Dancing with the Dragon

By William Wresch

Book 8: Jessica’s new love brings her to Europe. A geology professor, he will help her place her water wells where they can best aid a world getting hotter, and drier. But it is a ploy to get her help. Her late husband’s family company is being attacked by a woman who is beautiful, brilliant, and relentless. To save the family company, Jessica will need to face her. But this is a woman Jessica knows, and loves. A woman who has bested Jessica every time she has faced her. Now they will meet, dance, and battle on a yacht cruising between Dubai and Oman. Held captive on the yacht, Jessica finds a new love. But can she trust him? And what will be the price of his help? Before she is done, she will need to dance with the dragon in Dubai and in Switzerland, and find some way to make peace.

• Language: English
• Publisher: William Wresch
• Release date: May 9, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463853504

William Wresch

I have three sets of books here. The first is an alternative history of the US, envisioning how things might have gone had the French prevailed in the French and Indian War. That series comes from some personal experiences. I have canoed sections of the Fox, and driven along its banks. I have followed the voyageur route from the Sault to Quebec and traveled from Green Bay to New Orleans by car and by boat. My wife and I have spent many happy days on Mackinac Island and in Door County. The Jessica Thorpe series is very different. It takes place in the tiny town of Amberg, Wisconsin, a place where I used to live. I wanted to describe that town and its troubles. Initially the novel involved a militia take over of the town, and it was called "Two Angry Men." But both men were predictable and boring. I had decided to have the story narrated by the town bartender - Jessica - and I soon realized she was the most interesting character in the book. She became the lead in the Jessica Thorpe series. I restarted the series with a fight over a proposed water plant with Jessica balancing environmental rights and business rights. I put Jessica right in the middle of a real problem we are experiencing here in Wisconsin (and most other places). How badly does a tiny town need jobs? How much environmental damage should we accept? The third series changes the lead character. Catherine Johnson solves mysteries. She also travels. It took her to many places I have been. The last several books take place in Russia. I admit I have no idea what is motivating the current madness there. Catherine looks, she tries to help, she struggles. What else can any of us do?

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Dancing with the Dragon

A Jessica Thorpe Novel

By William Wresch

Copyright 2020 William Wresch

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Book 8: Jessica follows Klaus to Heidelberg. An hydrology professor, he can help her place her wells across Michigan. Can she trust him? Can she love him? Can she be a professor’s wife? As she settles into life in Heidelberg, certain she will marry Klaus, she is pulled away, back to Switzerland. Her late husband’s company is being attacked by a woman who is beautiful, brilliant, and relentless. Jessica will need to face her. But this is a woman Jessica knows, and loves – a woman who has bested Jessica every time she has faced her. Now they will meet, dance, and battle on a yacht cruising between Dubai and Oman. Held captive on the yacht, Jessica finds a new man. But what will be the price of his help? Before she is done, she will need to dance with the dragon in Dubai and in Switzerland, and find some way to save Emil’s company.

Chapter 1

I Finally Agree to Heidelberg

This story starts in one of my favorite places in the world – Lambeau Field. And one of the best dates ever. He took me to a Packer game at Lambeau Field. I live close, but I have only been to games two other times. While my girls were growing up, I worked as a waitress or a bartender, and you don’t buy a lot of Packer tickets on minimum wage. But I had seen all their games on TV, and I knew that the only real stadium left in the NFL is Lambeau. Jerry Jones may have a stadium as big as his ego, but anyone can build big. Let Dallas keep it. If you want class, you go to Green Bay and Lambeau Field.

First, it still has the original benches from 1957 when the place was built. There have been expansions as new areas were built to wrap around the original stadium, but the core of the place – the seating bowl – was still there. You don’t get a seat. You get twenty two inches on a bench, your knees against the back of the row ahead of you, and your back against the knees behind you. Basically, the kind of seating airlines have for us. But at Lambeau, it is all part of the mystique. Besides, in late November, in an outdoor stadium, it gets pretty cold in Green Bay, so having people sit close is a plus.

And my man was sitting very close. Klaus Jergens, Ph.D. Hydrology professor from Heidelberg University. He showed up at my father’s bar. Twice I have dumped the guy. We have serious issues to work out. But, he’s good looking, interesting, has some skills that might be useful to me, and he has Packer tickets. I am bartending to a huge crowd one minute, the next I am riding down to Green Bay to see the Packers play the Cowboys. I am hot to see the Packers, and, in truth, issues or not, I am hot for Klaus. He has flown from Germany to make yet another try for me, so I think the attraction is mutual.

