Bondage Games E-Book

Mark Bold

• Herausgeber: epubli
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 298

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

When you dive into an unknown world and gradually become addicted without realizing it, your life will be turned upside down. The same is true of Olaf - a young man who thinks he is in paradise - when he is invited into the world of the mature and still extremely attractive Renate. What begins as an adventure ends in ultimate disaster. Bondages Games is an erotic thriller that explores the depths of the human soul.

Leseprobe

Mark Bold

Bondage Games

April

1

Renate finished her exercise session today on the exercise bike. The distance covered was sufficient and her heart rate high enough. The calories burned allowed for a small culinary sin. But only a small one.

Drenched in sweat, she went into the bathroom and ran warm water in the whirlpool. She looked at herself in the mirror. On the whole, she was very pleased with what she saw. She stripped off her T-shirt, took off her leggings and looked at herself again. This time naked. With her hands she stroked her belly. It was flat, just as it should be. Renate tightened the skin between her thumb and forefinger, still satisfied. 'Not an ounce of fat too much,' she thought, feeling her breasts. They felt firm and taut. Her nipples pointed forward and not downward, as is normal for most women her age. The minor surgical procedure a few years ago had paid off, and the two small scars on the right and left below her armpits were only visible when you looked very closely. Actually, you only saw them if you knew. Her husband always came home far too exhausted to enjoy them on and with her. But at the moment she didn't think about it, but held her face closer to the mirror.

Renate looked at her teeth, and although they were very white, she was determined to have to go back to whitening. 'I should make an appointment with Doctor Zarnich next week,' she reflected, looking toward the whirlpool.

The water was high enough. Renate quickly went to the kitchen and got a liter of milk. She always did that when she took a bath. After she returned, she distributed the milk evenly in the tub and placed the empty tetrapack on the floor. Then she checked the temperature of the water. It was perfect. Slowly she got in and lay down in the milky wet. She closed her eyes and gave herself completely to the relaxing massage that the jets were giving her flawless body.

Gently she stroked her breasts and belly with her hands. As her fingers felt their way further down, she noticed that her mons veneris felt a little scratchy. She was due for an intimate shave. Renate wanted to get it done right away; but first she enjoyed the tender touch of her hands. Her fingertips circled the sensitive spot with feeling. Involuntarily, she thought of Frank. How often had he been allowed to spoil her right here with the tip of his tongue?

Renate thought back fondly, even though the last time was a long time ago. Four weeks to be exact. If Frank hadn't started bragging about it to one of his friends, he would still be allowed to do so today. But at the latest when an acquaintance had discreetly asked her if there was any truth in the rumor, Renate had indignantly denied it and immediately ended the little liaison. Frank had always kept to their agreement during the dance lessons and no one had noticed anything. Their meetings had always taken place during the day. Nevertheless, she had avoided the dance club ever since. Renate didn't want to add fuel to the rumor, but it was much more important that Norbert didn't hear anything. She did not want to hurt her husband. He trusted her and that's how it should stay. Although he never went to the exercise sessions, he still paid the membership fee. 'You can never be too careful,' she thought and, satisfied for the moment, began shaving.

A few minutes later, she got out of the water and dabbed herself dry with the bath towel. She stood on the scales and was pleased with the number displayed. "Fifty-four kilograms at one meter sixty-eight is perfect," she mused, reaching for the almond oil she always rubbed on herself from head to toe after her bath.

When she was finished, she pulled on the silk bathrobe and looked toward the whirlpool. The water hadn't completely drained and that annoyed her. Why did it have to involve her bath again and not her husband's? Which wasn't the real reason for her annoyance. She didn't like the master plumber who always came and took care of any work that needed to be done in the apartment. But her husband insisted on hiring him. It was the only way he could charge the costs through his property management company. Plumbing Wessel was an integral part of his company's policy. "Never change a running system," Norbert always said, and success proved him right. "What the heck," Renate muttered and went into the study to find out the phone number of the plumbing company.

