Amsterdam Fifty-Three: Sabina

“I just discovered that in my past three lives I’ve been a thistle trampled by a herd of buffalo, a dung beetle inadvertently crushed under the shoe of the philosopher Lin Yutang, and a monk who flagellated himself daily for twenty-seven years before dying of polio. I’ve put in the time, woman. This life is supposed to be the one where I really nail it. This is the big one, the one all my other lives are going to be talking about when they get together at company picnics.”

The woman sitting next to me, Sabina, nodded her head in amusement. “Is this how you normally hit on women? You buy them a drink and dish out gibberish? Don’t get me wrong, it’s original. Effective?—”

Before she finished her thought I said, “Look, I’m shrooming. Hard. I’m on my way to peaking. It’s a wonder I’m able to speak with all those bumbling bees flying around your head dripping honey all over you. It’s strange, like a music video from the 80s, somehow appropriate but unrelated to anything." I stared above her head then said, "What was I talking about?"

Sabina shook her head, took a drink, and appeared to be enthralled. That or disgusted. I couldn’t tell. There was fucking honey all over. Those damn bees! Now they were orange driblets and pink ribbons. “Wow, that’s so cool.” Sabina looked back at me, her eyes squinting. I said, “Never mind. Look, what I told you earlier about my past lives? I learned this earlier today from a very special woman who reads palms, talks with the dead, predicts the future, levitates, gyrates, and translocates. She screams, whispers, and squirms then she feasts, crawls, and sleeps. When I showed up at her apartment today she answered the door dressed in Wonder Woman Underoos. Her face was painted like a tiger and she pawed at me while roaring. I asked her if she could help me with an existential crisis. She licked my cheek.”

Sabina laughed helplessly. Others in the café looked over. “Oh my God. Okay, I believe you. You’re shrooming, I get it.”

“Well, finally! I thought it was obvious with all the lemon drops and candy corn falling from the ceiling.” I took a drink from a glass filled with a multitude of colors, finishing it off. “Do you want to know more about how my existential palm reading went?”

Sabina nodded her head, smiling. “Oh, absolutely. I love a good palm reading. You want another drink? Whatever the hell that was?” It was the drink that first got her attention. I was at De Huyschkaemer, a trendy bar on Utrechtsestraat. How I had gotten there I could barely remember. I ate shrooms intending to chill, but something made me get dressed up and head out into the wild. I think I was heading to a club, but I saw the lights from Huyschkaemer and couldn’t resist. I sat at the bar ordering a slew of colorful drinks. Imbibing colors made more sense than anything else. Who doesn’t want a rainbow in their belly?

“Is the question ‘what do I want’ related to the drink you’re buying me or are you asking a wide-open question? I’d prefer to answer the latter, but in case you’re asking the former I’ll have another Quick f-u-c-k.” Sabina’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?” Oh. “Um, that’s the drink. It’s a shot of Bailey’s, Midori, and Dooleys. But now that I think about it I want a Ditchhiker.” Sabina stared at me. “What?" I explained. "I tried to become a bartender after I got separated a couple years ago. I thought it would be a good way to meet women. I just ended up getting drunk on a lot of foo-foo drinks. They’re colorful, like drinking tubes of paint. I feel like I swallowed Jackson Pollack."

Sabina broke into a smile. “You’re out there. Funny, clever, but way out there.” She smirked and said, “I’ll buy you the drink, whatever the hell it is—” I interrupted, “A Ditchhiker.” Sabina moved to the empty seat between us and said, “Fine, whatever, I’ll get the drink, but first tell me what you really want. You wanted to answer the ‘wide-open question’ so …” Sabina leaned into me a little and put her hand on my thigh. Her eyes were wickedly sexy now and she seemed to me like a panther in heat. I breathed in the scent of her perfume and said to her, before I could stop myself, “Your perfume doesn’t mask your heat, woman.” Sabina pulled back but left her hand on my thigh. “Damn, you are … I—” She couldn’t finish her sentence. She pulled her hand away from my thigh. I saw her face was flush. Fuck. I tried to keep myself from laughing, but I couldn’t.

