Chapter 1: Present

Present--Three weeks ago in Frankfurt

With the headphones on his ears, half asleep, Armin heard the flight attendant’s words that the landing in Frankfurt would begin in a few minutes. He removed his headphones and looked towards his two friends sitting on his right. Jens was also half asleep, but Michael was still fast asleep, snoring softly, leaning against the window. Only when the flight attendant asked them to wake up their friend did Michael rouse, looking around confusedly while Jens told him they were landing soon and he had to come back to reality. Seven days of partying in Ibiza had been the best trip of their lives for all three of them. Sad that they are returning from what they called “heaven on earth” to their normal lives and still smiling broadly because of the unforgettable experience of the past few days. Visibly tired and sleepless, they just looked at each other and smiled, feeling completely fulfilled. Even before the plane landed, they turned off flight mode on their cell phones, and as soon as they landed, the notifications started coming in.

Jens turned to the others, announcing, “Ok, Marianne will pick me up, so she can take you two home along the way.”

“Come on, don’t bother your girl. I’ll take the bus,” replied Armin.

“Oh no, it’s not a problem at all.” Jens smiled.

“No, there’s no need to go to the center, and you all live on the other side of town. The bus stop is in front of my building, and riding the bus will speed up this unpleasant return to reality,” Armin continued his excuses.

“Ok, whatever you want,” Jens said, giving in to Armin’s pig-headedness.

After leaving the airport, they met Marianne, who immediately embraced her boyfriend Jens.

“Ok guys, see you soon and wish you a happy return to work,” said Armin.

“Lucky you, you have three more weeks off,” Michael said, patting Armin on the back. Armin just smiled and headed towards the bus stop.

When he got on the bus and found a seat, he finally picked up his cell phone to look at the notifications from the different social networks and reply to messages. He looked at the numerous likes of his posts on Instagram and Facebook, and when he finished that “mandatory” part, he entered the WhatsApp directory and clicked on Brigitte’s name. For a moment, he thought about what to write while looking at the profile picture of that beautiful mixed-race woman and then decided that he had better call her when he got home. He switched to Messenger and began writing a message for Marie, his long-standing online friend.

Armin:...”Hey, just to inform you. I’m just getting home.” ... Armin typed with lightning speed.

Marie:...”Hi, I can see from the pictures that you had a great time in Ibiza.” ... Marie replied instantly.

Armin:...”Oh yeah, I can’t wait to go to bed!”...

Marie:...”I believe you. Well, you still have enough time to rest.”...

Armin:...”And what about you? Are you really not going anywhere this year, either?”...

Marie:...”Well, I’m still waiting for that promise of yours to take me on a trip, haha.”...

Armin:...”Come on, I did ask you if you would like to come with us. You were the one who said you didn’t want to come.”...

Marie:...”I’m kidding, you fool. I wouldn’t spoil the fun for you young guys. Any guy would rather go partying with his peers in Ibiza than spend his evenings in some fish restaurant in Crete with a forty-year-old woman...”...

Armin:...”Ouch, ouch. I’d like to tell you something about that now, but I’m getting off at this station. Bye.”...

Marie:...”Hah, go to sleep, kid! See you, kiss, kiss...”...

After showering, Armin lay down on the couch and turned on the television. He was tired to his bones, and by switching the channels, he came across a broadcast of an athletics meeting and decided that was exactly what he was going to watch. Armin was a person of diverse interests: sports, politics, drama, and many other things that his peers wouldn’t even consider. He felt himself dozing off, so before inexorably falling asleep, he sent a short message to Brigitte.

Armin:...”Hey sexy, I’ve arrived home. And I’m going to sleep right away. See you tomorrow.”...

Brigitte:...”Yes, I saw that you have arrived. I’ll come to you tomorrow; I just don’t know exactly when ... I have to return the key to you.” ... Brigitte’s reply arrived quickly.

The very thought of that girl, Filipina by mother and German by father, caused an erection in Armin.

