It wasn’t long before Uli began to panic. "What if he doesn’t come? Even worse, what if he comes with a girl? I didn't ask him! What if... what if he doesn’t like my dress? I'm only a pathetic, crippled young upstart, why on earth am I getting involved with a skinhead? Will he be ashamed of me?"

Uli took a large glass of vodka and hobbled, using one crutch, to the full-length mirror. The image of that perfect feminine figure, with pouty breasts, long legs (one of them covered in shiny white plaster), and shining silky blond hair falling over her angelic face comforted her a little. After another glass of vodka her self-confidence was back again, so completely that Uli was willing to fight for her guy if necessary.

She admired herself in the mirror for few more minutes whilst she tied her gorgeous hair up in two thick braids. That morning, when she met Gerhard, her hair was tied up in a bunch at the neck, so he couldn't see it in all it's glory. She guessed that these waist long braids would impress him.

"Son of a bitch, the doctor warned me not to put any weight on my leg," Uli moaned as her knee and ankle started to ache after limping around with only one crutch.

Another shot of vodka helped her to forget the pain, but nevertheless she picked up her other crutch. Carefully holding her throbbing leg off the ground, she crutched into the bedroom and balanced on her good foot as she opened her closet.

After hesitating for a while she chose her favourite dress, the one she bought at an underground fashion show in London a year ago. It was made of thick, rigid, shimmering graphite-gray material and the front of the top was covered with thin overlapping metal scales stitched into the cloth. It almost looked as if she was wearing a coat of armour. The skirt was floor-length, but almost transparent with half-slits in the sides, and clung tightly to her. The white plaster was clearly visible through the delicate Chantilly lace, stretching right from the upper third of her thigh until the base of her toes. Although she didn't like casts in the same way as her younger sister, Uli noticed how her cast excited Gerhard, so she decided to reveal as much of it as possible. In the dress, together with the two long blonde braids, Uli really looked like a Valkyrie warrior. Only the cast spoiled the divine image a little, but she didn't care. Neither did Gerhard.

She then chose the appropriate shoes – or in this case, shoe. She had beautiful toes which obviously aroused Gerhard, so she decided to wear an open-toed white pump. It's height matched the walking heel on her cast, so she could limp around with ease. She'd only just begun putting on her make-up, when the doorbell rang.

She picked up her crutches from the floor in a mad rush, and crutched as quickly as she could into the hall.

"It's open!” she shouted.

Before the door opened, Uli positioned herself in the middle of the corridor under the ceiling light, which reflected the light from her 'armour'. She leaned on her crutches and moved her casted leg back and forth to reveal it through the slit. One of her biggest and most irresistible smiles greeted Gerhard as he entered.

His jaw almost hit the floor and his arms fell limply when he saw the vision before him: "My God, Ulrike, you're blazing! Uh... oh... I mean... you look beautiful."

Shyly, he offered her a bouquet of red roses, roughly wrapped in plain white paper. The Szlachcianka put both her crutches in her left hand and accepted the roses with her right.

"For me? You're so sweet, Gerd!"

She hugged Gerd, grasped the back of his neck and kissed him quickly on the lips. The skinhead blushed, but then he embraced Uli and softly returned the kiss.

"Where should we go?" asked Gerhard as Uli crawled into the cab of his van.

"What about the 'Four Seasons'?"

"Well... huh... If you say so," the descendant of the brave landsknecht stuttered. The 'Four Seasons' was the fanciest, most expensive restaurant in Dresden.

"Okay Gerd, let's get some things straight," said Uli firmly. "I'm some kind of emancipated feminist, and if I invite you to dinner that means I'll pay for it. Don't worry though, I have a card." She took a matt silver credit card from her purse. "Do you know what kind of card it is?"

"Eurocard-Mastercard?" guessed Gerhard.

"Exactly. And it's a platinum one, what means there's a lot of money behind this plastic shit," stressed Uli. "And if you look carefully... Hey, look at the road, you fool! Anyway, if you look carefully, you'll notice a small inscription 'User: Dresdner Bank Group', which means..."

"...Your employer will pay the bill for our dinner?" he guessed.

"Wow, Gerd!" teased Uli. "Who the hell said that all skinheads are stupid? Hey, turn left here, we're almost there."

Gerhard parked the van exactly in front of the 'Four Seasons', with the driver's door facing the main entrance. Gerhard was clad in the 'full dress' of the skinhead - green bomber jacket, upturned black jeans with braces and black Dr Martens boots with brand new white shoelaces. As he jumped from the van  a liveried doorkeeper hurried up.

