The Flautist. Part Nine
Michelle was resting, half dreaming.
Her naked body was barely covered by a sheet, her breathing calming. She felt the warmth on her side and turned her head in that direction. The tiny girl with the funny little nose was lying next to her. She just gave her some pleasure. Quite a lot, in fact.
Michelle stretched out and went to the balcony. The view was splendid. Mountains on one side, the sea on the other and Barcelona in the middle. She was going to settle down here, find her place, her pace, her peace. And now she made a friend . . .
It was that morning when she was going to have breakfast. She tried to pay with a card, but it did not work.
"Oh, I am sorry. Please try again," Michelle said, a little embarrassed. The barkeeper did not speak much English. "Probamos de nuevo", Michelle tried, but in Barcelona Spanish only works half the time. The second attempt to pay was as unsuccessful as the first.
"Mi dispiace" Michelle, when she got nervous, easily confused Spanish with Italian. "No tengo dinero," she added, confusing things even more. "Ningun efectivo." Finally she found the right word.
"Let me pay for this," a warm, feminine voice was heard. Michelle looked down at a short, cute girl with cropped hair, wearing a coat that cost a small fortune, who smiled and approached with her card. A little beep and the printer started to produce the recipe.
"Thank you," Michelle said. "I . . . I'm sure I have money, I don't know what happened . . . "
"It's OK, I'm glad I could help. May I join you?"
Michelle nodded and they walked to the table outside. The early spring sun was warm enough.
The small talk was nice. That girl, Jo, was a good companion. She seemed to want everyone around her to be happy. But after a few minutes there was silence. And this quietness was rather pleasant. Nothing awkward about it. Michelle felt they had known each other for ages. You can have a little chat with a stranger in a brasserie, that is quite normal in Spain, but you can only sit and enjoy the silence with someone you know really well.
"A penny for your thoughts," Michelle said.
"I was thinking about how sad such encounters are."
"Sad?"
"Yes, really. I have enjoyed your company, but it will all be over soon." Jo nodded in the direction of a gentleman who was throwing the paper away. "We're like that paper to each other. We met, had a good time and will part forever."
"I owe you for breakfast. As soon as I talk to my goddamn bank, I'll buy you an ice-cream. I know a decent heladeria here."
Jo lowered her head.
"I appreciate that. I just . . . Well, I don't need an excuse to see you again."
"I . . . I'm sorry, did I offend you?"
"No, I don't think you have. I don't know. I really love ice-cream."
"I wish I could invite you to Bologna. Best ice-cream I ever had . . . "
"Wow! That escalated quickly!" exclaimed Jo, her eyes wide open.
Michelle stopped in surprise, then it hit her. One moment she was looking for excuses, the next she was almost inviting the girl on a trip abroad.
"They really do make the best ice cream in the world, down there in Bologna," Michelle said, giggling. "They charge a kidney for a portion, but it's worth it. If there were no pistachios in the market that morning, they would not make that flavour that day. Everything has to be exactly as it should be. They even bought the diary to control their milk."
"You seem to really appreciate them.
"I've never experienced anything like this . . . One day you must try it for yourself. I will send you the directions."
So they parted that morning . . . only to meet for an ice-cream at lunchtime. Then for dinner . . .
And now it was time for breakfast again.
Michelle felt arms around her and the warmth of Jo's body.
"Michelle?" the girl murmured.
"Yes, Jo?"
"What is that thing you say you do?"
"I'm a flautist."
"I always land in bed with musicians," Jo said playfully.
"Really?"
"Mhm. I met a guitarist in Brussels some time ago. She was looking for something in the library."
"She was researching?"
"That's what I said. She wanted to score someone in the library and get some shit music."
Michelle tried to wrap her brain around what she had just heard. What had that poor girl found that she could only get out by offering herself? Or was it just for sport? To score... Scores? Sheet music!
***
It was Friday. Kate finished her research at the Royal Library in Brussels and tried to decide what to do with the afternoon and evening. For a moment she thought about relaxing in the gardens outside the library, but decided to walk to the Conservatory instead. As she walked down Rue de la Regence, her phone vibrated. The person she had an appointment with had just cancelled their meeting. With a touch of disgust, Kate walked aimlessly down the street. The overwhelming monstrosity of the Palace of Justice, which closed off the street, grew larger and larger the closer Kate got to it. Funny, the blonde thought, the scaffolding makes this building seem lighter. Soon she entered the open space and saw a Ferris wheel. With nothing to do, she decided to take a ride. She went to the ticket office.
