He was older, in his fifties, and thin with thick white hair on top of his narrow skull. He dressed like a peasant, Wolfgang thought, wearing old twee... trousers and a flannel shirt, with wide suspenders rather than a belt.Wolfgang closed the door behind him and turned the bolt. He glanced around the modest apartment just assure himself that they were alone. The place was neat and clean, very orderly for someone who lived alone perhaps, but he was a tidy man by nature, as Wolfgang knew. The. Very hot conversations, about our likes, our fantasies. It became addictive; we looked for every chance we got to find time to talk.He lived about four or five hours away. He would often say how good it was that I didn't live close, because he would be very tempted to ask me to meet him. And I would have. In a heartbeat. I didn't share his view about the distance being a good thing.After chatting like this for about a year, he told me that his work would be bringing him to about a half hour. More

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