Itwould be prudent to kick me out of his house in case I ended upcausing rumours or enacted deeds which necessitated censure or worse.I stood up and hurried to the closest free private room. I took off myhat --which was lovely with its wide brim and lush plume-- andexamined myself in the mirror.My delicate face retained a passing familiarity. The golden hair wasthe shade of the name, which my mother had given me. Yet my eyes shonewith a deeper blue, and in place of my pale complexion was a sturdytan, deep enough to be swarthy.The lithe body was unambiguously an improvement. Graceful arms endedin dainty hands and long thin fingers. The hips weren't wide, butseemed so with the perfect waist. Though I wore no bustle, myposterior was prominent under the skirt. Cursory examination of mychest revealed a bosom of petite size.My elation turned into worry. The girl staring at me lost her cool, asI fumbled with my hands. Lorenz likely was somewhere in theestablishment. He might be able to fix. ” Rob got up and grabbed his friend’s glass and went down the two steps on the porch and opened the wooden door to the cellar. He turned on the light and smiled as he made his way to the three 20-gallon plastic bottles standing against the wall. Each had a little tap on the front and when he opened one and the clear liquid ran out, Rob took a deep breath. This was Swedish moonshine; made with all the love he could muster by Sven. It was strong, at least 90 proof so Rob just poured a little before turning off the light and returning to the porch.He filled the glasses with Lingonberry juice and handed a glass to Karl. “I love this Wolfpaw shit.”Karl laughed at the literal translation from the Swedish name for the drink, Vargtass. It was a classic in the north and something young swedes often had as their first experience with when they started out drinking.What was supposed to be one more glass turned out to be three and by the time Karl put his glass down he and Rob had loopy grins on.
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