Night Fright to Deutschland
By Dean Borok

(continued)

"I won't let you talk about America like that," Paulette screamed. She made a fist and threw a perfect punch like she had learned at the gym, smashing Havelock square in the face.

Havelock just laughed.

Beside herself with fury, Paulette collected her possessions and made her way unsteadily out of the bar.

Havelock turned to the blonde at his right. She was a petite, slender German with short , curly hair and green eyes. She was chic, amusing and effervescent - everything that Paulette, with her elephantine nature was not. Her name was Rita, and there was a maddening physical magnetism between herself and Havelock.

They were in Germany now. Havelock was wearing black leather pants, a soft leather pullover with a silver gray fleur-de-lis stitched onto its front and a black leather motorcycle jacket covered with nail heads. He said to Rita, "Let's go somewhere else and drink a bottle of wine."

They went out into the frigid night air and across a deserted town square into an inn which, due to the disagreeable weather, was mostly empty. The staff, which was extremely gay, seemed to be very busy and bustled around them, rushing through this door and that. Havelock and Rita stared across the table into each other's eyes, and he kissed her hand. At length, a waiter came and uncorked a bottle of red wine.

The place was badly heated, and they were still wearing their coats. Havelock suggested that they move to a small table which was free in front of the fireplace. Once there, they became unbearably warm and removed their coats.

They drank the bottle of wine and became very hungry. Havelock stopped a waiter and asked if he could order some food. The waiter, whom he had not seen before, snapped at him in an effeminate voice, "You should have asked me before. Now I'm tired, and I'm going to sit down!" The kindly waiter who had served them the wine came by, and Havelock asked him if he would serve them.

"The kitchen's closed now."

"Well, where can we get something to eat?" asked Havelock. By now, he and Rita were ravenous.

The waiter said, "At this hour everything's closed. You can go to the Pleasantine Motel. It's about fifteen kilometers outside of town on the autobahn to Hanover. You have to take a taxi."

"Let's go to the motel," said Rita.

The prospect of going to the motel with Rita exhilarated Havelock. He asked the waiter, "Is the taxi ride expensive?"

"You have to buy a ticket. Elvis Kreuzfeld will sell you a ticket."

Rita said, "Let's get out of here." They put on their coats and went out through a wrought-iron glass door onto a darkened patio with steps that led down to a barren garden. A frigid night wind was blowing.