This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to anyone, anywhere, anywhen is purely coincidental. This story involves sex between adult females (and maybe males. See how it goes...) If that's not your thing, or if it is illegal in any way, then stop reading. Otherwise, Enjoy!
Christmas holidays always come as an interruption, a hiatus in the normal routine of life that is both welcome and not. I had chosen Stansted Airport as my place of departure, certainly not for convenience but for the cheap flights and the fact that I need not venture too close to the dreaded London. As my coach pulled into the station the sun was just setting behind the grey cloud that had dogged the sky for weeks, not improving my mood in the slightest.
Suddenly, my phone rang. Several of my fellow passengers tutted in unison at the sound of my new polyphonic Vivaldi ringtone, and a few turned to glare at me as though this was some new, evil technology invented by Satan himself. I grinned and answered.
"Hello?" Static, punctuated by snippets of a male voice, greeted me.
"Hello? I can't hear you." I tried again. More hissing replied, then the line cleared.
"Hi, Chris, 's me, Mick. I'm about to board my plane now, so I'll see you later, around ten, where we arranged, ok?" My brain processed this information, not as quickly as usual, and replied for me almost unconsciously, probably because the circuits I needed for any sort of in-depth thought were damn near frozen.
"Righto, Mick. See you soon. Safe trip."
"You too." The line went dead of its own accord. People were still filing from the coach in dribs and drabs as I hurried to grab my rucksack and join the silent procession heading for the main airport building. Two hours remained before my flight for me to check in, drink coffee and check my documents, map, thermal socks and all the other things I had convinced myself I was going to forget.
It was the twenty-second of December. I was on my way to Munich in Bavaria, southern Germany, and if it was cold here in England then it was positively freezing there, where from my observations of webcams in the city over the past week I noticed it had snowed every day and the rivers were frozen. Mick, my friend of many years, a smart, handsome bisexual young man with a happy-go-lucky outlook on whatever life threw at him, was flying there from Gatwick and would arrive earlier than me, so we arranged to meet in town even though we would be staying at the same hotel. That was not the only agenda, though, as most people would guess if they have followed my story up to now!
According to my reliable sources Kat, the woman I love, would be arriving in the same city tonight, alone, and I intended to bump into her, purely coincidentally of course. Since our last encounter we had barely spoken at work, and when the previous week finally came to an end we said a hasty goodbye and left. Ten minutes later I had booked my flight here, all trepidation swept aside. Mick had his own sketchy plans, which mostly involved drinking beer and hopefully meeting like-minded people. No doubt our paths would cross frequently though, given my affinity for the brown stuff!
The terrifying flight - they are always terrifying to me - came to a blissful end after just over an hour and a half. As I disembarked the wings were being de-iced, not a cheery thought for someone who had spent the last hour panicking about storms and plane crashes and terrorists and faulty landing gear. For the hundredth time I cursed Mick for daring to take a different flight. Thanking my lucky stars that I was still in one piece I strolled through passport control and on to get my baggage. They hardly ever really check my documents, I mused as I followed the signs to the U-Bahn. Must be my British Passport and trustworthy face, I decided as I examined the ticket machine, trying to work out how to switch it to English.
"Hallo, kann Ich Ihnen helfen?" A voice made me look up, and I was glad I did. A fair young woman with pale blue eyes and angular, European features, dressed in a blue uniform, was looking at me questioningly. I shook my head. My mind wasn't in gear, and when it's in neutral it doesn't think German. My gaze fell to her badge, which told me that this handsome girl's name was Alix.
"Can I help you," she switched to English effortlessly, and both the startled rabbit and the horny gay woman inside me battled for supremacy. Regaining my composure somewhat, I managed to speak.
"Er, yes, please, thankyou. I mean, ja, bitte. I need a ticket to the Hauptbahnhof, I think." I thrust out my map and pointed. Having being folded countless times, thrust into pockets, had coffee spilt over it and recently been snowed on, to say it was a bit battered would be a huge understatement.
Regarding me with a 'what-a-pathetic-helpless-tourist-you-are' look, she took the soggy paper from me and studied it. I had circled the airport and my hotel in red biro, which had run on getting wet giving the whole city a pinkish tinge. I groaned inwardly. However within minutes I knew that I did indeed want to go to the Hauptbahnhof and I was in possession of a ticket and instructions on what to do next. Thanking her in German and stealing one last look at her silky hair falling over her broad shoulders, I turned towards the escalators that led down to the U-bahn. Feeling a hand on my arm, I turned curiously. Alix smiled at me again, and my heart leapt.
