Greta Again! Page 11

  “Oh, yes, thank you? What kind of a dim-wit are you really – he’s now thinking who knows what about you. But certainly nothing good. I’m really the chief dodo at the office. Couldn’t I think of anything better to say? How uncool! Really, Greta, that can’t be. What an evening this should turn into!”

  She went into the bathroom and realized how destroyed she really looked: The hair fell in strands flat onto her forehead and hung into her face. The mascara had run and was completely smeared. With the blanket over her shoulders, which had gotten wet from her soaked clothes, she not only looked a good fifteen years older, she looked like a gnome wearing a long train. Besides, she was barefoot, because her shoes had taken on water like a sponge during the involuntary bath. With every step one could hear a “squish-squash” – and still worse –one could feel it. Primarily between the toes. That’s why her feet were now completely filthy, up to her calves.

  Maybe at least he didn’t see my feet. And if he did, how could it be any worse.

  She took a long, warm shower, which did her a lot of good. The rest of her preparation for the evening was routine: shaving, lotion, blow-dry, make-up, nail-polish – Ugh, the feet looked really bad! – Jewelry and finally the outfit. Should she really wear it?

  I don’t have any other choice now. I don’t have another dress here.

  Oh, what do I have to lose? Everything happens for the best. Suddenly Antonia was again on her mind.

  No, I don’t want to spend time on that now!

  She tried to get rid of the thoughts about Antonia but it didn’t work. Busy with getting dressed and the last touches, she didn’t notice that Mike stood at the door and was watching her.

  “If we didn’t have to go downstairs now, I’d rearrange you on the spot. You’re a knockout in that dress! Wow! Every man will be jealous of me with you at my side. You are really one hot number!”

  He came over to her, reached deep into the low-cut back with one hand, and with the other turned her around and grabbed her between her thighs. Greta swallowed in surprise, but allowed him to do it. It was a welcome diversion and the response she had wished for to Antonia’s words, which hadn’t stopped hammering in her head. They kissed each other, his body burned to have her, and his hands greedily sought her breasts, which came toward him with nipples erect and hard. Greta’s kisses were fiery and fierce. She would have let him take her on the floor only too gladly. But when she opened his shirt, he moved back.

  “We can’t now. Believe me, I want you now too, but we have to go downstairs.”

  Greta pressed her pelvis against his hips and felt his hard organ. How could he be so uptight now?, she asked herself.

  “We’re already experienced at quick action, Mike. Come over here.”

  She pulled her dress over her hips and Mike’s glance was fixed on her extra small lace thong. Greta had surprised herself with her own initiative. But what had happened in the restroom in New York had been etched into her mind. It was worth a repeat. If he took her like that again, it would be proof for her that she was to suppress Antonia and what she said entirely. At least it would help her to do so. The sight of Greta’s small hips and her delicate feminine curves was almost too much for Mike to bear. An invitation which at this moment, every man would have to respond to. Mike hesitated a part of a second – Greta was just about to take off the thong, as Mike reached for the hem of her dress and pulled it over her hips again.

  “No, we can’t. C’mon!”

  He turned around and went to the door. Greta swallowed, not only her surprise – that he didn’t want her as much as she wanted him. She also swallowed her sexual lust, her fantasy, and a thick helping of disappointment. To win a little time, she called after him:

  “Go ahead, I need a couple of minutes.”

  “Fine, I’ll wait for you downstairs.”

  Those weren’t the words she had hoped to hear. It wasn’t “No problem, I’ll wait for you here.” Or, “That’s fine, then come here so that I can nibble on you,” or at least, “Are you okay?”

  What was that just now? Greta thought to herself. I don’t know him like this . . . But how well do I know him, actually? Basically, I know now, as before, almost nothing about him.

  She looked in the mirror, put on more lipgloss and fixed her hair.

  This is not getting any better – I’m going down.

  She looked at herself in the mirror for another moment longer.

  What am I doing here actually? Perhaps I have to leave entirely – and Antonia is right. Or am I too sensitive right now because I didn’t get him to perform sexually? Am I the disappointed, unsatisfied one? The chick? What would Nathalie say . . .? Oh, dear, Nathalie!

