Travel Thursday: Sweet Danish, part 3

“And the rest, as they sa,” Helle wound up her story, “is vile pornography.”
There was only one guy sitting across from her, ostensively listening to her storytelling, but by now every male in the place was alert to the beauty in their midst. Most thought they were doing a good job of not showing said interest, but all were incredibly obvious in turning to other things when I made my way back and plopped on the chair beside the redhead.
“Aren’t you ashamed?” Helle smirked.
“Not yet,” I yawned, “give me time. And when did you learn that word?”
“I’m broadening my horizons, as the diplomats like to say. My turn yet?”
“Go do your thing.”
“But the point is for him to do my thing!”
“Not so loud, stupid.”
Grinning, she got up and walked slowly over to the worker, who was clearing a now-empty table. She sat on the edge of the next table, ignoring the guy sitting there, a guy who’d been annoying her by playing a portable keyboard. The keyboard itself wasn’t annoying, just his selection, or more likely his lack of skill.
“Wait! You’re about to sit on Beethoven!”
“He never had it so good,” she pouted Mae West-ishly, then ignored him and concentrated on her target, wondering what would be the best approach. She could always say she needed a shower too, but didn’t want to be asked why she didn’t do that when she’d first arrived. The obvious answer was to give me time with the blonde, but that might lead to further questions, and right now she wanted me to be the furthest thing from this guy’s mind.
So, remembering how hard she’d laughed when I’d explained the acronym KISS to her, she smiled sweetly and asked in Danish, “Wanna fuck?”
Looking at her chest, the guy nodded about one hundred and sixteen times.
Lisa had been pretending to look through the brochures by the counter, but now that she saw her lover was alone and likely to remain that way, with the redhead depositing her bag in the space left when she’d picked up hers as she headed toward the showers with the guy who worked there, the blonde quickly scampered over to the seat next to me. She was about to ask just what kind of relationship I had with the redhead, but figured it wasn’t any of her business, certainly not at this moment, and why jinx a good thing?
I smiled as she sat next to me, liking her little nervous return grin. By now I was pretty sure the brainy beauty wasn’t involved with the bad guys, just had been horny after several. . . hours?. . . without sex.
“Glad to see you’re not jealous of the redhead.”
She laughed and opened her mouth to reply, then shut it and blushed. Finally she decided what the hell and blurted, “I was about to say she’d be jealous of me, but I didn’t mean it in an egotistical way. After all, if you guys are together and I butt in, shouldn’t she be the jealous one?”
“Except she just went off to do that guy. . .”
“So you guys have an open relationship?”
“Not that kind of relationship. We’re old friends, and when we’re near to each other we get together, that’s all.”
“Damn, I was so hoping I could make her jealous!”
“Thank you for admitting that.”
She laughed. “Some people say honesty’s the best policy.”
I shrugged. “Others lie about it.”
Still laughing, she let her hand drop into my lap. “I wonder if there are hotels around here that rent by the hour.”
“Doubt it. Not around here, anyway. When you coming back through town?”
“Not till next week. Where are you off to?”
“Amsterdam.” I was surprised that, with all this talk of honesty, I could lie so easily. “But just for a couple of days, on business. Be back Thursday.”
“So you’ll probably be here when I pass by again, though I may rush back anyway.”
The next few moments were spent in mutual caressing, she giving it all her attention and me giving just enough to keep her from complaining as I kept an eye on the friendly redhead.
“Ha!” Lisa suddenly giggled. “That guy over there is watching us. . .”
Helle had been looking forward to the shower, one of her favorite venues for sex, so she hadn’t expected the guy to simply lead her a few feet into the next room and grab a hold of her best parts. Not that such a thing was unwelcome, since she was well and truly primed. . . suddenly she realized the guy had left the door open enough so most of the people in the big room, me and blonde included, could watch them, and probably were. The possibility of being voyeured made her all the more frenzied. . . she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so utterly stimulated, then realized it had to do with the situation: Jane Bond working undercover, she giggled inwardly. Fucking for the cause. . .
It took less than five minutes to bring her to the moment everyone was waiting for, her target thought smugly. She would be too preoccupied to worry about her bags, so his buddies could take all the time they needed to grab her gear and take off. Rarely would any of the people loitering around the big room try to interfere, and if this redhead’s buddy, the guy who’d had his own fun with the luscious blonde, tried to interfere, well, he’d regret it.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Helle’s familiar orgasmic throes, and it looked like the guy was getting there too, if Lisa’s squeezing meant anything. If there was a point where the bad guys would strike, it would be now. . .