"Excuse me."
Kate turned around. A young woman stopped her. Not that tall, with short dark hair and beautiful emerald eyes. Her woollen coat, as far as Kate could tell, would buy Kate's car.
"Sorry to bother you, but it looks like you want a ride in this thing, and I have a spare ticket. Someone has just not turned up. If you like, be my guest."
"Well, I . . . " Kate smiled and nodded. She would buy the girl a coffee later in return. They entered the gondola. The wheel moved and the girls found themselves alone, moving upwards.
Brussels looked lovely and friendly, bathed in the evening sun. As the gondola approached the top, the wheel stopped. Kate looked around in concern.
"They usually stop here."
"For the view?"
The girl giggled.
"For the kiss."
The gondola hung over Brussels with two girls trapped inside.
"Do they move again if you don't kiss?"
"Fancy trying?"
The girl leaned forward. Kate, doing her best to make it a joke, leaned forward as well and their lips touched briefly. The gondola moved as if the spell had been broken.
"My name is Jo."
"Kate."
"What are you doing in Brussels?"
"Looking for some scores in the library. I hope to take some sheet music home with me."
"Oh, I see. You're a musician, aren't you?"
"A guitarist. And you, may I ask?"
"Me? Here? Oh, my dad's here. You know, the European Union. His name never appears in the papers, but he is the one who makes the wheels turn."
"Like La Grande Roue? Oh, I am so sorry, I did not mean to mock your father, silly me. I get it!"
Jo turned her head in disbelief, but her eyes smiled.
The gondola descended and Kate stood up, preparing to leave, but the wheel did not stop.
Jo laughed.
"It's a three-turn ride."
"Oh, amazing. Will it stop again?"
"Would you like it to stop?"
"I would not mind."
Has it gone too far? Kate blushed. Her only hope was that it would blend into the reddish light of the early evening. The gondola did stop.
Jo sat down next to Kate, put her arm around the blonde and kissed her.
"It didn't move," Kate whispered. "We should try harder."
Jo closed her eyes. The gondola moved on . . . and so did the girls.
"Can I buy you a coffee when we get down?"
Jo shook her head.
"Jo. What is it short for? You guess my full name and I'll go on a proper date with you."
"A challenge?"
Jo put her head to a side.
"Why?" asked Kate.
A shrug.
As the gondola stopped for the third time. Kate leaned towards Jo, but the tiny girl put her finger to Kate's lips.
"Not without my name in full."
Kate kissed Jo's fingertip and thankfully the gondola continued slowly all the way down. The girls stepped outside.
"Thanks for the company," Jo said. "I enjoyed it a lot."
She turned and walked slowly away. Her light brown coat swayed with her every move. Kate looked after her, moving as naturally as a model . . . or an animal.
"It's Josephine!"
Jo turned slowly. Head to the side, she approached Kate. As she got closer, she had to look up to reach Kate's eyes.
"How did you guess?"
"Did I?"
"How?"
"Well, it was a challenge, wasn't it? Then JoAnn or any variant of it was out of the question. All too easy. And the only other thing I could think of was Josephine."
"Hm. What about Joy?"
"Oh! But, who would think of shortening Joy?"
"Good point. Jody? Jocelyn? Joaquina?"
"No girl's name is Joaquina."
Jo looked at Kate without smiling.
"Jolene."
"Oh dear! Jolene . . . I should know . . . Your beauty is beyond compare . . . "
Jo smiled.
"Your voice is like a breath of spring . . . "
Jo burst out laughing.
"Stop it. First, it goes your smile is like a breath of spring, and then, it is not Jolene."
She reached for Kate's hand.
"Where are you taking me?"
"Have I won? Well, I don't know the town well . . . "
"There's a nice cafe nearby. Then we'll see."
As they drank their hot drinks (they both decided it was too late for coffee), they tried to talk, but mostly just looked at each other in the last rays of sunlight. With each glance, their admiration for each other grew.
"Where are you staying?" asked Jo.
"Near here, just around the corner."
"Will you go there first and wait for me? I'll get some wine and cheese and come to you."
"Nice! But, Jo . . . I don't drink wine."
Jo smiled in relief.
"Neither do I. At least not on this particular evening. OK, I'll bring something else. Expect me in half an hour."
