stuff like that. It’s obvious.
Chapter 6
The others make themselves comfortable on the floor. The girls have spread out a blue blanket for the occasion. It looks good against the parquet. They’re all sitting on it—both Felixes, Janosch, Troy, and Florian. Malen, Anna, and this Marie girl are beside them. They’ve all had a few already— there are at least three empty wine bottles rolling around on the floor, plus a half bottle of Bacardi O. Now they’ve switched to beer. Malen’s on to her second. Janosch thinks girls in general drink a lot. Supposedly there are regular binges on the girls’ corridor. They like it. I have to admit I don’t drink much at all—I always have the feeling I’ll lose something that maybe I could use. Like my brain. No idea why. But now I’m drinking. Marie invites me to sit down. Next thing there’s a beer in my hand. I look at her. She has a round face. Lethal green eyes. Skin a little tanned. Her long dark brown hair is pinned up. Full lips. She’s painted them blood red in honor of the event. Or perhaps that’s the wine. White teeth, not a single mark on them anywhere. She’s mascaraed her eyelashes. Used eye shadow too. She’s very slim; she almost disappears inside her black nightshirt. Big breasts, as far as I can make out. The nightshirt doesn’t give away much. But I’ll get back to them later.
“D’you like it here?” she asks.
“How did
you
like it on your second day?”
“This
is
my second day,” she says.
I swallow. “And so how d’you like it now?”
“Now,” she says. “The alcohol tastes the same.” She laughs, turning her head away. I see her neck. There’s a big hickey on it. Pretty quick for your second day. I take a slug of beer.
“What’s your name?” she whispers.
“Benjamin.”
“Benjamin, like that politician?”
“Yes, Benjamin like that politician.”
“Nice name,” she says, and swallows some beer. The can’s almost empty. She drinks it down, then squashes the can in one tanned hand. It crackles. I notice her fingernails—they’re painted red.
“I didn’t choose it myself,” I say.
“I know, but almost every name marks the person who has it.” She stands up. “Will nobody pass me another beer?”
She moves slowly toward her desk. A little unsteady on her feet, but she has a nice walk. I think she’s beautiful. She gropes around in a drawer and pulls out some candles. Red, at least a couple of inches long. I look over at Malen, sitting by Janosch. He must be happy. There are two cans of beer lying on the floor. Janosch keeps inching closer to Malen. She’s wearing a white silk top and matching panties. Her beautiful legs slide gently away from him across the floor. Janosch wishes he could touch them. I can’t blame him. Malen is really stunning. She’s powdered her face. Her dark blue eyes blaze out like lasers. You’re immediately trapped. Her fingernails and toenails are painted turquoise and seem to give off a strange light. Like Marie, she’s pinned her hair up. Her neck is bare. You can see her bra through her silk top. Janosch still doesn’t trust himself to touch her legs—his right hand keeps making restless little movements about half an inch above them. He’s obviously nervous. Glob says Janosch is often nervous when it comes to girls, almost paralyzed, to the point where he can only play the gentleman. But he’s not so good at that. He’s just nervous. Not cool like before. And certainly not crazy.
I listen in on their conversation a little. It’s more of a squawking match. They’re both pretty loaded. I wonder how on earth we’ll ever get down the fire escape again. I have another slug of beer. That’s one can gone. It’s good stuff. Spreads out through my brain. I’m not usually a drinker. That’s why I feel it. I start following the conversation again. It’s about great sexual disasters. Straight from the talk shows. Malen’s in the midst of saying, “The guy had a hard-on.
Chapter 6
The others make themselves comfortable on the floor. The girls have spread out a blue blanket for the occasion. It looks good against the parquet. They’re all sitting on it—both Felixes, Janosch, Troy, and Florian. Malen, Anna, and this Marie girl are beside them. They’ve all had a few already— there are at least three empty wine bottles rolling around on the floor, plus a half bottle of Bacardi O. Now they’ve switched to beer. Malen’s on to her second. Janosch thinks girls in general drink a lot. Supposedly there are regular binges on the girls’ corridor. They like it. I have to admit I don’t drink much at all—I always have the feeling I’ll lose something that maybe I could use. Like my brain. No idea why. But now I’m drinking. Marie invites me to sit down. Next thing there’s a beer in my hand. I look at her. She has a round face. Lethal green eyes. Skin a little tanned. Her long dark brown hair is pinned up. Full lips. She’s painted them blood red in honor of the event. Or perhaps that’s the wine. White teeth, not a single mark on them anywhere. She’s mascaraed her eyelashes. Used eye shadow too. She’s very slim; she almost disappears inside her black nightshirt. Big breasts, as far as I can make out. The nightshirt doesn’t give away much. But I’ll get back to them later.
“D’you like it here?” she asks.
“How did
you
like it on your second day?”
“This
is
my second day,” she says.
I swallow. “And so how d’you like it now?”
“Now,” she says. “The alcohol tastes the same.” She laughs, turning her head away. I see her neck. There’s a big hickey on it. Pretty quick for your second day. I take a slug of beer.
“What’s your name?” she whispers.
“Benjamin.”
“Benjamin, like that politician?”
“Yes, Benjamin like that politician.”
“Nice name,” she says, and swallows some beer. The can’s almost empty. She drinks it down, then squashes the can in one tanned hand. It crackles. I notice her fingernails—they’re painted red.
“I didn’t choose it myself,” I say.
“I know, but almost every name marks the person who has it.” She stands up. “Will nobody pass me another beer?”
She moves slowly toward her desk. A little unsteady on her feet, but she has a nice walk. I think she’s beautiful. She gropes around in a drawer and pulls out some candles. Red, at least a couple of inches long. I look over at Malen, sitting by Janosch. He must be happy. There are two cans of beer lying on the floor. Janosch keeps inching closer to Malen. She’s wearing a white silk top and matching panties. Her beautiful legs slide gently away from him across the floor. Janosch wishes he could touch them. I can’t blame him. Malen is really stunning. She’s powdered her face. Her dark blue eyes blaze out like lasers. You’re immediately trapped. Her fingernails and toenails are painted turquoise and seem to give off a strange light. Like Marie, she’s pinned her hair up. Her neck is bare. You can see her bra through her silk top. Janosch still doesn’t trust himself to touch her legs—his right hand keeps making restless little movements about half an inch above them. He’s obviously nervous. Glob says Janosch is often nervous when it comes to girls, almost paralyzed, to the point where he can only play the gentleman. But he’s not so good at that. He’s just nervous. Not cool like before. And certainly not crazy.
I listen in on their conversation a little. It’s more of a squawking match. They’re both pretty loaded. I wonder how on earth we’ll ever get down the fire escape again. I have another slug of beer. That’s one can gone. It’s good stuff. Spreads out through my brain. I’m not usually a drinker. That’s why I feel it. I start following the conversation again. It’s about great sexual disasters. Straight from the talk shows. Malen’s in the midst of saying, “The guy had a hard-on.
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