Our conversation on the ride to Green Bay? Selective. He is on the board of Naturale, a huge water and juice seller based in Switzerland. This is the company my late husband Emil ran. The company that fired me shortly after his death. Will we talk about that company? No. I have recently started my own company, Hope Springs LLC, to bottle and sell water south of Lake Superior. I was planning to expand. I wanted to buy two abandoned farms where I could build additional bottling plants. Klaus bought the farms on behalf of Naturale. Would we talk about that? No.

What does that leave? The Packers. I described the Ice Bowl. The coldest NFL game ever played, where right here in Green Bay the Packers beat the Cowboys on a last second quarterback sneak and continued on to the NFL championship. Go Pack Go. My father attended the game and was later hospitalized for frostbite because neither he nor any other member of the sellout crowd would leave before the final snap. He had described that game to me fifty times. Maybe more. I described it to Klaus. He proved he was a good listener.

We got to Green Bay, paid twenty dollars to park on some guy’s front lawn, and walked to the stadium. It’s an evening game - Monday Night Football is broadcasting – and people have been tailgating since noon. I guess that’s another way of saying the parking lots are filled with the outrageously drunk. Fine. We stopped in a tent the Packers have set up outside the stadium and had a beer and a brat ourselves. My man is tailgating. Maybe we belong together, issues or not.

The game? He has bought really good seats. And once we get to our seats, he sits close (yes, there isn’t much option about that, but still…). And, even though he is German and thinks soccer should be called football, he seems to know what is going on. I don’t have to explain why first downs are important, and he cheers as loud as everyone when we intercept a pass. He also has an arm around me for much of the game.

And I do my share. I kiss him every time we score a touchdown (five) and when we win at the end (not that it was ever in doubt – eat ice, Cowboys), he holds me tight and asks the main question of the evening. Heidelberg? The company jet is waiting at the airport. He has asked me to come with him to Heidelberg multiple times. He asks again. The Packers have won, his arms are around me, I love his blue eyes, this time the answer is yes.

Bartenders don’t usually ride private jets. I have flown this plane several times. It doesn’t get old. The main cabin seats a dozen. Huge, white leather seats, a small galley, a work table. Closet at the back and a bathroom. Klaus was back there as soon as we made our cruising altitude. Out of football stadium clothes, into his usual outfit – gray trousers, blue shirt, navy blazer, no tie. Casual. A thousand dollars in fabric on him, but warn casually. The look of a man who had grown up with wealth.

He stood for me to look, then pointed to a dress bag in the closet. He had expected me to join him. He had an outfit for me. My turn in the bathroom. Off went heavy boots, heavy sweater, and worn jeans. On went silk in a darker shade of gold. The skirt had an overlay. The inner skirt reached several inches below my knees. The outer layer was several inches shorter. Lots of material in those skirts. I knew where his hands would spend the flight. The bodice was a bit odd. Tiny sleeves, puffed shoulders, a scooped neckline well down my chest. I stared in the mirror. Okay? Not okay? It took some getting used to. I did some serious work on my hair, and my mousey brown locks seemed to work with the dress. So, maybe…

At the bottom of the dress bag was a jeweler’s box. A gold choker. Half an inch wide. Simple. Elegant. I had it on instantly. Also at the bottom of the bag – a ring box. I left that. He had work to do before that went on my finger. I pulled on matching pumps, combed my hair yet again, and went out to him.

Du bist shon.

Lots more German followed. I was beautiful. I was his frau. He took my hand and kept talking in German. I caught maybe half of his words, but I understood the tone of his voice. I also understood his arms around me. And there was no question what he wanted as he pulled me to a pair of seats and reclined them flat. A white satin night gown magically appeared. I changed, he smiled, and I joined the mile high club.

I spend the flight in white satin. Eight hours. At one point I made sandwiches in the galley. We slept for part of the flight. He held me. He took me again when we were over Europe. His way. My arms trapped at my sides. He was less rough than he had been in Victoria Falls, but there was no question who was in charge. He wanted me. He took me. Fortunately, I wanted him too.

