When I got on the plane in Manila to continue my journey to Frankfurt, my assigned window-seat was taken. A child or woman, curled up in sleep or indifference against the cabin's wall, was occupying it. The plane's scheduled flight had started in Tokyo, and she or it had there taken possession of the vacant seat. I was in a happy mood and it was not worth making a fuss. I stowed away my hand-luggage and quietly sat down next to this rolled-up bundle.
About an hour after our take-off in Manila the bundle began to stir. What emerged was a woman. In the low cabin-light, it was close to midnight, she appeared almost waif-like, with short hair and a pale face. She sat-up and unhurriedly straightened-out her crumbled clothing. I noticed she had beautiful hands and manicured nails. Then she looked at me with a tentative smile, her hands pointing down into her lap and asked: "Your seat?"
Her voice was mature and well-modulated. English was for her clearly a foreign tongue. Now that I really looked at her, I saw an interesting, attractive, not at all child-like face. I could not guess her age: She could have been twenty or thirty-five.
During our torturous, long flight to Frankfurt we formed an attachment. There were scheduled stops in Bangkok and Athens but, more importantly, an unscheduled four-hour delay in Islamabad. With no explanation offered, we were forced to continue our flight in a different plane. All passengers were locked-in under guard in a function-room of the airport. It was how our peculiar relationship began.
We, somehow, just stayed together; I did not pursue her, she did not cling. Not then and not during the rest of the flight did we get to know much about each other. A contributing factor was the language-barrier; her English was almost as poor as my neglected school-French. She had acquired, as I learned later, a smattering of English in Tokyo in meeting with other foreigners. But we, somehow fell into a liking for each other, of being at ease with each other in a state of suspended distrust. Isabelle was French. When she gave me her name and I repeated it in my best French accent she smiled approvingly.
She had lived for almost two years in Tokyo and was now permanently returning home to her mother in France. She was quite willing to tell me what brought her to Tokyo and what she did there, but language handicapped us severely. I gathered that she had followed a Japanese man, whom she had met in France, to Tokyo and that their relationship had ended. Her gestures and body-language, as she struggled with words failing, suggested sadness tinged with anger.
It intrigued me why she was flying to Frankfurt and not Paris. She explained that she had not travelled in Europe. She wanted to return to her mother's home on the Cote d' Azure in stages: By train and bus through southern Germany, Austria and Switzerland. When I jokingly suggested that I could take her part of the way, she looked at me. There was a smile, more thoughtful than flirtatious.
In our conversations during the lengthy flight I also told her about myself: As much as the language difficulties allowed, about my study-leave and what I planned to do. By the time we arrived in Frankfurt, Isabelle knew that I was going to spend a week with my in-laws near Stuttgart, that I was buying a car, and that I would drive to Austria for a holiday with my folks.
Standing next to each other at Frankfurt's airport with our eyes fixed on the circling carousel for our luggage, we were silent. Later, with our suitcases at our feet, we stood in embarrassed silence. I tried to find the words to ask 'What now?' I was reluctant to say 'Good Bye', which I could have said in perfect French. I had told her that I was going to a hotel to rest, before going on to my in-laws via Stuttgart. She had said nothing. But now she suddenly looked-up and haltingly told me that she wanted to come with me to Austria. My smile must have told her that I was pleased.
We, with all our luggage, took a taxi. I did not know Frankfurt and, therefore, ask the driver to take us to a hotel close to the main railway-station. The one he dropped us in looked somewhat seedy. When the unshaven fellow behind the desk asked whether we wanted two singles or a double, I looked quickly at Isabelle and asked in French and a show of fingers "un? deux?" Her "one" was emphatic, and her hand grasped my arm. I thought it was the hotel's and the receptionist's appearance that discouraged her from being in a room on her own.
