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

impression I seemed to have made here.  I told Erich as much, and he simply laughed and said:
    “Even a few of the women are finding it hard to resist.”
    Taken aback, I turned my head to look around the restaurant, and noticed a handful of young women quickly averting their eyes.  Now I got a little suspicious; what kind of place was this?
    “No need to panic,” Erich said, as he noticed me getting pale. 
    “These are simply young people, some of them students, most of them teachers and academic types.  A few of them are homosexual, and there are some lesbians, too, who don't feel at ease in the all-female establishments.  Most of them are heterosexuals, though, and they're from around here.  The gay men like it here, because they feel welcome and don't have to put on airs, like in many of the gay clubs that seem to demand a certain type of behavior from them.”
    “How do you know all this?” I inquired, with an ingenuous glance. 
    He grinned broadly and replied:
    “They told me about it, because I happened to have tried some of the men out for myself.”
    I swallowed audibly:
    “Are you gay, and that's why you have trouble sleeping with women?” I asked, dumbstruck. 
    “Not at all,” Erich said, his expression suddenly turning sorrowful. 
    “When I became impotent, I was advised by a sexual therapist to attempt sexual relations with men.  The therapist had probably read about the writer Thomas Mann (or was that the other Mann ? Anyway, you get the idea), who, having reached a certain age, ventured a sexual reorientation and became gay.  And so he recommended I try it.  Then a couple of years ago, I was brought here by one of my students.  We carried on a relationship that lasted a couple of weeks, but it wasn't to my liking.  So we parted on friendly terms, and still meet here occasionally.  He usually comes with his life partner, who is a politician.”
    I was somewhat relieved, but again I felt sorry for Erich.  How many things did he have to endure in order to find his potency again?  I felt grateful that he had decided to open up to me about these things, and I told him so. 
    The waiter arrived as we had ordered in the meantime, and were now enjoying our meal, which was naturally a little more modest than in previous weeks.  But it was tasty, very tasty in fact, and I even treated myself to a small Pilsner beer. 
    In the end, Erich did order a bottle of wine, after he had confined himself to water all evening.  Meanwhile, the restaurant was filling up nicely, and considering the early hour, we could assume that it was going to be full by the end of the evening. 
    At one point, Erich waved toward the door as a couple entered.  The woman was petite and dainty, had black hair falling down to her shoulders and finely shaped features, which reminded me a little of the middle-aged Madonna figure in the  Catholic church of my hometown, where I wasn't allowed in as a child.  She wore tight black pants, flat shoes and an elegant white blouse. She didn’t have on a trace of make-up. 
    Her escort was tall, at least 6 feet, 2 inches, if not more, with broad shoulders, which were accentuated by his snug, white silk shirt, whose top button was undone so that his pecs stood out. He had no hair on his chest.  His large, chiseled head was completely shaved. Had he not worn such a genial, almost innocent expression, he would have certainly instilled fear.  I had seen him somewhere before, but couldn't place him. 
    Both of them approached our table.  Erich stood up, offered his hand first to the woman then to him, and then introduced us:
    “Juliane, this is Tanja and Horst, and this, my dears, is Juliane, whom I've told you about.”
    I was perplexed and uneasy.  What had he said about me?
    “Aha, so you are his new girlfriend,” Tanja said to me in a whisper. 
    “I'm glad to hear that he has found again a human relationship, after so much time spent alone.”
    This all sounded pretty