Her naked body was barely covered by a sheet, her breathing calming. She felt the warmth on her side and turned her head in that direction. The tiny girl with the funny little nose was lying next to her. She just gave her some pleasure. Quite a lot, in fact.
Michelle stretched out and went to the balcony. The view was splendid. Mountains on one side, the sea on the other and Barcelona in the middle. She was going to settle down here, find her place, her pace, her peace. And now she made a friend . . .
It was that morning when she was going to have breakfast. She tried to pay with a card, but it did not work.
"Oh, I am sorry. Please try again," Michelle said, a little embarrassed. The barkeeper did not speak much English. "Probamos de nuevo", Michelle tried, but in Barcelona Spanish only works half the time. The second attempt to pay was as unsuccessful as the first.
"Mi dispiace" Michelle, when she got nervous, easily confused Spanish with Italian. "No tengo dinero," she added, confusing things even more. "Ningun efectivo." Finally she found the right word.
"Let me pay for this," a warm, feminine voice was heard. Michelle looked down at a short, cute girl with cropped hair, wearing a coat that cost a small fortune, who smiled and approached with her card. A little beep and the printer started to produce the recipe.
"Thank you," Michelle said. "I . . . I'm sure I have money, I don't know what happened . . . "
"It's OK, I'm glad I could help. May I join you?"
Michelle nodded and they walked to the table outside. The early spring sun was warm enough.
The small talk was nice. That girl, Jo, was a good companion. She seemed to want everyone around her to be happy. But after a few minutes there was silence. And this quietness was rather pleasant. Nothing awkward about it. Michelle felt they had known each other for ages. You can have a little chat with a stranger in a brasserie, that is quite normal in Spain, but you can only sit and enjoy the silence with someone you know really well.
"A penny for your thoughts," Michelle said.
"I was thinking about how sad such encounters are."
"Sad?"
"Yes, really. I have enjoyed your company, but it will all be over soon." Jo nodded in the direction of a gentleman who was throwing the paper away. "We're like that paper to each other. We met, had a good time and will part forever."
"I owe you for breakfast. As soon as I talk to my goddamn bank, I'll buy you an ice-cream. I know a decent heladeria here."
Jo lowered her head.
"I appreciate that. I just . . . Well, I don't need an excuse to see you again."
"I . . . I'm sorry, did I offend you?"
"No, I don't think you have. I don't know. I really love ice-cream."
"I wish I could invite you to Bologna. Best ice-cream I ever had . . . "
"Wow! That escalated quickly!" exclaimed Jo, her eyes wide open.
Michelle stopped in surprise, then it hit her. One moment she was looking for excuses, the next she was almost inviting the girl on a trip abroad.
"They really do make the best ice cream in the world, down there in Bologna," Michelle said, giggling. "They charge a kidney for a portion, but it's worth it. If there were no pistachios in the market that morning, they would not make that flavour that day. Everything has to be exactly as it should be. They even bought the diary to control their milk."
"You seem to really appreciate them.
"I've never experienced anything like this . . . One day you must try it for yourself. I will send you the directions."
So they parted that morning . . . only to meet for an ice-cream at lunchtime. Then for dinner . . .
And now it was time for breakfast again.
Michelle felt arms around her and the warmth of Jo's body.
"Michelle?" the girl murmured.
"Yes, Jo?"
"What is that thing you say you do?"
"I'm a flautist."
"I always land in bed with musicians," Jo said playfully.
"Really?"
"Mhm. I met a guitarist in Brussels some time ago. She was looking for something in the library."
"She was researching?"
"That's what I said. She wanted to score someone in the library and get some shit music."
Michelle tried to wrap her brain around what she had just heard. What had that poor girl found that she could only get out by offering herself? Or was it just for sport? To score... Scores? Sheet music!
***
It was Friday. Kate finished her research at the Royal Library in Brussels and tried to decide what to do with the afternoon and evening. For a moment she thought about relaxing in the gardens outside the library, but decided to walk to the Conservatory instead. As she walked down Rue de la Regence, her phone vibrated. The person she had an appointment with had just cancelled their meeting. With a touch of disgust, Kate walked aimlessly down the street. The overwhelming monstrosity of the Palace of Justice, which closed off the street, grew larger and larger the closer Kate got to it. Funny, the blonde thought, the scaffolding makes this building seem lighter. Soon she entered the open space and saw a Ferris wheel. With nothing to do, she decided to take a ride. She went to the ticket office.
