Chapter 2

The hair on the back of my neck rose from the way she said my name with her creamy accent. When I approached the corner of the street, I stopped and looked back at the café. She sat pensively, blurred by the inky noise of the rain, still watching people, still guessing at their days.

I had almost completely forgotten about Lara when I spotted her in a crowd on a sunny day just in the shadow of St. Stephen’s cathedral. A week since the café afternoon. I was sitting at a bench when a flash of the sunflower yellow in the crowd caught my eye. The same summer dress, or at least the same color she had worn at the café.

I closed my book and watched her for a while. I thought to call out to her, but refrained, remembering that I ought to be wary of her. So, I watched her for a while. She stopped by a flower stand, picked out a bunch of swan-white lilies and took them away rolled up in newspaper. Before she disappeared around the corner, I jumped from my seat and followed her.

She was like a yellow wisp, dancing through the crowd, stopping by shop windows, lowering her sunglasses to take a good look at what was within before continuing. She drew glances from every man, and quite a few women that passed her.

I felt very much like a stalker, following her like this. I didn’t know why I did it. I could only attribute it to her strong magnetic pull.

She got away from me at the Hapsburg palace. A string quartet played an impromptu Bach in the tunnel of the Spanish Riding School. Past the school, I looked around for the yellow dress in the quiet garden, and in the courtyard of the palace between the dark hedgerows of roses, finding nothing. Curious that she would slip away so easily, but then…

I turned my head and saw her walking towards me, shimmering in the sun, her strawberry blonde hair bouncing in long curls from her shoulders to her breasts. How I lost her in an empty courtyard, I had no idea.

“What a happy coincidence! You were just on my mind.”

“Yes. I was wondering when you would call me.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I’ve just — I’ve been so busy lately.”

“I see. You Americans tend to be.” She smiled slyly. “In fact, you seem busy now. Am I keeping you from something?”

“Oh no.” I blushed. I came up with a quick excuse. “I was just, um, going to see a friend today, but they canceled at the last minute, so I came here. I’m not up to anything.”

“Oh, ok. Well, would you like to spend the afternoon with me, then?”

Her eyes studied my face intently. Her lips curled into a hopeful smile. She added, “I was going to grab my bicycle and go by the river to enjoy the rest of the sun. If you are free, I would love it if you joined me.”

We stopped by her bike, which was locked nearby on a fence along the ring road that circled the first district. She put her white lilies into her bicycle basket and took a silver Nikon and snapped a photo of me.

“Say cheese,” she said.

“You’re supposed to say that before you snap a picture.” I laughed.

“I knew that. Just forgot to say it first.” She shrugged, then repeated, “Say cheese!” and snapped another picture. She caught me smiling.

“That one will be a good one,” she said.

“Anyways, shall we go? “I have a secret spot on the river I like, but it would take us a while to get there walking, so we can ride my bicycle.”

“Sure. Are you taking me for a ride?”

“My legs are tired, so you’re taking me for a ride. I’ll get on the back and tell you where to go.”

“Ok, I’ll try.” I hopped on the bike. “Climb on!”

I held the bike balanced while she climbed onto the back, sitting on the rack above the rear wheel, both legs hanging off to one side.

“Ok, here we go,” I said and kicked off, driving shaky at first, weaving precariously between dodging pedestrians, both of us shrieking and laughing. We rode along the ring road towards the river. She pointed out the streets to turn down and snapped photos of people and buildings with her Nikon every opportunity she could get. A few minutes later we were in Heiligenstadt, meeting the riverbank. We rode along a row of tall flickering birch trees and drooping willow. The bike path turned to crunchy gravel, and the city disappeared behind us. A half hour or so of riding later, we arrived at a quiet bend in the river, where the sun rays came neatly through the crests of the tall Kahlenberg hill onto a grassy riverbank.