And just as I thought that, the guy with the keyboard, the only person in the big room who was actually bothering to pretend not to watch, got up and headed toward the couple, trying to hide his erection with his keyboard but failing miserably.
“Guy wants some red!” Lisa laughed. “Good thing he didn’t see us!”
Was this a second decoy? I wondered. If all eyes hadn’t been riveted on the scene, they sure would be now, since all the guys were thinking: if the redhead gives it to that guy, she would surely do me too. So I kept my peripheral vision firmly on the bags against the wall.
And at that moment three guys slinked in the door, hugging the wall behind everyone, and nonchalantly made their way toward the place where Helle’s bags were resting. Two watched the crowd while one scooped up her gear; then, when they saw no one had seen them, they let their hands pick up whatever else they could find on the tables or floor next to the voyeurs, who were still too wrapped up in the sex scene to notice.
I let my free hand, the one not being used to keep Lisa happy for the moment, wander down to my pants pocket. . . no, not for that, especially when she could do it for me. Uh-uh. What actually happened was, ten seconds after I pressed the button, before the bad guys reached the door, a dozen cops were making their way into the establishment, freezing all the occupants.
Most people thought someone had informed the cops about the public sex and pretended to be busy with their own stuff, but the cops quickly corralled the three suspects. I did not see this, though, for I had not taken my eyes off Helle and her temporary pleasure giver. Said guy, still apparently enjoying himself, saw what was going on and let his eyes bulge out the way other parts of him were. Stuffing said parts, condom and all, back into his pants, he made a break for the door, hoping to get behind the counter and get out through the emergency door there.
Somehow Helle managed to react during her long orgasm and dove to tackle the guy, which on second thought was a stupid thing to do, with all the policemen out there. The stupidity of her action was brought into full focus by the pain in her ankle as she landed on his legs and brought him down. Some time during the sex her foot had been caught in the tiny crevice between the bookshelf and the side wall, and when she’d turned to tackle the guy, her ankle had stayed right there. Something had to give, and since the foot and ankle were smaller than the rest of her, that’s what gave out.
Two cops went over to lift and handcuff the guy, then march him over to the rest of his gang, like they were going to take photos of the event.
Seeing things were under control, I went over to see why Helle hadn’t gotten up.
“So it was the obvious guy,” she giggled up at me, then winced.
That’s when I noticed her ankle looked a bit. . . gross. “Doesn’t that hurt?”
“Immensely,” she admitted. “Now that things have kind of settled, could you call a doctor?”
I snapped a command behind me, then told her, “Try not to elevate it.”
“Why?”
“Some poor unsuspecting soul might try to look up your skirt.”
“So what am I looking at?” she sighed, trying hard not to look at her ankle.
I knew what she meant. “If it bent one way, it’s broken. If it bent the other way, torn ligaments. Oddly enough, the ligaments take longer to heal than broken bones. . .”
I stayed with her until the paramedics arrived, which luckily didn’t take long because there was always a couple of them in the train station, waiting for just this kind of situation. . . or a situation, anyway. A couple of minutes later the male medic confirmed this was not a life-threatening injury, and that there was nothing he could do for her but make her comfortable for the ride to the hospital. Trying to hide a grin, the female paramedic handed him the air cast, then stepped away to let him try his best.
“Be gentle with me,” Helle sighed as the guy stabilized her lower leg.
“You won’t feel a thing.”
“Not that gentle. . .”
He tried not to grin. “Somebody help her to the ambulance. Her ankle’s broken and we can’t get the stretcher down here.”
A tall, formidable-looking cop scooped her up.
“Well,” she said, surprised but not at all struggling. “I can think of worse ways to travel.”
The cop smirked at the annoyed paramedic, but Helle put a hand on his arm and whispered something that made the big guy blush. Her other hand reached out and squeezed the paramedic’s arm, and then she grinned at the female medic, who seemed surprised but not overly shocked to be included.
So now that things–like Helle–were well in hand, literally, I moved over to grab her gear and say my goodbyes to Lisa, hoping to get her phone number in Rome while I was at it. But I was distracted as the cops pulled the wicked desk clerk across my path on the way out.
The bad guy did his best bad-guy sneer. “Revenge is a dish best served cold.”
“So is gazpacho.”
And that seemed to sum things up quite nicely. . .

;o)

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