Read Heroine: The Husband's Cologne for Free Online

tears.  Granted, the dinner and wine were exquisite, better than anything of the kind that I had sampled previously. 
    When Erich had left the table for a toilet break (“I have to go wash my hands,” how sophisticated), I asked Norman if Erich did this with all of his students. 
    “Yes, he's very generous, he likes to dine well and constantly has meetings here or in other exclusive restaurants.”  In other words, this was the professor's office. 
    During dessert, Erich concluded the conversation with Norman and turned to me.
    “My apologies, if we were discourteous with you,” he said.
    “Norman and I seldom get the chance to talk, so we have to make the most of it.  But now we're done, and I'd very much like to enjoy your company and savor the rest of this pleasant afternoon.  What do you do, Miss Juliane?”
    I intended to speak generally about my life, but for some reason, all that came out of my mouth was:
    “Psychology, I'm studying it, fifth semester.” Was I slurring my words?  Why couldn't I string a simple sentence together?  I did the math: an Aperol Spritz and two glasses of red wine.  That was already enough for a good buzz.  Later, when the bill came, I would see the words “Campari Soda” so there must have been another drink I hadn't reckoned with.  The buzz was a little heavier than was called for on a Monday night.
    “You're studying psychology.  Interesting, tell me more about it.” Then we talked for another half hour about everything under the sun and in the world.  It was a world in which Daniel had no place.  When it was Norman's turn for a toilet break, he said ,  “would you please excuse me a moment,” (he had sounded a little more direct back in his apartment).  Erich regarded me with his soft gray-blue eyes.  He had small wrinkles around his eyes, laugh lines is what they looked like to me.  They were endearing. 
    “Would you give me the honor of your company again tomorrow afternoon?  I would be interested in hearing more about your studies in psychology, a field which has always fascinated me.”
    I hesitated:
    I'm not sure, I think I may have a seminar to attend tomorrow at midday, I don't have my diary on me.”
    “Oh, well if tomorrow midday doesn't suit you, then could I invite you to dinner?  We could drive to the Irenenhöhe near the Drachenfels Mountains.  It would bring me immense pleasure, please accept.”
    The Irenenhöhe?  That was a four-star restaurant, so expensive and exclusive that you probably needed written permission from the prime minister to get in.  Why did this intimidate me so much?  I kept waffling:
    “I'm not sure that I can accept such an invitation, I wouldn't even know what to wear.”
    At that he gave a hearty laugh:
    “You really shouldn't let that worry you; there are people who go there in jeans.”
    Well, what do you know?  In the meantime, I could see Norman making his way back from the far end of the room. 
    “Please think it over.  Here is my card with my phone number, feel free to call me.”  I slipped the card into my pocket without looking at it, and turned back to Norman who was now back in his seat.
    As the bill arrived, I held my breath.  It noticed it cost 360   euros for a lunch?  That was as much as my rent.  Once outside, we headed over to the car park, where Erich took his leave. 
    “Please do not forget my offer, Juliane,” he said with an affable smile as we shook hands.  Then he got into a wine-red Jaguar, with three times as many cylinders as the car next to it.
    My jaw dropped.  Where did he get the money?  A professor usually had a W4 salary level, which was 70,000 Euros per annum at most, likely less.  Not a bad sum, but could he afford to take droves of students out to lunch and buy an outrageously expensive car like that? 
    I was silent as I teetered back to the city center with Norman.  I wasn't all too steady on my legs after all. 
    “So, our Erich impressed you, didn't