I had been in the bar before she came inside and sat down. I had already had three multicolored drinks by then and had grown roots in the bar chair. The bartender was at first too cool to bother with me until he felt how big my tips were. After that, he hovered near me as much as possible, smiling a big ol' smile, actin' the whore. He sucked as a whore. I might not have known he sucked at it had I never met Vanessa. Compared to her, every other whore in every other line of work came across as pitiful. I thought she should quit her job and teach whores like this guy how to make a person swoon. He was doing it all wrong, letting me be the boss whenever I threw money around. Make me want you, brother, make me believe you can't be bought. The more I thought of it, Vanessa wasn't a whore at all. She would never sink so low as to pander for money. She knew she was the shit and if you didn't like it then see you later. Everyone needed to take lessons on how to be yourself at all times. She was a good teacher. The lessons stuck with me and now I was becoming the shit.

When Sabina first sat down I looked over at her with surprise—another human being! She removed her long black coat revealing a lavender-gray sweater that had a heerlijk design, some sort of over-under curls of fabric creating an open neck and layered coverage of her breasts before cutting in tightly around her stomach and flaring at her waist. The pants looked like any business casual woman’s pants, grayish, nicely cut, uninteresting to shrooming eyes except for the curves.

I didn’t linger on her as my drink was so colorful and had barked at me to pay attention. I obliged. But when I heard her voice speaking English, lovely, an American accent with a hint of British, I turned to ask her if she was from the U.S. “New York. I’m here for a conference. Well, was. Today was the last day.” Oh. I said, “Well, that sounds boring. Not New York, the conference.” She laughed and said as much. Then she nearly destroyed me with details about it. I cut her off finally, about to lose my mind in the minutiae of a life I never wanted to live. “You know, when I said it was boring, I meant the conference. Telling me more about the conference does not make it less boring.” Then I laughed, almost falling off my seat. “Holy fuck, that was rude! I couldn’t help myself. You seem nice, very pretty, and I like your sweater and your dark wavy hair. Your lips are liquidy, not too red, but sharper than pink. I like that. They're the same color as one of the drinks I ordered earlier.”

That began the conversation. For some reason, she didn’t just grab her drink and walk away. She remained in her seat and I introduced myself as Michael and she said her name was Sabina. After that, I led the conversation, telling her that until I said something boring she didn’t get to choose topics of conversation. “I’m not trying to be a jerk. I’m just saying you whiffed when you first stepped up to the plate. Understandable, you were at a bore-fest all week, but that’s over and now you’re here sitting next to a master storyteller. I got tales, woman. Brilliant tales that will give your ears orgasms. I’m not going to allow you to ruin your last night in Amsterdam reminiscing about the conference. You’ll have all the time in the world for that back in Toledo … or New York. Whatever.”

When I stopped laughing about Sabina's heat and looked over at her, she appeared ready to move back to her original seat. I said, “No, no, it’s the shrooms. I like your scent. It’s like lilacs and dandelions … or maybe that’s my drink. I can’t tell. I certainly didn’t want you to move your hand away, though. That I can say with the utmost certainty. My knees are still wobbly.”

I lightened my mood and dropped down to tender. I softened my eyes and smiled kindly. “I could sit here and talk with you for the rest of my life.” As I said this I realized my voice was almost childlike. “I’m having fun. With you. You’re sweet. And sexy. And you have a little bit of a British accent.” Sabina was no longer blushing. She looked radiant, her face glowing, her dark hair shrouding like the mane of a wild cat. Her eyes were chocolate and I said, “Mooi.” Sabina blinked an eye smile and said, with allure, “Oh, you think so? Well ... thank you." She paused and her twinkle disappeared. "Yes, I’m British." I was surprised. “You barely have an accent at all. Your English sounds mostly American.” She nodded, “I went to college in the U.S. and never left. So, yeah, my English is probably more American than British.” Hmmm. “Whatever you’re doing just keep doing it. An angel’s playing a harp in your throat and she flutters the strings whenever you speak.”

Sabina gestured dismissively. “Are you always like this or is this the shrooms?” I shook my head. “There’s a hardly difference any more. I’m on a vision quest.” Sabina wrinkled her nose, “A vision quest? Do you live here in Amsterdam?” I thought I had made that clear. “Yeah. Didn’t I tell you that?” She said, “No, you said you were from Chicago.” Oh. “Well, I’m not from Chicago, I lived there recently, but now I’m living here. Shrooming. Figuring out who I am in this world and whether the world is worthy of me.” Sabina laughed freely, drooping her head as she bent over slightly, and slapped her hand on my knee. She let it linger and as she raised her head her hand slid up my thigh. Damn, her eyes looked dreamy—like she was in a dream.