  Greta looked for her cell phone; finally, there was a message from Nathalie.

  He is still a virgin – don’t know if he has eggs in his pants – I’m confused too – but otherwise everything is good: great shopping! We’ll talk at home. Ciao Bella! N.

  Greta had to smile. Typical Nathalie. She was already looking forward to seeing her.

  Everything doesn’t have to be so dramatic. Don’t make yourself so important and don’t be so sensitive.

  She stood up straight in front of the mirror, pulled her shoulders back, and finally lifted her head. Everything happens for the best!

  Chapter 17

  In the living room and on the terrace the first guests were already bustling about.

  Sigi had also arrived. Finally Greta would get to meet him. For the good luck, he hadn’t seen her with the wet blanket – in her quasi-ragged-look. At least she was spared from that. Mike was already mixing with the guests and was involved in a conversation with a group. Out of the corner of his eye, however, he had noticed her. Fortunately! She didn’t want to blunder her way through the entire party and tensely look for a connection somewhere. Mike cut himself loose from the conversation and came toward her. And everyone could see that this man now was devoting himself to her. My God, he really looked like a knockout! The light shirt, half open, the dark, narrow pants and the stylish belt with the silver buckle – simply a super guy. He knew how to set himself into the scene. His long legs once again were stuck into cowboy-boots. This time beautiful black snakeskin. Slowly Greta was getting used to the fact that he was the cowboy-boots man. It would probably be somewhat odd if he had regular shoes on sometime. Everything suited him. The long legs, the narrow hips, the firm behind and then the really good-looking upper body. She was proud that he now came toward her and everyone could see.

  “You really look fabulous. The dress is exceptional – but then, so are you.”

  He smiled at her. And despite that you didn’t want me the way I wanted you just now, went through her mind.

  “Thank you. I was unsure until the last minute if I would be okay in this. I don’t wear something like this every day.”

  He put his arm around her, kissed her on the neck so that everyone could see, and led her to the group of people with whom he had been speaking earlier. The kiss on the neck gave Greta a cold-warm shiver down her back again. Shit, why was she so hot for this man?! Mike introduced her and Greta quickly joined the conversation. There were Venetians, Italians from the surrounding area, various Europeans and Americans. A varied group and all clients or friends of Sigi. Mike also introduced Sigi himself, and entirely opposite to Greta’s expectations, he seemed quite young. She had expected an aged gentleman, already in his late sixties, who acquired his riches and income through many years of industriousness. Sigi, who now stood before her, seemed to be around forty, perhaps even in his late thirties: an absolutely impeccably groomed man. Sigi wore only designer clothes, highly elegant, and had a professional and self-assured manner. He was cordial and open toward her.

  “I have already heard from Mike that you liked Salzburg very much. That pleases me. You’re welcome any time. May I introduce my husband to you?”

  Oh, Greta thought, Sigi is gay. He would certainly appeal to Marcel. Sigi came back with a good-looking man at
his side.

  “May I introduce Tony. Here in Venice he is my ‘Tonio’, but actually Tony comes from the Tyrol and we’re both Austrians.”

  “Yes, I thought as much. I can hear it a little in the accent. Very charming, Gentlemen. It is very generous of you to welcome me here so cordially. And one can’t forget Salzburg! I feel extraordinarily well here and that’s not a matter of course – at least not for me.”

  “Oh, Greta, that‘s extremely charming. But for Mike and his friends we always have an open door. We’ve known each other a long time and it’s always a pleasure to be able to have him visit us.”

  Greta smiled. She didn’t know exactly if everything that Sigi was saying was really so positive. One could also understand from what he said that Mike had been here many times with friends – or, more accurately, girl- friends! Once again a strange feeling made itself noticeable in her stomach. And there was Antonia again, in her head.

  Fortunately, just then a waiter with a full tray of Champagne cocktails came by. Greta took a glass and wanted actually just to sip a little. Sigi and Tony were already busy with other guests, and Greta was standing alone for a moment.