"Excuse me."
Kate turned around. A young woman stopped her. Not that tall, with short dark hair and beautiful emerald eyes. Her woollen coat, as far as Kate could tell, would buy Kate's car.
"Sorry to bother you, but it looks like you want a ride in this thing, and I have a spare ticket. Someone has just not turned up. If you like, be my guest."
"Well, I . . . " Kate smiled and nodded. She would buy the girl a coffee later in return. They entered the gondola. The wheel moved and the girls found themselves alone, moving upwards.
Brussels looked lovely and friendly, bathed in the evening sun. As the gondola approached the top, the wheel stopped. Kate looked around in concern.
"They usually stop here."
"For the view?"
The girl giggled.
"For the kiss."
The gondola hung over Brussels with two girls trapped inside.
"Do they move again if you don't kiss?"
"Fancy trying?"
The girl leaned forward. Kate, doing her best to make it a joke, leaned forward as well and their lips touched briefly. The gondola moved as if the spell had been broken.
"My name is Jo."
"Kate."
"What are you doing in Brussels?"
"Looking for some scores in the library. I hope to take some sheet music home with me."
"Oh, I see. You're a musician, aren't you?"
"A guitarist. And you, may I ask?"
"Me? Here? Oh, my dad's here. You know, the European Union. His name never appears in the papers, but he is the one who makes the wheels turn."
"Like La Grande Roue? Oh, I am so sorry, I did not mean to mock your father, silly me. I get it!"
Jo turned her head in disbelief, but her eyes smiled.
The gondola descended and Kate stood up, preparing to leave, but the wheel did not stop.
Jo laughed.
"It's a three-turn ride."
"Oh, amazing. Will it stop again?"
"Would you like it to stop?"
"I would not mind."
Has it gone too far? Kate blushed. Her only hope was that it would blend into the reddish light of the early evening. The gondola did stop.
Jo sat down next to Kate, put her arm around the blonde and kissed her.
"It didn't move," Kate whispered. "We should try harder."
Jo closed her eyes. The gondola moved on . . . and so did the girls.
"Can I buy you a coffee when we get down?"
Jo shook her head.
"Jo. What is it short for? You guess my full name and I'll go on a proper date with you."
"A challenge?"
Jo put her head to a side.
"Why?" asked Kate.
A shrug.
As the gondola stopped for the third time. Kate leaned towards Jo, but the tiny girl put her finger to Kate's lips.
"Not without my name in full."
Kate kissed Jo's fingertip and thankfully the gondola continued slowly all the way down. The girls stepped outside.
"Thanks for the company," Jo said. "I enjoyed it a lot."
She turned and walked slowly away. Her light brown coat swayed with her every move. Kate looked after her, moving as naturally as a model . . . or an animal.
"It's Josephine!"
Jo turned slowly. Head to the side, she approached Kate. As she got closer, she had to look up to reach Kate's eyes.
"How did you guess?"
"Did I?"
"How?"
"Well, it was a challenge, wasn't it? Then JoAnn or any variant of it was out of the question. All too easy. And the only other thing I could think of was Josephine."
"Hm. What about Joy?"
"Oh! But, who would think of shortening Joy?"
"Good point. Jody? Jocelyn? Joaquina?"
"No girl's name is Joaquina."
Jo looked at Kate without smiling.
"Jolene."
"Oh dear! Jolene . . . I should know . . . Your beauty is beyond compare . . . "
Jo smiled.
"Your voice is like a breath of spring . . . "
Jo burst out laughing.
"Stop it. First, it goes your smile is like a breath of spring, and then, it is not Jolene."
She reached for Kate's hand.
"Where are you taking me?"
"Have I won? Well, I don't know the town well . . . "
"There's a nice cafe nearby. Then we'll see."
As they drank their hot drinks (they both decided it was too late for coffee), they tried to talk, but mostly just looked at each other in the last rays of sunlight. With each glance, their admiration for each other grew.
"Where are you staying?" asked Jo.
"Near here, just around the corner."
"Will you go there first and wait for me? I'll get some wine and cheese and come to you."
"Nice! But, Jo . . . I don't drink wine."
Jo smiled in relief.
"Neither do I. At least not on this particular evening. OK, I'll bring something else. Expect me in half an hour."
22 days ago
