The Sauna Part 248

I logged into Backstage at noon after receiving emails from both Jack and Matt confirming that the new website was operational. I was thrilled. The new web pages were perfect and the site was much easier to navigate and I even noticed that the audio features loaded quicker. Most importantly, though, the link to the new adult content section had been enabled and I laughed as even I couldn’t access it before providing my own credit card info.

I registered myself as a new user in order to test the features effectively and I noted that the disclaimer read just as I’d written it. Folks who registered to access this feature would initially be charged a ten dollar fee to verify that they were over eighteen and were the owner of the credit card they were using, but the fee would be refunded within forty-eight hours so there was no actual additional charge. They would receive a special password once registration was completed and they would need to use that to log in to this feature.

I must have been the first one to register as there weren’t any posts as of yet, so I took the opportunity to welcome the fans and explain the few rules that applied. Folks were encouraged to share what they felt, including any negative feedback as long as it was constructive in nature and I invited them to share suggestions and comments and any requests for new features. The only real rule I imposed was to refrain from any insults towards the band, the staff or their fellow fans, and I insured them that they were free to be as bawdy as they wanted. If anyone felt offended, they could simply ignore a particular thread, but they weren’t to chastise or harass other members for expressing their views.

Jon read what I’d written and we set up an account exclusively for him so he could always access the site and check in. He decided to make his himself heard as well and he posted a letter to the fans directly after mine. He wrote that he hoped everyone would have fun and leave feedback and he explained that he’d always intended for the board to support honest and open discussion. He even promised to drop by occasionally and check out requests. I shot off a letter to Matt and thanked him for setting it up so efficiently and I wrote a glowing letter to Jack from both Jon and I to let him know how pleased we were with what he had done.

“So it seems you won your first victory and Matt came around after all. C’mon, wife, let’s go out and celebrate!” he coaxed and I could see he was beginning to feel restless.

“What have you got in mind, husband?” I asked, turning to look at him.

“There’s something I think you’ll want to see. Trust me” he replied with a glint in his eye.

I glanced in the mirror and realized the bruising had become more apparent, but I put aside my vanity in favor of indulging my curiosity. Jon called for the limo while I made a valiant attempt to conceal the discoloration, finally opting for a large pair of sunglasses and a hat. Jon grinned and did the same and we managed to slip out of the hotel without attracting any unwanted attention from the paparazzi who had lingered around in the hotel café. It seemed most had already left, having given up when the guys had appeared for breakfast without Jon or me.

We drove through the city and saw some of the sights from the car, including a number of museums and churches. Vienna had an old world flavor that was unmistakable and I was glad he had convinced me to leave the hotel. We stopped for a coffee and continued our driving tour until the limo pulled up to what appeared to look like a residential street. I turned to look questioningly at Jon and he flashed me his megawatt smile.

“I didn’t think we should leave Vienna without at least visiting the house where Freud lived and saw patients” he announced proudly.

“Oh Jon! I completely forgot that was here! I’m so glad you remembered!” I exclaimed excitedly.

We exited the vehicle and proceeded to go inside for a quick tour. Although many of the furnishings were reproductions since Freud had fled Vienna just prior to his death, it was still quite a thrill to stand in the waiting room of the father of psychoanalysis. While much of Freud’s work had been subsequently discounted in modern times, I had tremendous respect for his influence and I found it fascinating to view some of the documents on display.

I squeezed Jon’s hand periodically as I encountered things I had read about and he took a photo of the infamous couch where his equally famous patients had been treated. We browsed through the adjacent museum and I purchased postcards and several books with the intent of eventually creating a scrapbook with mementos from all of our travels. A passerby offered to take our photo as we stood arm in arm outside the house and I kissed Jon for making sure I didn’t miss such a special opportunity.

“So, now that we managed to escape the hotel, how about dinner, babe? Are you hungry?” he suggested.

I was still flushed with excitement, but I nodded vigorously, anxious to please him and we climbed back in the limo. We drove a short distance and reached the Figlmüller just before six. The restaurant was packed and we had to wait, but it was really well worth it. Jon explained that they had a reputation for serving a gigantic wiener schnitzel and he suggested that we split one between us. When our meal arrived, I understood why and admittedly I behaved like a typical tourist as I couldn’t resist taking a photo. I had to agree it was the best I’d ever tasted and I was just as impressed with the potato salad. It was prepared with a pumpkin seed oil dressing which I learned was a staple in Austria.