"Don't forget to validate your ticket in the machine," she told me. I was sure that she had already given me this valuable piece of advice that would stop me from getting arrested should any ticket inspectors happen to be on my train, but I nodded.
"Danke," She held my gaze, then glanced around quickly.
"The Hofbräuhaus is fun tonight," she said softly, her accented English imperfect for the first time. I reached out and brushed her arm lightly.
"I'll circle it on my map." I turned to go, then half-turned back. "Bis später," I added mischievously. She grinned in response. Halfway down the escalator I looked back to see Alix already talking to another lost soul, pointing at the ticket machine and talking. My mood improved considerably, I made my way to the hotel.
On checking in I found myself assigned to a pleasant, bright room with a spacious double bed and a large widescreen TV. Throwing my rucksack onto the floor, I decided that a little entertainment whilst unpacking would be a welcome distraction. Being Germany, I deduced that this may well consist of a choice of light porn, and I was not disappointed. All thoughts of unpacking forgotten, within five minutes I was writhing around on the bed with pleasure, my trousers barely undone, fingers brushing my hot, throbbing clitoris.
On the TV, a hunky young stud was banging away on top of a petite blonde who was moaning with carnal pleasure. His well-timed efforts made her arch her back, her legs snaking around his waist as she pulled him in deeper. I slid my middle finger inside me and hooked it upwards to that warm, sensitive spot that makes me shudder with excitement. The couple increased their pace, her moans louder and uncontrolled, his look of concentration fading as he thrust, nearing the point of no return. I matched my rhythm to theirs, my thumb pounding my clit, juices streaming over my hand, and as I shook with orgasmic waves I could dimly hear the sound of passionate climax from both man and woman. I lay still, breathing hard, for a few minutes, allowing the tingling to subside, then proceeded to grab a nearby tissue to wipe my hands.
"Oh, Jesus Christ!" I cursed my own forgetfulness and stupidity. My watch told me it was 9.10 and ticked sarcastically as though it knew it was in a different time zone to the one whose time it was displaying. I was late for my meeting with Mick. I flew off the bed, doing up my trousers as I did so, changed my shirt hurriedly for a soft, blue cotton one, stuffed myself into a fleece coat and hot-footed it out of the hotel and across to the station. The clock at the front of the Hauptbahnhof showed 10.15, and I paused only to purchase a three-day-ticket and check the underground map to make sure I wasn't going the wrong way. By half-past I was in Marienplatz, my degree of lateness just about acceptable.
Mick was waiting for me beneath the huge Christmas tree that dwarfed the attractive square. The Christmas market was still in full swing, and my friend clutched a mug of something hot in his gloved hands. I was already regretting not stopping to find my gloves, and took the steaming beverage gratefully when he held it out.
"Glühwein. Germany's answer to mulled wine. Not bad, actually. What kept you?" His tone was playful rather than accusatory, and I punched him on the shoulder with my free hand.
"Just took a while to get sorted, that's all. What's the plan, then?" I sipped the hot, spiced wine and watched as a group of laughing young people passed with festive joviality. Mick waved his arm towards and archway on one side of the square through which a road ran, the snow unmarked by tyre tracks.
"That's the way to the Hoffy, if you fancy it. Unless you think The Kat isn't likely to be there." He stood, watching me and waiting for my response. I did not rise to the bait. Despite his decision to accompany me here and help me in my quest, he had difficulty concealing his dislike for the woman, which I guessed stemmed purely from his protectiveness of me.
"Well, there aren't any museums open at this time, and the Hofbräuhaus," I stressed the proper name, "is a well-known touristy drinking spot, so it's not a bad bet. Gehen wir." I strode off purposefully, kicking up snow as I went. It was impossible to remain irritated with Mick, and after a few minutes of talking about the flight and the hotel I proceeded to recount my experience with Alix.
