3
Natalia Markovic was sitting behind the counter of a used bookstore in the Scheunenviertel neighborhood of Berlin. She was chewing gum, playing with her hair, an unlit cigarette dangling from her lips. She was lost in whatever she was reading as Mrs. Jones had been staring through the store's window for some time. She was assessing the young teen...noticing just what it was that made her so strikingly beautiful. Her eyes, haunting and melancholy, with a far away look. Mrs. Jones guessed the girl was Croatian, Slovakian or Hungarian. Most likely Croatian. Over the years, she had become an expert at recognizing the subtle cultural differences that made European girls so delightful...and so delicious.
For example, Mrs. Jones can explain it better than I, but did you know French p***y tast