When she finished the phone call a few minutes later, she was a little happier again. The owner of the plumbing company, Mr. Wessel, was sick, and that meant that another employee of his company would come by tomorrow. 'Well, at least I'll be spared the sight of the fatso,' Renate thought and went back to her bathroom. There was still a small puddle in the whirlpool. She took off her bathrobe again and hung it on the hanger. Naked, she went into her bedroom to pick out the appropriate wardrobe for the afternoon. She wanted to go for a stroll. Norbert was not expected to show up before 8 pm. Rather later, but then he would contact her in time. That was always the case, and she could rely on it.

Renate looked out of the window. The April weather seemed to have made a mistake in the month. It was sunny, mild and dry. Stylishly, she reached into the closet and began to dress. Meanwhile, a new idea occurred to her, and she decided to go out for a bite to eat after all. There were good restaurants in the immediate vicinity. Renate was still wavering between Italian and Spanish cuisine. But the probability of meeting some familiar faces was greater at the "Mar y Sol," and that also determined which shoes she would choose; it could be the high-heeled ones, because the way there was not far.

Shortly before twenty o'clock she returned home. The afternoon had been amusing, and as expected, she had met a long-time acquaintance. The women had chatted extensively. It was nothing earth-shattering that they had talked about; but at these unplanned meetings the pecking order could be clarified again in a friendly way. That's how it had been today, too. Enthusiastically, Renate now set about preparing a small evening snack. Any moment now Norbert had to come home.

She was cutting the vegetables when her husband entered the kitchen.

"Hello, my angel," he said and came to her at the table. He kissed her briefly. "How was your day," he inquired. She told him that a plumber was coming by tomorrow and that she had hired Company Wessel. Norbert smiled contentedly when he heard that. He could rely on his wife.

"How did it go with you today?" now Renate asked in her turn. "As usual, there was a lot to do," Norbert began, and that made her attention drop noticeably. She didn't care when he began to tell her that the general contractor for the renovation project in Wilmersdorf had come to his office again and brought the corrected bid lists. Norbert reported what it was all about, but Renate only listened with one ear and - nodding her head and saying "Aha" over and over again - fried the meat. Her husband's business was not a closed book, but she was not particularly interested in it either. Since she had ended her promising career twenty-five years ago and devoted herself entirely to her family, her interest in business activities had gradually waned. A circumstance that had gradually crept in, as she herself had noticed after about ten years. Since then, she had learned to come to terms with the circumstances and make the best of them. This arrangement worked until today and it worked well. Her husband provided for the ever-increasing wealth and Renate provided for him. Along the way, she also provided for herself, but Norbert knew nothing about that. That was just as well. Especially since she had already been thinking a lot lately about how things might turn out when he retired. There was still some time left until then, but two years went by quickly. Her son Patrick was still studying in Constance, but was due to become part of his father's business the next year, with a view to taking it over later and running it successfully. Renate occasionally found herself hoping that Patrick would be clumsy and thus delay the handover of the company. The chances of that, however, were slim.

The meat was cooked and crispy. "Pass me two plates, please," she said, and Norbert fetched them from the cupboard. Renate put on the meat and then the salad. Together they began to eat.

"Do you have anything out of the ordinary coming up in the next few days?" she interrupted the silence.

"No. Have you thought about coming this weekend?"

"I don't feel like it."

"But then don't complain if you don't like the colors of the tiles or the walls later."

"Are we staying overnight on the property?"

"If I'm going alone, I'll spend the night there. If you're coming, we can go home in the evening. Do you have any plans for the weekend?"

"No, but I don't feel like the huge garden either. What do you say I come along during the day and we go to the theater again in the evening?" Renate looked at her husband with a smile. "Afterwards we'll go to a little bar or dance. We haven't done that for a long time," she added.

Norbert thought about it for a moment. "Agreed, my dear. I assume you already know where we're going and will take care of it?"

Renate nodded. "Of course. Beate gave me some good tips this afternoon."

