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10 erotic stories direction as I did so. The indignant expression of her flashing eyes gave me the reply which I had expected, but without losing my courage I asked her whether she spoke French. Avoiding my eyes, the colour draining from her face, she replied: ‘Yes, I do, but what has that got to do with you?’ ‘It’s important, as I don’t speak Dutch, and this means we’ll still be able to talk.’ ‘To talk! So have you got something to say to me?’ ‘What a question!’ ‘Well, I certainly can’t guess what you want!’ She stopped suddenly, blushing again, and glared at me, stamping her foot and shouting: ‘I ruined my skate because of you.’ ‘Me?’ ‘Yes, it was your fault; if you hadn’t been staring at me like that nothing would have happened…’ ‘So do you believe in the evil eye?’ ‘I don’t know what that is; but I do know that if you hadn’t looked at me…’ ‘Well, if I did look at you, it was your own fault…’ ‘What do you mean, my fault?’ ‘You’re so beautiful…’ ‘No one has ever looked at me like that…’ ‘Everyone looks…’ ‘I could have done something to my foot…’ ‘Don’t say that; it would have hurt me dreadfully…’ ‘Hurt you, hurt you dreadfully – that’s what I’d very much like to do…’ ‘That can’t be true. You’re trying to convince me, with those eyes of yours, that you’re hardhearted.’ ‘If you spent more time with me, you’d soon see…’ ‘And why shouldn’t I spend more time with you?’ ‘Well, you may, but only until the end of this street…’ ‘Just that! Don’t you want me to walk with you?’ (Silence.)
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deus ex machina 11 ‘Do you live far from here?’ ‘You really are nosey.’ ‘Well, there’s no harm in asking.’ ‘Yes, I do live very far from here…’ ‘Well then, let me walk a bit further with you…’ ‘Anyone’s free to walk along the street…’ ‘I’d really like it if you were to teach me to skate.’ ‘Me?!’ ‘Well?’ ‘Never…’ ‘Why not?’ ‘My skates are useless…’ And as she said this, she smiled so sweetly, and seemed now to be so trusting! ‘That’s no excuse. Good skates can be hired anywhere.’ ‘But I haven’t any money…’ ‘I’ll hire them for you.’ ‘But I don’t want to owe you any favours…’ ‘If you were my skating teacher, then I’d be the one owing you…’ ‘Perhaps… But you look to me as though you would never learn…’ ‘Why do you think that?’ ‘I’m not sure. Because you just don’t look as if you could… You’re not blond…’ ‘Neither are you.’ ‘Yes, but I’m Dutch, and I’m…’ ‘Are you Jewish?’ What on earth was I saying! By this time we were embarked on such a frank conversation, but when I let out this innocent question, its effect on my delightful companion was indescribable. She turned pale, then blushed and, spluttering, let out an irrepressible tirade: ‘What makes you think that I’m a Jew? What makes me look like a Jew? Can’t I have black hair without being a Jew? Obviously you’re a Jew and think that everyone else is too…’ She then spent five entire minutes in denunciations of my

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10 erotic stories direction as I did so. The indignant expression of her flashing eyes gave me the reply which I had expected, but without losing my courage I asked her whether she spoke French. Avoiding my eyes, the colour draining from her face, she replied:

‘Yes, I do, but what has that got to do with you?’ ‘It’s important, as I don’t speak Dutch, and this means we’ll still be able to talk.’

‘To talk! So have you got something to say to me?’ ‘What a question!’ ‘Well, I certainly can’t guess what you want!’ She stopped suddenly, blushing again, and glared at me, stamping her foot and shouting:

‘I ruined my skate because of you.’ ‘Me?’ ‘Yes, it was your fault; if you hadn’t been staring at me like that nothing would have happened…’

‘So do you believe in the evil eye?’ ‘I don’t know what that is; but I do know that if you hadn’t looked at me…’

‘Well, if I did look at you, it was your own fault…’ ‘What do you mean, my fault?’ ‘You’re so beautiful…’ ‘No one has ever looked at me like that…’ ‘Everyone looks…’ ‘I could have done something to my foot…’ ‘Don’t say that; it would have hurt me dreadfully…’ ‘Hurt you, hurt you dreadfully – that’s what I’d very much like to do…’

‘That can’t be true. You’re trying to convince me, with those eyes of yours, that you’re hardhearted.’

‘If you spent more time with me, you’d soon see…’ ‘And why shouldn’t I spend more time with you?’ ‘Well, you may, but only until the end of this street…’ ‘Just that! Don’t you want me to walk with you?’ (Silence.)

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