We reached our destination in a surprisingly short time, helped by the fact that Mick had been wandering around for an hour and had a rough ideas of the layout of this old part of the town. Coloured lights twinkled in every window, and though the streets were not busy, it was disproportionately loud. Music seeped out through the open doors and heavy curtains that separated the hall from the inclement weather and a surly-looking doorman muttered "Guten Abend" as we entered. I stood in the midst of the long, wooden tables next to the bandstand in the centre of the vast beer hall, packed with people of many nationalities all talking and singing to the mixture of German and English festive music. Turning to Mick, who was scanning for empty seats, I declared loudly, "She's not here. Kat." He gaped at me incredulously.
"How the hell do you know?" he yelled in my ear, competing with 'Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer'. He moved his arm in a sweeping gesture designed to illustrate the size of the place and the number of people in it.
"How do you know," he repeated, grabbing my arm and dragging me to a small, empty table away from the raucous group of Australian students cheering the band on (the inflatable kangaroos were a bit of a giveaway). I shrugged. I couldn't explain it, but with just a brief glance around as we walked through I knew, or rather felt, that she simply wasn't there. Maybe I had spent so much time with Kat that I was tuned to her presence somehow, or maybe I just have exceptionally good eyesight and powers of observation. Whatever it was, I couldn't explain it to Mick, and wasn't going to try.
I sat morosely sipping a litre of beer, wishing I hadn't even come here. Mick had disappeared, apparently to get a pretzel, however the length of time he had been gone confirmed my suspicion that he had an ulterior motive. Probably looking for Kat, I decided, as his look of scepticism had suggested he didn't believe my earlier pronouncement. The cool glass felt solid against my skin, and I clasped it with both hands. Sensing movement behind me and guessing it was Mick returning, I raised my head in greeting. Surprise, followed by pleasure, brought a smile to my face when I saw not Mick, but Alix.
"Hi. I thought I might see you here," she said teasingly as she perched her athletic frame on the armrest next to me. Her thigh brushed my arm as she did so, and she rested her arm on my shoulder for support. My heartbeat quickened as I replied.
"It's good to see you. Your directions were perfect, by the way. Thank you." I couldn't think of anything else to say, so I took a sip of beer. It tasted wonderful. Alix shifted slightly, her arm resting against my neck, and turned to face me.
"I don't know your name," she said bluntly, raising her eyebrows, "and since you know mine, that puts me at a disadvantage." I laughed, amused at her typical German forwardness and further impressed with her command of my native language.
"Yes, it does, rather. May I introduce myself, then?" Alix gave a brief 'go ahead' nod.
"My name is Chris, I'm originally from England, and I'm useless with maps." The ice broken, my companion slid her muscular body onto the seat as I shuffled up to make room. She looked completely different in blue jeans and a football shirt I vaguely recognised, her medium-length fair hair held back by a black band, all traces of makeup removed. I thought again how beautiful she looked, both now and when we met earlier, and must have worn one of my stupid grins.
"What's so funny?" she asked, waving the waiter over. I shook my head and proceeded to drain my glass.
"Mine's another one of these, if you would care to order for us?" I pushed my glass out of the way as the waiter appeared at the table. Alix greeted him and ordered, "Zwei Maß, bitte." She refrained from chatting to him, most likely out of politeness to me, the foreigner. Our drinks arrived and we chatted, the small talk flowing as freely as the beer. I discovered that she, too, was a student, that her job at the airport was just for the holidays, that she was planning to travel around Europe the following summer before getting a job in a research institute. I told her about Mick, and mentioned that I had come here hoping to bump into an acquaintance, but I did not elaborate further.
As the hour grew later the crowds thinned and the music died down to just an occasional refrain from 'In München steht ein Hofbräuhaus'. During the course of the evening we had switched tables and met a variety of people, managing to talk to almost everyone with my English, Alix's German and our bad attempts at French. Mick had come and gone, though his appreciative looks told me he approved of my choice of drinking partner. Finally, I stood up, stretching my aching arms. Mick reappeared on cue, munching on an enormous cheese-covered pretzel.
"Are we off?" he mumbled, spraying crumbs over a two-foot radius. I nodded, and the three of us moved to the doors and out into the street. The wind blew strongly, icy blasts carrying snow and ice, and the air was freezing. Alix took my hand, and together we wandered back through the town, enjoying the quiet, snow-filled streets despite the cold. Neither one of us suggested that we take the U-bahn for the couple of stops between Marienplatz and the Hauptbahnhof, so we strolled overground, Alix and I together, Mick dawdling behind.