"Hey kid, don't park here, go to the back entrance! The kitchen's there... You came to fix the dishwasher, didn't you?"

"No, he came for dinner," shouted Uli who appeared on her crutches from the other side of the van. "With me. C'mon, move your stupid ass and open the door for me, can't you see my arms are fully occupied? Would you like a pair of crutches too, or would you prefer to look for another job?"

Uli was well known as one of the restaurant’s best customers, as well as for her conceit and resentfulness. Knowing this, the doorkeeper hurried to complete his task.

"Table number 88 as usual, Miss Baranowski?" asked the maitre’d. "Champagne or vodka for aperitif?"

"I'm on vodka this afternoon, but a bottle of Moët Brut Antique, vintage 1993, will be fine," said Uli, dismissing the man summarily .

While Uli fit in perfectly (despite her crutches), Gerhard felt like a moose in the dancing school. He looked around nervously all the time, as if he was prepared for sudden escape.

Uli sat down on the chair, leaned the crutches against the wall and smiled to her companion

"Would you mind bringing me a chair to rest my leg? And don't be so shy, these snobbish jerks won't bite you. By the way, most of them are so far below our level, they only stopped picking potatoes a century or two ago."

"Hey, you really think I'm so special because I have that 'von'?" chuckled Gerd as he gently lifted Uli's casted leg. He rested his bomber jacket on the empty chair to pad it, before he put her leg on top of it. "Well, my grandfather still picks potatoes sometimes."

"I don't think, I know it," nodded Uli and gave Gerhard's arm a gentle squeeze of thanks. "My grandpa picks potatoes too, but it doesn't matter. The only thing that counts is that the brave landsknecht at Pavia in your case, and the azure shield with the ram's head in mine. We were all peasants centuries ago, but some of us were raised for the sake of bravery and gallantry! These assholes were only raised a few decades ago, thanks to recklessness and greed."

The waiter approached to take the orders and Gerhard absently glanced at his menu. Everything sounded so strange to him: "I would like... spaghetti, please..." His eyes were fully occupied with Uli's casted leg, as well as her breasts, barely hidden under her low-necked dress.

"Don't listen to him," grinned Uli. "Bring us oysters in the shell, pheasant's soup, Ingelheimer asparagus with muslin sauce, lobster Belvedere, lamb's back a la Richelieu and ice cake a la Prince Pückler with cheese for dessert. Select the appropriate wines as well," she smiled, then she took her champagne glass and turned to Gerd.

"C'mon my brave knight, let's toast to the future of our suffering country and our future in it."

When their glasses touched, Uli leant towards Gerhard and kissed him deeply. Their tongues entwined and she felt a warm sensation rush through her body. They continued to kiss long and hard until the waiter interrupted them with the oysters.

"Hmm, perhaps we should taste these little pieces of slime instead," Uli blushed a little. "C'mon, they’re used to my excesses, they don't care as long as I have my company credit card."

After the dinner, Uli and Gerhard began on the cognac, though Gerhard couldn’t drink too much as he was driving. Uli was almost stretched over the skinhead's lap when a group of yuppies arrived loudly. They were all in good spirits and slightly drunk. Their laughing was suddenly interrupted when the eyes of one the businessmen met Uli's.

"Uli, what are you doing here?" blurted out the yuppie. The woman in a dark blue career suit who held him under the arm turned away bashfully.

"Drinking cognac, isn't that obvious?" grinned Uli. "I didn't take a cab, as you advised me to, Detlev, but a van. Driver included."

Gerhard wished he was anywhere else in the world at that moment, but then he tightened up and returned the disdainful look to the intruder. Uli raised up and exhaled a large cloud of cigarette smoke to the staring yuppies.

"And now I can see the obstacle that prevented you from visiting me in the hospital. I suppose that miserable, fat, pimply, hairless, socialistically dressed bitch is Mister Kurosawa from Tokyo Bank? I wonder how many more important business meetings you two have had in the last few weeks and months?"

"Uli, it's not what you think..." Detlev blushed and his buddies already started to laugh.

"Detlev, please, a bit more dignity," sighed Uli. "Don't force me to start throwing things around. Would you just please fuck off?"

"Detlev, was she really in the hospital?" asked the ‘bitch’ suddenly. "You said she was at a conference in London! That wasn't fair of you!"

"Well, well, how’s that for women's solidarity," Uli grinned to Gerhard. "Can you believe that? I think it's time for us to go. And behave yourself, don’t even think about slugging someone, this is a decent restaurant, not a beer hall."