Sabina took a few breaths and caught the bartender’s eye. Then she looked back at me to ask what I wanted. "A Ditchhiker." The bartender raised his eyebrows quizzically. “It’s served in a highball, equal parts vodka, blue curacao, peach liqueur, and topped off with orange juice … and a lime. I think. Give that a try, anyway.” Tipping him well had been such a good idea. No way was he going to put up with me without getting paid. Fucking whore.

As I felt Sabina’s hand warm my thigh, I tried to figure out if I had been hitting on her. I didn’t think so, at least not originally. I was somewhere beyond Neptune, but I kept orbiting back around her and each time I did her atmosphere seemed more inviting, a planet conducive to my form of life. Sabina whipped her head around, her hair swishing by my face. She leaned in closer to me without my notice and asked, “Your vision questing, what does that involve? Shrooming and more shrooming.” I nodded. “Yeah. I’m peeling back the layers to rid my mind of indoctrination and open my heart to beauty, exploring ways of being in the world, creating a process for living well, optimizing my sensory experiences through attentiveness and awareness, streamlining thought, expanding my emotional range, learning how to play while discovering what I value most.” I looked into her eyes, turned my torso toward her, leaned into her so close my nose was touching hers, and said, “So that I don’t miss moments like this.” I kissed her lips, sweetly, almost no pressure, only the slightest of movement.

When I pulled back I licked my lips and said, “Strawberries. Mmm.” Sabina giggled. “You are so … different. I did not expect to meet you tonight.” Her hand was still on my thigh and I moved mine on top of hers. “Hell, no one expects to meet me. I just happen to people and they either freak out or move in closer. Why, what did you expect?” She shook her head. “Nothing, really. Just walk around the canals, stop to have a drink or two, relax and enjoy. I went to a club last night and had a great time, but I wanted a night to myself, enjoy a romantic evening with myself. The city is so beautiful at night.” I nodded. “So eloquent. Being able to be romantic with yourself is rare. Earned rather than born with. You chose a good area to walk, canal ring. As romantic as it gets.” She smiled. “Yes.” She sighed a little as I took a drink of the Ditchhiker the bartender had delivered. “Do you have an apartment here?” I nearly spit out the drink. Whoa. My heart jacked up and I tried to slow it down. “Yeah, I do. It’s down the block and around the corner. This is my neighborhood.” Sabina removed her hand from my thigh and finished her martini. She put down her glass and turned to me. “Wonderful. Forgive me for asking this, but ... do you work or are you … what I mean is, you’re on a vision quest and you’re living here in Amsterdam—”

I cut her off. “I get it. Yeah, I work. From home. Publishing. But that’s just what I do for money. This is who I am.” I reached over and curled my hands around hers. “I’m alive. So are you. We are not our work.” Sabina appeared pleased. "That’s a refreshing perspective. Not at all 'New York.'" I shivered. “Dear God, no. No, no, not at all New York. No offense, but I couldn't allow that happen to myself again. I care too much about me now. I would be unbelievably boring if I was only my work. I wouldn’t want to spend time with me at all. In fact, when I was just work, when I became my work, I despised myself. I was sickened by me, disgusted with myself, a hollowed-out shell pretending to be alive. But … that’s why I’m here, that’s why I’m exploring other ways of being. If I had the choice each day to work or spend time with you, I would never work again.”

I heard a snicker from behind the bar. I looked over and the bartender was wiping glasses, a huge grin on his face. I said, “Man, I am tipping you way too much for you to laugh at the beautiful moments we’re creating over here.” I shook my head and he laughed a little more. “Sorry. I couldn’t help it.” I sighed and smiled, “I have that effect on people. They become helpless in my presence. My charm overwhelms nearly everyone. I won't hold it against you.” Both Sabina and the bartender laughed. I laughed, too, then took a big drink. “The Ditchhiker is good. Not too sweet, plenty of punch.” I winked at him and turned back to Sabina. I noticed that the bar had filled up. I had forgotten we were out in public, that there were others present. Sabina consumed the whole of my attention. I looked around. All the seats at the bar were taken, all the seating downstairs was filled, and people were standing with drinks in their hands, talking and laughing. There was a loft space upstairs with couches and comfy lounge chairs. It also looked filled.

