Mr. Brown Can Moo! Can You?: Blue Book

I scan the room again, this time observing people's faces. Relaxation, excitement, trepidation, adventure-everyone's features tell a different, fascinating story. Then I do a double take. There's one face in the crowd that isn't joining in, isn't watching anyone: a man in his early twenties, pale, almost aristocratic, English-looking face with steely blue eyes that don't smile. Thick, light-brown wavy hair brushes the collarbone of his black turtleneck sweater. He's also wearing black pin-cord trousers and stylish boots. I can tell that his clothes are made of cashmere, fine cotton, and the softest nubuck leather. I don't know what to make of him. He looks more like an escaped librarian than a clubber or a regular on the fetish scene. He looks cultured. Rich. Uptight, even. What the hell's he doing here? I decide to break the ice. "Hi," I say to him in German, sidling over to his table. "How are you? What are you drinking? Can I get you another?" I ask, even though his beer is still virtually untouched. "Is this your first time here?" The closer I get to him, the more I talk, always a sign that I'm feeling nervous about something ...»