Even though the couple's trip to Berlin had started with what both considered quite a romantic moment, it wasn't a romantic gateway at all. They were heading to an international congress specialized on trauma surgery. Unexpectedly, Hanssen had invited them both into his office one morning, presented them with shiny booklets and an exciting offer: He would rotate staff schedules, spent some of the budget that was allocated to further training and they, in turn, would meet up with a guy called Friedrich Remagen and sweet-talk him into sponsoring new equipment for their trauma unit.
Both of them had cringed at the thought at first, had talked about the sexism of this whole flirting-for-funds-business in private before, but as both turned to look at each other, they silently agreed to go anyway. They both were realistic enough to know that if the funding was not generated in one way or the other, the red trauma phone might land up in a box on top of a dusty cupboard sooner than they had hoped for.
"Your key card, Ms. Wolfe," the young receptionist said, startling Bernie and bringing her back from Holby to gray and snowy Berlin.
"Yes, thank you," she answered and looked at Serena, who was standing beside her, smiling, a key card dangling between her fingers as well.
"Come on," Serena said, clear excitement in her voice. "Let's look at our room." And the way she said that, 'our room', was so lovely, so intimate that Bernie thanked the stars that she hadn't suggested that they both got their own room.
She had thought about it, just for a bit, about the gossip it might start and what it would look like, if people would think of them of two best friends sharing a room for convenience or would they think of them as something more. Would they see what they thought of as rather private looks between them, the ones that – if you asked Dom – were and never had been quite as subtle as they had thought? In the end, Bernie didn't say anything, because she realized, and with some surprise at that, that she really didn't care. More so, even though Serena hadn't said anything, she was sure that her girlfriend was in bitter need of reassurance. She needed to know that she wouldn't deny their feelings, wouldn't just leave her standing there. Looking back at it now, Bernie was quite ashamed of the way she had behaved on that last day when she was presented with the secondment. It had been quite dramatic, quite a high-school-y moment. The 'Stop, please' accompanied by wild hand gestures was still ringing in her head. Bernie sighed. That was thankfully in the past now, Serena had given her a chance to make things right. What's more, she had given herself a chance to make things right and she was so, so happy she did. At that, Bernie turned and quietly followed Serena to the elevator.
After five unsuccessful key card stripes against the electronic look, they opened the door. 'Whoever invented these should be hanged,' Serena thought. 'What's wrong with a normal set of keys?' It was a bright room, modern design, but the first thing Serena noticed was the twin bed – with two single mattresses.
Bernie laughed at her bewildered look. "Charlotte told me about these," she said. "It's a German thing. At least a German hotel thing."
Serena shook her head disapprovingly – she had gotten used to falling asleep in Bernie's arms, had planned to do so here, where they didn't have to stick to her nephew's schedule, where they didn't have to look decent in the morning as he liked to remind them that: "We really need to leave now, Auntie Serena, or we will be late for work". She walked over to the window. All she could see were gray rooftops and railways covered in snow. "Lovely," she huffed. "Not even a proper view." Serena knew she was being childish that this was a business trip, but she had hoped for a little more, atmosphere so to speak.
"Well, I can't complain, I like what I'm looking at," Bernie said and slowly dragged her gaze over Serena, from top to bottom and then stopped, staring at her lips.
Serena blushed. It was a new experience for her, to be desired so openly, and not just for her looks, that she didn't know how to respond at times.
"I imagine we do have some time before the conference starts, don't we," Bernie said as she opened her coat and threw it over one of the chairs, chucking her slightly muddy boots in the direction of the bathroom. Then, she slowly walked to the door, demonstratively picked up the 'Do not disturb' sign and hung it on the handle outside of their room. Serena stood there, open-mouthed, and couldn't believe how quickly Bernie had grown into her own during the short time that they had been dating.
Bernie smiled at her, opening the buttons of her blouse, slowly and asked: "Cat got your tongue?"
Serena smirked. "Pussy's more like it," she said, a twinkle in her eyes.
Bernie shook her head, laughing out loud, tears leaking from her eyes. That was unexpected. To the world, Serena was a well-behaved, educated woman, even posh at times. But with her, she was so much more. A sailor at times as it seemed. 'What a match,' Bernie thought. "Care to demonstrate?"
"Oh I would love to," Serena said. "But I want you naked."
Serena wondered about her frankness herself, but in all honesty, it all boiled down to the fact that she wanted Bernie. As close as possible. As soon as possible. They wasted enough time as it were.
"Fräulein," Bernie said and nodded. And then, in the harsh light of the winter sky, she peeled off her clothes, slowly, but steadily. Walked over to the bed, pulled back the covers, laid down and waited.
Serena snapped out of her reverie, mesmerized by the simplicity of it all. Shrugged of her jacket as well, her blouse, shoes and pants soon followed. By the time she made it to the bed, slowly crawling towards Bernie and settling above her, on her hands and knees, she was naked as well. She kissed her, guided Bernie's hand to feel for herself how excited she already was. Stroked through Bernie's folds as well and when her breath hitched and all Bernie managed to say, to chant, was her name, she whispered. "I know, darling, I know."