captivated by your charm and helpfulness.”
“Well,” Emily said hesitantly, glancing at the clock and seeing it was after five, “Maybe just a glass of wine. Let me tell my boss, Dr. Franz, I’m leaving for the day. I’ll get my sweater.”
Hans sighed after she left.
This might be a long, long night
.
It was almost ten o’clock when Hans and Emily left the restaurant hand in hand and started to walk in the night stillness.
“That was very nice, Klaus. Thank you for a lovely evening.” After a few minutes she continued hesitantly, “Would you care to come up to my apartment for a brandy?”
Not wanting to seem too eager, Hans responded, “I would like that very much.”
Emily returned from her small kitchen area with two large snifters. Hans reached out for both of them and put the drinks down on the table near where he was standing. He reached out and gently pulled Emily toward him and enfolded her in his arms. He kissed her lightly and noticing the initial tension in her body soon relaxed. Slowly she returned his kisses soon matching each thrust of his tongue with one of her own. He half-carried her over to the sofa, and they fell onto it, feverishly kissing. Hans was almost lying on top of Emily. He rose up on his elbow and slowly began unbuttoning her sweater, slipping his hand inside and cupping one of her breasts. Emily let out a small gasp.
“Let’s go into your bedroom,” he whispered.
Scrambling to her feet, Emily took his hand and led him across the living room through the door opposite the kitchenette. Hans smiled as she turned on a small light at the head of the bed. Its opalescence glow showed a bed covered with small stuffed animals.
As she quickly undressed, he felt nothing but revulsion for her. Her bulging stomach and flabby breasts almost made him sick. He had to force himself to make love to her. He wanted it to be over as quickly as possible. He thought her hunger would never be satisfied.
After the ordeal, exhausted, he rolled over beside her in the bed. She had a smile on her face.
How stupid you can be
, he thought.
It was three-twenty in the morning when Hans awoke. He was surprised he’d fallen asleep, as he hated sleeping in someone else’s bed.
She was lying with her arm across his chest. He slowly removed it and gently rolled off the bed so as not to wake her. As he stood beside the bed, he looked down at Emily sleeping half-covered by the tangled sheets. He kicked a stuffed animal under the bed and went into the bathroom.
Hans scrubbed his face clean of the night’s passion and dressed quickly.
If she wakes, I’ll have to kill her
, he thought. Quietly he walked across the room and let himself out of the apartment. He breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped into the dark and fresh night air.
Later in the week Hans chose this bar carefully. He thought it was ironic that it was touted as
One Night of Passion
in the gaudy, red, neon letters above the door. He entered the large, dark room that smelled like every other cheap bar in the world. Smoke swirled in eddies below the yellowing fluorescent lights. From somewhere in the grim interior, he heard a brief outburst of laughter, and the click of pool balls, the only acknowledgment there was another person here. Dressed in a black turtleneck sweater, pants and watch cap, he could have been be mistaken for any worker escaping from a dull evening at home.
His well-developed sense of self-preservation had served him well over the years. His actions were carefully rehearsed; his disguises impeccable. His goal: never to be remembered anywhere he went.
Choosing a booth along the rear wall between the restrooms and a door leading, he found out, through a dirty kitchen into a back alley, he sat with his back against the wall. He always tried to sit where he had at least two escape routes or he just found another establishment.
As he sat, pain stabbed through his being as he thought about that night, three years ago when he