As we approached the hotel entrance, I felt an increasing uncertainty. The evening had been fantastic, and Alix was engaging company, but the nagging thoughts of Kat still tugged at my emotions. Mick bade us goodnight and vanished into the lobby, and I stood mutely, facing Alix, waiting.
She held out her strong arms, wrapped them tightly around me and pulled me close. I did not resist, and leaned in towards her. We kissed, roughly, tongues battling for no-man's-land, and I knew that the night wasn't over. We pulled apart and, wordlessly, I opened the door to the hotel and followed my soon-to-be lover inside.
We lay in a heap, exhausted from the shared passion. Her naked body was even more attractive than I had imagined, and her skin glistened with sweat as we held each other, unable to speak. She was an adept lover, bringing me to orgasm time and again, knowing what to do instinctively. Alix blinked and yawned, her hands still stroking my wet thighs. My legs parted and a hand moved higher as her lips softly brushed against my neck. With one finger she began to tease my clit again, ever so gently, and I was aching with desire once again. Her head moved downwards and she brought her lips to my breasts, tongue dancing over my swollen nipples, tingling with pleasure. In seconds I reached a shuddering climax once again, and I felt my lover's fingers deep inside me.
The winter sun, low in the sky, woke me late the next morning. I shrugged off the duvet and looked around. My clothes were in a heap where I had dropped them the previous night. There was no sign of Alix's clothes, no sounds from the bathroom. I stood up shakily, my head not exactly pounding but definitely letting me know that I had overdone it on the alcohol. A piece of paper propped against the lamp caught my eye. I grabbed it and read the spidery script:
'Dear Chris, Thankyou for a wonderful night. I had to get to work early and didn't want to wake you. I hope you find what you are looking for, Alix.'
I turned it over. There was no number or contact details, just that short message. I sighed and screwed up the note, tossing it into the bin. So much for forgetting about Kat.
The bright orange front of the Easyinternet café was lit, and I dodged the trams and the few cars on the road to get to it. I had knocked on Mick's door but there was no reply. Thinking that if it had been me who was up early and Mick who had slept in, I would have sent him an email to tell him what I was planning to do, I was going to check my email in the hope that he would have decided to do just that. I took a computer in the corner and opened my email. Two new messages, it said. I opened the inbox. One was indeed from Mick, the other from Deb, a colleague and friend back at the University. I read Mick's first, which told me that he was taking a trip for the day to some lake south of the city and wouldn't be back until late afternoon. He had included a link to information about the place he was visiting, which I didn't open but made a mental note of the name, in case I decided to join him later.
Deb's email was marked 'Very Important!!', which was unusual even for her drama-queen style. I soon realised why. It read:
'Hi Chris, Major news, and you're not gonna like it. We accidentally came across some stuff in Kat's office whilst Mark was looking for some journal reference, and Mark read it. She's booked a hotel in Berlin from Wednesday night until the 2nd Jan. I've attached the details, I think. Are you going up there? I bet you do, but Mark has a fiver saying you're too chicken...! Look, just be careful, mate. It may not be worth it, and I'm just saying that as a friend. Good luck, Deb.'
I leaned back in my chair and swore.
"Bollocks, bollocks and more bloody bollocks." People turned to stare at me but I didn't care at all. Fucking Berlin!! I'd never been there, didn't even know where it was, really, and yet I knew I had to go there, somehow. I clicked the 'New Message' button and began a note to Mick, telling him that I was going to Berlin today and that he could follow if he wanted, but it was fine if he didn't. That courtesy taken care of, I disconnected and walked back to my hotel, after scribbling down the details of Kat's hotel booking that Deb had sent me. How was I supposed to find one person in the capital city of Germany?
The night train to Berlin left at 7pm, and I was pissed. I spent a few hours in the Hoffy prior to catching the train, and our waiter from last night had the pleasure of serving me again. I had a lot of beer, and then schnapps and wine, and by the time I made it to the station I was thoroughly sozzled. They let me on the train, though, and I was extremely glad to find that there were toilets there. I had booked just a seat, but there were few people travelling, and I fell asleep to be woken by a drop in temperature. As I got off the train in Berlin, at the station by the 'Zoologischer Garten', there was a digital clock/thermometer that told me it was in fact -18 Celsius. Of course, it was early morning, the morning of Christmas Eve, and I felt fairly refreshed despite my indulgences prior to travelling. I decided on a Youth Hostel close to the station for convenience, but took a room to myself for about as much money as a decent hotel would have cost. There was a bunk bed and two single beds in the sparse room, and I placed my rucksack next to the single bed by the large window. At least I had a room of my own, I thought as I unpacked my toiletries and sleeping bag.