I wanted to go upstairs even though it was occupied. I said to Sabina, “Do you see that couch up there?” She looked up behind her then turned back around. “Yes.” She waited as if expecting me to say more. I said, dryly, “Oh. Okay. I was just wondering if you saw it.” She looked at me as if I were the weirdest person on the planet—a distinct possibility. “I’m kidding. No, I was looking at it, wishing we were up there. Do you think they’d mind if I asked them to move? They're not really using the couch right. A couch like that is meant for intimacy. There's a huge gap between the two of them. What the hell are they doing up there wasting space and atmosphere as if moments like these lasted forever?” Sabina said. “I dare you to ask them to leave.” I laughed then looked at her with deadly seriousness. “Double dare? Because I’d do it if it was a double dare.” I wanted to do it and if she gave me another nudge I would do it. It would be so rude, but there was a part of me that really, really, really wanted to play that game.

Instead, I sighed and took another drink. I wanted to finish it and take Sabina back to my apartment, but I was enjoying the space and the pace as well. It was fun being out while shrooming, being publicly sensual, feeling groovy. “Tell me a story. Not about work, not about your childhood, not about anything you’ve ever told anyone else. Tell me something entirely new—new to you, too.” Sabina looked at me sternly. “Sure, put me on the spot.” I said in reply, “I told you about my past lives.” Sabina blinked shyness. I found it so endearing I felt like hugging her. She looked at me, her eyes bigger than before—possibly an effect of the shrooms. Could eyes grow like that naturally? She had transformed into a Japanese anime character. “I—you’re a storyteller. You’re witty and you think a million miles per hour. Maybe it’s the shrooms—“ I cut her off, “Oh, no. I’m like this 24/7. The shrooms are slowing me down.” She laughed, a laugh like butter dripping off her tongue. I felt an urge to lick it off her chin. “You have a great smile, Michael.” Oddly, that changed my smile. I wasn’t aware I had been smiling, but now I could feel it in the muscles of my face. “Thank you. That’s the kindest thing anyone’s said to me in a long time.” I wasn’t sure that was true, but I meant it when I said it.

A silence fell between us, an enormous silence that engulfed both of us and shielded us from the rest of the bar, the noises, the sights, everything. I looked into Sabina’s eyes, now like those of a doe. She leaned into me and kissed me, a lingering kiss that moved our lips and gave me a taste of her mouth as well as the strawberry of her lipstick. The kiss ended naturally, mutually. I opened my eyes, watched hers open, and reached for my drink without looking. I took a big drink, emptying the glass. I broke the silence. “I never thanked you for the drink.” I said it with appreciation. Without blinking an eye she whispered, “You’re welcome.” I thought for a moment and I thought again.

I said, “You know what I think, Sabina?”

Sabina leaned forward sensually. “No, what do you think?”

“I think we should pay our tabs and take a stroll around this lovely, romantic neighborhood.” I smiled a relaxed smile. She returned the smile, stood up, and grabbed her coat. “That sounds wonderful.” She laughed and said, “I’m not even sure I know how to get back to my place. I just wandered without paying attention where I was going.” I said, “That is the best possible way to wander.” We paid our respective bills—going Dutch!—and I helped Sabina with her coat before I put on my jacket.

We walked out into the cold—not too bad. I asked Sabina if she wanted to walk along the canals. “Is your apartment on a canal?” Ooh la la. “No, it’s on Kerkstraat, just down the block and around the corner. But we can walk along Keizersgracht on our way there.” Sabina leaned against me and I put my arm around her waist as we walked along Utrechtsestraat. We turned onto Keizersgracht and the large canal opened up to us. Despite my arm around Sabina, she shivered at times. I held her tighter.

“I love the canals. Before this trip I’d never seen them. I’m so glad I stayed in the canal district.” I asked her where she was staying. “The Seven Bridges.” I said, “That is, without question, the most romantic area of Amsterdam.” She turned her head, affectionately smiling at me. She licked her lips, not suggestively; in fact, rather innocently, adorably. She was almost the same height as I was and as I looked down I saw she was wearing heels. She turned ahead as we slowly walked. I looked at the profile of her face. She looked young and beautiful in the soft light of the street. I hadn’t thought of her age and I didn’t care. She seemed fit and agile, even in heels. My arm was tiring so I let it drop between us. She unfolded her arms and held my hand. She was wearing gloves and I wished she wasn’t because I wanted to feel her skin against mine.

