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Hendrik pulled me in again for a deep kiss with his eyes riveted on mine. He gently pushed some of my curls out of the way and stroked my cheek with one finger as he did so. I pulled him into me and held him close as my hand stroked up and down his spine. He looked at me and pulled away. I looked back and shook my head to lisp, “Thuffering Thukatash, Hendrik, if you keep this up, we're gonna be stripped to birthday suits again in spite of our starvation!” and in mock surrender, Hendrik threw up his arms and laughed, “I give up!”
I grabbed my keys, he took my hand, and off we went to breakfast. All through breakfast (Because hey! I recognize a shy guy when I see one. So I can shut up—sometimes—and let him get a word in edgewise.)I asked him about his guitar playing and performing at the club where I first saw him.
Where I promptly picked him up and took him home.
And what a brazen hussy I was!
And bless my heart! If I had not taken him home that night, I wouldn't ever have recognized him at the tech convention … Well, I'd just better stop this woulda-coulda-shoulda thing.
We are together now. And for a long time to come, I hope.
Chapter 21
Hendrik
Beatriceistheonlywoman I have shared any kind of conversation with, much less sexual intimacy, since the death of my Carly.
I am finding it very easy to talk to this woman.
And why not? She is smart. She's a good conversationalist. She's as sexy and as gorgeous as anyone I have ever laid eyes on.
She acts pretty uninhibited.
In a good way.
So I tell her about my father getting divorced just when he and my mother were planning to emigrate to the United States from Holland when I was three years old.
“Vader just decided that if my mother was going to divorce him and give him custody of their son—me—he would stick with his plans to emigrate anyway. She didn’t protest. The paperwork was underway including me, a minor child, so it didn't hold up his plans very much after he signed the divorce decree.”
“Have you ever met your mom?” Beatrice asked me.
“No. My father proposed it to me when I was 17, but I declined. No animosity toward her. No bad blood. How could there be? Papa never spoke poorly of my mother. He just never spoke of her at all. So I felt no connection and no obligation to meet her. I don’t even know what she looked like back then or now.”
“No pictures or anything,” she asked. I shook my head. “Gee Whizzikers!” and she took my hand.
Before we finished up breakfast, I made sure to have a firm date with Beatrice for dinner. I propose, “You mentioned Lebanese food, and I know a great place that does music. How about we meet there in a couple of days? What does the day after tomorrow evening look for you?”
She got a surprised look on her face and a big smile. “Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah! Day after tomorrow evening would be just terrific!”
I gave her the name and address. She admitted she had not been to that place.
“They have Middle Eastern musicians that perform for about an hour every evening. I hope you like it.”
I, for one, parted ways with Beatrice feeling on top of the world.
Chapter 22
Beatrice
We have eaten mountains of food together. Giggled. Talked tech (but not as much as the day we met at the convention, it is true).
The convention we met at was a mere three weeks ago, and Hendrik and I seem to be going strong.
Kinda scary.
Says the woman who has never been in a serious relationship!
What do I know?
