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The fall semester of my sophomore year of college was just as lonely as the spring semester of my freshman year. I did well at school, got to know classmates as acquaintances, but still made no friends. The longer it went on, the more I was convinced that there was something wrong with me.Halfway through the semester I went to a presentation by the International Office on Study Abroad. I was really keen to leave campus, but the cost of program seemed prohibitive. I knew Mom didn’t have the money, so I just filed it away.As the leaves fell and the days grew shorter, I went back to working at the stables with Robin and Misty Sue. I had a frank talk with Misty Sue and made it clear that our sexual dalliance was over. She was disappointed but took it well. I think Robin was relieved to find me working in the stables again instead of avoiding her.I had dinner with the two of them a couple of times a week. I told them about my hopes of studying abroad.“Don’t you think your mother will support you?” asked Robin.“Of course, she’ll support me,” I said. “That’s not the problem. The problem is that she will support me, but I know she can’t afford it. She’ll scrimp and deny herself all her little pleasures in order come up with the money. She lives very simply as it is, I can’t make things worse for her.”“Hmmm,” said Robin. She was quiet through the rest of the meal and finally spoke as we were having tea afterward. “You’ve worked for me almost ten years, Johanna. I’ve never counted the hours, but it’s been a lot. I haven’t had to clothe you or give you room and board. It’s been a good deal for me.”“I’ve enjoyed coming here, Robin,” I said.“Misty Sue and I would like pay for your study abroad thing,” she said. Misty Sue nodded.“Are you sure?” I asked, not quite daring to hope. “It’s not cheap.”“We’ll cover it,” said Robin.I got up, put my arms around her, and kissed her on the lips. I kept my eyes open and looked at Misty Sue over her shoulder. Robin held me for a briefly, but didn’t open her mouth to receive my tongue. I tried for a moment to get a response, but she pushed me away.“Don’t, Johanna,” she said. “You’ve worked here for years, you’re like a daughter to me. Let’s leave it at that.”* * * * *Mom was initially reluctant to accept Robin’s offer, saying that it was her responsibility to pay for me. But I kept at her with Robin’s argument that it was just a repayment for all my years of work at the stables. Eventually, she agreed. I worked with the university’s Study Abroad staff to get my paperwork in order. Just before the Christmas break of 2011, I got an acceptance from the University of Göttingen. I corresponded with their admissions office to finalize my student accommodation and course registrations.In early January 2012, Mom drove me to the airport to begin the series of flights that would take me to Germany. As we stood together outside the security area, she hugged me tight, and kissed me hard. I was surprised to see she was crying.“Write to me and call me every day, Johanna,” she sniffed. “I’ll miss you.”“Of course I will, Mom,” I said. Faced with the reality of leaving her alone, I was beset with guilt. She looked so forlorn that I felt my own tears well up. “I can cancel everything and stay with you …”“No, no,” she said, quickly wiping her eyes. “You must go. Have a lovely time and make new friends. Soar into the sky and see the world. But remember wherever you go, you will always have my love with you.”I cried all the way on the flight to bonus veren siteler Newark.Making the transition to my Lufthansa flight in the busy airport, I got into a conversation about my Study Abroad program with the person checking me in. As we talked about Göttingen, I got caught up in the excitement of my upcoming trip and began to feel more upbeat.On the transatlantic flight, I read an Irmgard Keun novel in the original German. I spoke to the flight attendants in German. I was pleased when they all assumed that I was a native, and even asked if I was from Heidelberg. I was tempted to lie, but I ended up telling them the truth – that I am American and had picked up the accent speaking to a German professor from Heidelberg.I flew to Europe every year, but it was always with Mom. This was my first trip by myself. I was feeling carefree and I guess my excitement showed only too clearly.The flight was not very full and I had three seats with a window all to myself. I was able to spread myself out, sitting in the middle seat, but retaining the option of the window if there was anything interesting to see outside.One of flight attendants was a cute, young guy and he came back several times to chat with me. He