"Ah, you met her. Is she better?"

"She's making a pathetic impression again. But I didn't follow up either. You know how she is."

Norbert nodded in agreement. "Indeed I do. Hopefully she'll grieve with her husband someday the same way she grieved with her dog."

Renate couldn't help but smile. "Waldi was just her everything."

"But still just a dog. He doesn't care what his mistress looks like. Her husband just doesn't. She shouldn't have let herself go like that in the last few years."

"You don't have that worry, my darling," Renate replied in an erotic voice. "Would you like to spend the night at my place again? You haven't done that for a long time."

"Then don't complain about the snoring tomorrow."

"Then don't fall asleep in front of me."

"Or kick me out in time."

"Okay."

Renate got up and cleared the table. "Why don't you go take a shower? Are we meeting at my place or yours?" she asked meanwhile.

"My place. We both know I'll fall asleep before you do."

"See you in a bit, then."

2

Renate awoke in her bedroom. She went to the bathroom and freshened up. Dressed in her robe, she walked to the kitchen where Norbert was preparing his first coffee of the day.

"Good morning. Would you like some coffee too?" he asked and Renate nodded. "When did you move?" he inquired of his wife.

"Just after you fell asleep. Your sawing didn't take long," she replied with a grin and kissed her husband on the cheek. "I wonder what women do who don't have their own bedrooms?"

"Earplugs are supposed to help," Norbert flattened, knowing full well that was definitely not the answer. "Don't worry, there will also be two bedrooms in the weekend house, but only one shared bathroom upstairs," he added, taking the first sip of coffee. As he did so, he glanced at his watch. "I've got to get going. I have an appointment at nine o'clock. See you tonight, sweetheart." He kissed Renate briefly, went into the study to get his bag, and left the apartment.

Renate sat alone in the kitchen thinking about her appointment today. At twelve o'clock the plumber was supposed to come. There was still plenty of time until then and she calmly prepared her breakfast. Afterwards, she went to her bathroom and was annoyed to notice how the water was backing up even while she was showering. Somewhere the two drains finally met. That could only mean the main drain pipe of her bathroom had to be clogged. A quick look into the hot tub confirmed her suspicions. The puddle wasn't very high, but this one to two inch puddle of water didn't belong here. 'Well, hopefully it won't take that long later,' she thought, and could already see herself sitting around bored in the apartment while the plumber spent hours trying to unclog it.

Shortly before noon, the doorbell rang. Renate looked at the small monitor mounted next to the front door. 'Quite neat,' she thought, and pressed the intercom. "Yes, please."

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Ziegert. I'm the plumber and I've come about the repair. Schulz is my name."

"I'll get it. Come all the way upstairs, please." Renate pressed the door opener and saw the young man enter the house.

Automatically, she looked again in the large mirror in the hallway, and her hands adjusted her hairstyle. It didn't change anything in her hair, but this movement was a reflex. Renate was just like other women. She was satisfied with her reflection, and quickly slipped into the slightly higher shoes she often wore at home.

The doorbell rang again. Renate opened the door. The young handyman was putting on booties over his shoes. When he finished a few seconds later, he entered the apartment and carefully put down the two toolboxes. He extended his hand to her.

"Hello Mrs. Ziegert. The boss can't make it today, so Mrs. Wessel sent me."

"Mr. Wessel is sick, I hear. What's wrong with him?"

"I don't know, but I think he'll be out for a while."

"My husband won't be thrilled about that. I'm sure you know that Mr. Wessel often works with him."

"The boss's wife has already told me that. Where is it not going on?"

"Come with me, I'll show you."

Renate went ahead and the plumber followed her. Once in her bathroom, she told how badly the water had drained just yesterday in the hot tub, but also this morning in the shower.

Meanwhile, the plumber took a quick look around. 'The boss's wife wasn't exaggerating there. Everything here is really top of the line,' he thought. "Then I'll take a look at the two problems," he said when Renate had finally finished.

"You do that. Would you like some coffee, Mr. Schulz?"

