Maybe this’ll be more fun than you think.
Two large men shoved their way past Gage, both of them laughing obnoxiously as they bulled their way into the club.
Doubt it.
He eventually paid 10 more euros at the door, finding his way inside and looking around. The Nachtleben definitely had the look and feel of a nightclub. Behind the bar was a massive slate-board with drinks and specials written in chalk. The tables and bar were rough-hewn, contrasting sharply with the shiny red chairs and walls, both of which were modern. Finishing off the clashing interior were gold chandeliers hung throughout. There were at least a hundred people inside, drinking and having a good time as recorded music played over the sound system.
Gage spotted the two men who’d shoved their way past him. Then he saw Ursula beyond them. He purposefully, and roughly, bumped both men as he walked past, making them slosh their beers and yell their protests.
Life is sometimes satisfying.
His revenge taken, Gage couldn’t help but be surprised by Ursula’s appearance.
She wore a tight leather jacket over a shredded black Joy Division t-shirt. She’d put her hair up in a number of loop pigtails and colored much of her hair lime green. Her face was painted in heavy makeup and stark red lipstick. She wore an incredibly short skirt and torn fishnet stockings which reached down into clunky biker boots. It looked as if she were in costume for a movie.
“Gage!” she screamed, grasping the back of his neck and pressing her active tongue into his mouth. As she did, she straddled his left leg and ground up and down.
Holy shit!
Pulling back, Gage smiled despite his embarrassment. “Wow…what a welcome,” he said, not knowing what else to say.
“I’m glad you came.”
“Told you I would.”
“I wasn’t sure you’d show.”
“Well, I’m here.”
Ursula palmed his chest and sidled close again. “You want a beer?”
“I’ll get my drink. What do you want?”
She wagged her tumbler. “Rum and Coke, please, with a cherry.”
“No lime?”
“Cherry,” she replied with a wink.
“You got it.” Gage had to pick his way to the bar where he eventually ordered a Diet Coke for himself along with Ursula’s rum and Coke—with a cherry. As he watched his drinks being prepared, he shook his head in wonderment at how Ursula had greeted him. Maybe she was just drunk?
Or maybe she just wanted more?
What a kiss. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it on some level. She was small but aggressive, and she tasted good.
Grinding on my leg…sheesh…
“This is a bad idea,” Gage muttered to himself. “Don’t get sucked in.”
Drinks in hand, he found Ursula again. She’d made her way to the stage. Here, there was a much lower ceiling with the elevated stage taking up a quarter of the room. Behind the drum kit was the image of a cobra with the band name “Snakebite.” A technician was working on the stage setup. He occasionally spoke into each microphone while another tech worked the control board.
“You’ll love Snakebite,” Ursula declared. “I bet I’ve seen them ten times.”
“What kind of music?”
“I guess you’d call it eighties hard rock…your era.”
“Thanks,” Gage replied.
“C’mon now,” Ursula said. “You’re not old and you look great.”
“Each year is faster than the last.”
“I like older guys,” she said, cupping Gage’s ass with her hand.
“Whoa.”
“What?” she asked, squeezing again and seductively gnawing her bottom lip. “You don’t like that?”
“I didn’t say that,” Gage said. “But…a little warning, maybe?”
She moved closer, seeming to want another kiss.
“No PDA, okay? I’m too shy.”
“PDA?”
“Public displays of affection,” he said, translating it afterward. “Not my style.”
She pulled him close so she could whisper in his ear. Ursula told him exactly what she’d like to do with him, in public. When she pulled back, she was all teeth and dark lipstick.
“You’d be so turned on I bet you couldn’t hardly stand it,” she said, running her tongue across her teeth. “But I could get you to keep going. I have that skill.”
He stared back, wide-eyed.
She’d just suggested something so incredibly ribald and kinky Gage could feel his ears burning. Just then, a group of men and women approached—Ursula’s friends. She spoke to them a moment and politely introduced Gage to each person. One of her friends chatted with Gage as the rest of her group found their way to the stage, taking Ursula with them.
The friend introduced herself as Christina. She said her friends call her “Dü,” which pronounced in English sounded most like, “Dew.” Dü was extremely attractive and tall with a riot of curly blonde hair. She had a few freckles that added a tad of whimsy to her pleasing appearance. Like most people do upon first meeting, they talked about her career.
“I’m a makeup artist for stage performers,” Dü said. “I also do some costume work. We get lots of American performers here. You’re American, right?”
“How’d you know?”
Dü arched her eyebrows. “Gage Hartline? Really? Where else might someone find a name like that? Australia, maybe? I’ll bet you’re from Texas.”
Gage liked her spunk. “Actually, I am American, but not from Texas. Good guess, though.”
Dü sipped her wine. “So, you and Ursula?”
“Just friends.”
She arched her eyebrows again. “Really?”
“Why’d you say it like that?”
“No reason.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“I’ve known Ursula long enough to know that she likes you.”
“Like I said, just friends.”
Grinning as if she didn’t believe it, Dü said, “So, what kind of work lets you live here in Germany?”
“I’m not here permanently. I’m working temporarily for the Vogel estate,” Gage answered. “She works for the same employer.”
“What do you do for them?”
“Just helping close out the estate.”
“Are
