Taxi to Paris Read Online Free PDF Page A

out of the corner of my eye. No, I decided, she'd never do that. And I needed to get out of here as quickly as possible.
    She continued to scrutinize me. Before I could think of my next move, she said, "I'm going to take a shower now. Would you rather go first...?" Her polite, professional, obliging manner hid it badly: this was my final dismissal. I shook my head mutely, without looking at her. She rose. I watched her go. That graceful walk - I relished every one of her movements.
    When she had shut the door behind her, I leapt out of the bed. I dressed quickly. At the door, I spun around one last time. I heard water running and looked back on the bed. I wasn't going to forget this night anytime soon.

Chapter 2
    M y office was waiting for me at eight o'clock the next morning, as always. "Project Manager" was under my name on the door, together with the names of my two male colleagues. We were the so-called "project leader pool." My work was a bigger part of my life than I often wanted to admit. I didn't feel right when I was away from it for any length of time, like for vacation or sick leave. After that, I was usually really happy to get back behind my desk again. And often, work alone had gotten me through my personal crises.
    "Where on earth should I start? Look at all this!" My colleague Mark let out his usual lament as soon as he saw me. I smiled involuntarily. Even though I had next to nothing to do with my colleagues on a personal level, I couldn't help but like them. This made working together a lot easier.
    "Oh, Mark, you're not the only one with a lot to do. We're all up to our eyeballs in work." My answer met his expectations, just like the rest of my normal behavior. This was our daily ritual. He was only half listening to me, just like I would half ignore or automatically answer his usual running commentary on the day. This gave us a sense of belonging together, and didn't distract us too much. Professionally, we were busy with two completely different projects, such that we rarely had a substantive conversation.
    My other colleague came through the door in his usual quiet manner and saw me. "Good morning," he said, which I knew had to be the beginning of a business conversation. I wasn't disappointed. "Have you seen what I left on your desk yet?" I turned around and saw his report lying on top of the mountain of other paperwork on my desk. I shook my head.
    "No, I haven't. I just got here myself." I went over to the desk and flipped quickly through the pages. "You adapted the plan, like we discussed yesterday?"
    He nodded. "And I made the changes you wanted to the draft. I think that will shorten your project by as much as 200 manhours. That you'll see in the project plan. I printed a copy of the new version."
    "Okay." I smiled at him a bit absent-mindedly, as my gaze had already shifted to the next paper that had lain under his. My thoughts wandered on to alternative proposals and solutions. I was in work mode.
    Throughout the day, work proved an effective distraction from the previous night's experiences. The evening, on the other hand, was only torture. Wherever I looked, I saw her face. Her eyes, the way they'd flashed at me, and sometimes her hands, the way they ... try not to think about it! I longed for her, I could not forget her. My body felt like an addict going through withdrawal. I wouldn't have been surprised if someone had tried to sell me some dope on my way home. In love with a hooker - wonderful!
    I'd planned our next encounter so nicely. In a couple of weeks, I'd go for a walk through town. Coincidentally, I'd run into her. We'd greet each other cordially, share a banana split in an ice cream shop, chat about our common experiences - Remember the incredible sex we had that night? - and make another coffee date. A really nice, uncomplicated friendship. Well, I could toss that to the breeze! In a couple of weeks, I'd be dead!
    I'd hardly slept that last night, even after I'd gotten home. With