as the hours passed swiftly and wonderfully in sightseeing and engrossing conversation. The excursion led to a romantic dinner at one of the city’s finest hotels, at a table overlooking the Elbe. After the most delicious meal Greta had ever tasted and a magnificent bottle of wine, their talk drifted pleasurably into lingering glances and subtle touches, his hand resting upon hers on the table, her leg pressed against his beneath it.
When, with almost formal politeness, he invited her upstairs to his room, she nodded and gave him her hand.
In the morning she woke in Adam’s arms and knew from the sunlight streaming through the windows that the morning conference sessions were already well under way. She had not intended to stay the night, or to make love with him, but Adam’s touch and his words had evoked desires she had not known she possessed. At the last moment, when prudence had shouted warnings that she must tear herself from his arms or risk losing everything—her future, her reputation—all for a moment of passion, Adam had produced a small packet that she needed a moment to recognize as a condom. Of course she was not his first, as he was hers; of course a worldly man would have come prepared. And she had been profoundly glad for it.
When Adam stirred, she snuggled closer and rested her head on his shoulder. Drowsily he kissed her forehead, inhaled deeply, and sighed. “Ah, ma chère mam’selle,” he lamented, smiling. “You are too young and lovely for an old man like me.”
“How old are you?”
“I confess that I’m forty-three.”
“How ancient,” she teased, but then she hesitated. “I have a confession of my own. I’m not French. I was born in Frankfurt an der Oder and I live in Berlin.”
For a moment he only gaped at her, but then he laughed. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded in German, propping himself up on one elbow. “I assumed—”
“Yes, you did assume.” She smiled wickedly. “It amused me to play along.”
He ran his hand down her side from her shoulder to her hip and gave her buttocks a light slap. “What a naughty girl you are, deceiving me like that.”
“I’m sure you have many secrets of your own.”
“Not me. My life’s an open book.” He shifted onto his back, one arm holding her close, the other tucked beneath his head. “Go ahead. Ask me anything.”
“I suppose the most important question is—” She paused, thought better of the questions that immediately sprang to mind, and asked instead, “How are we going to spend the day?”
“First, breakfast. Then you should spend the day however you please. I could recommend a few programs for you, but I have hours of appointments and lectures ahead of me and I won’t be able to keep you company.”
“Of course not,” she said quickly, crushed. “I didn’t mean—”
“But I hope you’ll have dinner with me this evening.”
“Dinner?”
“And more after, if you’re willing.”
He spoke nonchalantly, but his voice carried a thrilling undercurrent of promise. “I may be,” she replied, cupping his chin with her hand and turning his face toward hers for a kiss.
For the rest of the Theaterkongresse, Greta spent her days with the French delegation and her nights with Adam. Sometimes a few of his colleagues joined them for dinner, and she marveled at her good fortune when they gave her their cards and encouraged her to contact them about jobs in various Berlin theaters—unglamorous, low-paying work that would help her get her foot in the door and could lead to something better. Yet somehow her all-important job search had faded in the shadow of her burgeoning romance with Adam. She had never fallen so swiftly or so hard, and it was as frightening as it was intoxicating.
On the last day of the conference, she packed her suitcase with a heavy heart. She wished she and Adam were taking the same train back to Berlin, but he was staying on an extra day to teach a master class at the Universität Hamburg.
Adam saw her off at the station. They had already exchanged cards, but after he kissed her goodbye and she began to board the train, she hesitated on the stairs. “Will we see each other again?” she asked, ashamed of the forlorn tone in her voice.
“Of course, darling,” he said, his brow furrowing in puzzlement. “Why wouldn’t we? As soon as I sort through all the work that’s piled up at the Staatstheater in my absence, I’ll call you.”