  Hmm, the cocktail is really delicious.

  Before she was aware of it, the glass was empty. She scanned the room for some delicious replacements and didn’t have to search far. Soon a second and shortly thereafter a third Champagne cocktail were down the hatch.

  “Oops, there really isn’t that much in a glass!? Already empty again. Sooo good . . .! Where can I eat something here?

  She oriented herself towards the buffet and lost her balance in her high heels on the slippery marble floor for a moment, but caught herself, without anyone noticing. Or so she thought.

  They could really put something on the floor here so that it’s not so slippery, hee-hee. Or someone could fall here.

  At the buffet there were wonderful delicacies to be had. Greta was completely delighted with the many little h’ors d’oeuvres.

  But where was Mike?

  She looked around but couldn’t find him. The tipsy feeling, which now really made her head feel dizzy, and her hunger brought her attention back to the buffet. She began to load up a plate. First, just a few little morsels, but the longer she stood at the buffet, the more she piled on. A mountain of food towered atop the plate and Greta couldn’t even tell any more what she had heaped together.

  While she loaded up her plate, she was overcome with an enormous hunger and still in the buffet line she began to eat – with her fingers. Pretty much out of it, she wasn’t aware that she was now really being noticed. In the first place, her dress – not only the “generous” open back, but also the colors, stood out. The rest of the group was in understated dark colors. Then there was her overly full plate. Greta swayed a little in her heels. Completely absorbed by the delicious food, she now stood alone in the middle of the room. Oh, a drink would now be just right, she thought, as a waiter with a full tray went by. Now she had both hands full: in one, her drink, in the other, her plate. She headed for one of the bar tables, but unfortunately almost all of them were already taken.

  So stupid, where can I now put all this down and eat?

  Her glance fell on the window-sill. It was narrow and actually much too low, but it would work. Greta drank the fourth cocktail and put down the glass. Then she started in on the plate. Her fingers were already very sticky.

  “Oh, good idea. This house is really packed. May I join you here?”

  It was Mick Hucknall. Oh, dear! Greta thought.

  “My pleasure. Please feel free,” she said with her mouth half-full.

  Oh, boy, what do I say now? Nothing.

  She stuffed her mouth so full and so quickly that it was impossible to produce any kind of understandable sentence. With full cheeks, she gave Mick Hucknall a tortured smile.

  “Hm, you truly have something of the ugly duckling. In any case you seem to be a great partner in crime. You managed a pretty good metamorphosis – compared to what I saw this afternoon. A butterfly sparkling in between all these dark creatures.”

  Greta was completely clueless -- what was he saying about a duck and a criminal, dark creatures, and butterflies?

  Oh, God, if only I hadn’t had so much champagne! My English is usually pretty good.

  Again, a tortured smile and more food stuffed into her mouth.

  “There’s no use in denying one thing – you’re hungry as a wolf!”

  Ah, Greta understood that. “Hmmm” was all that she could reply, smiling a little stupidly and nodding.

  Oh, man, Greta! You’re standing here with a world-famous star and are not in a position to form even one sensible sentence. How can you allow yourself to do that!

  Mick Hucknall wished her Bon Appetit and pointed in the direction of the microphone. He had to prepare for his appearance, apparently. It would start pretty soon. Greta tried to call out something like “Good Luck!” as he walked away. It would have been better had she let it be. Her full mouth and the hamster-cheeks were unable to hold the food any longer. As soon as she opened her mouth even a quarter of an inch, already chewed pieces of food dribbled and crumbled out. Really unappetizing! Greta left the half-full plate standing on the windowsill and headed back to the buffet to get a napkin. She could get rid of the food that way. Hardly had she emptied the contents of her mouth into the napkin, when the obvious question arose:

  What to do with the napkin?

  She couldn’t just simply leave it somewhere. So she held the napkin with the remains of her meal in her hand like a clutch. Mick Hucknall was getting ready for his performance and the guests began to gather in front of the improvised stage. Oh, that’s good, Greta thought. Then I can make the napkin disappear without being noticed.

