A bald server approached, the gray stubble on his chin catching the light. He had icy eyes and pocked skin. He wiped the bar with a hand scarred by an old burn, clearing cups and lifting and replacing sugar canisters without looking. The practiced choreography of a man who’d performed the motions a thousand times. She surmised he must be the owner.
He looked past Sterling and said, “Until tomorrow,” to someone behind her. The door creaked open and slapped shut, rattling cups on the table by the entry.
Sterling propped her chin on her hand and nudged the copy ofTraumnovelleforward. The owner’s attention snapped to it.
She leaned in. “You look like a man who can help me. I stopped in a few weeks ago and struck up a conversation with one of your guests. Lovely lady, she lent me this book and told me I could leave it here for her after I finished it.”
“Which customer?” he asked, arching a suspicious brow.
“That’s the thing. I missed her name. It fluttered in one ear and out the other, and soon enough we were too deep in conversation for me to ask without seeming rude. Though I’m sure you’ll remember her. She’s an elegant older woman, was wearing a brown fur coat and hat. She was with two Englishmen in black pinstripe suits.”
He tossed his tea towel over his shoulder, then braced his hands on the counter, hunching towards her. “I know my customers. Which is why I’m certain I’ve never seen you before.”
“Maybe you weren’t working that day?” she said.
He didn’t dignify it with a response. Fair. The man looked like he hadn’t had a day off in decades. From behind her came the hushed crinkle of newspapers being lowered. The regulars were watching.
“Sorry to be a bother, I’ll be on my way,” she said, unable to mask the anxiety in her voice. She poured a heavy handful of loose change onto the counter, which rattled with the sound of generous overpayment. The last coin spun for ages before he smacked it flat.
“Take your money, I don’t want it,” he said, scraping it towards her. He looked past her, communicating something to the crowd with his expression. Sterling didn’t care to stick around to find out what.
She tossed him a meek smile and swept the coins into her palm. The book rested between them. She reached for it.
He slapped his hand down on the cover, hard, pinning her thumb underneath it.
“Leave the book.”
Sterling wrestled her hand free, then dashed from the café, eyes lowered. She shivered, more from nerves than cold.
The mission was successful in so far as she’d survived with only a swollen finger. Hopefully her distress signal would reach Frau Thursday. She trembled, picturing the scarred hands she’d left the message in and wondering what those hands might do to her if the wrong person read it.
— 45 —Fünfundvierzig
The streets were dim and deserted as Sterling and Fernando rang the bell for the swingers club Utopia Six. A small window in the door slid open. They gave the password and announced themselves as Couple Thirteen, as they’d been told to do when she made the reservation. Given her recent bout of bad luck, it might have been a sign to turn back.
The guard let them in, and they entered the locker room to dress. Sterling, hoping to blend in, changed into the unofficial uniform of this kind of club: thigh-high fishnets, a short silk slip, a choker necklace. Like an off-off Broadway production ofCabaret.Fernando had on his “straightest” suit, no tie. They posed before the mirror.
“Remember, tonight, you’re with me,” she said.
He spanked her gently. “Yes, I’m so very enthused to engage in heterosexual intercourse with you, my beloved wife, and also with someone else’s wife.”
“If you behave, maybe there’s some pegging in it for you, as a treat.”
“Of all times for me to explore becoming a bottom, now isn’t it. Okay, give me a second to get into character.”
He relaxed his face, mussed his eyebrows, then slouched, one hand in his pocket. He rested the other on the small of Sterling’s back.
“Good boy. Now talk like a straight dude.”
Fernando grunted. Sterling laughed.
“Pretty convincing. What’s your name?”
“Andreas.”
“Nope. Too weird.”
“Okay… Bernhard. I dated a Bernhard who kept insisting he was straight. And you can be… Mary.”
