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The stuffy bar buzzes and clinks around you, Birgit sits facing you. You know she’s not a good person but at least she’s fun. Fun is hard to come by these days, so you take it whenever you have the chance. She’s going on about the man she’s sneaking around with. A scientist, fancy, probably rich. You lean in as you listen, he’s married, yikes! With a kid? Double yikes!
You lean back into the booth; curious you ask the question that’s on your mind.
“How ever did you find this man?”
Birgit lets out an uncomfortable giggle.
The grin on your face disappears as your jaw drops. Her best friend’s husband.
“Ich weiß es ist …nicht gut” (I know it’s… not good) she says shaking her head, smirking and taking another sip of her drink. Not good? It’s terrible. You crack up at the absurdity of it all. Birgit laughs with you.
She turns to glance at the dance floor as she laughs, suddenly she goes quiet and her eyes go wide. She gives you a frantic look and you understand exactly what she’s trying to tell you, but disbelief stops you dead in your tracks. You knit your brows and squint, only to have your hypothesis confirmed by little terrified nods of the head. She’s here.
You put your hand to your mouth to hold back a snort. Someone is coming over to your table. To Birgit’s horror, and to your absolute delight, it seems the person approaching is the wife. It’s always so fun to meet the characters in your friends’ lives, especially when they’re involved in the drama. What a treat!
“Birgit! wie schön!” (Brigit! How nice!)
you bite back a chuckle, then look up at the voice. It’s not so funny anymore. The beautiful creature standing over your table is the complete opposite of Birgit. She’s put together. Eyes raking over her, you take notice of a couple of things. Her hair is perfect, sitting in sculpted waves. She is well dressed, her outfit is tasteful and elegant, Birgit looks tackier than usual next to the wife. Her long fingers are manicured and they match her lipstick. Red suits her. As she makes small talk with your friend, she leans on the table, and you get a closer look at her hand, it’s freckled. You absentmindedly wonder where the freckles end. Just like that, you feel you may have dressed too warmly tonight.
As you tug at your collar, a question reaches your ears. The wife is asking about you. When she turns to you, you smile at her and wave like an idiot. You try introducing yourself but find yourself sputtering. Birgit, being the helpful friend she is, introduces you. Nervously, you run your hand through your hair, avoiding all eye contact from the beautiful wife.
“hübsche junge” she says, in your direction. You look up to a fleeting wink and a knowing smile. You turn bright pink. Certainly she couldn’t mean you.
“Wo?” (where?) says Birgit, tone deaf as always, investigating the crowd.
“Na dann,”(Well then) the nameless lady taps the table straightening up, “Tchüss!” (Bye!) as she walks away, she looks back she gives you both a wave of her fingers. For a while you and Birgit sit in silence, you worry your friend can tell how envious you are of the scientist, and how much you hate him for cheating on a woman like that. You bite at the inside of your mouth and play with your chain as you burn up.
“Entschuldigung”; you excuse yourself, taking off your overcoat and making a bee-line for the bathroom. The small room has two stalls. You hunch over, hands flanking the sink. What the fuck? You think as you stare at your reflection. The door swings open to your left. Shit, it’s the wife again. You can’t seem to catch a break.
You fix your tie, smiling at her as she walks in. She has a devious look on her face. Putting her palm to the door, she closes with her weight and locks it. When did stalled bathrooms get locking doors?
She saunters over and grabs you by the tie. Pulls you towards her, and shoves you up against the door, knocking the wind out of you. Confusion flashes over her features.
“Bist du ein mann?” (Are you a man?) You’re taken aback by the question for a moment, forgetting you might look like one. With your suits and short hair you didn’t much resemble a lady.
You let out a soft chuckle, “nein” What a charming mistake.
“Scheiße”(shit) she lets go of your tie and smoothes it out. “tut mir leid” (sorry), her jaw tenses as she looks away.
You just can’t keep calling her the wife after this, so you ask her name, “Wie heißt du?”
She meets your gaze looks up from the floor “Cassandra”, she says it almost like a question.
“Alle in Ordnung, Cassandra” (Everything is okay) Your eyes linger on her painted lips when you say her name. You take a gamble, reaching for her waist. You want your message to be clear. She watches you carefully, letting your hands settle.
Breathing heavily, her hand encircles your tie again, tugging at it lightly and closing the gap between you. Her free hand snakes up to the back of your neck squeezing lightly and bringing you closer. When she finally breaks away to catch her breath, her lipstick is ruined. The sight of her is intoxicating.
You can’t help but lean down and press kisses to the place between her jaw and the top of her turtleneck. Her shaky exhalation tickles your neck. You turn around, keeping her in your grasp putting her against the door. Cassandra lets out a small yelp, then tilts her head in, her forehead touching yours. Her arms fly to your shoulders when you kiss her again. Hands roaming into your hair, messing it up.
--
You part with each other. Not satisfied, but aware of the passing of time. You’ve been here way longer than the usual bathroom break. You suppress a smile as you take a step back to let her through.
“Ach. Verdammt.” (fuck)
You look over to see her staring at her reflection, pawing at faded red marks on her neck. You step behind her, tilting your head to see her in the mirror and wrapping your arms around her. You leave a small kiss on her cheek, leaving one last mark. She lets out an airy laugh as she fixes her bangs, swiping a delicate finger across her forehead. Turning to face you, she affectionately grabs you by the jaw.
“Schatz? Dein mund” (Your mouth darling) Your eyes flash back up, only to notice Cassandra’s lipstick is all over your lower face, you smile at the floor, blushing to match the stains. She pulls a folded handkerchief from her purse, soaking it under the faucet.
Cassandra tenderly wipes the makeup from your face as you watch in awe. Once you’re clean, you thank her with a kiss on the cheek. You put out your hand, asking for the piece of fabric. After rinsing it again, you wash the red off of her mouth, then her neck. There’s a spot that persists. You’d rub harder if you thought it’d go away, but it’s a hickey.
“Es tut mir leid liebes”, you apologize turning her to face the mirror, leaving another kiss right next to the bruise. She gives herself an irritated look, huffs and pulls up her turtleneck collar. You make eye contact in the reflection; she shoots you a stern expression.
“Nicht ein wort” (not a word) intimidating. You stand a little straighter.
“Verstanden” (got it) At that, her eyes soften. You leave her with one last kiss on the temple.