The room and the bathroom appeared clean. I was dead-tired, and Isabelle from the way she looked was exhausted. I pointed her to the bathroom to have her shower, while I went down to the reception to check the railway's departure-times for tomorrow. When I came back to the room Isabelle had not finished her ablution, so I started to undress. Then looking up, there she stood for a few seconds in the bathroom's doorway, serious, with her expressive eyes on me. She had put on proper underpants but had left her jaunty little breasts uncovered. Isabelle's lithe body, which I saw no longer as little girl-like, glowed from the heat of the shower. Then, without a word or giving me a look, she walked to the bed and slipped under the cover.
I, like her, had a long shower. When I joined her in bed, she did not open her eyes but willingly, without a sign of shyness about our skins touching, moved into a comforting cuddle. In our state of exhaustion, we quickly fell asleep.
The next morning in the train to Stuttgart we laboured, because of our language-difficulties, over planning our shared time and the trip to Austria. Up to then, all that Isabelle knew about my fixed arrangements and open intentions was what she may have picked up in our incomplete communications on the plane. What could not be changed was that my in-laws expected me to stay with them for a few days. I was also uncertain, how long it would take to buy and register a car for my one-year stay in Germany. My plans for the journey to Austria could, within reason, be changed.
I intended to make our time together worthwhile for Isabelle. She readily agreed to wait for me, for however long it would take, in Stuttgart. Then, by car, we would travel leisurely through Bavaria to Innsbruck, spending about a week together. From Innsbruck, Isabelle could conveniently continue her journey through Switzerland to her mother in southern France.
After arriving in Stuttgart I relied on the Tourism Office at the station and not the ill advice of a taxi-driver to book a suitable accommodation for Isabelle's stay. When we got there, she was not disappointed. When I glanced at the double bed and asked her if I should stay the night, she quickly answered with a nod and smile. I phoned my in-laws, telling them that I would arrive tomorrow.
Then we went for lunch, and after to a tourism-office to collect brochures on day-trips which Isabelle could take while she was in Stuttgart waiting for me. Both of us needed to go to a bank. I had only a few Marks left and had to convert my traveller's cheques into the local currency. Isabelle did the same and a side-way glance at the traveller's cheques in her wallet allayed any suspicion I may have had about being taken advantage off. We concluded the day with dinner in a little restaurant close to her hotel. I introduced her to the local specialities. Tiny as she was, Isabelle was a hearty eater enjoying the food and local wine. We were in high spirits when we returned to her room.
Without much ado Isabelle let me know that tonight she wanted me to be first in the shower. She joked, and I guessed she wanted to tell me that she took so long in the shower and if I went first, I could be asleep by the time she finished. To stop her wrestling with words and gesticulating, I took her in my arms. For the first time we really kissed. She pretended, I thought, to struggle, pretended hating to be kissed, then pretended to be overcome by my charm. When I released her, she had a wide smile on her face. We were beginning to find a way to flirt.
After my shower I lay in bed and waited. When she started to open the bathroom-door I pretended to be asleep. I looked at her, from under only partly closed lids, standing in the doorway. Again, like last night, in her cotton-panties, bare-breasted. I found her provocatively sexy. She reached for the door handle and closed the door with a bang. My pretend awakening was met with a grin. Putting her hands on her hips she strolled to the bed. I folded the cover aside to invite her in.
She quickly slipped into bed to put her arms around me in an affectionate, not at all sexually charged cuddle. While it contradicted, in a way, the seductive allure with which she had strolled to the bed, it also signalled to me not to presume anything. So, I let her cuddle me and I stroked over her short hair, till she raised her face and offered me her lips for a first, gentle, tentative kiss. But then, as if wanting to hide after what she had done, her face nuzzled against my shoulder. When she eventually raised her face to me it was her lips that sought mine.
Her lips gradually opened, inviting my tongue to be welcomed by hers. I allowed, therefore, my hand to explore and discover Isabelle's body. We were still clinched in our cuddle, so my hand began to stroke down her back to begin to caress her shapely little ass. She moaned into my mouth as I gripped her cheeks and just lightly pressed her lower parts against my growing erection. Her tongue and quickening breath signalled a mounting excitement, as I drew my finger-tips up her spine and down her sides, over her buttocks and down her thighs and up again. Then she released me from the hug to allow me to look at her stretched-out, slight, delectable body.