The pilot warned us forty five minutes before landing. Back to the bathroom to change back into my dress and get ready for Heidelberg. He had me on my back for final approach. I had not brought a passport. It was back in my trailer. No matter. The company had arranged a Swiss passport for me. He gave it to me and I studied it as I looked up at him. The photo was current, and my date of birth, height, weight, and eye color were correct. My name was Jessica Jergens, and my husband was Klaus Jergens.

Meine frau.

Your guest. We have things to work out, Klaus. I make no promises about how things will go.

I said that looking up at a man who had fucked me across the Atlantic. And would fuck me in Heidelberg. That part of our relationship we had worked out. It was everything else that was hard. We both had ambitions. Would those ambitions align or compete? I looked up at those blue eyes and hoped for a happy ending.

Chapter 2

Heidelberg Life

Klaus did something pretty interesting once we got to his apartment. On the way in from the airport I got glimpses of Heidelberg, and I was somewhat interested in what I saw, but in truth, I was exhausted. Klaus had kept me busy on the flight, there was a six hour time change, and my body was telling me it was bed time. And that’s what Klaus had me do. Alone. I pulled that satin nightgown on again, slid into his bed, and waited for him to climb on. But he didn’t. He sat on the edge of the bed, stroked my hair, kissed me on the cheek, and told me to rest. He would be back with food in a few hours. He set a phone next to the bed, his number ready if I needed him.

And he left. I would not have minded another go-round with him, but I have to admit I was grateful for the sleep. And I did sleep. I was out in minutes. No idea how long I slept. It had been light when we got to his apartment. It was dark now. No Klaus. I lounged in his bed for a while, then got up, showered, and got back into the golden dress he had given me.

Now what? I snooped. Bathroom? Was there another woman? I checked the medicine cabinet. No sign of a woman. Not even a second toothbrush. Bedroom? Nothing in the closet. Some pictures on his dresser. Me. Elsa. Several other women. A group that looked like college friends. My picture was centered. I wondered if Elsa had once held that position.

His kitchen? I made myself a pretty big breakfast. Yes, I was hungry, but mostly I was trying his kitchen on for size. He had once talked about entertaining. He had even asked me if I knew how to make spätzle. If I stayed, I would cook here. If I stayed. Me making German meals in this room. If I stuck around. This was a room I needed to study.

The kitchen wasn’t bad. Big enough to have room for a small table. Most of the equipment looked familiar. All containers were marked in liters (I would just pretend the word was quarts), and all equipment had instructions in German (not that I paid much attention to instructions in any language). Mostly his kitchen looked like and operated like any kitchen in the U.S. I had toast and eggs and coffee and didn’t encounter any real problems.

Breakfast done, I wandered the rest of the apartment. From the outside, the building looked like a larger two story house. Good. No blocky, ugly apartment building. Inside were four apartments, each with a small balcony (his/ours faced the river (nice view)), and nice windows. Klaus had a large living room (also facing the river). I assumed it had been professionally decorated. It had that feel. There was a second bedroom (nice enough), but the room that stood out to me was the dining room. Seating for eight. Very formal. Chandelier, hardwood table and chairs, wall sconces, candelabra. I sensed long dinners with good friends.

Summation? I don’t know what German professors get paid, but I do know things cost more in Europe than they do in the U.S., so I was seeing a fairly pricey apartment. He had told me he was wealthy. And that was what I was seeing.

I sat in the living room, cup of coffee in hand, and looked out those huge windows toward the river. Would I be comfortable in this apartment? Yes. Would I host dinners as a professor’s wife? Yes, I could do that here. Was I getting ahead of myself? Definitely. But the ceiling was high, the furniture good quality, and I liked those windows. And the sun was shining. I sat back on the couch and sipped my coffee, generally feeling pretty good.

Not sure how much time passed, but eventually I heard him at the door. I arranged my skirts, crossed my legs, and turned slightly towards him. A pose. It occurred to me if I did stay on, this was a moment we would repeat daily. Me, probably with dinner ready, a nicer dress on, my hair and makeup prepared, ready for my man to return. What he did now would likely be repeated the rest of our lives.

What did he do? Quick smile, a bag of groceries to the kitchen, and then to me. One hand out as he approached. I took his hand and he pulled me to a standing position, our bodies touching. My hands went to his neck, his hands went to my ass as he lifted me and kissed me. Okay, if this was repeated the rest of my life, I would be a happy frau.

