It had been a long, hot day – first a 60 kilometer bike ride through variously developed – or variously dying - bits of Berlin, complete with small, well-done on-site lectures by the three German women grad-student guides.
Then, afterwards, a semi-obligatory trip to a local night-club – complete with ten-foot visibility due to cigarette smoke. Ugh! And after that, dinner in an equally smoky restaurant. GOD, how he hated the European propensity for cigarettes, and the Euro-smokers' insolent disregard of those who didn't want to partake at second hand!
Their main guide was Ildiko, a graduate student in the German program, a developing expert in urban transportation systems. Jerry had met her the previous year, when she was a very junior student, but had nevertheless taken a leading role in arranging the visit. They had become reasonably well acquainted. In the intervening year just past, they had exchanged extensive emails about her plans, he volunteered to edit a complex manuscript of hers (written in good but nowhere near perfect English), and also helped her plan this year's visit, of which she was in charge – a "reward" for last year's good performance. A nice person, and obviously coming out of an intense shyness-shell, apparently as a result of this exchange program. It was good to see her blooming, gaining confidence.
It was also nice to discover that one of his last-year's impressions of her seemed to be completely wrong – she had spent most of that first year's get-together in close huddle with another pair of very nice but screamingly gay women grad students, so he had assumed from their overall "closed-groupiness" that she was also gay. Now, it was clear that she was simply quite shy, and those were her best friends in this little world.
His first clue about his error was her response when they saw one another, as guests and hosts met en masse at the airport. She was clearly delighted to see "My Americans" again, men and women alike, and she greeted each with a warm hug – including Jerry. And it was NOT a gay-woman-hugs-man sort of thing.
Also, last year she had always dressed in black – loose jeans and tee-shirts a specialty, utterly shapeless.
He had remarked to himself about her apparent lack of boobs, but a couple of times hardened nipples had showed through - obviously braless - especially during the goodbye dinner on the lake with its cold evening breeze. As a plus for his tastes, she was ultra-slender but definitely carried female hip-structure. She also had the most incredible mane of beautiful, jet black, tightly-wavy hair; it refused to lie down, stood out springy and glistening like the mane on a stone sphinx. And where last year she'd had a dense black near-monobrow, some serious shaping and restructuring had taken place – her eyebrows were now widely separate and quite attractively shaped. He wasn't certain that he should say anything about it – but he definitely noticed and approved.
Odd, too, how, unlike most women carrying a head of such dense black hair, she had none on her forearms, not even wisps of sideburns, and certainly no trace of a moustache. Nothing new there, she hadn't had them last year, either – the brow changes were probably a change in technique, but the other nil-hairiness seemed to be genetic. And still not a trace anywhere of makeup. None whatever, as a matter of fact, on any of the ten or twelve German women in the program – and precious little (not quite zero) on the American female contingent.
He studied her over the next couple of days – there was a real difference in her poise – much more in command, much less overtly shy. Her clothes were changed also – still all black, but very differently cut. Hiphuggers now, not the formless jeans of yore. Low-cut, snug without being flashy-tight. And showing an inch or two of belly between belt-line and blouse, too. Very different. Somebody, or something, had gotten to her. He wondered who, how? Maybe a touch of "queer eye for the straight girl" from her friends? Snug-fitted, well-cut blouses now instead of T-shirts, much more feminine and much more fashionable. Both fashionable and genuinely attractive.
He had pedaled along behind her for almost the entire day, today, just watching her butt muscles move and wondering if she had on any underwear at all? No lines, anywhere. Once when she was pumping hard going uphill he caught a couple of glimpses of the top of her butt-cleft. Intriguing – a much better view than merely studying the cobblestones. He tried not to let anyone see him doing so, and mostly succeeded.
Now, post-ride and post-dinner, the entire bicycle-tour group was sitting together in the smog in the club, chatting amiably over the roar of the upstairs band. Jerry's and Ildiko's knees were touching not by intent but from simple crowding at the table. At one point he waved at the smoke, and muttered to her "Sheesh! I'm going to have to leave soon. Can't take this bad air for much longer!"
She looked concerned, coughed lightly, and said bluntly "Me, too! I hate this smoke, and I don't really like the music – it is not the right style or the right loudness for me. Much too loud. The company is good, though!" She grinned at him, almost flirting. He was surprised and pleased when she asked him in a private aside "Shall we go get some air together? Then maybe we don't even have to come back inside if we don't want to!"
Their leaving was roundly ignored by all. Outside, the air was clean and the night bright. Jerry stood facing into the gentle breeze, holding his jacket wide to ventilate it, and said "Wow! Enough already!"
She looked at him, giggled, and nodded. "Yes. The others can have our share of the lung cancer from the smoke. You are probably tired after today, so shall we take the U-bahn to your hotel, or would you rather walk? It isn't very far, and the night is cool, which is nice after the awful air in the club!"
They walked, talking about the day's excursion. The streets were well-lit, not crowded, pleasant. He gave her face a more thorough analysis. At first, last year, she had struck him as just this side of ugly – but that feeling faded quickly. It was not that, not at all – things were much, much more subtle.