Sabina stopped and turned to me about halfway down the block. She leaned into me, closed her eyes, and kissed. She let go of my hands and put her arms around my neck. The kiss was gentle, but as it lingered it became more passionate. I tried to hold myself back because I didn’t want to be too aggressive—she wasn’t in “panther mode” and I was trying not to get there before she did. Let her lead, I thought.

The kiss shifted to a softer, slower locking of lips. I felt like we’d kissed for hours, that we might never stop kissing—I wished for that—but Sabina leisurely lifted her lips from mine and pulled her head back. Her eyes sparkled. It may have been thelights along the street or perhaps an effect of the shrooms. A sly smile spread across her face and I saw then that the sparkle came from her. I felt like I should say something, but instead I leaned in and kissed her tenderly. As the kiss broke, I grabbed her hand gently, looking down at it as I did so. Then I looked up and turned us toward the Amstel. She leaned in against me, her head on my shoulder, as we walked

We turned the corner at the Amstel and walked to Kerkstraat. We turned right and as we did Sabina slid her arm underneath mine and around my waist. We casually crossed the street and in no time we stood in front of the entrance of my apartment building. As I pulled my keys out of my pocket, Sabina put her gloved hand against my face. I turned to look at her. She opened her mouth as if to say something but nothing came out. She closed her mouth. She was trembling, not from the cold.

I put my hands on her cheeks. She reacted to the cold, but laughed. I laughed, too, and apologized. “I forgot how cold my hands are.” She smiled and I did, too. Then her eyes grew soft, almost sad. "Sabina, what's wrong?" She shook her head. "It's nothing. I just." She stopped herself and took a deep breath. She looked down and then back up. "I'm ... nervous. I can't believe I'm going to say this, but ... it's been awhile. I'm not used to being this open and vulnerable, sexual." Oh, dear. The sweet woman. I sighed and said with care, “I understand. Just to let you know, it's been awhile for me, too, to meet someone while out and be so open. I mean, I’ve been vulnerable with you all night, shrooms or not.” She nodded her head, seemingly more at ease, and said, “Kiss me again.” I looked in her eyes and I saw her, I saw her, and her soul was beautiful. I took her in my arms and I moved my lips into hers. The kiss was intimate, full of each of us. 

The kiss went on and changed shapes and colors before ending in a perfect rainbow. She drifted back with her eyes closed, her lips parted. When she opened her eyes she looked awash in a dream. She staggered to the side and put her hand against her forehead as if to balance herself. I reached and held her arm. She looked up at me with eyes that said, I was sure of it, “You just made me fall in love with you.” Sabina, punch drunk, eyes giggling, a look of drunken awe. She let out an almost inaudible gasp and slurred “I love the way you kiss.” I felt like my whole body was expanding and contracting with each breath. I thought of Neo at the end of the Matrix.

She let drip her buttery laugh then let it all out in one burst: “Wow!” I said to her, “You know what?” She answered with silliness, her body loose and slinky, moving delightfully. “What?” I answered, “I feel like we just made love.” She bent over laughing, “Oh my God! I know!” She rose up and threw her arms around my neck. How many drinks did she have? I said, “I thought I was the one who was shrooming.” She laughed harder. “Well, I might be a little tipsy.” I laughed. “It just started to hit me a little more while we were kissing. I knew I was going home with you before, anyway. Well, I had to drop you more obvious hints since you were shrooming, but, well, you were so free and sexy and romantic and crazy.” Sabina's eyes pulsed love bursts at me as she said. “You are hot and I really want to kiss you again.”

I unlocked the door, opened it, grabbed Sabina by the waist, and pulled her inside and up the stairs with my lips. I somehow managed to put the key in the slot while completely abandoning all restraint. We were panthers in heat, roaring from the inside out into each others mouths, clawing each other with our paws. Sabina dug a hole in my back and grabbed the ribs of my chest to push me into her body so tightly that I became her. We fell inside the apartment and I kicked the door shut. We were a frenzy of devouring lips, a rabid ripping of clothes, then a stumbling embrace to bed where a long, blistering fire slowly melted each of us into the other.