke French with a newly arrived exchange student she met in passing three years earlier in Nice. Then, she heard a beautifully accented male voice telling a joke about American beer and how it was like sex in a canoe. She turned to watch Ingo finish the joke (it was like fucking close to water). She tried not to be amused. When he saw her, Ingo excused himself and made a beeline to her. He kissed her cheeks and rubbed her exposed arms with his large warm hands. He kissed her cheeks again and told her that she looked pretty. His eyes, though, taking their time over her longs legs, hips, and uncharacteristic display of breasts told another story. He had never looked at her like that before, or at least she didn’t think so. But, damn, she did have to think about it then. He did always find a way to sit near her in class. He did call her from time to time to ask for help when he absolutely didn’t need it. (Sahara had figured he was just a little obsessive about his grades… but maybe not?). Although he continued to disparage Americans and to charm everyone they talked to, Ingo kept a hand at Sahara’s back or on her arm for the next hour. When she shifted in her shoes, he smoothly led her over to a sofa where they sat and he draped an arm over her shoulder. He was wearing a dark gray t-shirt with faded black and yellow gothic lettering one shoulder, some jeans, nice black shoes, and an expensive pair of sunglasses perched on his head. It was past midnight and he had shades on his head, Sahara made as many witty references to that silliness as she could think of. Ingo didn’t snap back, he just laughed and stubbornly adjusted them on his head. And, at one point in the evening when she was laughing really hard, he leaned over and gave her a peck on the corner of her mouth. Around one, the Rotary House party started to disperse and Sahara found herself standing on the lawn in the shelter of Ingo’s arms as people departed. Right there, on the lawn, he was holding her and they were waving goodbye to friends. Sahara wanted to spend time being shocked by this previously unexplored PDA and studying the situation, but found she couldn’t concentrate on anything but the perfect body pressed against hers.
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Sahara’s on a Plane to Munich |