The day was so cold that the bottle of water I bought from one of the shops in the station had frozen by the time I reached the Reichstag, the majestic parliamentary building with an impressive glass dome. I was heading into East Berlin to attempt to locate the hotel at which Kat would be staying, but the cold proved a worthy enemy and I trudged back to my hostel, unable even to find a welcoming bar in which to drown my increasing sorrows. I had spotted an internet café close by, and intended to find out more about the city tomorrow. Meanwhile, the youth hostel was full of young people in high spirits. 11pm on Christmas Eve, people who are away from friends and family, and the relaxed atmosphere all combined to produce a great deal of merriment. I took my turn on the old piano, so out of character with the rest of the decoration but very welcome, and the singing of carols could be heard two streets away. It was mostly English-speaking people, with a few Chinese, but everyone mixed together in celebration. I was trying to keep my distance from the hordes of partygoers, but as usual I didn't quite manage it. "Hallo, Hi, Bonjour!" Her greeting was as broad as they get. A dark haired, older woman, probably in her late thirties, greeted me. I nodded indignantly - I think I look English, and do kind of expect people to realise that. But the woman facing me wore an earnest expression, and I was not in a retaliatory mood. "Hallo, wie geht's?" I replied, not particularly enthusiastically. I never had much time for Christmas, and couldn't be bothered. My only goal was to find Kat, and this was not helping. I looked up into hazel eyes, wide with surprise. I had been more than a little rude. Not even bothering to try speaking German, I spoke to her.
"Hi, sorry, I'm not really in a party mood. But it's very nice to meet you anyway." I tried, I really did. The night went on, and Zelda (that woman) and I spent the night together. It was just sex, no passion, and we parted amicably in the morning with the promise that if we happened to bump into each other again, we'd have a drink together. Merry fucking Christmas, Chris.
Four days and nights passed in a drunken blur. I visited the Jewish museum, the American museum, Hitler's bunker and a whole host of other tourist spots. I wandered round the remaining bits of the Berlin Wall, and followed its course for most of the way around East Berlin. I ascended the dome of the Reichstag, looking out over the whole city, watching snow fall over the Brandenburg Gate. I drank in bars where I didn't understand what people were saying to me, ordered food by numbers in a pizza restaurant. I passed by Kat's hotel at least four times a day, but never had the courage to go inside. I had heard of the New Year's celebration at the Gate, and from what Deb told me via several emails, Kat was likely to be there. But I still hadn't even managed to see the woman, despite the hours spent patrolling the streets of East Berlin.
On the twenty-ninth of December, midday, my mobile phone rang. This was unexpected, as it would cost a fortune for anyone calling me when I was abroad. I answered hesitantly.
"Hello?" The reply warmed my heart. "Hey," said Mick warmly, and my hand grasped the phone tighter.
"I've done Munich now, so I'm coming up there after you. Deb phoned me, and - well, what are friends for?!" I couldn't think of the right words to express my gratitude, and rung off with a "Cheers, mate." But he knew how I felt. I couldn't wait to see him, and I attacked a bottle of wine I had ordered with renewed vigour.
He must have taken a fast train, for by 6pm Mick had settled into my room at the hostel (I had a hard time convincing the staff on reception that no, I hadn't wanted to share my room, but yes, this man was actually welcome). We decided to eat out somewhere nice and plan the day ahead, New Year's Eve. He assured me that he only wanted to help, not interfere, and offered to watch Kat's hotel from the early hours of the morning until midnight, if need be. My fears somewhat subsided, I went to the internet café and looked up Irish pubs in Berlin. We spent a night drinking, propping up the bar and talking. He had seen Alix since she had disappeared from my room, and admitted that he had developed some feelings for her, but wasn't sure if they were reciprocated. In response to my questioning, he said that she had asked about me and where I was going, but expressed no wish to see me again. I swallowed my disappointment.