"As soon as I'm done, I'd love to."

"I'll be in the kitchen if you need me."

"Okay," the plumber said, not knowing where the kitchen was.

Renate left and the handyman stayed behind in the bathroom. 'Wessel wasn't exaggerating there.' The place seems really huge,' he mused for a moment and then immediately began his work.

In the kitchen, Renate poured herself some mineral water in a glass and thought about what she could do in the meantime. She hated being condemned to wait because of such trifles, especially since she was doing her personal fitness program at this hour. Her flawless body was, after all, the result of hard work and discipline - except for the minor correction.

Bored, she zapped through a wide variety of television programs, only to turn the set off after a few minutes. Then she decided to listen to her current favorite CD. While the music played, she took an apple and bit into it. The sweet aroma of the fruit, coupled with the sound of the current track, made her mood feel much better. 'At least I'm spared the sight of the fat guy.' I didn't even know that attractive craftsmen also worked in his pad,' she thought and had to smile. Her imagination was fired, but at the same time last night came to her mind. She was not dissatisfied with Norbert's performance, but she also knew she could not expect more from him. That was just the way it was after more than thirty years together. If she told him what she sometimes thought about and what she would like to do with him, he wouldn't understand. That's why she never told him. "Never change a running system," she whispered softly and smirked. Her little secrets were running through her head. Not even her best friend knew about them, and that was good. Her friend didn't know about her remaining desires either, and that was even better.

She was abruptly jolted out of her thoughts when she suddenly heard the handyman calling for her.

"Mrs. Ziegert, where are you?"

"Here." She stood up to go toward him. "Is there a problem?" she called while still in the hallway, almost colliding with him.

"Oops," escaped her at the last moment.

"Sorry," said the handyman, who had also stopped abruptly when he saw Renate standing in front of him. "I didn't know where your kitchen was, and I didn't want to look all over the apartment. I'm done."

"Already?" Renate looked at her watch. "You've only been here a half hour."

"It was no big deal. The water is draining out again, but the main drain pipe would need to be milled out properly at some point. The pipes are old, and over time, a lot of stuff settles in there. This should affect all drains. Has the chief ever done that?"

"You can ask questions. He's been here a couple of times and done some kind of installation. As far as I can remember, this was the second clog since we've lived here. Then I put on some coffee for us. I had no idea you'd finish so quickly. Come on."

Renate went back into the kitchen and the handyman followed her.

"Have a seat. The coffee won't take long. Would you like regular coffee or would you prefer an espresso or cappuccino?"

"Cappuccino, please."

She briskly prepared two cups, placed them on the kitchen table and took a seat across from the handyman himself.

"Thank you. Mrs. Wessel told me not to do any billing on your end."

"Yes, yes. My husband and your boss will handle it between them. But wait, I'll be right back with you."

Renate got up and ran all the way to the front of the hall. She picked up her purse. On her way back, she took a quick look in her bathroom. Everything was tidy and the two toolboxes stood neatly in front of the door. She found nothing wrong at first glance and went back to the kitchen. On the way, she fingered a fifty-euro bill from her purse, and when she arrived, she sat down again and slid the money across the table to the handyman.

"For your snappy work."

"That's kind of you, but the boss said I can't accept tips from you."

"She won't hear it from me." Renate smiled at the handyman. She found him very attractive. How old might he be? She didn't want to ask about that.

"Thank you." The workman took the bill and put it in the breast pocket of his overalls.

"How long have you worked at the Wessel Company?"

"For two years."

"Because I've never seen you before."

"How could you? I'm always on the road clearing blockages. With you during the day, but most emergencies happen in the evenings and at night, strangely enough. In that respect, I don't see the boss and his wife very often either, and when I do, it's usually only briefly. I just drop off the invoices and the call sheets, and that's it. The new orders usually come by phone."

"Then you're a night worker. I didn't know that existed among plumbers."

"More than you think. Besides, the extra pay makes it the most money."

