At the water lily pond 

 Mai 21, 2022

It is only just May but the air is whirring like in high summer. 

Heavy thunderstorms are forecasted, and my head seems to explode. 

When I arrive at my hotel close to the lake and take a shower after a day of traveling, I realize I left my toilet bag in the train. 

I don't even have toothpaste. 

I run to a supermarket and buy a toothbrush and some paste. 

But they don’t have make-up, and the drugstores are already closed. 

Darn it. 

I do not even go to the trashcan without make-up. 

Let alone to a date.

What is this an opportunity for? 

Perhaps for becoming real.

I look at my face in the bathroom mirror. „That’s what we’ve got“, I think. „A 49 year old face without make-up wrinkled by a massive headache. No masks, no hiding. Let’s go. Crush that date. Be glorious anyway. Shine from within. Go.“ 

And I do. 

He’s waiting at the best table of the terrace, right beside a giant tree and with a stunning view at the lake. 

We talk. 

Or rather: I talk. 

He’s asking questions. 

He’s listening. 

He's ordering wine and water. 

He's giving me presents - dark Swiss chocolate wrapped in hummingbird paper and a card showing white orchids. 

He's the most attentive and affectionate person I ever met.

And yet he’s reticent. 

His white shirt is gleaming in the dark. The top button is open. I see his suntanned skin. I see his thin silver necklace. I see his silver wedding ring. I see his silver bracelet. I watch his hands. I imagine his fingers touching my underarm. I forget the question he has raised a second ago. I don't want to talk anymore. 

Do you feel what I feel?, I silently ask. Why don’t you touch my hand?

What is this an opportunity for? 

Perhaps for being a bold, mature woman. 

I stretch out my arm, lay my hand on the table in front of him.

"Would you take my hand?", I ask. 

And he does. 

Falls silent. 

Strokes my palm. 

Strokes my wrist. 

Strokes my forearm. 

I close my eyes.

Zero ambiguity.

I WANT I WANT I WANT, my body says.

She’s opening up like a water lily. 

She doesn’t care he’s shorter than me. 

She doesn’t care about having a headache. 

We walk along the lakeside. 

Another hour until we kiss. 

I feel his clavicles. I feel his hip bones. I feel his nipples. My hands are searching. The softest of skin.

Lightning bolds across the dark midnight sky. 

A few warm raindrops. 

"I have an umbrella", he says. 

"I don't think we need one", I answer. 

Another hour until we arrive in front of my hotel. 

He starts kissing me goodbye. 

What is this an opportunity for? 

Perhaps for being courageous.

"Are you sure you don't want to come upstairs with me?", I ask. 

"I'll go wherever you lead me", he says. "If that's what you really want."

In my charmless hotel room, he undresses me slowly, skillfully, layer by layer like the petals of a blossom.  

I feel his breath. I hear his voice.

"You", he whispers. "You."

I WANT I WANT I WANT, my vagina says. 

Another hour until he enters me. 

And until I finally forget I’m not wearing make-up.

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