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CHAPTER TWO Lovely it was. Alan sat alone at a table outside the caf·s doors. The cool spring breeze flooded his nostrils. He'd spent his first morning in Budapest taking it easy there would be time to get to know the city and figure out how to go about making connections for his pet project. They made wonderful Turkish coffee here -- a vestige of the old Ottoman days, he figured -- and there was no finer place to be than a cafe on a sunny day, the crowds of pedestrians flowing past his eyes. "Excuse me. Are you by yourself?" The dusky voice behind him -- speaking English -- was a bit of a shock. He turned, twisting, starting to respond: "Well, I ..." Then he stopped. Dead. The woman standing in front of him was perhaps 20 years old. She was smiling shyly. Thank God *she* was shy, because Alan was speechless. Her beauty seemed to nail him to the wall and hold him there. A cascade of black curls spilled down over her shoulders, framing a pert, high-cheekboned face. Involuntarily, he lowered his eyes ... glancing, as he did, at the full thrust of her breasts under the simple cotton tank-top she wore. *No bra,* Alan registered. *Man, she has a knockout set of jugs!* His eyes slid quickly further down to the short, tight skirt painted over her hips. He could see the muscles flexing in her thighs like a jungle cat, and her long legs disappearing out of sight. Was she wearing heels? It would be too obvious to sneak any more peeks -- so he straightened up and addressed her charming, smiling face. "Sorry. It's a surprise to hear somebody speaking something I can understand," he said. "Would you like to join me?" "Of course," said the girl, purring the words in her light Hungarian accent. He watched as she moved around to pull a chair out from the table and sit. "So what is a young western man doing all alone on a beautiful day like this?" she asked. *Wow, they're pretty direct here,* Alan thought. "I'm just in town by myself for a couple of weeks. Maybe longer if I like it. I just flew in," he added. "Mmmm, may I have a little of your coffee?" the girl asked him. "My name is Irma," she said, as though it were an afterthought. As she leaned forward to cradle his cup in her hands, Alan saw her rich cleavage pushed forward for his inspection. *God, she's stacked!* "I ... I'm Alan," he offered. "I'm a teacher. How do you speak such good English?" Irma shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee and replacing the cup. "You're a teacher, I'm a student," she said. "In the university. Sciences, but you have to know a lot of English for that." "I bet," said Alan, struck by how dumb his comment sounded. "So," said Irma, leaning back in her chair. "What are you doing here?" Shit, could she *feel* his eyes on her tits? Was she offended? Was she -- flattered? Maybe it was the jet-lag, or maybe the decision to come here had just given him a bit of a devil-may-care attitude to things.
Approximate Word count = 2160
Approximate Pages = 8.6
(250 words per page double spaced)
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