Sonja threw herself into Pablo’s arms so suddenly that the man in his early sixties nearly lost his balance. Luckily, his reflexes were still sharp. He caught the cotton-haired blonde, whom he called Little Hippie, by the shoulder blades, and she was once again surrounded by the scent of lemon vanilla.
Pablo couldn’t help himself. As he carefully embraced Sonja, he inhaled deeply, drawing in the scent that was like a drug to him. For a few moments, it paralyzed him, leaving him with no choice but to stare in admiration at the enchanting sight before him: the cascade of freshly washed golden curls, the naturally vibrant red lips, the upturned little nose sprinkled with tiny freckles. Her youthful, flexible figure was just the icing on the cake.
“Isn’t the restaurant a bit far? Why don’t we take a cab instead?” Sonja chirped, adjusting the colorful, rhinestone-studded flower clips in her hair.
“I was thinking we could walk. With such a beautiful companion by my side, I’d love to make all the old-timers we pass jealous,” Pablo joked.
“Oh, come on. My feet still hurt from yesterday’s walk,” the young woman whined, gently brushing her hand across Pablo’s chest.
Pablo shivered at her touch. Just like that night when he had first seen her. The young, foreign woman had arrived at the bar with a few of her girlfriends. It wasn’t until she was ready to pay that she realized she had left her wallet behind. Pablo, who was sitting alone at the counter with his drink, hadn’t hesitated. He immediately signaled the waiter to cover the bill for the ethereal beauty. Tears of gratitude welled up in Sonja’s eyes as she placed her soft hand on his slightly wrinkled one.
“Thank you, dear,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Let’s meet tomorrow so I can pay you back.”
“No need. You were my guest. It’s rare I get the chance to treat such a beautiful woman to a drink. Let me just imagine we went on a date. I don’t even mind if it ends in a breakup.”
Sonja laughed at his self-deprecating humor.
“How about you show me some interesting spots around the city instead? I just arrived today and don’t know anyone.”
“That sounds great. But let’s be clear: I was just kidding earlier. I don’t date blondes. So don’t get your hopes up; you don’t stand a chance with me,” Pablo declared with mock seriousness, furrowing his brows.
“Thanks for the honesty,” the young woman played along, “though I wasn’t planning on getting involved in any adventures either. I’m only here for six months. Getting tangled up in something isn’t on my agenda.”
Pablo delighted in showing Sonja around. He loved how his “Little Hippie” marveled at the beauty of it all. Her endless chatter, laughter, and enthusiasm were infectious. Even when he invited her for some food and drinks, she never stopped talking. Pablo always got hungry by late afternoon, and somehow their meetings always happened at that time. Sonja never wanted to sit down anywhere, but Pablo hated eating alone. He was too old to hold off until dinner, so after some convincing, Sonja would always give in and accept his invitation. Pablo watched her eat with satisfaction.
“You always eat with such an appetite, even though you’re never hungry, like it’s your only proper meal of the day,” he teased.
Sonja would playfully pretend to stash a few slices of bread in her pocket, clearly enjoying their light banter.
That evening, Pablo had reserved a table to celebrate Sonja’s birthday. He wanted them to walk to the restaurant. He craved the rejuvenating energy of her presence and hoped, perhaps, to hold her hand at last. Especially since they were going somewhere with dancing. Dancing could be the perfect opportunity to spark desire. Why couldn’t there be something between them? They’d been meeting for weeks. Sonja always hugged him, sometimes even pressed her cheek to his. Why wouldn’t a young woman desire an older man? After all, Pablo wasn’t ancient. He stayed active, took care of his appearance, and was always ready for romance—or almost always. And Sonja definitely had a thing for older men.
“All right, I’ll call a cab.”
Sonja nestled against him with a relieved sigh.
“Thank you. And just so there’s no argument later: I’m paying for the ride.”
A few minutes later, Pablo lost all sense of the world around him. All he could feel was the soft hair resting on his shoulder and the warmth of her leg pressed against his. He breathed in her lemony vanilla scent as if it were a life elixir. He barely heard her explanation about her bank card—whether it was blocked, lost, or simply the wrong one she’d grabbed. It didn’t matter. He handed her his card, keeping as close to this magical being as possible.
Her red lips pressed sensually against the rim of her champagne glass. Pablo watched, longing to trade places with the crystal.
“Barbara!” someone shouted.
“Hey, it really is Barbara! Wow, you’re back?”
Pablo didn’t understand why two young men were shouting around their table. Sonja laughed nervously, her delicate hand trembling as she ran it through her hair.
“You’ve mistaken me for someone else…” she answered hoarsely.
“Oh, really?” one of them scoffed. “So you’re still making your living the same way, huh?”
“Let it go. Let’s leave,” the other urged. “Ciao, Barbara. Have fun. And you,” he said, patting Pablo on the shoulder, “be careful—she might clean you out completely.”
Then they disappeared into the crowd.