I moved into my aunt's old house.
Why not! I had just taken a new job in this town and needed a place to stay. And my aunt had just moved into a retirement home and her big wish was that I should take care of the house after all.
It was a semi-detached house from the 1930s in the leafy suburbs. And since I went to work by car anyway, I didn't mind that I had a longer way to get to my company. I was now working at the headquarters of a corporation as a marketing manager.
On the contrary, I loved living in the countryside. There was a nice, not too big garden. And the noise of the neighbours' children didn't bother me much either, I'm not like that.
In a few weeks I had furnished the interior of the house and also the garden according to my ideas, cut back the hedges and removed the old-fashioned wallpaper in the house and painted it fresh. I also threw out the ugly oak wall unit and replaced it with a modern set of lacquer, metal and glass. But I left the sofa, which was already so old that it was becoming hip again.
So I liked to lie in my hammock between the two plum trees after work and browse or sleep or just enjoy the surroundings. It was summertime, hot and I was glad of the shade in my garden.
My neighbour, who lived in the second half of the house, was called Karl.
I found him likeable, he was a small wiry guy with clever eyes and nimble hands. He was also not pushy, more modest, and I saw that he developed a lot of initiative in his garden.
He built his children a climbing frame with a swing, a sandbox and even a kind of tree house in the old walnut tree, and did so with great skill.
I'm not clumsy, but I thought to myself, if I ever need help, I'll definitely ask him.
Karl had three children with his wife Christine, the older boy was nine, the girl seven and the youngest was six. The little rascals were very bright.
His wife Christine was also very nice. She had an everyday face, her bosom and bottom were quite respectable, already a little motherly thicker, and a wide waist. Otherwise, her figure would probably have been classy.
But I liked the way they brought up their children, calm and unagitated.
And I also made them relax when I explained to them that I had no problem with children who played wildly sometimes.
In the evenings, I often went with Karl to the pub for a beer when the children were asleep and his wife was still tidying up the household. Then we always had a good chat about our work or the garden. Rarely also about raising children and how that could be reconciled with married life.
These conversations were rather delicate, he didn't go into detail, but it seemed to be a difficulty for him. I did not ask any further questions.
What struck me, however, was that he always took care of the house and garden, while Christine only looked after the children. I hardly ever saw them talking to each other. That didn't mean that they didn't have a good relationship, on the contrary, I had the feeling that there was a quiet harmony between them, but really 'quiet'.
One evening, when the two of us were chatting over a beer again and the occasion was favourable, I brought up the subject of things being so harmonious between him and his wife. Karl sighed and said that Christine was really a good soul, so frugal and patient. He couldn't wish for a better partner.
I kept silent and enjoyed this harmony with him.
--- --- ---
My company had given me tickets for the city theatre. They were box seats for a Schiller drama. And two tickets of that.
Two tickets!
Why did they give me two?
They knew I was divorced and lived alone.
I asked Karl if he would be interested in an evening of classical theatre. Although, I could have given myself the answer in advance.
Nah, it's not his thing.
But he wanted to ask Christine, who is more educated in cultural matters and doesn't get out of the house and away from the children enough anyway.
All right.
Karl then came and told me that Christine was thinking of coming along if Karl would put the children to bed alone.
So it was agreed that Karl would put the children to bed and Christine would come to the theatre with me.
Silently I asked myself what I was supposed to talk about with Christine all evening.
Well, we were going to the theatre, so there wasn't much to talk about.
I picked Christine up from the front garden door at 6:30 pm and, being the old cavalier that I am, opened the door to my car for her. It was warm and the weather dry and Christine was wearing a breezy summer dress and shoes with heels. In the car I noticed that she had also taken perfume.
She seemed to really enjoy this evening, and I couldn't blame her at all.
Always children and household, she was probably very happy to get a chance to go out.
It was then a nice conversation with Christine in the car, she was really educated and obviously interested in many different topics. She knew about politics and could also tell us about Schiller and his plays.
Respect, I thought, you think women get stupid in the household and then Christine shows me how easy it is to misjudge.
I smiled to myself.
We soon found our box in the theatre, we had seats in the second row. I offered Christine the seat with the better view.
The performance was very good, the modern direction was not to my taste -- I prefer more traditional performances -- but Christine told me quite a bit about the director's ideas during the interval.
I invited her for a glass of champagne.
I watched in amazement as she finished her glass in one go. She continued to talk animatedly and I had to smile again about this person.
I silently confessed to myself that I had been wrong about Christine. I thought that unlike Karl, with whom it is no problem to find a topic of conversation, I would be bored with his wife. And then it turned out that Christine was a far more entertaining conversationalist than her husband, so eloquent and so witty!
Yes, I liked Christine!
As a conversationalist, of course, nothing more.
Then the second part began. We took our seats in our box again and Christine chortled merrily as we closed the door behind us and the lights went out.
I followed the action with interest, the actors were also really convincing.
Then I felt a touch on my leg.
I thought Christine had mistakenly touched me with the tip of her foot and paid no further attention.
But the touch happened again.
Suddenly her foot stayed on my calf!
I didn't know what to make of it -- but also remained still and didn't move out of the way.
And then her foot brushed up and down my calf, even crawling into my trouser leg. I realised that Christine was really starting to turn me on.
I clearly felt that she had taken off her shoe and was stroking me with her bare toes.
Now something was stirring in me too. There was something truly extraordinary about the situation.
I kept at it, and so did the curious foot....