My eyes opened, but unlike the monitor of my computer they did not automatically switch on. I repeated my usual morning mantra to myself as I crawled out of bed and into the shower, my head pounding - 'I will never drink again. I will never drink again. I will never drink again'. It had worn old, and deep down I knew I was destined to live my life battling with drink, as had many of my family in the past. Mick's bed was empty, a towel drying on the rails above his pillow. He was up and about, and when I checked my mobile phone I found out where.
'Hi Chris,' read the message, 'on my way to you-know-who's hotel. I'll be discreet. Mick'.
I would have preferred him to stay for breakfast, I thought selfishly as I heaped cold meat and cheese on to my plate. The Europeans certainly know what's best in a morning. I grabbed two bread rolls, a jug of grapefruit juice for my dehydration, and took a table near the TV, which was turned to BBC News 24. The usual - bombings in Iraq, bad weather in England (I looked out of the window at the foot-deep snow), Tony bumbling on about WMD's. I lost interest and found an English paper - not for the news, but the crossword. 'What's the plan for today,' I asked myself, munching meat sandwiches like they were going of fashion. I considered my options. One, I could go to her hotel and keep watch, but Mick was doing that already. Two, I could just phone her and find out where she was, but she would not like that and I wasn't supposed to have her number. Three, I could email Deb and get a second, sensible opinion. I opted for the latter. By ten I had a reply (what on Earth the girl was doing reading her email on December 30th I do not know), and I clicked on my inbox eagerly.
'Dear Chris, You're still in one piece, then? I told Mick to get his arse up there and give you a bit of support. In fact, Mark and me were thinking about flying out - it's only thirty quid for the return flight. How would we be fixed for beds? Let us know - the flight goes at 6pm. I think for now you should let Mick try and confirm that Kat's actually in town. Have you thought about asking in the hotel? What about an internet cafe nearby, she'd be lost without her email. I'm pretty sure that tomorrow, the big gate will be the place to be, but you'll have to get there early to search the crowd. RSVP, Deb.'
Without hesitation I clicked 'Reply'. Having all my friends together on New Year's Eve would be fantastic. I hurriedly drafted my answer.
'Hi Deb, Get on that plane! Beds are no problem, there are two spare in my room. You'll be flying to Tegel airport, I assume. Take an X9 bus to the Zoologischer Garten rail station. Drop me a text and I'll meet you there. Can't believe you're coming! Chris.'
I sent a text message to Mick, telling him what was happening and suggesting that we meet for lunch around 1pm. In the meantime, I intended to do a bit of window-shopping. I had seen enough depressing war relics for one Christmas. At least, that was what I thought. Mick had different ideas when we met in Burger King later on.
"Oh, come on, let's do this. We've got hours to kill before they get here, and no other plans. Please?" He waved a leaflet in my face. "I could always go on my own," he continued loftily, sneaking a sideways glance towards me. I knew he wouldn't do that, but I caved anyway.
"Alright, alright, we'll go to Sachsenhausen. But we won't enjoy it, it will be depressing and miserable and we'll have to put on happy faces to meet Deb and Mark." I snatched the information leaflet from Mick's hand and examined it for directions. It was in German, but the map was clear enough.
"Take the U-bahn to Friedrichstrasse, then S1 to Oranienburg, then a regional train to Sachsenhausen, then probably a bus." I eyed my friend warily.
"You realise this will take a while?" I asked. He shrugged indifferently. It was only one o'clock, and the others would not arrive until at least half past eight, Berlin time.
I was right, it was depressing, but oddly fascinating too. I purchased a postcard showing the heavy metal gates to the compound, with the words 'Arbeit macht Frei' upon them. 'Freedom through work, my arse' I thought angrily. The mood stuck, and I was glad when we finally arrived back at the youth hostel to change and shower. At 8.30pm a message arrived. Deb and Mark were on the bus and would be at the station in ten minutes. We donned coats, hats and scarves and walked across to the bus stands outside the main entrance of the rail building. When my friends finally arrived, ten minutes of hugs and excited greetings followed. I threw my arms around Deb, not caring what any passers-by may have thought, and hugged her tightly. Not even a fortnight had passed since we had last seen each other, but it seemed longer. I had tears in my eyes as I finally let her go and turned to greet Mark with a warm handshake. He grinned back, the tops of his ears red with the cold.
