Eighty Days Yellow Read Online Free PDF

think I’m quite ready for it yet. Maybe I’ll do some teaching somewhere. German. Quite a few people have asked me.’
    ‘Not literature?’ Dominik enquired.
    ‘I don’t think so,’ Claudia answered.
    ‘A pity.’
    ‘Why?’ she queried, flashing him a quizzical smile.
    ‘I think you’d be quite good at it.’
    ‘You think so?’
    ‘I do.’
    ‘It’s kind of you to say so.’
    Dominik took a sip of his coffee. It was hot, strong and sweet. He’d put four sugar cubes in and stirred them into oblivion, erasing all the original bitterness.
    ‘Not at all.’
    ‘I thought your lectures were great,’ she added, lowering her eyes and almost fluttering her lashes, but he wasn’t sure if she actually had because of the moist penumbra of the cafe. Maybe he had imagined it.
    ‘You always had great questions to ask, demonstrated you had a good understanding of the subject.’
    ‘You have a strong passion . . . for books,’ she pointed out quickly.
    ‘I’d hope so,’ Dominik said.
    She looked up again and he noticed that her neck was flushed all the way down to her rather spectacular cleavage, where a white push-up bra exposed the smooth, shiny upper orbs of her constrained breasts. She always wore tight white shirts, cinched at the waist, emphasising her opulence.
    The signal was unmistakeable. This was why she had suggested they meet for a drink. It had nothing to do with academic pursuits any longer. This was now obvious.
    Dominik held his breath for an instant as he considered the situation. Damn, she was attractive, and – a glancing thought – it had been a couple of decades since he had bedded a German woman, at which time he had just been in his teens and Christel had been over ten years older, a generational gap then to his ignorant perception. He had since enjoyed so many female nationalities in an unformed quest into the geography of pleasure. Why not?
    He moved a hand slowly across the wooden texture of the tabletop and grazed her extended fingers. Long, sharp nails painted scarlet, two heavy rings, one with a small diamond.
    She looked down at her hand, answering his unformulated enquiry.
    ‘Been engaged for a year. He’s back home. Visits every few months. I’m no longer sure if it’s really serious, though. Just if you were wondering.’
    Dominik was enjoying the way her German accent was modulating her words.
    ‘I see.’ Her palms were unseasonably warm.
    ‘You wear no rings?’ she asked.
    ‘I don’t,’ Dominik said.
    One hour later, they were in her bedroom in Shoreditch, the sound of Hoxton nightclub clients crowding onto the outside pavement in loud conversation percolating through her open window.
    ‘Let me,’ he said.
    They’d kissed. Her breath a cocktail of cigarette, cappuccino, lust and heat rising from her stomach. Her breath halting as his hands wandered across her waist and his chest pressed against hers, the hard tips of her breasts squeezing into him, betraying her arousal. Her breath exhaling across the drawn skin of his neck as he delicately burrowed his tongue in the hollow of her left ear, in turn nibbling her lobe and then licking her depth to immediate effect as she tensed with pleasure and expectation. Claudia closed her eyes.
    He began to undo the buttons of her white shirt as she held her breath in. The thin material was stretched so tight he wondered how she could breathe. Button after button released the softness of her skin, and with each successive loosening the shirt flapped aside with liberated abandon. There was something spectacularly joyful about her breasts. Steep hills he could bury himself in, although in normal sexual circumstances he usually went for less expansive examples of opulence. Claudia was a big girl, from her personality, her natural exuberance, to every single curve of her body.
    Her hand lingered across the front of his now strained trousers. He took a step back, in no hurry to be released.
    Dominik extended a hand towards Claudia,