She offered me her hand which was covered with a glove that reached above her elbow and which was not entirely clean.
When I hesitated, she simply grabbed my hand.
“You've got to sit down before I can grope you.”
I resisted. Suddenly she became quite excited and almost shouted at me, “Don't be so goddamn stupid, or I'll make such a noise that everybody will come over here to look at what's going on.”
After the first impression that she made upon me I did not doubt for one moment that she would not carry out that threat, and since I had no desire for a scandal, I sat down. It was bad enough that I had been recognized. She tugged at me and soon I sat next to her. Another lady, and a few gentlemen to whom I was introduced (one of them was a very famous author who only came to Munich to get dead drunk on beer) occupied the same table. When the actress told the author that I also was a writer, he asked me, “Are you professional or do you just write for fun? Excuse me my ignorance, dear Sir, but as a matter of principle I refuse to read the shit the others pour out; I have enough trouble with my own!”
The other gentleman and the two ladies laughed out loud and called the author a character. But the actress used the interruption to squeeze my thighs with the one hand she had slipped under the table, whispering, “Open the two first buttons so I can get inside.” When I did no such thing, she tried to do it herself. It seemed to excite her terribly, because she suddenly bit me on the upper arm. The author had not missed a thing, because he suddenly said, “Oh God, the old pig is horny again!” and turning toward me, he asked, “Doesn't she make you puke?”
I must admit that I felt rather uneasy, but on the other hand I was also very curious. I did not resist when she let her hand wander around till it had found my member, and when she did find it she pressed herself against me and groaned out loudly. I really became meaner than I had ever been before in my life and I talked to her as if I were her pimp. But that seemed to excite her even more. She tried to wriggle her other hand under my behind, and when she finally succeeded she stuck her middle finger up my rear. That finally became too much for me to bear and I started to get up. The author, who had become very drunk, blurted, “Finally he's getting smart … 'Tis much better that the two of you finish that at home … but, beware, my boy, don't let her bite it off, I know that slut and she wants to take everything in her big mouth.”
I paid my check as fast as I could but I was not fast enough, because ere I had reached the exit, the actress was at my side again. “Oh, why didn't we stay a while longer,” and without any shame she put her arm around my middle. I finally decided that the time had come to inform the lady that I had no intentions whatsoever of continuing our acquaintance and she started to scream like a fishwife.
No, I beg indulgence from all fishwives, she sounded more like a lowdown whore in a cheap brandy fit. I fled into the nearest hansom and offered the coachman twice the fare if he could get me out of there as fast as possible. He turned around and said, “I see she's drunk again.”
I could still hear her voice when the cab turned around the corner, “You wanna be an author: hah, piss on you … bastard!” I had to smile when I entered the hotel, because in the lobby hung a life-size portrait poster of the lady, billing her as Ophelia.
The next morning I left Munich.
Chapter Six. LOTTE AND ELLY
After the repulsive experiences in Munich, I was glad to discover in Salzburg that the curiosity, delight and satisfaction which the opposite sex afforded me had not altogether left me. Absolutely contrary to my original intentions, I decided to settle in that nice town. I rented a small home outside the city limits, where it isn't even Salzburg any longer and, if it weren't for the greatest and also most painful experience of my life, I would have spent the rest of my days in Salzburg and most likely my history would not have ended as miserably as it did.
Out there, in Heilbronn, during one of my long walks, I met a girl. She was not young; deep in her twenties I guess, but she was peculiarly attractive and charming. Well built and slim, her face framed with an abundance of golden hair, she walked toward me. I stopped and stared. She noticed it and a slight blush spread across her cheeks. She instantly awakened that desire in me which a certain type of woman brings out.
It is something of a light hypnosis. I kept looking as she walked past me, then I slowly turned around and followed her hesitantly. I had the distinct feeling that she wanted me to start talking to her. I passed her twice and finally, the third time around, I gathered the courage to start a conversation. I felt terribly silly and was as gangling as a high school boy, because once I had brought up the courage to talk, I no longer could find the proper words to say anything. My eyes tried to penetrate her clothing and I became terribly excited. I felt as if I had to attack this woman from behind and simply rape her. I had never felt this way before around a fully dressed female. It is possible that her particular odor was driving me slowly out of my mind.
But fortunately, something of the civilized male in me prevented me from acting out my primeval urges and I forced myself not to do what I wanted to do, so as not to spoil any future chances. Since my excitement prevented me from taking one more step, I remained fixed at the same spot without letting her out of my sight for one single second. It seemed that my gaze was holding her firmly, because she slowed down her pace, too, and finally she also stood still. But that had evidently nothing to do with me. I noticed that another young woman had approached us from the opposite direction, her absolute mirror image, slightly younger and instead of golden hair, her beautiful face was framed in ebony curls. A few moments later the two were standing together, holding hands. I noticed that the dark one looked in my direction, making it obvious that they had talked about me. I cannot remember exactly how it happened, but the next moment I was standing with the two girls.
I excused myself for anything which might have brought on the displeasure of the blonde girl.
The three of us continued our walk.
They were sisters, the daughters of a retired high-ranking officer.
We talked about everything. Their ways of speech were so charming and soft, they were so cuddly, and the perfume they exuded was so intoxicating that I was walking as if in a dream. I gathered enough courage to tell them this and also to offer the blonde one my right arm. I felt counterpressure. She also whispered into my ear, “My sister and I are quite inseparable.” So I offered my left arm to the dark-haired one and she cuddled up to me on the other side. I saw her look at the blonde with a smile that looked like a silent question.
Meanwhile it had become dark and it was obvious that our kisses had become a pressing obligation. They invited me to their home because Papa was visiting the captain of the garrison anyway and would not be home till midnight. That was the moment to become quite honest, “It would be impossible for me to contain myself; I would be driven out of my mind, and I surely could not guarantee my best behavior.”
Each pressed their bosom against one of my sides and they whispered in unison, “Neither can we!” The blonde's hand trailed downward and I felt her touch just at the spot where my passion was hottest and her breathing was so deep that it sounded like a sigh.
“Of course, today it will have to be like it happened in that play of yours …” said the dark one.
“The novel, silly …” corrected the blonde. “Yes, yes … the lady takes the young man whom she met on the street into her home, the man was at his club, and …”