The Photographer

(7) The BioBienenApfel event

Iris nibbled on a nail nervously as she waited for Seb and Britta to collect her from the hotel. As well as feeling nervous, she also felt empty handed after deciding to leave her camera in her room. She'd enjoyed having some of Monday and all of yesterday to explore Munich and had used her camera to capture some stunning images of the city's architecture and people, she couldn't wait to get home and upload them to her laptop. A mixture of colour and black and white images with a broad spectrum of people and places, they'd be great additions to her portfolio and she hoped that they might finally be the key to her getting her own exhibition.

Sat on her own in a not so comfy, purple velvet chair, she checked the time on her watch. Seb was ten minutes late, this was hardly surprising given his infamous track record of time keeping and numerous photos of him running from place to place in the paddock. But today his lateness irritated her, not least because it gave her extra time to further torment herself over Sunday night.

He'd turned up at her table, he'd probably seen that she was looking at photos of him on her phone (though if he had then he hadn't mentioned it); he'd been a little drunk, wearing a sappy smile and with his eyes sparkling mischievously due to the alcohol in his system, she'd agreed to join him for a beer (he wasn't going to take no for an answer) and then she got her foot caught in the handle of her bag and tripped, ending up pressed against his body, his hands holding her by her waist to stop her from hitting the ground. Everything about him had surrounded her from the firmness of his toned body to his unforgettable scent and his gorgeous, beautiful face.

He was temptation incarnate and the sense of betrayal she felt weighed her down once more. She knew what this connection was that she felt every time he looked her way and he would know it too. Here she was, a happily married woman feeling connected on a deep, sensual, almost carnal level to a man she barely knew. She was betraying her husband in her head and her heart and deep down she knew she should leave her job and find something else before she did something that she'd majorly regret.

But she loved this job, it had been her dream. She could handle this, as long as her thoughts and feelings never strayed into actual physical things then she'd be ok, right?

"Ah, there you are!" exclaimed a familiar voice, "we've been outside for nearly five minutes."

Yet again Seb had seemingly appeared out of nowhere and she looked up, squinting as she got dazzled by the sunlight that was streaming in behind him.

"I would have text you to let you know I was here but I haven't got your number," he said, bending to pick up her bag for her.

Iris wondered if that was a hint, a way of him asking her for her phone number.

"Anyway, good morning," he smiled as she stood up and took her bag from his outstretched hand.

"Morning," she smiled shyly, already wondering how she was going to manage spending the whole day with him.

"Let's go, Britta's already having a panic over us being late," he nodded his head towards the doors and they started to walk together. He'd noticed how she seemed shy and with one hand clinging to her black bag, holding it as if it was a shield to defend herself from him, she seemed a little awkward, a little off.

"Did you have a hangover Monday morning?" he asked, trying to get her to talk and relax, "I did, I felt rough."

All he'd done though, was to remind her of Sunday night again.

When she didn't answer him, he tried again, "you didn't hurt your foot or ankle Sunday night? You tripped over your bag, remember?"

Her cheeks immediately flushed red hot; had he only remembered her tripping over her bag and not the way he'd held her and gazed at her?