The Wall Crossers

Just the Joy of You is All

Olivia's perspective

Anja comes to work each day. I watch for her. I am thinking of her long before I see her, because I think of her all the time. We meet for lunch. We share so much. Likes. Dislikes. Music. She loves Abbey Road. I love Abbey Road.

When we are off duty, she walks to my barracks. Her eyes flashing in the sun. I almost faint from overwhelming desire obliterating my fragile emotional state—almost freak out! What is this feeling? What is happening to me? I walk quickly out to meet her, we embrace and I draw her into my soul. She says, "Was ist los, mein Lieber?" (what's going on my dear one?)

"Just the joy of you is all, Anja."

"Are you ready to go?" she asks.

We walk as one, along the streets, holding hands, and stop at a local place we like, get a table and drink Schultheiss bier. It is quite chilly today, although the sky is as clear and pure as my swelling heart, my rebellious catapulting desire for Anja. We huddle closely together, whispering, watching other people.

The world revolves—is wheeling thru this galaxy of emotions—all things are new in every moment.

Anja's perspective

I think things are okay. We are just good friends! How could it ever be more than that? We share much, but that can be said of any two people. It does not mean... love!... no not at all! So I am safe... in this... this thing we have. This friendship. Just because there is some... some attraction, that does not mean it is destined to be more than friends. Of course it doesn't!

Oh! I will ask my best friend, Jelena. Yes! Then, maybe... No! She will judge me, tell me not to be seeing Livie. I will ask my friend Margot! Yes! Then, Hmmm, perhaps not. She will laugh at me, saying Is this the best you can do, Anja? This is not a love for you!

So, we will continue this thing, Livie and I. We will be friends, Ja, we will! And it will be okay. At least, I believe it will be okay, won't it?

We walk as one, along the streets, holding hands, and stop at a local place we like, get a table and drink kaffee. It is summer, but the sky is cloudy, just like my normally logical mind seems to be right now. We sit apart at less than arms' length distance, quietly, thinking.

It is only friendship. There is no galaxy of emotions! It is just... just, a universe of emotions! Ach, Mensch! (Oh, man!) Das wird Ärger für mich! (This is going to spell trouble for me!)

Maybe we should end this now. Or... or maybe soon, but not right away. Yes, I will give it more time. I will wait and see.

We are at a café, seated at a small round table with no cloth on it. We are so close I could reach around her and pull her to me. Livie is looking down at her kaffee, stirring it. Her left hand is flat on the table and her pointer finger is tapping absently. I watch her finger.

I decide to stir my kaffee also, but I realize with a shock that I have instead moved my right hand to hers and now place my finger on her finger, gently pressing, stopping her tapping, but I realize with a jolt I may be signaling to her, Your finger belongs to me.

I shift my eyes to Livie. She looks down at my finger, then flicks her eyes to mine, and now I see it for certain—desire building. She looks at my lips. I look at hers. I feel her finger move and mount mine, as I did hers seconds ago, she gently pressing, suggesting that also my finger belongs to her. I am sure: my eyes are pools of wanton desire. We are not smiling. This is too intense for any smile.

Livie, this thing with our fingers is making me feel things I should not be feeling for you! I want to tell you, Okay, this is quite enough. But with every second that passes, a raging fire builds within me, consuming my normal reason. I squeeze my legs tightly together, trying to contain this overwhelming rush, this sensation. I bite my lower lip in consternation, cross my legs quickly under the table—which only makes things worse! I can't ignore the way my heart races at your touch, how every nerve in my body is responding right now. I hold my breath, feeling it happening, feeling your pulse in my finger, insistent, I feel it begin—a wet seep, a flush beginning in my neck. I am dizzy with it—what your finger could do, could easily do, if I allowed, wanted, encouraged it—this pierces my very center spot with a thrilling throbbing craving. But Nein!... this must stop... Now! So... I decide to return my hand to my cup to stir my kaffee.

And so, without further thought, I gingerly pull my finger from under yours, but, ungeheuerlicher alarmierend (outrageously alarming)!... instead of bringing my fingers close to me, I reach them up to touch your cheek, I place my thumb on your lips. I glide my tactile thumb across your waiting ready moist lips. I pause. The look in your eyes shifts. I see it—lust.

I feel it blooming inside me too. I am shaky with it. It leaks out of me. I am certain you smell my body, hot and needy, ready. I want to reach around you, draw you to me, press my lips to yours. I look at your lips. I hesitate. The very edge of all boldness beckons. I feel a tiny nervous fluttery tingling hic there, far below my belly, it is right on the edge of swallowing me.

I am in a turmoil, but I return out of it when Livie quietly asks me, as if beckoning from within a dream, "Anja, what are you thinking right now?"

The feeling subsides. I look up to her eyes. I want to say, Livie, I am thinking I love you. And I want to say, Livie, I want you to make love to me. And I want to say with an oh so full heart, Just the joy of you is all, Livie.

But... I don't say any of those things. Instead, I withdraw my hand, pick up my spoon, begin stirring my kaffee, futilely since it has by now grown cold, and, watching my stirring, hoarsely whisper out my reply, "Horst. I am thinking of Horst."

As I look down, avoiding Livie's gaze, I think to myself, I need to talk with someone about this—what is happening to me and what must be done about it. Maybe... maybe I can talk with Elke at work, Ja, discuss it with her. She is friendly and trustworthy. My secret concerns would be safe with her, of course they would.