  Where was Mike? Not until now did it occur to Greta that she hadn’t seen him in quite a while. But first she had to get rid of the dumb napkin. There has to be a trashcan somewhere, right?

  Okay, then I’ll go into the kitchen!

  On her way she ran right into Sigi’s arms.

  “Beautiful Greta. You’re going to miss Mick’s performance! You have to come with us.”

  He hooked his arm through hers, while she continued to hold the napkin, and took her along to the stage. The guests saw Sigi approaching and automatically made space for him to pass, and they ended up far in front at the edge of the stage.

  Damn it, where do I put the napkin?

  Greta tried hiding her “clutch” inconspicuously in the back of her dress.

  God beware that something falls out and people see it!

  She stood ramrod straight next to Sigi, who now nodded to Mick and with a smile and a gesture announced the performance. Mick Hucknall saw Greta next to Sigi and smiled at her. Mick’s mime was unmistakable: “Full?!” he seemed to be asking. Greta nodded and smiled a little painfully.

  The concert began – and was splendid. The music was exactly Greta’s thing and she couldn’t help but move to the music. Holding Back the Years, Money’s Too Tight to Mention, Fairground, Home and many other hits followed. The entire living room was jumping and everyone was in high spirits. Greta still held her “clutch-napkin” in her hand. Now, when everyone was focused on the stage, was actually a good moment to disappear momentarily. Nobody would stop her. Except maybe Mike.

  Where was he exactly?

  Greta headed for the kitchen. Here the midnight buffet was avidly being prepared – again incredible creations. This time, however, Greta had a lump in her throat. She couldn’t have eaten a thing. After she had disposed of the napkin in the trash and murmured an encouraging “Mmmm” to the cooks, she made her way to the restroom. The one on the ground floor was occupied. By more than one, actually. A couple was so busy with one another that they didn’t even notice Greta. She quickly closed the door again.

  Best then to try the first floor.

  There she wanted to fix herself up a little, to refresh her lipgloss and then purposefully look for Mike. Having arrived u
pstairs, she noticed that the door to the room was wide open. Strange, she had closed it!? She was the last one to go downstairs.

  Perhaps the staff had prepared the room and the beds for the evening and forgot to close the door. That can happen . . .

  Completely unaware she stepped into the room and found Mike. First she thought he was alone, since she only saw him from the back. In front of him stood a woman. Greta knew her: the Chopstick-Model.

  What is she doing here? And he . . .? Oh, God! No.

  On the bed lay at least two hundred small white packets – and two of them were open. Mike turned around. His shirt was open, the belt-buckle was loose. The Chopstick-Model stepped back. She had also recognized Greta immediately.

  “Oh, here you are,” Greta said in an icy tone. “I was looking for you. But you’re in familiar company. And you’ve also found entertainment.”

  She gestured toward the bed.

  Mike looked at her – startled but not irritated.

  How can he be so cool and stare at me? Greta thought. Or is he stoned? Maybe he’s just that kind of guy and I’m the full-checker again.

  “When you’re finished here, straighten up the room so that I can pack. Then it’s all yours.”

  Mike kept staring at her. “Greta what are you saying? It’s not what it looks like. He gestured to the Chopstick-Model. “Lei-Ming, I told you about her. She is helping me get my brother out of the drug problem. It’s all very complex, but it has nothing to do with you.”

  “I see it differently. What I see is that she can’t leave her hands off you and that a pretty big pile of drugs are lying around here. Neither appeals to me. I don’t want a part of either. Neither you – nor the drugs. I have to go.”

  The tears overflowed in Greta’s eyes. Although the alcohol had made her a little foggy, it was now helpful in her being blunt and expressing herself directly.

  “You pig. You think that I, nice little stewardess, don’t get it – what you’ve got going on. Maybe I am a little naïve, but I’m not dumb. I certainly am far removed from being a part of your strange world, but now I’m glad that’s the case. And to be honest: I don’t want to know any more about it. I was told today that you’re not good for me. I really didn’t want to believe it, but it’s so. Too bad. You only hurt me. I have to go.”