Why is this bitch on strike right now, when Manfred is in hospital and can't deal with the matter?

"Call Paule, darling, he'll take a look at it. And when the old appliance has finally given up the ghost, well, then we'll just buy a new washing machine. By the way, Paule is an old school friend and has an installation business, you know?" And my dearest spouse, who is now blind as a bat, gives me a telephone number where I can reach Paule.

It takes less than two hours before it rings. I expect to see a jovial, pot-bellied gentleman in overalls or the usual workman's dungarees. But there are two slim, very good-looking men in impeccably clean blue work coats in front of me. Underneath, they are both wearing normal jeans and a yellow T-shirt with the inscription "Beckmann - Installers: Faster than sound!" I have to grin. "Three hundred and thirty-three meters per second would have been enough - come in! Paul Beckmann, I presume, and Mr. ... "

"I am Paule. Just call me Paule. And this is Dimitri Konstantinopolus, my right-hand man and specialist in cold Greek cuisine, in case the washing machine and the stove go on strike!"

A smart couple. And ... an attractive couple. This Paule has done well for himself for his now almost fifty years, if he is Manfred's school friend. And that Greek guy! He's a sight to behold with his jet-black curly head and dark moustache, deep brown eyes and hairy hands. I could forget myself with a guy like that!

After five minutes, they both know what's wrong with my good old Maria (that's what I affectionately call my washing machine, because she's always been faithful to me, for ten years). Paule scratches behind his head: "Yes, well, Mrs. Fischer ..." "Ruth - if it's Paule, then it's Ruth, isn't it? So, what's wrong with my long-time employee?"

