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The DEF of Love - Love Me or Leave Me

By lidmila All Rights Reserved ©

Romance / Adventure

2

“No need to stay until the last moment, Leopold. Go and comfort the lonely ladies.” Egon has returned from the luggage-check and takes the situation in his hands.

Presented with elegant boxes of mimosa, we dismiss Leo graciously and entrust ourselves to Egon’s care.

“May I suggest the first-class lounge, ladies? I’d hate to expose you to the commonness of an airport-restaurant.”

We gladly accept Egon’s offer.

I sink into the smooth leather armchair and ease up. I don’t need to be trained in luxury. Grand style is my style.

“What shall I get for you, Gnadige Frau, Irene?”

“A glass of water, thank you, Egon.”

“The same for me, please.”

Egon reappears in a moment followed by a hostess carrying the refreshments on a tray. She puts the drinks in front of us, glaring daggers at me. Poor girl, she is dying to be in my place!

“To our journey!” Toasting us with a highball, Egon winks at me. Failing to grasp the hint, I nearly choke on my Perrier generously spiked with bourbon.

“May I have the same, Egon?”

“Of course, Irene,” he gets up to take care of my drink.

“You’re so thirsty, my little one! I hope you aren’t running a fever!” My grandmother touches my brow.

“Of course not, grandmother, don’t worry. Must be the coffee,” I assure her, and reach out for the glass.

Our flight is called. We are boarding. Egon arranged to be seated behind us. I offer my grandmother the window-seat and can’t wait what will come next. The seat next to Egon remains empty. Naughty boy! Cheating on one’s wedded spouse!

My grandmother’s smile stretches into a masked yawn. Her drowsy head slumps on the cushion, she drops off.

“May I tempt you to a window-seat, Lolita?” Egon gets up to let me have his place.

“Don’t worry, Frau von Roggenhofer won’t wake up until Prague”, he chuckles and I wonder: how many sleeping pills did he drown in my grandmother’s Evian?

I slip alongside Egon just in time to take my glass of champagne from the stewardess. Egon spreads a blanket over our knees.

“You mustn’t catch a cold, Lolita! Airplane draughts are dangerous!” He cautions me with a wolfish smile and signals the stewardess for more champagne.

“Do you know how ravishingly gorgeous you are? Cheers to youth, beauty and love!”

With breathtaking speed, we mount towards the sky. My body throbs under the roar of the engines, my eyes are blinded with the splendour of the sun. I reach for Egon’s hand blindly.

“Relax, Lolita. You’ll feel better once we’re up. We have to gain height to avoid the turbulences. It will be soon over, I promise!” Under the tight shelter of the blanket, his body is cleaving to mine.

“Lolita, sweetheart, ease up.” I can’t take more of his stroking and fondling and probing, and yet I can.

“Wait until I’ve taught you all I know, Lolita, and still some more that I’ll learn thanks to you!”

The humming of the engines has acquired a new, cat-like quality. Softly purring, the plane is floating through the gold-blue vault of the sky.

“We’re in the land of everlasting sun, nothing will ever be the same, Lolita! It’s like being reborn.”

I listen

I don’t question

I am smitten.

This obsolete wooing is called a crush.

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