"Doesn't your wife mind if you're never home at night?" Renate had noticed the wedding ring on his hand.

"Over time, you get used to it, and the house payments have to be made, too."

"Tell me about it. My husband also leaves the apartment every day at eight and never comes back before twenty. Often much later. That's where personal life falls by the wayside. Sometimes I think, what's the use of all that money if you don't get anything out of it because all you ever do is work. What's your name, by the way?"

"Olaf."

"Olaf, what do you think about doing this milling work soon?"

"If the boss puts me in charge of it again, I'd love to."

"I mean privately, as a little extra income for you. Just like today. You come around noon and do all the drains, bit by bit. Then, starting in the evening, you do your note assignments."

Renate smiled at him and the tip of her tongue brushed along her lip.

"That should be okay," Olaf replied, but he wasn't sure he understood the offer either.

"When could you come back here?"

"Next week, if you want. I don't have the right tools with me right now."

"I think so, but next week is fine."

3

Olaf loaded the toolboxes into the car. He looked at his watch and thought briefly about what he could do in his remaining free time. 'I'll pick Katja up later,' he considered, but wanted to get out of here first and as soon as possible. He wasn't sure how he would have reacted if his client had gone on.

He started the car and drove off. The drive took him to Berlin-Mitte. Halfway there, he looked for a place to park. When he finally found it, he got out and went to a snack bar.

Olaf ordered two curry sausages with French fries and a Coke. While he ate, he reviewed the last mission. What was he to make of this clearly ambiguous offer? It had already happened occasionally that women had offered him sex as payment. Usually these were single mothers who could not or did not want to raise the money for urgently needed repairs. Once he had accepted the offer, but that was several years ago. The guilty conscience had accompanied him for a long time then. Olaf was happily married, and his life with Katja and their two children was going well. He didn't want to jeopardize that. But this woman didn't turn him on to save on repair costs. The Ziegerts seemed to have more than enough money, and a small financial injection would come in handy for Olaf. The double burden of the rent still to be paid and the installments already due to the bank for the unfinished house dampened the mood at home somewhat. The nightly tours did help financially - that's why he had agreed to them two years ago in consultation with his wife - but they could use a few extra bucks right now. He also wasn't sure if he had interpreted the hints and gestures correctly. 'Does this woman need this?" Olaf pondered back and forth. He couldn't even tell how old Mrs. Ziegert was. 'She still looks damn attractive and is definitely older, but how much?' He had no answers, and perhaps his musings were completely unnecessary. 'There's a lot of water flowing through the Spree until next week,' he concluded his thoughts, shoving the last bite into his mouth.

He looked at his watch again and dug out his cell phone. Olaf called his wife and suggested they pick her up. Katja immediately agreed. "See you in a minute then," Olaf ended the call and strolled back to the car.

When he reached Checkpoint Charlie a few minutes later, he contacted Katja again. "Honey, I'll be right there. Will you be down in five minutes?" She agreed and Olaf drove the few meters to Charlottenstraße. There he stopped in the second row and waited for his wife. After just three minutes, she joyfully approached him and got in.

"Hi honey, this is a nice surprise." Katja gave her husband a kiss and fastened her seat belt. "Are we going to pick up the kids together?"

Olaf nodded. "Sure thing."

The drive took the couple to Berlin-Marzahn. At the all-day school, they picked up first their daughter Susanne, who was eight, and then their son Tobias, who was two years older. They then drove home to Mehrower Allee.

The apartment was on the twelfth floor of a huge apartment complex. Here, the anonymity of the residents was secure. Apart from the immediate neighbors, no one knew anyone. For this reason alone, Olaf and Katja were looking forward to having their own house in Neu-Lindenberg. The remaining work was to take about three months, and the move was planned for the beginning of the school vacations in the summer. The vacations in the house and the garden were supposed to be a small compensation for the vacation that would not take place this year. At least that was the family's plan.

"Can we still manage to eat together before you have to leave?" asked Katja her husband.

