“Do you have coffee here?” Hanna asked.
We met in at an underground club in Belgrade called Drugstore. I saw her standing alone near the bar after we exchanged playful banter a few minutes earlier. She is tall with long black hair, dark eyes, and very Serbian facial features. Full lips, long eyes, and high cheekbones are common, but with Hanna there was something added... A cuteness rather than the harsh look many Serbian women have. She was more than alright.
I passed by her and said “So you’re following me now?” she responded, of course, with “No you’re following me.” I laughed and kept walking. I wanted to see where my large group of friends would decide to dance. The club was massive 2 rooms, a huge concert hall, and several hallways to get lost in.
I made my way back to Hanna when I saw my friends were dancing in the front row. I walked back up to her directly and said “So you just come to stalk innocent American guys?” She laughed and said she had lost her friends.
She started dancing in front of me to see if I would join her. I did. Soon we were dancing closer, she eventually put her hands on my chest and I playfully pushed her away and wagged my finger at her smiling. “I’m not that easy” I said. She looked surprised. We continued to dance, a little more physically as the house music bounced off the walls of the Soviet Era concert hall.
I am not a good dancer by any means but I can actually dance to house music. Something about house music makes it easy to look natural when dancing to it. There aren't really any rules and many times, in clubs like the one I was in, everyone is waving their arms and grinding their teeth with fully dilated pupils anyway so looking silly isn't really a concern.
As my glass emptied I shook it showing her it was in need of refilling and motioned towards the bar. She followed me over. I ordered a vodka-redbull and two shots of tequila. She pulled out her purse asked how much it was. “Don’t worry, you’ve got the next one” I said with a smile. I like when girls offer to pay and usually I’ll let them.
After that things slowly got hazy. I remembered dancing, laughing, and hopping from room to room constantly. I asked Hanna about her lips, expressing my curiosity as to whether they were real or not. She kissed me and asked if I still had doubts. “Nope, still can’t be sure” I said. She laughed and kissed me again.
A few tequila shots later and things become unclear. I remember dancing with Hana while people circled around us, lots of broken English, a cab driver who was very confused, and three slices of pizza. My friend was kind enough to fill me in on the details.
He told me Hanna and I made quite a team. Drinking, making friends with random people, and generally having a good time. At one point, we were dancing front row with a number people circled around us… I wonder how that would have looked. I bow my head as I write this… Thankfully there is no known video evidence of this infamous dance session. What a night.
Fast forward to a few days later and Hanna are in my apartment eating spinach burek with yogurt at 7am after another wild party. She asks about the coffee in a heavy Eastern European accent. I tease her about it. “James Bond... we meet again.” I say slowly and mockingly. “Why you do this to me?” she asks. I apologize and tell her I like her accent. “I hate it.” She says with her nose scrunched.
I look at Hanna with her long fit legs and full ass. She is leaning out the window smoking a cigarette in only her underwear. Her long black hair sprawled out on her back and ends right above her two lover back muscles. What a body.
I look out the window of my communist era apartment square. It’s grey and tan full of pigeons and fluttering. I am reminded of the theater next door when I hear a woman singing a powerful opera style high note in the background. In the apartment above me a person plays piano with some skill. It’s a familiar song but I can’t place it. I sit back in my chair with a full stomach and wonder if I will ever have the heart to leave Serbia.
Hanna comes over to the table and kisses me on the cheek and asks what I’m thinking about. “Nothing important” I tell her.
We met in at an underground club in Belgrade called Drugstore. I saw her standing alone near the bar after we exchanged playful banter a few minutes earlier. She is tall with long black hair, dark eyes, and very Serbian facial features. Full lips, long eyes, and high cheekbones are common, but with Hanna there was something added... A cuteness rather than the harsh look many Serbian women have. She was more than alright.
I passed by her and said “So you’re following me now?” she responded, of course, with “No you’re following me.” I laughed and kept walking. I wanted to see where my large group of friends would decide to dance. The club was massive 2 rooms, a huge concert hall, and several hallways to get lost in.
I made my way back to Hanna when I saw my friends were dancing in the front row. I walked back up to her directly and said “So you just come to stalk innocent American guys?” She laughed and said she had lost her friends.
She started dancing in front of me to see if I would join her. I did. Soon we were dancing closer, she eventually put her hands on my chest and I playfully pushed her away and wagged my finger at her smiling. “I’m not that easy” I said. She looked surprised. We continued to dance, a little more physically as the house music bounced off the walls of the Soviet Era concert hall.
I am not a good dancer by any means but I can actually dance to house music. Something about house music makes it easy to look natural when dancing to it. There aren't really any rules and many times, in clubs like the one I was in, everyone is waving their arms and grinding their teeth with fully dilated pupils anyway so looking silly isn't really a concern.
As my glass emptied I shook it showing her it was in need of refilling and motioned towards the bar. She followed me over. I ordered a vodka-redbull and two shots of tequila. She pulled out her purse asked how much it was. “Don’t worry, you’ve got the next one” I said with a smile. I like when girls offer to pay and usually I’ll let them.
After that things slowly got hazy. I remembered dancing, laughing, and hopping from room to room constantly. I asked Hanna about her lips, expressing my curiosity as to whether they were real or not. She kissed me and asked if I still had doubts. “Nope, still can’t be sure” I said. She laughed and kissed me again.
A few tequila shots later and things become unclear. I remember dancing with Hana while people circled around us, lots of broken English, a cab driver who was very confused, and three slices of pizza. My friend was kind enough to fill me in on the details.
He told me Hanna and I made quite a team. Drinking, making friends with random people, and generally having a good time. At one point, we were dancing front row with a number people circled around us… I wonder how that would have looked. I bow my head as I write this… Thankfully there is no known video evidence of this infamous dance session. What a night.
Fast forward to a few days later and Hanna are in my apartment eating spinach burek with yogurt at 7am after another wild party. She asks about the coffee in a heavy Eastern European accent. I tease her about it. “James Bond... we meet again.” I say slowly and mockingly. “Why you do this to me?” she asks. I apologize and tell her I like her accent. “I hate it.” She says with her nose scrunched.
I look at Hanna with her long fit legs and full ass. She is leaning out the window smoking a cigarette in only her underwear. Her long black hair sprawled out on her back and ends right above her two lover back muscles. What a body.
I look out the window of my communist era apartment square. It’s grey and tan full of pigeons and fluttering. I am reminded of the theater next door when I hear a woman singing a powerful opera style high note in the background. In the apartment above me a person plays piano with some skill. It’s a familiar song but I can’t place it. I sit back in my chair with a full stomach and wonder if I will ever have the heart to leave Serbia.
Hanna comes over to the table and kisses me on the cheek and asks what I’m thinking about. “Nothing important” I tell her.
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