You looked beautiful sitting here.

I like your apartment.

I assume you will do some redecorating.

I’m just here for a visit, Klaus.

Then why had I spent so much time in the kitchen, and why did I already think I could improve his draperies? But it was far too early for that discussion.

Tomorrow I will take you shopping, and we will see some of the sights, and I think you will love Heidelberg and never want to leave.

Maybe.

Not much happened for a while. He held me up off the ground, kissed me, and whispered to me. Simple German. I understood every word. Ich leibe dich, Du bist shon, Lots more, but those were the big phrases – he loved me, I was beautiful, and multiple times, meine frau. I buried my face in his neck, and yes, I also told him I loved him. The man I had thrown out of my apartment in Iron River. The man who was interfering with my new water company. At that moment, in his arms, yes, I loved him.

Dinner was interesting. Chinese takeout. Really. My first meal in Germany. We put it on plates, carried it to the dining room, lit several candles, opened a good bottle of wine, and ate Chinese takeout. It gave us something to chuckle about. A conversation starter. He talked restaurants. And he smiled at me in the candlelight. And looked at my chest. And held my hand. And I thought again, if I could have this the rest of my life, I would be a happy frau. The cooking would be mine, but the man would be the same, and the glow from the candles would be as warm.

He had me in bed fast enough after dinner. He held me all night. I slept in his arms. And I thought, if I could have this the rest of my life… Yes, I was thinking about him, and I was thinking about our future. So soon, but there you have it. I pressed tight against him, enjoyed his warmth, and thought, if I could have this…

Chapter 3

Evenings in Heidelberg

I was up early and made him breakfast. He got a hand on me whenever I got near. I got near fairly often. I was already comfortable in his kitchen and in his apartment. The visit was off to a good start.

He took me shopping, which is to say he walked me several blocks to a cluster of women’s stores. He offered me his credit card. I told him I had plenty of my own. He handed me a phone and said to call when I was done. He was off to the university.

What did I need? Everything. It may sound romantic to walk off a job and get on a plane to Europe. But I arrived with the clothes I had been wearing while bartending, and the clothes Klaus had for me on the plane. Or, to sum up, I needed everything.

What do I say about shopping for clothes in a foreign country? First, language. University graduates had pretty good English (so much better than my German), but shop girls didn’t attend universities. They had a few words of English. I had a few words of German. But all of us were patient, and pointing works pretty well. Next problem? Sizes. We use one number system, they use another. Solution, get me in a dress that fits, and then use that number for all the rest. It worked.

What problem was unsolvable? Klaus. Or should I say men. What was I dressing for? Life is simple for men – coat and tie. Things are more complicated for us. If Klaus told me where we would be going and what we would be doing, I would know what to buy. He had told me nothing. So, I bought a range of things from – just hanging around the apartment to – night at the opera (not really. Prices were astronomical. I settled for a couple cocktail dresses. If he wanted nicer than that, he would have to tell me.)

While I shopped I watched the women up and down the street. Some slacks, but more skirts than in the U.S. That helped guide my purchases. I also checked colors and I listened to the clerks (or at least looked at items they brought out to me). I ended up with six complete outfits, and an equal number of nightgowns. Day or night, I thought I had the basics covered. I would need more if my visit extended, but of course that was the big unknown wasn’t it?

It was two by the time I had what I wanted. Quick call to Klaus, good lunch in a restaurant, then back to the apartment for me, and back to the university for him. I hung things in his closet, changed into a long-sleeved cotton dress, and went back out. Food shopping. I was going to make dinner.

German grocery stores? Somewhat smaller (and more of them so they were closer), all with large chocolate selections. Klaus had pointed me to one about three blocks from the apartment. My purchases? We were in Germany. I would make pork. I filled a bag (they make you pay for the bags over there), and was home by four, ready to cook.

Remember how the day before I had sat on the couch imagining being ready when he came home, dinner cooked and hair swept back in beautiful curls? Well, it was close. I wasn’t ready for spätzle, but I could manage mashed potatoes. And I cheated with canned gravy. And boxed breading. But I got the pork fried well enough, and the candles lit in the dining room, and my hair combed and makeup refreshed. There I was, posed on the couch when he arrived home.