Now Paule is scratching his chin. It must be quite an itchy mess, washing machine damage like that.
"Well, if you weren't ... if you weren't Manfred's wife and I didn't know that you're not that bad either, I'd say get rid of it and switch to a new energy-saving one. But there would be the option of replacing this drain pump."
He casts a questioning glance at his employee. He tilts his head and then says: "Thomas! Thomas might have another one of those things in the bearings, I think I saw it in the bearings there." "That means 'in the bearings there', Dimitri - you'll never learn that!"
Dimitri doesn't seem to take offense at the school bullying, grins broadly, clicks his heels together, puts his hand to his forehead in a military salute and shouts loudly: "Yes, Mr. Teacher, IM Lager dort ich habe gesehen!"
Paule waves it off with a smile: "Forget it, you'll never learn. Well, I'll give Thomas a call." He grabs his cell phone, dials a number, steps outside through the open balcony door and negotiates with his supplier.
Meanwhile, Dimitri leans relaxed against the kitchen combination. "Nice kitchen, nice apartment! Where I used to live, Kos Island, nice kitchen too, German kitchen. The way to the heart is through the stomach, so the kitchen is the most important place in an apartment, Mrs. Ruth, isn't it?"
I hang on his lips. He has full, soft, inviting kissable lips, this philosophizing successor to Aristotle. "The bedroom is sometimes even more important, dear Dimitri, since the advent of pizza couriers," I think and have to smile.
"You very beautiful woman, Mrs. Ruth. Especially when you laugh. Why not laugh more? Laughing is like the sun rising, we Greeks say."
Before I can say thank you for the big compliment, Paule steps through the door again: "Don't talk around here, boy, and don't hit on the lady. Besides, it's 'like the sun is rising' or 'like a sunrise ...' ... oh, forget it! Dimitri, listen, you take the pump out now while I go to Thomas, get a new one and quickly install the new sink at Schulzes. It'll take me until about eleven, I reckon. You should be finished by then, right?"
"I'm already finished, boss! All done and done and done, but with nerves, boss, with nerves!" exclaims Dimitri and sinks theatrically onto the washing machine while winking at me.
Heavenly fun and devilishly seductive, this Greek!
"What have I done to deserve this employee!" moans Paule. But he laughs, nudges Dimitri in the ribs and says to me: "Well, we'll manage, Ruth, this afternoon you can wash Manfred's shirts and his previously not-so-scented socks as usual. By the way - I'll only charge you once for the transportation, of course, for an old school friend!" He says and disappears. I'm alone with Dimitri. For an hour. He has placed the blue toolbox next to the machine, which he has now pushed out of the kitchen combination. Kneeling on the floor, his work coat draped over the chair.
Muscular, tanned, hairy arms. Fuzzy head from above, broad back.
Mumbles something about "seeing German thoroughness everywhere" and suddenly starts singing in a powerful, raspy voice. I think of Udo Jürgens, Greek wine, Surtaki or whatever it's called - my imagination runs away with me.
I hurry to the living room cupboard and get "the Greek bottle", as Manfred always says, and two small glasses.
Dimitri hears the gurgling sound as I pour: "Oh, sip of hydrochloric acid for slow fitters, all poison or what?"
His broad grin widens even more when I show him the bottle label.
"Ouzo - oh, I'll make your washing machine a turbojet with this drink in my body!" We toast each other.
For him, time is money. For me this morning ... time could be pleasure!
"How long will it take you to remove the pump, Dimitri?" "Now, with new gas in the tank, another ten minutes. Before, it would have taken half a day, Mrs. Ruth."
"Ruth, just Ruth, Dimitri!"
I sit down next to him on the floor. I unbutton my blouse very slowly, looking intently at his fuzzy head, which is halfway through the machine. After half an eternity, the whole head emerges, turns to the toolbox, wants to reach in - and stops.
"A lot of heat today, eh, Mrs. Ruth? Madonna, you very very beautiful woman!"
His dark eyes stare down my neckline, at my dark blue Wonderbra. Small beads of sweat form on my breasts. I hope he likes the fact that I have a lot of som...
"Name of those exciting sexy little dots of German sun sprouts, I think, yes?"
I laugh out loud, grab his right hand with determination and run his fingertips gently over my skin, slowly circling and getting closer and closer to the gap between my breasts.
He becomes restless. Very restless. He also pulls himself up into a crouch, drops the wrench he was holding in his left hand.
"S o m m e r s p r o s s e s, like the time of year when we all get so hot."
"Yes really, very hot here now. I don't know if my boss ... !"
"He needs another three quarters of an hour. Besides, the door is locked, Dimitri. Open my door now, will you? The lock is ... here!" And I guide his fingers to the clasp of my bra. He swallows, licks his lips - ah, bitten! Well, if he continues to be so hesitant, I'll probably have to heat him up a bit more. But suddenly he's transformed!
He pulls my blouse over my shoulders with a firm grip. His nimble fingers, which are used to dealing with all kinds of fasteners, don't need three seconds to open the supple prison over my breasts - and I'm already holding them out to him, wide, strong, inviting. He pulls his T-shirt over his head with one hand - has he been practising this? The other gently lifts one breast up from below, gently pulls it and my whole upper body towards him; then finally presses a hot kiss on my lips - I'm in seventh heaven!
The fiery and lustful way this guy kisses me makes Manfred's helpless smooches pale like a toddler's first attempts at walking, while a hundred-meter sprinter is at work here.
I've long since stretched my legs. Dimitri pulls me close to him. With one hand wrapped energetically around the back of my head so that I can't break away from his French kiss, I feel him unbuttoning my jeans with the other.
