Stranger Things Have Happened (Elvis Presley story)

Chapter 37

I'm honestly not sure what I expected my time in Germany to be like, but I don't think I could say that I expected it to be like this. Initially I don't really get to see a whole lot of Elvis very often. He would stop by occasionally, but each visit was very brief. He is always back and forth all the time, meaning that if I ever get to see him, it would be late at night or early in the morning. The rest of the days I am just left here on my own.

That is something that I am not good at. Being alone. Especially since my last stretch of being alone didn't go the best. I shudder at the memory of the past few months and try to push it out of my mind. I need to cheer up. Tonight I won't be by myself. Far from it in fact. I've been informed that I am going to a party.

There is going to be some sort of celebration at one of the houses on the base tonight that Elvis is going to, and he asked me to come with him. Usually I really am not a party person, but I have been growing incredibly tired of spending all my time cooped up in the house by myself. So even though I usually don't look forward to these types of things, I actually do feel a little bit excited.

The sun is just starting to set by the time Elvis comes and picks me up.

"Hello darlin'," he greets me with a tight hug and a kiss on my forehead before pulling back to get a better look. "Wow, aren't you looking sharp!"

That brings a blush to my cheeks. I actually did spend quite a long time getting ready, which is usually out of character for me. I did a full face of makeup, curled and pinned up my hair into an updo, painted my nails, the whole nine yards. I am wearing a pale gold satin dress that poofs out at the bottom, stopping just above my knees.

Elvis, however, is the one who really looks nice. More than nice, to be frank. He has his hair gelled back, is clean shaven, and I can smell the fresh scent of his cologne faintly as it tickles my nostrils. He is wearing his olive green dress uniform, which honestly makes me a little hot under the collar. At this I chuckle silently to myself. He is the definition of attractive.

A car takes us to the house where the party is. When we get there, we thank the driver and Elvis helps me out, careful of my heels. Once I'm out of the car and get a look outside, I am struck with a sudden wave of anxiousness. Seeing the street in front of the house lined with cars and people scattered around makes me a little nervous. I don't know any of these people; they are Elvis's friends. Letting out a much needed breath, I give Elvis's hand a squeeze as he leads us to the door and inside.

The house is packed. It isn't a small house, either, it is just incredibly cramped with the amount of people that are inside. Upon observation, I notice that probably more than half of the men here are wearing the same army dress uniform that Elvis has on. The remaining men are wearing expensive-looking suits. The women that are scattered around all look immaculate, done up to the nines. The atmosphere seems to be thick with importance. These observations make me suddenly feel like a mouse; wanting to be small and quiet to remain unseen.

I get the sense that Elvis must have picked up on my sudden change of attitude. I feel his hand slide down the inside of my arm, stopping at my hand as he envelops it in his. I turn my head upwards to peer at him, and I am met with his understanding eyes and reassuring smile. He bows his head down, bringing his mouth to my ear.

"Come on," he says, "let me introduce you to some people."

The night progresses as a steady stream of hellos and nice to meet yous, countless new faces blending together. I find it difficult to remember names as they come at me one after another. Thankfully, though, I have a glass of champagne that keeps offering to be refilled. The substantial buzz that I quickly get going helps me forget my anxieties.