Literary Competition 2012
Here we present the 3rd place of the Maxi-Literaturwettbewerb 2012
He would have had to wonder about the fillet of the Dorade Royal with grilled baby-lick. He did not. He sipped from the Pinot Blanc from Styria, which tasted of tender sponge cake. "Did it taste good?" The service woman asked kindly, balancing the noble, oblong plates on which the fourth course of the evening menu had been arranged like a work of art, with an even more charming smile. Vera already tasted the oven-fresh vanilla soufflé with apricot. It had been his idea to make everything right again in this five-star wellness residence in the middle of the Tyrolean Alps. If things went well, Vera forgave him everything. The affair with Steffi, and also with Martina. Fortunately, the church had not noticed anything else, otherwise he would have been rid of this pastorate again, and he did not want to be re-summoned to the Dean and look like a schoolboy who has to serve his sentence. No, this time everything seemed to go well, it was just stupid that Steffi had not held tight, had put the ecstatic sex at risk and Vera pure wine poured. He sipped on Pinot Blanc, which now unfolded its finest spice note with nutty appeal and pear fruit in the reverberation. He watched Vera across the glass and was pleased to find that her forehead had smoothed and the angry look had disappeared. A little, she now reminded him of his gentle Martina, and a sigh escaped him as he tasted a delicate caramel touch on the finish on the tongue.
As a pastor, he was used to looking deeply into the souls of other people. Martina had trusted him. What was more, she had been in bondage with him. When he stood on the pulpit on Sundays preaching, she sat in the first bench in front of the sanctuary and nodded
in agreement, when he asked the church to pray Psalm 33 alternately. She, too, hoped for God's omnipotence and help, hoping for the day he would leave Vera and instead officially declare her his wife. That day would never come, he knew, Daniel, from the beginning. He craved a free, erotic adventure, she craved love. When Martina looked up at him, the words of the chancellor's inscription "We saw His glory" blurred with their adoration, and she thus became a welcome submission that gave him orgasms.
For digestif Stanzer plum brandy was served. Now he had to get drunk on alcohol for a while and make good weather for a while. He could not afford a scandal in his position. Vera leaned back comfortably, exhausted from the six-course gourmet menu from one of Tyrol's trendy gourmet kitchens. He had specifically chosen one of the best wellness hotels in Austria for this holiday. Swimming, sauna, steaming at the highest level, with mountain panorama and sparkling chandeliers even in the shower. He knew that Vera was like that. Eagerly the chief sommelier hurried over and poured from the Pinot Blanc, in which now a hint of white peach blossomed. Vera should feel well, bask in the sunlit brine bath with a view of the Samnaungruppe and the Ötztal Alps - and in his care. After a pleasant (and expensive) relaxation massage with hot volcanic stones, it should later become pliable and smooth again under his hands. He paid no attention to the money, booked her pampering dates to harmonize the chakras and first-class beauty treatments. He knew that his generosity would pay off when everything was back to normal at home, correcting math exams in the evenings and preparing for the confirmation class, along with the new volunteer member of the Confi team - young, divorced and hungry for love So exactly his collar size.
After the extensive breakfast with fresh passion fruit, sparkling wine, salmon and Beet Tartar on the third day of the holiday, Vera persuaded him to skip the planned mountain tour on the Fisser Zwölferkopf and instead to relax further. "Again, " he growled inwardly, but let me tell you that he would rather in hiking boots and backpack packed from the summit on the Inntal had looked, as again in white bathrobe and terry slippers all day bräig of Sauna to haul sauna. But he did not want to jeopardize the good mood, too much was at stake now. If this holiday was not fruitful and he did not quickly expel the onset of the catastrophe, which was already threatening with the marriage-heaven, he could mothball his gown and his garment.