put a hand on my shoulder the first time and thereafter each time he came back, he grew a little more adventurous. He became bolder when the lights were turned down after the meal service and most passengers were drifting off the sleep or engrossed in watching movies.The first time he cupped my breast through my blouse and bra I demurred verbally, “Wir sollten das nicht tun.” (We shouldn’t do that). But I didn’t push his hand away. The next time when he unbuttoned my blouse, I whispered, Jemand wird sehen! “(Someone will see!) But when he leaned down and kissed me, I kissed him back.Thus encouraged, he sat down in the aisle seat and took me in his arms. He pushed down the cups of my bra and my nipples hardened and stood out. He whispered that he liked my nipples against him as he held me tight. He pushed his hand up my skirt between my legs and his fingers teased me through my panties. I was breathing hard, but I knew this was more than I wanted. I managed to get his hand out from between my legs and put my hands on his chest to give myself some breathing room.“Warum?” he asked. (Why?)“Nur ein paar Küsse,” I murmured. (Just a few kisses.) I switched to English. “I don’t want to have sex with you. I don’t know you.”“That’s the fun of it,” he responded in a low voice, also in English. “Come on, Johanna! You have gotten me so hard!”“I’m sorry,” I said.“Are you going to leave me like this?”“I’m so sorry,” I repeated.“Alles ist fair in Sex,” he said philosophically. “Küss mich noch einmal.” (All’s fair in sex; kiss me one more time.)I kissed him again and he played with my nipples before I pushed him away.He came by a few more times during the night, but I kept him at a safe distance. He gave me a card with his contacts and asked me to get in touch once I was settled. He formally wished me good day and auf wiedersehen as I deplaned in Frankfurt. I dropped his card in a trash bin on my way to immigration. I went to a restroom and sat in a cubicle crying quietly for a while. I felt like a cock teasing bitch. * * * * *I settled in quickly at the university in Göttingen. It was snowy, but much milder than the winters in Wisconsin. I made several acquaintances in my first week there. One of them was Dieter, a tall, lean guy with bedava bahis an easy smile and irreverent Bavarian country accent.He invited me to a party on my first Friday there and I made the mistake of trying to keep up with him drinking beer. We stayed at the party, drinking, chatting and dancing till about midnight. We kissed and made out. When we left together, he put his arm around my waist.He asked me to come by his place for another beer. I knew I was very drunk and refused, but he just laughed. I’m a bit hazy about exactly what happened, but we ended up in his place anyway. As he got me a can of beer from the fridge, he said his flatmate was out for the weekend. By this time, I’d sobered up. I didn’t really want the beer, but took it over my better judgment. We sat on the couch in the living room and he kissed me again.I kissed him back hesitantly. I was not sure I wanted this, but I felt I had led him on and “owed” him, especially after the episode on the flight over from Newark. So when he pulled my top up over my head, I helped him take it off.He unfastened my bra and kissed my nipples muttering, “Du hast kleine Titten, Johanna!” (You have small tits, Johanna!)“Magst du sie nicht?” I mumbled. (Don’t you like them?)“Ich wünschte, sie wären größer, Johanna,” he said in a low voice. (I wish they were bigger, Johanna.)He hiked up my skirt and pulled down my panties.“Please go down on me,” I asked, continuing in English.He ignored my request and pushed a finger into me, using his thumb on my clitoris. It was not gentle, but I did begin to get moist. He grunted his satisfaction and led me to his bedroom. He undressed very quickly and mounted me with my skirt around my waist and my scarf still around my neck. He was not rough, and asked me if I was okay as he pushed his cock into me. I nodded. Once he was fully embedded in me, he lay there and kissed my throat, whispered in my ear in English, “Your pussy is tight and warm, Johanna. So lovely.”His cock was rather small. Even fully in me, he was not very deep. I felt a yawn coming on and managed to stifle it. But when he began to fuck me, slowly with a straightforward in and out motion, I could no longer fight my tiredness. I fell asleep before he came.I woke up in the morning with a splitting headache. Dieter was lying by me on his stomach, breathing the long breaths of deep slumber. I got out of bed cautiously to avoid waking him and got dressed. I went to the kitchen and drank several large glasses of water and felt a little