I move slightly towards him as he pulls them down to my knees.
Suddenly he pulls away from my lips: "Must inspect pump, please!"
What, is he crazy now? He can't just leave me like this ...
When I feel his strong hands under my thighs, he energetically lifts my pelvis, his fuzzy head disappears for a moment under my jeans, which are still stretched over my lower legs, only to promptly reappear between my thighs, I have to shake my head with a smile.
"You're an excellent mechanic, Dimitri, inspect and oil everything thoroughly, it really needs it!"
At these words, I simply let myself sink backwards, lie flat on the bare kitchen floor and stroke my breasts while the hot lips that have been kissing me for so long begin their inspection ...
"Southern men speak much faster than German men," I think to myself, "that's probably why they have a quicker tongue."
Now I can't take it anymore - I want everything! I simply grab his hair, clawing at his curls, just as I'm about to scream out in pleasure because he's just tongue-wagging me like it's a sight to behold.
"Come on, a good plumber doesn't do half a job," I whisper in his ear. Jesus, how hot I am ...
As I pull my knees up so that I can take off the annoying jeans completely with one hand, I hear Dimitri's rough voice in my ear: "Leave it on, when the bell rings, you and me too, how do you say German, schwuppdiwupp in pants!"
Wow, that would be my first quickie, so to speak, half-dressed on the bare kitchen floor. Imagine Manfred being made redundant the day after tomorrow and us sitting here every day at this table again, under which I'm now half-stretched out enjoying Dimitri!
Even if you can't tell by looking at this man, who is actually very short, he has the strength of a bull! With every movement of his strong pelvis, he excites me more and I enjoy this untamed wildness all the more.
When I briefly open my eyes despite my rapture, I see our kitchen table from below for the first time, just as Micki, our cat, probably always sees it when he snuggles up to our feet during our meals.
Oh shock, he's due to be neutered next week, I think to myself, while Dimitri briefly straightens his upper body, holds on to the table leg with one arm and is thus able to gain a lot of momentum to indulge me with the most delicious love rhythms. No, Micki, we won't do that to you, at least once in your life you can ...
My thoughts immediately turn back to my own body when I hear Dimitri stammer: "Now, sunsprout, I'm going to give you some good oil!"
You should finally oil me, my fiery southerner! In order to drive him to extremes in his recognizably and audibly increasing ecstasy, I resort to a sure-fire method: I pull my knees up, which causes the taut jeans to press Dimitri's upper body firmly against mine. Then I reach around my bottom with my right arm and find what I'm looking for!
I start stroking with relish, gently but teasingly - the effect is immediate: I couldn't have counted to ten ... until a clearly audible, drawn-out "Ahhhh ..." sounds from my mouth.
Dimitri's head sinks exhausted onto my chest. "You say 'Ahhhh', so it was nice for Sun Woman and Summer Woman and Sprout Woman and Ruth?"
"All four women enjoyed the anointing. Unfortunately, the last unction for today, I'm afraid ..." He lifts his head and raises his eyebrows questioningly.
I press a big kiss to his forehead and explain: "Your Ruth is very, very happy, that's why she makes silly remarks."
He kisses my neck and shoulders tenderly, working his way up to my breasts as he kisses his way further and further down, freeing himself from the clasp of jeans and briefs, smoothly freeing his body and slipping his T-shirt back on as if in slow motion.
Not a minute too late, as it turns out: no sooner have I, still in a daze and with butterflies in my stomach, struggled to get out from under the table than the doorbell rings - is Paule back already?
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Dimitri nervously buttoning his pants and grabbing the wrench again, while I stagger leisurely to the door.
"Well, back again?" "Not everyone is as reliable as you two, Ruth. These people just weren't at home or didn't answer the door. Well, we'll just be done here sooner."
Paule steps into the kitchen. "Don't tell me you haven't got that thing out yet?"
Oh, of course he's already got it out, I think to myself. But I say out loud: "Well, Paule, that's my fault." I point to the two glasses and the bottle of aniseed schnapps. "I stopped him because I was so curious about him. But he made up for it in the best possible way."
Dimitri's head whips around and I see sheer horror in his eyes - delicious!
"Yes, because he told me funny stories from his home country. You can add that to my bill. But it's not every day that you meet a genuine Greek who speaks German so well."
Dimitri beams with relief, is already halfway back on his knees in the machine and has already started singing again.
Paule frowns. "Well, if that's the case, I won't kick him out straight away, but later. Somehow he seems to fit in with your washing machine, Dimitri!"
I don't quite understand. "Well, what brand do you have, Ruth? And what was this company's advertising slogan in the seventies? You should remember, it was on TV every day back then!"
The scales fall from my eyes: "You mean 'Bauknecht knows what women want'?" Oh, Paule, if you only knew how right you are - your assistant is a real ... Bauknecht.
I only snap out of my smirking thoughts when I hear Paule say: "Tell me, Dimitri, do you need so much space for the job that you have to move Ruth's whole kitchen?" He shakes his head and straightens the table, which is still as crooked as Dimitri's feat of strength left it.

This kitchen won't be the same for me from now on anyway - long live craftsmanship!

"Love in Greek" by Jessica Grüntal from "Sexhungrig - Wenn Frauen Appetit auf Männer haben!" - published by: ORION / Carl Stephenson Publishers

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