First, Vera abducted him to the Himalayan salt grotto, which was lined with salt crystal lights in soft orange tones. Breathing the humid air - a blessing to the bronchi - they then rejuvenated in the inhalation, where they wrapped a gentle, mint-scented mist. Well blooded, with reddened cheeks and a comforting sigh, he sank down on one of the relaxation loungers, grabbed Veras hand and noted with satisfaction that she no longer escaped him. He seemed to be gaining land again, here on the Serfaus plateau, 1400 meters above sea level. In the midst of a hot July in mid-summer temperatures, he did not feel any additional warmth, more like cooling off, and he thought wistfully of icy mountain streams rushing up to the valley. But he succumbed, trudging Vera in his hotel slippers also to the next sauna, with panoramic views this time. He was dizzy with birch infusion in all the stagnant heat, but Vera smiled encouragingly at him, and he bit back a sudden weakness. No rest, she allowed him afterwards, booked the water-floating couch with fresh mountain hay, moor, evening primrose oil, algae and pumpkin seed extract. She even ordered a bottle of champagne for the private spa, and winked at him encouragingly. He could not resist that. Everything finally went to his score. As Vera climbed into the bathroom, she did not bother to hide her slightly rounded hips and bacon rolls on her stomach. Although she did not see her 42 years old, the wild adventures with the new, docile volunteers and shapely breasts made him much more attractive. Involuntarily he licked his lips and quickly led the champagne glass to his mouth. In the 38-degree hot water, his blood seemed to bubble, the pearls went to his head. He did not know: Was it the bath water or the champagne? Suddenly, Vera told him that she had arranged an appointment with the Dean to suggest that he be more involved in the group work of the church in the future. After all, she was the pastor's wife, even if she was heavily constrained by her profession as a teacher. And maybe she could rehabilitate Daniel's slightly scratched reputation. After all, they would be better off in public if they acted together and rumors of possible re-affairs could not even arise. She talked in a torrent, he let water, cold this time, and it surprised him, even scared him, that she addressed this delicate subject just now, in this perfect harmony of a gold-soaked bathtub. He could not remember everything she said, but rushed down the champagne instead, hoping to get a cool head out of it. Vera quickly gave in, spoke just as fast, he just heard the words dean, church and "in the future together", so he drank quickly. Vera leaned toward him, scratching his neck, caressing his neck, letting her hands run underwater all the way along her body. He felt very dizzy, again, he gasped, pushed the champagne cooler, which stood on a board between them, aside and staggered upwards, out of the hot bath into the oat straw canopy bed next to it. He sighed deeply, Vera's ranting ebbed, she followed him into the straw. He was about to pray the Lord's Prayer, but Vera put a black olive in his mouth and he did not come. He had not felt that way for a long time, even without extramarital sex. He had to have done everything right in his life, and the flurries that Vera had now set in the head, he would cast out her tonight with the duet of white waller and Tampuragarnele. As an appetizer, there would be rabbit backs in sesame-bisquit. And maybe today he would cost from the 2008 Opus Eximium number 21 Opus. The head sommelier had already raved about his dark ruby garnet and delicate vanilla note - a balanced game of fruit and wood, which now lying in it, olive groaning on the straw bed, already the anticipation of today's diner aufglomm. Vera tore him from his daydreams: Now she wanted to go to the rose sauna. He struggled, but she did not let up. She was used to sauna from her weekly women's evenings, but at most he saw a sweat lodge from the inside during a ski holiday. And last winter not even that, after the hot nights with Martina in the hotel bed he had no need of heat, despite ice and snow. He also knew that his circulation and his heart did not tolerate the excessive temperatures too well, he just liked being a cool head. Vera also called him calculating, but only when they had quarrels.
The champagne bottle was empty. Had he drunk it, or had the noble drop flowed out as he heaved himself onto the oat-straw bed? He had only seen Vera sipping her glass, but he did not remember that exactly. Under normal circumstances, he would have registered everything accurately, he was a good observer and could interpret even the most subtle gestures of his counterpart. He could direct the people. He used this gift not only as a leader of a church, but also in all the young women who surrendered to him, his power and his charm. Sure, he looked good, still at 49, but he also seduced the women with words, soothing them, patting them softly like a schnitzel, and then eating them with relish.
The finest rose oil water dripped slowly on the perfectly formed, dried out flowers. The soft, flowery scent enveloped him. He did not care about roses, but he played along. Vera seemed completely delighted with the performance of this sweat cabin. So he made himself comfortable. It was bubbling in his head. Or was it the toilet water that an automatic dispenser trickled onto the hot stones at regular intervals? Daniel also lay down lengthwise, wondering how many saunas they still had before him, and felt a leaden heaviness, inhaling the scent of roses that mingled with his sweat pearls, bubbling up in his blood the champagne. He felt the impulse to get up, to mobilize his circulation, but he was getting sluggish, tired and lethargic. Vera's chatter splashed like the rose-water, and a strange pull became stronger, the urge to give up everything, to become one with God, in this wellness paradise with petit fours and exclusive pampering moments, dreaming of guinea fowl breasts and Pineapple gel, floating forever in ecstasy without guilt and atonement. That Vera quietly closed the door behind him, with ebbing murmurs, a final decrescendo, he no longer noticed.
"Fish poisoning, " the coroner wrote in the field for the cause of death. Vera had opted for the pink roast lamb nut the night before. Because she too had a score.
You want to read more about Christiane Barth? In 2011 her debut novel "New Zealand at Heart: My Way Out of Burnout" was released. Order here at amazon.de >>
