Sometime in July 2013.
Oops, now it will be funny.
It's Saturday morning and I sit as so often with coffee in our supermarket.
A woman with a cake tray stands in the passage and looks around searching.
Just say, today is already again cake sale from some such club with us up here. One million calories for some good cause for the benefit of the club.
Under loud rattling a lattice wagon rolls up. Loaded with some beer table sets and pushed or pulled by two typical specimens of the male genus from our region.
Wide shoulders, flat forehead and a fashionable five-day-beard are the customary characteristics of the country. This decoration of the male sex is dressed in the usual craftsman's costume, i.e. an Engelbert ostrich trousers, which reaches just below the knee, as well as the matching jacket, which is at least one number too small and stretches suspiciously over the beer ball, called belly. In addition, these clothes are remarkably clean, i.e. they are not normally used for work.
Craftsman top models.
Tables and benches are now being eagerly set up under enormous noise, paper tablecloths are being draped fashionably and one cake after the other completes the spare confectionery.
Let's take a look at the service staff. The boss of the whole thing is a thirty-year-old, quite attractive woman, who has taken over the command with long gestures and poses. She is flirting with the two swing brakes of the superstructure team. After everything is set up, the two are forgotten.
All in all she doesn't look so unpleasant. About 1.70m tall, long, dark brown hair and a face you can look at twice with a clear conscience.
A tight, light blue jeans accentuates her slender legs and forms a pretty butt out of her back. This is followed by narrow hips and two small crunchy breasts.
However, the lady seems to be very convinced of herself. Arrogant and conceited, that's the impression she gives me.
But wait, what do I see there. I look again.
Actually, no ring. Neither on the fourth finger of the left or right hand.
Hello, unmanned at this age? That's almost sacrilegious in our region, when you have to be sixteen to be pregnant for the second time.
Is the lady perhaps tricky, picky or even unwilling?
I still have to find out.
At her side are two young helpers who, with apathetic faces, let the teachings and clues pass over them. The two have no idea, but they get a lot out of it.
One is apparently, according to her appearance, the wife of our founder of religion, because the Bible already says: "The Lord went into the desert and a long drought followed".
The other is one head smaller, pale and has long, brown and stringy hair. And more metal in the ears, nose and probably also in the genitals stapled than a Nirosta double sink in a fitted kitchen. So exactly the reason who brings me to the race when he comes up to me. And to run away.
Well, after a relatively short familiarization phase, the two of them don't get all that clumsy.
The female boss sees that everything works, packs her things and lets the two girls drive alone. Maybe she has something better in mind.
At the beginning the bake sale is very slow, but slowly picks up speed and the two virgins have a lot to do.
There they get some help in the form of my pretty neighbour Heidrun, with whom I already have a lot of intense exchanges of experience. She sees me sitting in the cafe and her face gets the same colour as her hair, namely slightly red-violet.
Now of course nothing holds me anymore on my chair and I approach her quickly. After her first embarrassment has disappeared, a relaxed conversation arises between us. I spare the delicate topics, because the two helpers are still too young and too naïve for our common hobbies. Heidrun thaws slowly and actually starts to flirt with me.
Besides, she sells cakes, pieces of cake and muffins, makes small talk with the clientele and gradually gets going. The two Hiwis see with astonishment, how my fast neighbour manages the thing almost alone. The fact that she also has the time to whisper little insults and obscenities into my ear shows me all too clearly that she once again wants educational measures.
All of a sudden someone is bleating me from behind.
"Say, don't you have anything better to do than to keep my people from working? Just because you're in our club doesn't mean all they have to do is stand around here and keep muzzles on the table. They certainly weren't assigned for that today. Come on, move it!"
Oha, the female company sergeant.
Two brown eyes sparkle angrily at me.
Heidrun waves and waves his arms, but the angry woman is not impressed.
"Come on, come with me" she hisses at me.
I wink at Heidrun, put my index finger on my lips to tell her to keep her mouth shut and follow the commander. She leads me behind the tables, points to some garbage bags and orders: "Take and follow me!
She grabs two carrier bags with glasses and cans and marches towards the parking lot towards the glass containers. Grinning, I follow her.
Heidrun watches me in amazement, then taps her forehead with her finger and shakes her head. I just shrug my shoulders and go on.
No really, from behind she offers a very appetizing sight. Well, from the front of course, too, especially when she keeps her big mouth shut.
Her crisp butt wobbles around in front of me, awakens dirty thoughts in me and a broad grin no longer wants to leave my face.
We throw the bottles and cans into the openings and I look at the "lady" extensively.
"What are you grinning so stupidly?" she suddenly snaps at me. What a sunshine. Friendliness seems to be a foreign word to her.
"In which formation of our music club do you actually play? With the drummers or with the horns?"