better.I put on my coat, walked back to my place, took two aspirin, and went to bed. I slept all day Saturday, waking up in the late afternoon. I looked at my cell phone and saw there were six texts, all from Dieter. They sounded increasingly worried, so I texted him back that I was home and fine. * * * * *One of things I’ve learned about men is that once you have sex with them, they assume that you’re going to let them have you again. I liked Dieter, but I certainly did not want to have sex with him again. I worried how he would take it when I told him. The week after our night together, he invited me out for dinner, and I accepted. When he tried to kiss me during the meal, I took the bull by the horns and told him that I really didn’t want to get physical with him again.“What’s wrong?” he asked in English. “Did I do something wrong?”“No, no,” I said. “It was all me. You asked me and I said yes.”“Don’t you like me?”“I like you,” I said. “As a friend, deneme bonus someone to talk to. But not as a sexual partner.”“I see,” he said.He was quiet for the rest of the meal. He walked me home and only responded in monosyllabic German when I tried to make conversation.I assumed I would never see him again, but he texted me the next day – ‘I’ll be your friend, Johanna. Do you want to have coffee after class?’I texted back – ‘Yes,’ and that was that.Dieter was majoring in physics and we were in a statistical mechanics class together. My German was very good, but in the highly technical and jargon-laden class, I often had difficulty keeping up. Dieter helped me along with easy nonchalance, never making me feel stupid. As the weeks went by, my knowledge of technical German improved, in part from his tutelage.Dieter was also the secretary of the university ski club. We were having our regular coffee after class in early February when he told me he was organizing the club’s annual ski trip.“It will be in the semester break in the third week of February,” he said. “I’ve booked us a place in Zermatt in Switzerland. I have two questions for you. Do you have plans for the break? And do you ski?”“No, I don’t have any plans and yes, I sort of ski,” I said. “I haven’t been on skis in about eight years. I was twelve when I skied last.”“Well, come along,” he said. “I’m sure you can find slopes to ski on. There are lots of easier runs.”“I can’t. I don’t have any skis. And I’m sure Switzerland is very expensive. I don’t have that much money.”“Just join the university ski club. I can make you a member right now,” he said easily. “Just fifty euros. I have several pairs of skis you can check out. You can also check with some of the girls in the ski club. I’m sure we can find you good equipment.”“But what about the expenses in Zermatt?”“The ski club gets a subsidized hotel rate for its members. And we get funding from the university. It won’t cost too much. And if you’re still worried about it, I can pay for you.”The thought of skiing again did catch my fancy. I’d never skied with anyone but Dad, and I’d never skied in a resort. Zermatt sounded so upscale, so sophisticated, so cool! So the next day, I paid Dieter fifty euros to join the university ski club. He took me to meet Ulrike, one of the girls on the university ski team, who was the co-organizer of the ski trip.She was a tall, lean blonde in her mid-twenties with a long face and cornflower blue eyes. She had the easy grace of an athlete and asked me a series of questions about my height, weight, and what skis I had used.“I don’t know,” I confessed. “Dad used to pick out all my equipment. I know I used pretty wide skis because we were often in deep powder in Montana.”She had over a dozen pairs of skis in her closet. She went over each pair with me, explaining the pros and cons of each with unusual patience. Dieter chimed in from time to time. In the end we settled on a pair of all-mountain skis that were far better than any I had ever skied on. I also lucked out in that Ulrike and I had the same size in ski boots, so I just borrowed those from her as well.Ulrike, Dieter and I drove down to Zermatt in his BMW, with our skis on the roof rack. He drove very fast on the autobahn, over 160 kilometers per hour whenever he could. He was quite casual about it, continuing to talk to Ulrike in the front seat and even turning to talk to me in the backseat from time to time.“We’re staying at the Jagerhof,” he said. “Everything in Zermatt is pretty expensive, but its affordable with the ski club rate and the university subsidy. I’ve used our organizers’ privilege to book a two-bedroom suite for Ulrike and me. You’re welcome to join us. Then you won’t have any lodging expenses.”
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