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So I sat down on the long bench in front of the beer tent directly opposite and started a conversation with the pair, at first studiously overlooking Martha. The CIF agent in the making proved to be in no way able to handle my laconically condescending eloquence, and reacted with increasing annoyance and irritation when I finally turned my attention to Martha, she skillfully parried my verbal attacks. Marco’s desperate intervention “Let’s go, sweetheart!” met with an abrupt refusal and a look of contempt on her part. Martha meanwhile studiously asked about the stud farm, about my father, and finally about myself. Later Klaus Friedrich Weyrauch joined us and I could not help noticing that my father had an obvious interest in Martha, which was quite reciprocated. Well, we had drunk a lot, was my explanation - what else? My father was a neurotic philanderer. When finally she left she secretly slipped her telephone number to me, quite experienced, as she would have done this many times before, which was probably the case.
Next mistake! I rang her the day after and we agreed to meet for lunch. It transpired that she knew some of my fellow students, and in general she did not leave exactly the impression of a dark horse. She spoke of an affair with the then well-known jazz musician Paul Kuhn: well, as a stewardess one does get about - so no surprise. In the following days I often collected her after work from the airport. I sat in the arrival lounge until her plane landed and then we had a drink with her colleagues in the crew quarters of Hapag Lloyd Airlines. After that we usually went for a tête-à-tête in a trendy bar. About her relationship with the bore little was being said, I got to know only that they did not constantly live together and that their relationship was wearing thin after twenty-four months. Unfortunately this all encouraged me to make the next move.
And so it happened that after a short while - when she had returned from a one-day trip to Mallorca, I rented a day use room in the CCH Hotel because of anonymity and as I treated my own flat as sort of a sanctum, which she found strange.
There however, in the Hotel we indulged in unbridled sex, and she took pains to satisfy my most outlandish wishes, as otherwise I had this only experienced before from professionals - meaning women who understand to turn man on. I remember a particular occasion: She laid naked on the bed and put her legs up into the air. “I want your juice to run in deep,” she said. Despite my proverbial ignorance I did not like that at all - it was odd. I was alarmed because we had not used a contraceptive: but she said at the time that she was on the pill. Whatever the truth, at that moment I became aware of the strangeness of her behaviour, but simply said: I was not really beginning to get it. Later everything would fall completely into place. In spite of that incident, which I quickly forgot, Martha became an interesting challenge. She was always amusing and often, because of her dominant manner - the centre of attention.
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