He had met Brigitte two years ago, only a few months after arriving in Frankfurt, when he got stuck in a café with his work colleagues. Brigitte worked at the same company for a short time before Armin. It was her first job right after finishing school. She greeted her former colleagues, and they introduced her to Armin. Brigitte and Armin clicked at once and had spent the whole evening talking about various topics. Brigitte liked to philosophize, and Armin, with his broad knowledge of general culture, easily adapted to any topic. Brigitte inherited her Filipino beauty and Asian look from her mother, but with her father’s mentality, she is a real German.

Armin unconsciously toyed with his necklace as he thought of his non-relationship with Brigitte. Armin was besotted with her, but their relationship was complicated to this day. There was a constant push and pull--when he tried to get closer, she withdrew, but then a few days later she sought him out. I can’t do anything about it today. He shrugged and started watching the hundred-meter race and then took out his laptop.

He logged onto his favorite porn site and clicked on “live cam”. He paid a 10 euro credit and chose the first girl who caught his eye--which is a rarity because sometimes the search for the perfect girl took him hours, but fatigue forced him to finish as soon as possible.

This time it was about pure lust, or to put it simply--jerking off. They exchanged several messages with the girl on the webcam, who was thrilled that she didn’t have to wait long for Armin to invite her to private mode and earn some money. While the girl on the camera was pushing a dildo into her pussy, Armin watched her eagle-eyed, wishing it was his dick bathing in the heat of the girl’s pussy and not the dildo. He jerked off slowly, holding off until the last minute despite the tingling feeling in his balls, and then spilled his cum profusely in the towel.

“It was worth ten euros,” he said to himself and continued to lie on the sofa.

He lay on the same three-seater sofa where Radmila was sitting on a Saturday morning twenty-some years ago.

24 years ago in Frankfurt

Radmila and her husband, Josip, both were in a bad mood that morning. Sitting there, one could sense the anxious tension flowing from them--the kind people get when they know something horrible is about to happen.

Radmila was sitting and nervously stirring the coffee with a small spoon, although the sugar had long since mixed with the black liquid, and Josip was nervously looking out the window.

“Something must have happened. Three police cars are parked in front of the building,” Josip relayed what he saw.

Radmila sighed deeply and broke into a cold sweat because she knew that their son Dragan’s room was empty. However, she said nothing so as not to further upset her husband. Of course, the same thing was going through Josip’s head.

He waited a few minutes and asked, “Dragan didn’t come, did he?”

Radmila just shook her head. They both knew that their only son chose the wrong path: the hell of drugs did not bypass him. Although they were not sure whether he was addicted to hard drugs, they knew he moved into a society that in Frankfurt was called the “Balkan mafia” or “Ex Yu clan”.

When they heard a strong knock on the door, the blood in their veins froze. Josip opened the door and saw two police officers. Just by the look on their faces, he knew what it was about.

The police officers waited to be invited into the apartment, and only when Radmila and Josip sat down on the sofa did the police officers divulge they had come to inform them that their son, Dragan Pavlović, was dead. Their dark premonitions became a reality. The devastated parents just sat there in shock with no external reaction--just frozen in place. Their lives had lost all meaning.

Present -- The morning after arriving home from Ibiza

Armin was sleeping so soundly that he didn’t even hear when Brigitte came in. Not even when she straddled him.

Brigitte started stroking his hair and said, “Come on, wake up. I have little time; I’ll be late for work.”

Armin opened his eyes and saw the face of the beautiful girl he knew so well. Still half asleep, he said nothing; he just stretched out his arms and let out a loud sigh of relief. Brigitte was wearing a purple summer dress and was sitting exactly on his morning erection. The sight of the beauty sitting on his cock made the hateful awakening easier to bear.

“I really don’t have much time,” Brigitte repeated.

She moved away from him a little and lowered his boxers to his knees, and the strap of her dress fell over her left shoulder. She kneeled between his legs, lowered her head, and started sucking him off, fluttering her tongue against the underside of the mushroom-shaped head. His cock was hard as steel, already leaking pre-cum and ready to fuck, even though he hadn’t fully woken up yet. Brigitte was wet before; now she was drenched.

