The limousineMature

          Jean-Pierre had taken three days off from work. That would be more than sufficient for what Katarina was planning, so she had told him. How he tried to know more about it, the less she said about it. He knew France was the destiny of their trip that she had admitted. She intensely enjoyed he was more than curious and every time she smiled when he useless tried to wheedle her into giving up her secret.

            ‘Wednesday we’ll see each other again. Let’s meet in the parking lot of the Black Oyster, we both know that place. Agreed?’ She had said goodbye with a teasing kiss on his cheek and was driven home by a taxi.

            The days passed slowly by, and he couldn’t concentrate on his work. He hoped it was already Wednesday, he always thought, while he was fantasizing about the secret destination of Katarina. Would they travel to Paris and see the Eiffel Tower and stroll around in Montmartre or would they walk along the Seine, maybe pick a boat and sail along. Eventually, in the evening a romantic dinner by candlelight and then… who knows?

            He had brought a little bag on wheels, in which he had packed the most important things. Some fresh clothes, his electric razor, and a toothbrush. Other things he could buy there on the spot if necessary. On Wednesdays, when he drove up the parking lot of the Black Oyster he only saw a black prolonged limousine with blackened windows standing on the side of this place. He stayed in his own car but then looked at a window that glided down on the passenger side of the limo. Katarina waved at him, signing it was she who sat in the limo.

            ‘Wow.’ His first reaction was of surprise. He hadn’t expected this. He closed his car and placed his luggage in the trunk of the big car, from which the boot lid opened automatically and was closed afterward in the same way. After a decent kiss from Katarina, Jean-Pierre got in the car and instantly had to recover from his surprise.

            The interior of the car was more than a luxury. There was at least place for ten people and even then they would sit very comfortably. On one side of the car, he noticed a minibar with a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket and some crystal glasses that sparkled in the artificially led light from the ceiling of the car. Besides the bar, he saw a little microwave, four little TV-screens, and different sound boxes, which played soft music. Jean-Pierre wasn’t a specialist, but he thought, recognizing the Four Seasons from Vivaldi. The seats on which they sat were from the softest black leather.

            Katarina poured him a glass of Piper-Heidsieck. The effervescent beverage tickled his nose when he tasted it. The best was good enough; he thought while he was nestling himself facing Katarina. He looked at the front where he expected the driver but saw nothing because this part was separated from the car. A phone was hanging on the side, with which they could communicate with the driver.

            ‘You like it, Jean-Pierre? Normally when I travel, I generally take the train, first class, of course, but today I suspected this means of transport is more private.’ She waved her hand to emphasize her words. A little pedantic gesture he hadn’t noticed yet.

            Jean-Pierre nodded affirmatively. ‘For me, it’s more than a luxury, I’m not used to traveling by limo. It must be very expensive.’ It was out of his mouth before he knew it. The eternal accountant who counted the money and weighed the costs against the profits.

            Katarina didn’t notice. She was playing with one of the remote controls for the TV-screens and was searching the channels. ‘What do you like, Jean-Pierre? An exciting action movie, a scary horror movie, or do you prefer a sweet romantic movie?’

            ‘Maybe we could… maybe…,’ Jean-Pierre shameless yawned, collapsed a bit and fell asleep. Katarina took his glass out of his hand, helped him to lay down on the seat and kissed him softly on the top of his nose.

            ‘Sleep tight,… so you’ll be fit. You’ll need it, more than you know!’

 

 

© Rudi J.P. Lejaeghere 28/11/2014

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