Free Heroine: The Husband's Cologne by Elia Mirca Page A

I decided I would try styling myself as a “Lolita” tonight.  I put on some rouge, and made my lipstick a little thicker than usual.  Perhaps I would even buy a brighter red lipstick; this one was too respectable.  But, it went better with the pants I was wearing, which were of the 1960's “hot pants” variety and were just now coming back into vogue.  Then I parted my hair in the middle and made a couple of pigtails.
    Almost like Little Red Riding Hood , I chuckled to myself.
    A pair of high heels, matching my pants and open at the toe, completed the ensemble.  Something was still missing, but I wasn't sure what.  My toenails weren't painted!  That would have rounded off the outfit perfectly, but I didn't have any toenail polish.  I would have to remedy that at some point. 
    When I was fully dressed I was unrecognizable.  I looked like an odd blend of Red Riding Hood and a hooker.  And suddenly, I had doubts: had I laid it on a little too thick?  The doorbell rang before I had time to change.  Unusually, Erich had arrived at 6:30, and I had no time to rethink my outfit.  How was he going to react?  Before heading out the door, I threw on a thick overcoat.  With my heart pounding, I went out into the street.  I heard an appreciative whistle, when I opened my coat to show him what I was wearing.
    “Precisely what I had in mind,” he declared.  I gave him a mischievous grin, averted my eyes bashfully (I hadn't neglected a rich coat of eyeliner either) and got into the passenger seat.  The car door made a pleasant “poof” sound as Erich swung it closed, and I sank into the dark upholstery. 
    This time we left the confines of Cologne and headed toward Bonn.  We turned off onto a side road and made our way into the hills.  When we arrived, I could see the entire stretch of the former capital city below, and the Rhine River twinkling in the evening light.  We parked the car in front of a restaurant, which didn't look as imposing as the previous ones we had been to.  It looked modest, in fact.  Oh well, I didn't always have to be pampered.
    We entered the place and I suddenly felt all eyes on me.  Some of the guests paused in mid-conversation and looked wide-eyed at both of us. 
    A sugar daddy with his floozy , I could see them thinking.  And to my surprise, I liked the idea.  Walking coquettishly behind Erich, I followed him toward a table near the window, led by the waiter. 
    There was an even mix of men and women in the room, few of them older than 30 or so.  Not all of them were in pairs.  Most of the men sat together in groups, drinking beer and talking.  It looked more like a stylish pub, for I could see several black-and-white pictures lining the walls, many of them depicting jazz musicians and various bands.  At the far end was a small empty stage, presumably where on weekends there were groups performing.  I would have to keep this place in mind, it was a venue to which I could bring Daniel one day, I thought a little wistfully.  And then I realized that after my entrance here tonight that would be unlikely.  As this dawned on me, I felt my mood plummet. 
    That was until Erich began speaking, and he managed to lift my spirits in a matter of seconds.  It was his deep and soothing voice that scattered my bleak thoughts, and I turned to look at him.
    “That was quite an entrance you made,” he whispered with a roguish smile. 
    “How do you mean?” I asked, feigning innocence as I lifted my eyes demurely like a little girl. 
    “I mean that you sauntered in here as if you were intending to devour every man present.  It turned me on, the way you swept through the place.  Those men in the back could hardly contain themselves; their pants must have been bursting at the seams.  That's exactly what I wanted to see tonight.  And now let's enjoy the evening.”
    By now I had learned to gage the effect I had on men a little better, but I was still surprised at how deep an