As soon as she realized that Armin’s cock was ready to be used, she lifted her dress, pulled her thong aside, and climbed onto his cock with her sopping wet cunt. She held his cock upright with one hand and slid her cunt on top of him. Steadying herself on Armin’s chest, she circled with her hip, taking him deeper and deeper. As she lost herself in the sensations, her tits bobbed as she pushed herself harder and harder on Armin, and he was in a mesmerized haze.

She peeked at the clock and, when she realized what time it was, she started thrusting herself with all her might and rubbed her clit furiously. It didn’t take her long to cum. She put her other hand over her mouth so the neighbors wouldn’t hear her loud moans. The sight of a beautiful girl just coming on his cock made even a sleepy Armin want to cum. Brigitte lifted off Armin’s cock and immediately continued to jerk him off with her hand. She carefully angled the rigid shaft so the spurting semen wouldn’t accidentally end up on her clothes--she did have to get to work on time after all...

Armin lay on the bed, spent, and Brigitte hurriedly blew a kiss and left. It didn’t even occur to her to say that she had left the key to the apartment that Armin had entrusted to her in case she needed anything while he was in Ibiza, in the hallway.

He remained lying on the big double bed that Radmila and Josip regularly had sex in until twenty or so years ago. After the tragedy that befell them, they were no longer in the mood for sex. There was no use for them anymore. Losing an only son is something that no parent can cope with.

22 years ago in Frankfurt

Radmila and Josip went to work and came home, but hardly communicated. They no longer found satisfaction in anything. In the following two years, they visibly failed both mentally and physically. Josip, who earned a lot of money working on weekends as a plumber, now no longer even thought about doing anything other than his regular job, and Radmila’s ambitions to become a chef suddenly disappeared. After the tragedy, they had the right to free psychological help, but they refused it because they thought that psychologists would somehow want to erase their memory of Dragan.

However, after several years, at the persuasion of friends and work colleagues, they accepted going to sessions with a psychologist once a week. Dr. Begović was an excellent expert whose work methods were unconventional. Psychologists normally do not give advice or tell clients what to do--they try to get them to make decisions that are right for them. Instead of sitting quietly, asking questions in a low voice, and writing the answers in a notebook, Dr. Begović had a completely different approach.

In the first few sessions, he found out everything he needed to know about Josip and Radmila, and then, with little hesitation, he openly said, You cannot deny, your physical and emotional health is declining. You are sinking into self-destructive habits; nothing in life makes you happy; you aren’t interested in anything and are completely indifferent to everything that is happening around you. That worries me the most.”

Radmila and Josip just sat there, hands folded in their laps, looking at the floor.

Dr. Begović tried to jolt them. “Josip, it’s clear to me you don’t want to work on weekends anymore, but you haven’t found any other hobby. Radmila, what about you? You are an excellent cook. The food you cook no longer tastes the same. The pills you are taking have helped you sleep, but they have taken away your other strengths. Josip, you were never a drunkard. And now? How many beers do you drink a day? For over two years, you have been nowhere outside the apartment except for work and shopping. Work, work, hell and work. You want to work those ten more years until full retirement, but with this lifestyle, you will not live to see it. Is this what you want?”

The good doctor let the question hang in the air. Radmila and Josip still sat there as if in a catatonic stupor.

“Change your life! Only you can do it. Go crazy, travel somewhere! Go to your motherland or travel wide and far. Go to South America, go on a safari to Africa, visit relatives in Australia, or embark on a cruise! Money can’t be an obstacle. You have your apartment in the city center, you don’t have any loans, and you have enviable savings. This year life insurance ends for both of you, and you already qualify for a pension ... So get out of there! Go to Bosnia! You’ll live there like a king and open a kebab shop! Buy land by the sea, build a house! But build it by yourself, build a villa, rent apartments, and enjoy. Do something you’ve never done before! Jump with a parachute, go to swinger clubs ... Do whatever you want! Just start before your life ends prematurely.”