Perfect evening? Mostly. The pork was over cooked and the potatoes were runny. But the gravy was good and so was the wine. And so was Klaus. Big smile, hand on my ass, kisses before and after dinner. If this was a trial run for our future, it hadn’t gone too badly.

I assumed our bed was the next stage of the evening, but he wanted to go out. The Christmas market. He lived on the east side of the river. The old part of town was across a pedestrian bridge. It was chilly, but we had warm coats and were drinking warm wine soon enough. Gluh wine. Warm red wine I feared would stain anything it touched. Klaus stood close, and I drank fast. Nothing spilled. But I did have a slight sheen above my upper lip. He wiped that free and stood smiling. A moment of intimacy. Yes he was fucking me, but now he was also touching my face, his thumb sliding slowly across my lip. It felt like a moment that mattered.

Maybe that was why we had our first open conversation. It started with me examining some handmade wooden toys I thought the grandkids might like. Klaus was standing behind me, his arms wrapped around me. Hot wine seems to have double the impact of cool wine. Between the wine and the jet lag and our night time activities, I was tired. I felt like I was melting back into him. He had his arms around me, and I had my ass pushed back into him. I remember that I was teasing. Hell, exhausted as I was, I was hot for him. But I wanted to know.

Klaus, why am I here?

You are here because I am unbelievably lucky.

I turned in his arms and looked at him. He kept his arms around my shoulders. I kept my arms around his waist. Even through our heavy coats, I thought I could feel his warmth.

You used the corporate jet. You are new to the board, yet you get to chase down a girl halfway across the world?

I want you, Jess. So does the company.

I am not selling my bottling plant. And come spring, as soon as I can walk land free of snow, I am going to buy at least one farm, maybe two, and build more plants.

I have told you, Jess. We can do it better, faster, and cheaper.

And I have told you they are lying to you. Emil was dead less than six months and they killed the project he and I had designed. They will kill it again. They don’t understand it.

Jess…

Klaus, sit. I pointed to a bench nearby. Yes, I know I was talking to him as I would a dog, but you will notice I am not punching him.

If we are going to be friends, you need to know some lines you cannot cross. I sat next to him, and no, I was not holding his hand. I was staring straight into his eyes. Emil and I were partners. I flew here four years ago to buy the water plant in Amberg. I had been told it would be closed. That was a lie, but I didn’t know that. All I knew was that Amberg needed jobs, and the plant kept two dozen families employed. Emil and I fought like crazy for weeks. Then he took me for a hike into the mountains and showed me the remains of a glacier. He had a mission. Prepare for when all the glaciers – and lots of other water supplies – were gone. He asked me to be his partner. I would drill wells south of Lake Superior, a place his researchers thought would have water for decades after the rest of America’s water was gone. I would work North America, he would work Europe. That was the deal. I agreed. We also got married, but the deepest part of our partnership was water – we would try to provide water for as long as we were able. He may be dead, but our partnership isn’t.

I am really hoping this ends that conversation. In a perfect world, he says, now I understand. And I will help you. I never trusted the new management at Naturale anyway. I will ignore them and dedicate my life to helping you drill wells in Michigan. Well, maybe that last part was over the top, but I could hope. What did I hear instead?

I didn’t present the company’s position well. I didn’t give you reasons to merge with us.

There are no reasons for me to give up my company. And please don’t tell me you are bigger and faster. You are missing a much more important word – trust. I have none.

Aunt Willa would like to give you some reasons. She wants to have lunch with you tomorrow.

And you were going to tell me this when – as we sit down at the breakfast table?

I punch people. I don’t slap. And if they want to punch back, fine. Give me your best shot. I had my hands in fists in a second and one hand pulled back. He had set me up. I had been in his bed three days so Aunt Willa could arrive and close the deal. Get Jess here, get her loosened up, get her in bed, and then send in Willa to make the deal.

In the end, I didn’t punch him, but I did hit both his shoulders with my palms to push him away.

Jess, she’s Emil’s aunt. You know her. She knows you. She’s a good person. She wants to talk. She can explain this better than I can. She just wants to sit and talk. Frankly, I think she misses you.

How is she your aunt too?

"She isn’t. I don’t know how to explain it in English. She is my great aunt’s sister.