“Imagine watching Arno, playing a few notes on the piano in Café Théâtre, while sitting next to him. Suddenly he is pulling you onto his lap, he teases you with sweet kisses, carresses your thighs, whispers with a rough voice:

“How about you sing for me now, mon cher?”

His grab gets tighter, as he grabs your buttcheeks, softly forcing you closer to his body. You place your hands on the piano, its making weird sounds, that make you laugh, but he silents your laughing with a French kiss.

Skin on skin, moans and screams – the Café might have closed for the day, but not for the night – especially not for you two.