Dr. Begović shouted and acted like a maniac and not like a doctor. But that was the way he worked. Radmila and Josip didn’t say a word. They walked out of the doctor’s office with a sigh, meaning the doctor’s speech influenced them. Dr. Begović was smiling contentedly while sitting in his armchair.

Two years ago--Seven weeks after Armin moved to Frankfurt

Armin and Brigitte still hadn’t declared that they were in a relationship, and there was a valid reason for that. Their first date went well enough to arrange a date for the next day. Armin liked Brigitte, and Brigitte felt attracted to Armin too. They found themselves in the city, but Armin didn’t plan to go to the club. He wanted to do something different, maybe an ice cream, cakes, and a walk. It was a hit. They talked about anything and everything. Brigitte, of course, presented her philosophy on every topic they talked about. Armin would listen to her carefully but disagree with her opinion on every subject, testing her. During the whole evening, he was torn and undecided about when would be the right moment to invite her to his apartment and maybe kiss her. He chickened out and made up his mind to wait and invite her on a date the next day as well. It was a good idea because the next day was Friday. That Friday, they both refused to go out with their friends. They both wanted to be with each other for the third day in a row.

That should mean something, right? Armin reasoned to himself.

Brigitte was so beautiful that she didn’t need to dress attractively to be noticed by boys. Her perfect body got her wolf-whistles even when she wore simple jeans and a t-shirt. Armin was happy to show her off when they visited a café and then a club. After a few drinks, Armin dared to ask Brigitte if she wanted to spend the rest of the evening with him at his apartment. Brigitte agreed with a wide grin, but she added in a serious, if not anxious, tone, “You know, you should know some things about me before...”

“Well ... can you tell me when we get to my place, or do you think you’re going to say something that would make me regret inviting you?” Armin replied with a mischievous grin.

“I will definitely have a better chance if we’re already at your apartment,” Brigitte quipped, lightening the situation.

They arrived at the apartment and sat down on the sofa. Armin created an intimate atmosphere by dimming the lights and playing some soft jazz.

Brigitte began fidgeting, wringing her hands, and finally began what seemed to be a well-rehearsed speech.

“Armin, I need to be honest. I have an anxiety disorder; it’s called haphephobia, which has made it tough for me to build and maintain relationships,” Brigitte said so softly that Armin had to strain to hear her.

“Okay, I’m listening,” Armin murmured, trying to reassure Brigitte.

“I have a kind of phobia of touching--I mean hugging, kissing--and those things that boyfriends and girlfriends do,” Brigitte disclosed haltingly, obviously it was important to her how Armin would react.

Armin tried not to show disappointment, but Brigitte saw it in his eyes. She was frantic. Have I lost everything again?

“I have some kind of haphephobia. I can’t kiss or caress. I can’t even fall asleep if someone is lying next to me. I mean, I was literally just thinking about hugging and kissing. Come on, don’t look at me so sad; of course, I do have sex. I mean, if you want to...,” Brigitte strived to clarify.

As soon as she mentioned sex, a smile appeared on Armin’s face again, and Brigitte continued.

“So, I can’t have a truly normal relationship. But I really like you; I wish I were normal and could be... “ She stopped mid-sentence because nothing had happened between them yet, and she had already clarified that she would be happy to be with Armin.

“Now I’ve blown everything, huh?” Brigitte asked nervously.

Armin wanted to kiss her to soothe her worries, but instead he said, “No, you haven’t. I appreciate your honesty. I’m glad you like me because I like you.”

“I feel you want to kiss me now, but for me it is...”

“Shhh, shh,” Armin soothed, “I understand.”

Brigitte’s heart was breaking, but she knew if she wanted Armin in her life she must compromise, so she continued, “I also feel that you wouldn’t be exclusive with a girl you can’t kiss and caress; that’s why ... I think ... we could have sex as much as you like. We can do that, if that suits you.”

“Okay. Just to make sure I understand. We can have sex, but no cuddling, hugging, kissing--and you’re offering an open relationship,” Armin summarized.

Brigitte excused herself and went to the bathroom. Armin was turned on by her, and who wouldn’t be? An Asian woman with a German mentality was his perfect girl.