Olaf looked at his watch. "If it's quick, then yes. I have to be in Lichtenberg at 7 p.m."

"If you're okay with spaghetti."

"Spaghetti always fits," he replied. The children also agreed with him.

4

On Saturday morning, Renate and Norbert left together. "When does the first handyman arrive?" asked Renate, a little bored.

"Around ten o'clock. So we still have two hours."

"I hope it doesn't take that long. I bought two tickets for the revue. It starts at eight o'clock."

"Then we have to be back by four at the latest. I hope one hour in the bathroom is enough for you?" Norbert had to grin a little.

"It could be shorter, but then don't complain," Renate countered glibly.

"I would never dare, my angel."

Norbert stepped on the gas a little more and the heavy Porsche Cayenne pulled away effortlessly. As they drove down the highway, Renate was able to give herself over completely to the music and her thoughts. Norbert didn't like to talk while he drove. She had long since resigned herself to this.

The CD was not yet completely played when they left the highway again. 'Ten more minutes,' she thought, eager to see what awaited them on the property. She hated the thought of living there permanently in two or three years - at least during the summer months. She didn't want to live in the country; she was a city girl. But Norbert had owned that nearly 4,000 square feet with the cottage on it for 25 years. When their son was little, they had spent the odd week here, but it had never been more than two. Not even later.

Renate had always trusted that his idea of spending his retirement here with her was just a quirk; but for a year now, Norbert had been working out here again and again. Actually, he let work and merely supervised the whole thing. His decision seemed to be immovable. From about May to September, he wanted to enjoy retirement, out here in the country, and had even thought aloud about whether it would still make sense to keep the apartment at square Savignyplatz. But Renate had convinced him of that. If only for Patrick's sake. She loved this apartment and felt that the 230 m² living space was adequate. Even if they wanted to travel the rest of the year, a reasonable address had to be. This cow village near the lake Beetzsee, as such she saw it, was not an alternative.

Norbert knew her concerns, and that was why he agreed to have the interior done according to her wishes. He stopped briefly, got out and opened the gate of the driveway. When he got back in, he said, "By summer, the gate will open electrically."

Renate mutely took note.

Norbert accelerated again and drove onto the property. What Renate saw now made her wake up from her lethargy. She had remembered the house differently. It was certainly still the old walls, but the windows were larger and the entire building had been newly plastered. In addition, a covered terrace, which seemed to double as a balcony, ran the length of the house. The double garage on the side of the building was also new, and Norbert drove right up to it.

"Hand me the remote from the glove compartment, please."

Renate opened it and handed it to him.

"The garage entrance is already working." Norbert pressed the appropriate button and immediately the gate began to go up. "I hope you like the Mediterranean style?" He looked at his wife with a smile.

"You know I do. Why didn't you ever say anything?"

"Renate, how long have we known each other? Do you think I haven't noticed that you're against my plans. I just hope that's how you can stand it out here with me through the summer months. The inside isn't all finished yet, and that's going to be your part."

"I know myself that we have different opinions about the house, but I have to admit, I really like it at first glance. You might have said something. I couldn't have guessed that it would almost be a new building," she said reproachfully.

Norbert drove into the garage with a grin and they both got out. The door stayed up so the workmen could see they were there.

"Let's put the coffee on first. Then I'll show you around before the people come," he suggested.

Inside the house, only the kitchen had been finished so far. The other rooms had been prepared, but everywhere lacked paint. Upstairs there were the two spacious bedrooms and the bathroom. Except for the connections, however, nothing had been done here either.

"Well, Ms. Interior Designer, you can paint to your heart's content here."

"I'll do that."

Renate gave Norbert a kiss. Relatively happy and inwardly reconciled, she went back downstairs with him and poured coffee into the cups. In half an hour the workmen were to come and discuss the further interior work with them. Renate immediately had very concrete ideas about how the rooms could be designed. The Mediterranean style should definitely continue in the interior. The colors of the walls, the floors and the tiles had to be chosen by her. Inwardly, she already saw everything in front of her anyway and was looking forward to procuring the matching furniture and accessories in the coming weeks. 'Why did I never continue in my job when Patrick came to school?" she briefly pondered, knowing the answer best herself.