“Stop here!” Lara shouted. I skidded to a stop. She set out a blanket she pulled from the bicycle basket. I plopped down next to her on the blanket and exclaimed awe at the beauty of the surroundings. Verdant vineyards lined the rolling hills across the river, and the river here was slow and flat. The afternoon crickets chirped lazily. The grasshoppers and June bugs hummed in the golden grass around us. A barge passed us by. The men on it waved and hollered eagerly at us. We waved back. Lara blew them a kiss. They blew back kisses emphatically and walked backwards along the boat shouting and waving at us until they disappeared around the river bend. She laughed delightedly at the attention, and when they were gone, she spirited a bottle of wine, uncorked it and drank straight from it, clutching it by the neck and offered me a drink. “Sorry, I didn’t think to bring any wine glasses,” she said.

“No, it’s fine. I don’t think I will have any.”

She shrugged. “More for me then.”

She drank again. A purple stream dripped from lips, down her chin and her neck. She wiped it.

As much as I’d love a drink of her wine, I had to restrain myself. Don’t want to get tipsy and tell any secrets now. What was the saying? Loose lips sink ships. When she was done with the sip, she snapped a photo of me.

“You’re quite shy, aren’t you?” she mused.

“Of course not. Not normally.”

“You were rather shy the last time I met you.”

“One of my moody days, perhaps.”

“You have moody days? I thought Americans were always happy.”

“Of course, Americans have moody days. The rain makes me moody. Doesn’t it make you moody?”

“No. I enjoy the rain.”

“You seem like the type of girl who would enjoy the rain.”

“Why do you think that?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. You just seem so — I don’t know. There’s just something about you. You seem like you can be happy in any situation.”

“In the Eastern Bloc, you either learn to be happy in any situation, or you become an alcoholic.”

“Those are your only choices?”

“Who says it’s a choice?”

“Well, that’s a depressing thought.”

“I never claimed to be a happy person. You assumed that. Most from where I’m from who claim to be happy are either lying, or they’re drunk out of their minds.”

“Well, aren’t you happy?”

She drank deeply from the bottle, then responded, “At this moment, I’m happy.”

She sat up, crossed her leg, aimed her Nikon at me and snapped another picture. Her skirt rode up her thighs, revealing a white flash of her panties within. She arched her back so that her dress tightened against her breasts. Concentric circles of her nipples pressed against the thin cotton of her dress. I blushed and glanced away and felt a nervous, funny pounding in my chest, being suddenly aware that I was smitten with her. Blood pounded hot through my body. My throat ran tight.

This curious attraction didn’t surprise me, nor was I averse to it. I had always been secretly attracted to girls. I’ve just never acted on that attraction. There was, however, something about Lara — the way she moved, the way she talked, the way she smelled (lush like a twisted orange peel), the way she looked at me with her intent eyes. Eyes that were inviting, daring playfully to try something dangerous — her, perhaps.

“So do you have someone?” she asked.

“Like a boyfriend? Husband?”

She sat back, leaning on her hands, tongue in her cheek, her legs laid straight out, feet bare, twirling, toes outstretched.

“So, you are here in Vienna all by yourself?”

“Why am I all by myself or in Vienna?”

“Why are you all by yourself?”

“Because I want to be.”

“Quite old to be unmarried, no?”

I laughed. “Oh, please. Are you going to tell me I’m condemned to a life alone because I haven’t got a husband?”

“That’s how people where I’m from think.”

“Yeah. Same from where I’m from.”

“But you don’t think so?”

“No. I’m happy now, more than I’ve ever been not single. Maybe they’re right. But maybe I don’t care.”

Lara grinned, crinkled her nose as if tickled by my answer.

“How old are you, Lara?”

“Do you have anyone?”

“Well, why not? Time’s ticking, isn’t it?”

“It is. Can I give you the same answer you gave me?”

“Sure. If it’s true.”

She looked up at the sky. Clouds floated lazily westward, cumulus and silver from the sun shining down from above them. Glittering rays came through them like bright starburst. Her brow furrowed in thought.

“I don’t think it’s true really,” she replied finally.

“I think being single makes me anxious.”

