Just Breathe

Chapter 1 Sudbahnhof, Vienna--Present Day "So tell me, dear, have you ever actually had a multiple orgasm?" Chloe Nichols's eyes widened as she pulled her Walkman's earphones from her head. "I beg your pardon?" "I asked if you've ever had a multiple orgasm?" Charlotte Northrup tilted her head to one side, a perfectly penciled eyebrow raised in question. Chloe's face heated to lobster red. Great, she resembled a crustacean. Not exactly glamour girl material. The train rumbled along, its clickity-clacking rhythm seeming to underscore the question. She struggled to find words, trying not to stare at her seatmate. Charlotte pursed her lips, obviously waiting for an answer. She looked so earnest--so interested. "I mean these books--" the blue-haired dowager tapped her well-manicured finger against the cover of her romance novel knowingly "--make it sound so wonderful." The last was more of an exhale than a word. "My ex-husband barely gave me enough time for one orgasm, let alone a whole slew of them." She leaned forward, eyeing Chloe as though she were the shaman of sex. "So have you? Had one, I mean." If possible, Chloe's face burned even hotter. She hadn't had a single orgasm in, well, ever. And frankly, romance novels depressed her. All those happy endings. Chloe sighed, wishing their other companions would return. She needed reinforcements. On the other hand, maybe that wasn't such a great idea. Wilhelmina Delacroix and Irma Peabody were cut from the same cloth as Charlotte Northrup. Willie and Charlotte had been friends forever. Lord, they probably talked about these sorts of things all the time. And Irma? Well, her Midwestern practicality would certainly shed new light on the subject. The thought of the three of them, together, discussing multiple orgasms was simply beyond comprehension. For better or worse, the compartment door stayed stubbornly closed, and Charlotte raised an eyebrow again, obviously waiting for some snippet of coital wisdom. Chloe struggled to think of something to say. Charlotte looked so hopeful. There was nothing to do but lie. It was the only way. She opened her mouth to answer, just as the train lurched to a stop. Static crackled over the loudspeaker, a message blaring in three languages, all equally unintelligible. Thank goodness, a reprieve. "I think we've arrived." Chloe glanced out the window at the train platform. It was an underground station, and the dim lighting made it hard to see anything clearly. "We'd best hurry." Charlotte closed her book with a snap and stuffed it into her bag. "You know what Thomas said about getting off the train quickly." Chloe nodded and gathered her luggage, tucking the Walkman under her arm. Thomas Hardy--obviously a man with a literary mother--was their tour director. She smiled, thinking of his dour face and neatly trimmed beard. He reminded her of someone's butler, or what she imagined a butler to be like. She'd never had any firsthand experience with that sort of thing, but definitely if there was a butler type, Thomas fit the mold. And right now, the memory of his clipped accent was ringing in her ears, warning them that European trains didn't stop for long. "Look sharp, ladies, and move quickly." Chloe followed Charlotte, stopping at the compartment door to adjust the strap of her bag, balancing it against the weight of her overstuffed backpack, and wondered what in the world had made her decide to carry all this stuff when there was a perfectly good porter assigned just to them. Chloe sighed. She'd blame it on all those years as a Girl Scout. Be prepared. Or was that the Boy Scouts? Well, either way, a girl never knew what she might get into. Chloe winced. She was certainly walking proof of that statement. She stepped into the crowded aisleDavis, Dee is the author of 'Just Breathe' with ISBN 9780345490605 and ISBN 0345490606.