Page 120 of My Boss

“Well, Jan, this one is for Maria.” I’m grinning from ear to ear. “There will be a reward.”

“What reward?” He raises his eyes at me.

“Whatever you want.”

He looks at me for a long moment, and his eyes darken.

“In this case, we need to buy lube on the way home.”

A shudder runs through me.

“OK,” I agree.

Jan opens his mouth and puts the potato pancake in, without taking his eyes off me.

An exciting tingling sensation spreads between my thighs.

“And how does it taste to you?” I ask.

“Three stars out of five. The crêpes are better.” He’s back to eating.

I watch him for a long moment and realize that I have never dined with any guy in such an unusual atmosphere. And strangely I like it very much.

Over the remainder of the meal we talk about what we could do for the rest of the day. Of course, anal sex is first on the list, and later (if I don’t drop dead from exhaustion) we’ll watch a movie. We’ve already agreed that it won’t be any romantic comedy this time. Jan is leaning toward a documentary. We are on track to agree on a common version—it is to be contemporary, interesting, controversial, maybe a biography…?

Suddenly, the restaurant door opens and a crowd of tourists pours in. They are loud, laughing, you can see that they have been drinking — quite a bit.

“We have reservations from booking.com!” A short man with a tummy yells toward the waitress and squeezes through the crowd to the counter.

There is a bustle. People are pushing back chairs, taking off clothes, and talking in excited voices. Only now do I notice small cards with the word ‘Reserved’ written on them, lying on all the tables. That would explain why it was so empty here when we arrived. Apparently, we ended up at the only available table for two.

One of the tourists shouts out at the top of her lungs, “People, today is Anka’s birthday!” and begins to singHappy Birthday.The rest of them join her and it is cacophony: some people clap, one person hits the table-top, another fiddles with the light switch, turning the restaurant into a disco.

I laugh. What a party.

“So it gets busy here after all.” I shift my gaze to Jan and I gasp.

He looks as if he is about to have a heart attack. He is pale as a sheet, his eyebrows are drawn together, his breathing is uneven, and I notice drops of sweat on his forehead. He searches for something with his eyes, blinks too fast, clenches his fists…

“Are you OK?” I ask, but he doesn’t respond.

He is sweating more and more, swallowing, his chest rising as if he were running.

“Jan, what’s wrong with you?” I touch his hand, and then he springs from his chair. He resembles a deer trapped at night by the blinding lights of a car. He is terrified!

“I have to get out of here.”

“Sure, I’ll just call the waitress to—” I don’t finish because Jan is already leaving the inn making huge strides, as if the ground were burning under his feet. He didn’t even take his coat with him!

Shit, what happened to him?

I walk quickly to the counter, ask for the bill, pay with my card, then put on my jacket, take Jan’s overcoat and go outside.

Then I immediately track down the parked BMW, but Jan isn’t there. I look around everywhere… and suddenly, I spot him. He is standing with his forearms resting against the facade of the restaurant. His palms are flat on the wall, his arms tense, his head lowered. A puff of steam comes out of his mouth, accompanied by quietly pronounced words.

I walk towards him and look at him attentively. The hair on his temples is still damp with sweat; but thankfully, his face has already regained a more human skin tone.

I can hear the numbers being uttered at one-second intervals:

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