“I love the touch of another person too much.”

“I don’t think you need to be in a relationship to be touched.” I reached out and tickled the bottom of her feet. She recoiled, snickered.

She stuck her tongue out at me. “That’s not what I mean,” she replied. “I mean intimate touch.”

“I see. Yes, a boyfriend would be nice for that.”

Her eyes found mine. I blushed. A moment passed between us where the world was silent save for the constant pulsing buzz of the grasshoppers in the grass, and the sound of my own heavy breathing.

She straightened out her legs again, stretched out her toes as she yawned, then brushed a naked foot against my leg. Not an accidental brushing. I flinched at the cool touch of her skin against mine. Goosebumps grew on my skin. Slowly, she drew her still-touching foot down the length of my leg. As her leg bent, her skirt fell down her raised thigh to again reveal the white triangle of her panty within. Her face twisted in excitement as she did this. She held her breath, waiting for my response to her brash act. Her nipples were hard — tiny, pressed pointedly against her dress. Only a loosening of her shoulder straps from her delicate shoulders, and they would be exposed.

“Don’t you think so?” She asked.

“Think what?” I murmured listlessly, not knowing where we were in the conversation.

“That a girl would be nice to be with, too.”

Her toes climbed daringly, past my knee, sliding under my skirt. She lifted her leg, lifting the hem of my skirt with her toes to peek inside before quickly retracting her foot. A gleeful grin on her face. I let out a heavy sigh and breathed heavily. I had held my breath.

She stood, fanned herself, and studied the silent, fast-moving river. Beside the riverbank was a small, still pool. Pebbles tiled the bottom of the pool. Small shadows of fish floated, flashing silver as they turned on their sides to graze at the algae and riverweed.

“I’m going to cool off,” she said, then, with her back to me, she slipped out of her dress, leaving only her tight cotton panty to cover her toned, heart-shaped ass.

She motioned with a quick tilt of her head for me to follow her into the water, then walked in until she was waist deep, then dove into the clear pool. She stayed submerged for a long moment, then sprung out of the water and whipped the water from her hair. The splashing waves caught the sunlight and flashed brilliantly.

“Come in, Kirby! The water’s nice.”

I couldn’t stop staring at her beautiful, diving body bathing in the pool. It didn’t take me long to acquiesce. The oppressive heat helped her cause. I took off my dress. I crossed my arms shyly against my thin breasts, as I walked into the river. The coldness of the river took my breath away. I stood there shivering for a moment, then turned to retreat to the shore. Before I could make my mistake, Lara lunged at me, wrapped her arms around me and took me down into the water with her. I gasped at the shock and thrashed in the water when I sank in.

“Oh fuck! Warn me before you do that!” I wheezed. Lara laughed gleefully at my convulsions.

“Stop being a baby. It’s nice! And what are you hiding?” She referred to my crossing my arms protectively over my breasts.

“I’m American, Lara. I don’t revel in putting myself on display for all the peeping toms.”

“What peeping toms? There are no peeping toms.”

As she said this, a pleasure craft passed by. A rotund man sunning himself in a chair on the stern spotted us and gave a hearty wave.

“Right. No peeping toms.”

“Oh Kirby, you are in Vienna now. No one here cares.”

At the moment I was more concerned at the coldness of the water, which I still hadn’t gotten over.

“You’re shivering so much,” Lara observed.

“Yes, Lara. That’s because the water is freezing!” I said through chattering teeth.

She waded over to me, hugged me tightly. “I will warm you up then,” she said and rubbed her arms vigorously against my back. Her skin was indeed warm. The warmth sunk into my skin, and I felt myself sink into her arms. Her soft breasts pressed up against mine in the water. Her hard nipples pushed against mine. My immediate thought was to push her away. I yelped but did nothing more. She had me tranquilized with her surprise move. It was pleasant. Her body was pleasant, rubbing against mine. It’s been such a long time since someone touched me the way she touched me now. She was right. A girl was nice to touch.