Very satisfied, Norbert and Renate started their way home to Berlin in the afternoon. He was satisfied because she was satisfied and she was satisfied because she had a completely free hand in designing the premises. She wanted to start working on the floor plans and photos of the rooms on Monday, and the agreed time window of two weeks was no problem for her. Two days would also have sufficed. Renate was highly motivated, and she secretly acknowledged the possibility that she might be able to come to terms with her husband's plans for the future after all. But that was beside the point at the moment. It was Saturday afternoon, and a nice evening with Norbert was just around the corner. They were both looking forward to it.

5

Olaf and Katja were glad that Tobias and Susanne had been invited to the birthday party of one of their son's classmates today. This finally gave them the time to buy the wallpaper and paint they needed for the house. Most importantly, undisturbed. They had made some sacrifices from their original wishes. That didn't mean opting to buy only woodchip wallpaper for cost reasons. They stuck to their plans for the children's rooms. Their budget had also still allowed for the tiles for the sanitary areas and the kitchen, but then things had gotten tight. "Let's do our bedroom and living room with woodchip wallpaper for now. The hallways, too. We can always change that in a year," Katja had said two days ago, and Olaf had pondered her suggestion. "A new house has to settle first, because the walls and the floor are working. Small cracks appear in the process," she had still argued, and Olaf had agreed. The house had been there for a few months, but her argument helped keep the original dreams from being fully buried. That was how it was, real life. Nevertheless, they were satisfied. After all, they had already made it to a highly indebted house that just needed to be finished. They still had three months to do it. Only yesterday, Katja had taken care of the cancellation of her rental apartment. If there was an unexpected windfall after all, they could still use the woodchip wallpaper and paint for the cosmetic repairs in the old apartment.

The cashier pulled all the items over the cash register's scanner, and the two struggled to refill the cart at the same pace.

"Is that all?" the cashier asked at one point.

"Yes."

"That will be 837 euros and 46 cents."

Olaf puffed briefly and pulled his wallet out of his jacket pocket. Pulling out his EC card, he saw the business card Ms. Ziegert had given him before he left "Call next week and we can make an appointment," she had said, smiling ambiguously again. 'Noble is the way the world goes,' was all Olaf thought and handed the EC card to the cashier. While the payment was being made, Olaf thought about when he should call Renate and decided to try Monday or Tuesday. For a few Euros on the side, there would be no more suitable time right now, and maybe it was really just a matter of milling out the old drains. 'Such dolled-up old women like them just want to show who they are,' he concluded his thoughts and pocketed the EC card again after signing the receipt.

6

Renate was busy decorating the living room when the phone rang. Annoyed, she looked at the display. She didn't know the number, but took the call anyway.

"Ziegert."

"Hello Mrs. Ziegert, this is Olaf Schulz."

"Yes?"

"The plumber. I had the clog cleared last week."

"Oh, yes, excuse me. I'm sure you're calling about the other work. It's not going to happen this week. Can you call back in a week? Something has unexpectedly come up on my end."

"No problem."

"See you next week, then."

Olaf hung up, dissatisfied at the loss of the job. On the other hand, he was now sure he had interpreted too much into her ambiguous allusions last week. "The main thing is that the order still comes through," he muttered, thinking of the next bill at the hardware store. It wouldn't be long in coming.

May

1

Renate looked at the printouts again. She was satisfied. The dominant pastel tones were interrupted only by terracotta. The reddish veined marble tiles of the bathroom also blended harmoniously into the overall picture. Procuring the virtually set-up furniture should not be a problem.

She put the printouts aside and attached the image files to the already prepared mails. They were intended for the craftsmen and were to be executed exactly according to their wishes. From her point of view, the planning was finished. Now it was only a matter of checking the implementation and buying the furniture. But there was no hurry.