"I knew we'd end up here as soon as she -" he pointed at Deb, "sent you that email". He didn't sound too bothered, though, and I smiled back. For the first time since I set foot in Berlin I was happy.
Once Mark and Deb had checked in to the youth hostel, the four of us discussed our plans for the evening. I, of course, wanted to go looking for Katja, but as Deb sensibly pointed out it was unlikely that we would be there at the precise moment she went back to her hotel from wherever she had been. Plus, if she happened to catch sight of us - one of her post-grads, two of her fourth-years and Mick, a post-grad under another supervisor, she would probably scarper. Reluctantly I agreed, and the floor was open.
"Pub!" said Mark, a typical response. I gave him a Look.
"We've already done the Irish pubs, so we know where to go, unless you fancy trying one of the native hangouts?" Mark snorted. He spoke no German and, though he tried very hard, did not particularly get on with anyone who wasn't a young, British scientist.
"Don't know about you lot, but I'm hungry," Deb cut in with the sensible suggestion. Mick nodded, and Mark inclined his head as though thinking about it.
"Don't worry, darling," Deb took Mark's arm, "you can still have plenty of beer. Hell, we all can!" She grinned broadly, and turned back to me.
"So where's the eateries around here, then?" She looped her free arm through mine We eventually settled on an American-style steakhouse near Kurfürstendamm and had an enjoyable, very meaty meal. Walking back, Mark suddenly made an announcement.
"I'm not drunk enough!" Mick nodded in agreement, and I also made encouraging murmurs. Deb alone strode on, until she realised that the rest of us had stopped.
"We could hit the clubs," suggested Mick, which brought groans from the rest of us.
"How about a sports bar or something," Deb said warily. I shook my head.
"Too busy. Could just buy some and sneak it back to the room?" Mark laughed and clapped me on the shoulder.
"Girl's got style," he laughed. We decided that Deb and I would go back to the room, since she didn't know the way, and the guys would go and fetch the beer. I gave Mark my U-Bahn ticket.
"Go to Friedrichstrasse station, on the U-Bahn," I told them, "and there's a small shop with a yellow front, it's still open. Get as much beer as you can carry, some wine for Deb, and a bottle of Jägermeister." Obviously my three days in the city had not been completely wasted. I thought for a moment, then shouted.
"Get some snacks - German sausage, crisps, dips!" Mick waved in acknowledgement.
Our room was freezing. I placed my hand on the radiator below the window and found it icy cold. Deb had removed her coat and was pulling on a large rugby shirt, probably belonging to Mark.
"We'll have to snuggle up," she said, with an expression I could not read. I crossed to my rucksack and dug into it, pulling out a small, green bottle.
"Want some?" I asked. Without waiting for a reply, I unscrewed the cap and took a swig myself, then held it out to Deb. She took it and looked at me questioningly.
"Jägermeister. I had a small bottle already." Deb sipped it and pulled a face, but then took a large gulp, shuddering slightly.
"It's good," she croaked. "Nice kick to it". I held out my hand for the bottle, and my friend took another mouthful before passing it over. A voice inside me was telling me that this was not a good idea - Deb is notoriously bad for holding her drink, but the other voice said 'go on, what's the harm, we're on holiday, wahey!'.
"How long will they be?" Deb asked, leaning back. We were both sitting on the floor against my bed, closest to the radiator, not that it was any use. My hands were getting numb, and I'd given up on my feet. I leaned back next to her, holding the half-empty bottle tightly.
"Fifteen, twenty minutes. Depends on how quickly they find the place, when the trains turn up, if they remember the way." I shot her a sideways look. She had her eyes closed, not in a tired way but more relaxed, peaceful. I nudged her arm with the bottle.
"Want some more?" She didn't need persuading. In five minutes the bottle was empty.
"Got any more of that?" Deb was beginning to slur her words slightly, and I found it very cute.
"The lads are bringing some, and some wine. You feeling ok?" Deb moved closer to me, and I could smell the perfume lingering on her skin and clothes. I'd always harboured feelings for her since we first met, but they had tended to be eclipsed by those I had developed for Kat. But she wasn't there, and Deb was. I slowly put my arm around her shoulders, gently pulling her closer. Deb's head rested on my shoulder, and I kissed the top of her head softly. She raised her head and faced me. It was wrong and I knew it, but I couldn't help myself. We shared a long, tentative kiss, which became more confident the longer it went on. Deb kneeled, placing one leg over mine, and I felt a tingle shoot up my spine. I was turned on, and judging by the murmurs of pleasure I heard, so was Deb. We kissed again, harder this time, her hands touching my face and neck, briefly straying lower. I hesitated, then slid one hand up her back, inside her jumper but outside her shirt - a compromise. She stiffened, started to pull away slightly, then relaxed, pressing her cheek to mine.
