Her high heels clicked on the stone floor. Her nipples only seemed to harden further. Was it just the cold? He said words that seemed almost random to...her. “California. Cabernet. Pinot. Oregon. French. Bordeaux. Burgundy. Coat Do Rain, or something like that. Italian. Barollo. Brunello. Ports. Tawny.” She only half followed. She did not know wine. Or liquor, really. Everclear punch and seltzer was all she had learned at college. And she was distracted. Too distracted to really pay attention to. Irmgard was embarrassed about having been so carelessly silent and polite. The signs that the man — Irmgard did not name him — was domineering and thought she would submit were there from the start. Irmgard played Skat with him and his mate in Majorca. When she was winning, he got upset. Not wanting to spoil the holiday-mood, she forced herself to lose consistently.‘The way they played, I had to think harder to figure out how to lose than I had to to win in the German Championships. Just. More

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