Chapter Seven
She told him she liked German food.
“I spent a year in Germany doing research,” she explained. “All that heavy stuff was appealing. But I don’t like dark beer.”
“I haven’t met a woman who does. How about wine?”
“Lovely,” she replied. Her diaphanous black dress was splashed with bold, cream colored flowers, and when he saw her from the backside, he could see the tempting outline of her rear, even the hint of a crack between her round cheeks. He wondered if she was wearing anything underneath, almost certain seeing the way her flesh jiggled inside the dress and her n*****s poked through the fabric that there nothing covering her breasts. She fashioned her hair in some odd creation, held together by chopsticks and a little magic. “What are you looking at?” she asked him