"Are we really going to do this," she whispered, a hand resting against my shirt-covered breast. I took a deep breath. Before I could reply, Deb spoke again.
"Mark wouldn't mind, you know." Two fingers deftly undid one of my shirt buttons. I felt I should resist, do something, but I could not act. Sliding her fingers inside my bra, Deb stroked a hardening nipple. I gasped involuntarily, then in response I slipped my hand under her shirt, feeling bare skin at last. I undid her bra strap and slowly massaged her back, spurred on by her obvious enjoyment. Our eyes met, and she nodded ever so slightly. My hands moved to her breasts, and I felt as though I was in lesbian heaven. Abandoning all pretence we threw off our shirts simultaneously and kissed again, naked from the waist up, breasts touching as our hands roamed freely. A noise at the door made us freeze. There was no time to move, to cover up, to think of an explanation. Mick and Mark walked in, and whatever conversation they had been having ceased abruptly. With hindsight, I thought that their expressions would be worth a fortune captured on film. At the time, my only thought was 'Oh, fuck'. I heard a dull clunk as bags were dropped to the floor. Deb snatched up her shirt and covered herself, whilst I just sat there wordlessly. When Mark spoke, it was not what I expected.
"Want some beer?" he asked, grabbing a bottle from one of the bags and handing it to me, ignoring the fact that I was naked and that he'd just walked in on me and his girlfriend in an uncompromising situation. I took the bottle, and as I did so I noticed Mark swaying slightly. My suspicions aroused, I turned to Mick, who handed me my shirt, which I dragged on hurriedly.
"Where've you been?" Only now did I look at my watch, which told me they'd been gone over an hour since we parted at Kurfürstendamm.
"Nowhere," he replied, shooting a look at Mark, who shook his head slightly. Mark handed out beer all round, then he and Mick sat down on the floor against the bunk bed. I stared at everyone in turn, trying to make sense of what was happening, then it dawned. The guys were sitting close together, like Deb and me. They had got drunk together, like Deb and me. One was bisexual, the other 'straight', like Deb and me. They, too, wore guilty expressions, like Deb and me. I laughed out loud, at length, and had to get some tissue to wipe my face. I snatched up the large bottle of Jägermeister from one of the bags and opened it, taking a long drink, then passing it around. Finally I voiced what everyone was thinking.
"We're all shagging around." With that, I dissolved into uncontrollable fits of giggles for fifteen minutes, followed by Deb and then Mark. Mick, however, remained serious. Obviously he hadn't drunk as much, because he was the one who had had to bring Mark back. I shoved the bottle into his face.
"Mickey, mate, have a drink!" I said, waving it about in front of him. He resisted for a nanosecond, then took the bottle from me. Producing a glühwein mug out of nowhere he poured himself a more-than-generous measure, drank it down then poured another. He paused and looked up to find three faces staring at him.
"What, I can't be civilised here?" His look of indignance set us all off again, and it was several more minutes before calm was restored. Mark put his arm around Mick, and I lay mine across Deb's shoulders. For a while, nobody spoke, just drank. After a few cans of lager, I cleared my throat. Three pairs of eyes turned to me expectantly. I said nothing. Instead, I stood up and dramatically thrust out a hand towards Deb. She grasped it and joined me. To this day I do not know what possessed me - I've been far more drunk before and since - but I brashly pulled her close to me and kissed her full on the lips. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mark turn to Mick, place his hand on the other man's shoulder and bring their lips together. It was just kisses, at first, but nobody expected that it would stop there, and everyone was right, it didn't.
I'm very sorry, but it's just got to run into a fifth part. I can't do it all here. Group sex, the inevitable meeting with Katja - email me if you can't wait!
If you like what you've read, email me, sam_c02uk@yahoo.co.uk
If you don't, also email me, bearing in mind that I'm not a professional writer and this is my first effort. Cheers!