Her name is Chantal – unusual for a German girl. I have a Francophile mother. Chantal is married to a fifty eight year old entrepreneur from Hamburg. She herself looks like about twenty seven. They now live in  Ascona, Switzerland,  with their four month old child and three servants. Her parents live close to Düsseldorf, but she isn’t flying there to see them. She tells me that she is going there on “business”.  Sure! I give her a cryptic smile. She smiles back and concedes that she is actually meeting a “friend” there.

‘In fact, we were supposed to have a nice dinner together.’

‘You did have a dinner with someone nice anyways.’ I respond.

‘Of course,’ and she smiles, squeezing my hand. ‘I think it’s more romantic with a total stranger than with someone you already know.’

We talk for a while about me working for Playboy.

‘Would you ever consider posing for the magazine?’ I ask.

‘In the nude?’

‘Well, we’re talking Playboy!’

‘I would love to. But I don’t think my husband would be too thrilled!’

Schade!’ Too bad. She is sooooooooooooooooo gorgeous. I think.

Not the nudes, but she would certainly be open to a fashion shoot. If not exactly for the pictures, but more so because such an opportunity would enable her to get away from her day-to-day chores of being a rich man’s wife.

She tells me that in two days she was returning to Ascona and the whole “family” of six was going to leave for Spain on Friday morning to spend the winter months in a new house that her husband had bought in warm and sunny Costa del Sol.  Spending six months in a small town swarming mainly with the German tourists is not her idea of excitement. She asks me if I would write her a letter on an official Playboy letterhead inviting her to come over to Munich to do a fashion shoot. It would be just an excuse she needs to get away from her husband.

‘He doesn’t mind my seitensprung (literally a sideway leap – those clever Germans!) ab und zu. How do you call it in English? Extra something…?

‘You mean extra curricular? Extra marital?’

Ja genau. as long as I am discreet about it’ – the word she uses is diplomatic so lange ich diplomatisch bin. A trophy wife, I think. And she knows it!

And she certainly knows how to indulge a  man’s ego. ‘ I think Playboy has the right kind of a man in you. You’re not only good looking, but you’re also charming, warm and have a friendly personality. You can make interesting conversation and the people feel nice being with you.’ I am flattered, of course! Thanks. Same to you lady.

Her hair clipped at the top, I wonder what she would look like if she let it down. She obliges. The long tresses unfurling, she tosses her head until they softly rest and caress her shoulders. I gently brush it with the back of my hand. She nuzzles her neck backward and flashes that certain smile which has me unarmed. She looks much prettier with her hair down. More sensuous.  Encouraged, I tell her, I’m sure you’ve got great looking legs! She gives me a bewildered but a pleasant look and then bends down and if a bit hesitantly, unzips her boots and removes them. I feel like I am undressing her bit by bit like in a slow motion striptease.  My fingers reach down and lightly touch and caress the silky smooth skin of her legs.

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