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The DEF of Love - Love Me or Leave Me

By lidmila All Rights Reserved ©

Romance / Adventure

8

Although I expected Egon to be late to discipline me, he appears at the door at the dot of noon, emanating self-assurance and a manly after-shave. Adults obviously don’t play childish pranks and I have still a lot to learn about love and men.

With cool detachment, Egon bows over my hand, helps me into my coat while refraining from any bodily contact, and accompanies me to his champagne-coloured Ferrari.

“Where would you like to lunch, Gnadiges Fraulein?” He asks with a casual smile, polite and bland and truculent.

“Any place you wish, Herr von Zwettler,” I repay him scorn for scorn.

“What about my place then, Lolita?” He shoots ahead, his face creased into a provocative smirk, his eyes as cold as marbles.

“Who was the lucky one you dared prefer to me, little tease?” He peers at me from behind his long lashes, reading me like an open book.

“You deserve a smack on your naughty little bottom! If you were in your right senses you’d grasp I’m a God’s gift to you, the only man who can teach you the tricks of the trade without the hidden extras!” He probes me with unwavering eyes and his fingers on the steering wheel tighten like twisted rods.

The car speeds through the streets less and less known, more and more run-down. Drab, bulky houses, looming up out of a waste land, cut the ground from under my feet. It dawns on me with chilling terror that I am on a trip to hell and shall be made to go all the way through it. I shrink from the scared look in my eyes on the frosted window pane and, in a state of utter confusion, turn to Egon to be solaced in my disarray.

At close quarters, his face is a scratched, jaded mask. In a fine spider-net, wrinkles coil around his eyes, two cruelly sharp lines ambush his mouth pitted with withered sepia-grey lips. I rack my brain for something to say to break this harrowing silence. All of a sudden, I hear myself beg: “Take me back home, Egon, please!”

His eyes like a knife thrust, Egon reaches for a cigarette, lights it, takes a long, deep puff and pokes it into my mouth. Its sweet, fruity smell is so comforting it makes me nearly cry. Inhaling its heady perfume, I relax.

The car slows down in front of steel and glass building and descends into an underground parking lot. Egon goes around, opens the door, grips my elbow and steers me into a lift. Two strangers drowning in the void, we rise up. The lift opens. Egon steps aside. I pass. He unlocks one of the blank, anonymous doors and propels me into a sparkling whiteness. Through a sliding window, I stagger onto a huge marble terrace erected under cyanide-blue sky. Dazzled by the darting sun, I blink my eyes. Steadying me, his arm enlaces my shoulders. Bewitched and benumbed, I stare at the vastness of the city at my feet.

At first feather-light, then brawny, polyp-like, his mouth is sucking on mine. Grasping me in his embrace, he backs inside. Set down upon a white mink cover on the bed, I am undressed. I know I cannot make love to this man and yet I do it. I know I cannot bear his experienced fondling and yet I can.

“How childish!” Egon comments, running his tongue over my bruised body, licking it smooth.

Severed from my estranged body, my soul wails for Milan’s impatient hands and his harsh whisper: “I love you, babe!”

Sharply awake in my schizophrenic frenzy, I second Egon in his love-act, trying my best not to interfere with it, arching, falling, moaning in accordance with his perfect script.

“Am I satisfying you, Lolita?” Proud as a peacock, Egon screams into my face.

Some more gyrations, some bouncy stretches, some pumping iron. With an impressive crescendo the act closes in. Egon kisses my hand and rolls away from my body, fixes a joint and passes it on me.

“You’re an extremely talented nymphet, Lolita! With a bit of guidance you’ll steal the show. Do you know you’re my first young lover after a long row of one night stands? That’s why I treated you so harshly. I was rather nervous, why deny it. Would you mind if I fell in love with you, Lolita?” He whispers, more to himself than to me and his face, flaring up from inside, raises the alarm in my heart.

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