We were full when we left, but we weren’t totally stuffed and Jon had another special place in mind where he wanted to stop. He phoned Richie and asked him to join us at one of the most famous coffee houses in Austria, Hawelka. Richie agreed without hesitation as it was one of their favorite places and he’d been planning to go with or without us. I had to laugh when Jon told me where it was located; the street was named Dorotheagasse. Naturally we had to stop so I could take a picture of the street sign to send to her and the kids.

We arrived there first and since Jon knew the owner, we managed to be seated almost immediately. Leopold Hawelka was something of a legend himself. He was ninety-four years young and still managed the restaurant, just as he had for nearly half a century, and he smiled warmly when Jon greeted him.

“Leopold! It’s great to see you!” Jon said enthusiastically.

“Aaahh, Master Jon! Is your dark-haired friend coming to join you?” he asked, squinting into the street as he looked behind him for Richie.

“Yes, actually, he should be here soon, but I brought my wife with me tonight” he grinned, stepping aside as he drew me forward.

“I see you are a lucky man and I won’t need to introduce you to all the frauleins this time?” he winked and turning to me “My pleasure, Madame”.

Leopold was indeed a charming host and Jon teased him about missing yet another one of his shows. The elderly gentleman’s eyes crinkled as he humored Jon and promised that someday he would come and see one of his concerts. He led us to a table and motioned to a waiter to bring us menus. Jon proceeded to order regular coffee, however Leopold put up his hand.

“Allow me to prepare something special for your wife” he insisted and Jon bowed his head in deference.

Leopold ambled away while Jon filled me in on the finer points of ordering coffee in an Austrian coffeehaus. There was quite a bit to learn and he confessed that he only remembered what some of the names meant, but he knew that Richie particularly liked it melange style (with frothy steamed milk and chocolate). Leopold returned momentarily with Richie in tow and an aromatic cup of flavored coffee for me.

“I see that you found him” Jon grinned as Richie sat down and joined us.

“This is called Maria Theresia and I hope you enjoy” Leopold nodded to Jon as he set the steaming cup down before me.

I took a sip and was instantly enamored of the special brew as I tasted a hint of both chocolate and orange and remarked on the flavor. Richie decided he’d try one himself and Jon pouted, so Leopold motioned the waiter back to change Jon’s order. I thanked Leopold for his wonderful recommendation and he smiled knowingly.

“Trish, have you tried the Sacher torte yet? It’s a true Austrian original” Richie asked and I shook my head no.

Richie frowned at Jon and called the waiter back yet again and added it to the order as he scolded him for not making sure I was treated to all of Vienna’s delicacies. In Jon’s defense, I explained that we’d just finished dinner and that I had the most delicious schnitzel I could have imagined.

“You went to Figlmüller and you didn’t invite me?” Richie frowned again and Jon hung his head.

“Sorry, bro, I wasn’t thinking” he said apologetically.

The waiter returned with the two coffees and the torte and Jon took a forkful and held it up to my lips. Richie, the consummate gourmet, regaled me with the history of Sacher torte and I could certainly appreciate why the Austrian Prince was so fond of it. Feeling encouraged by my interest in the tale, Richie went on to describe how Franz Sacher had developed the confection when he was still only an apprentice. Jon rolled his eyes as Richie continued the story and described how, many years later, there had been quite a battle over who could lay claim to the original recipe as two rival confectioners both insisted it was their creation.

“Richie, that’s fascinating! Thank you for sharing that; you’re a wealth of information” I said, genuinely impressed.

“Encyclopedia Sambora” Jon sneered sarcastically and Richie cackled.

“Never you mind him, Richie; he’s just jealous” I patted his arm and shot Jon a disapproving glare.

We spent the remainder of the evening at the coffeehaus, enjoying the Bohemian surroundings and comfortable atmosphere. Richie and Jon both vied for my attention and it was quite comical to watch as two alpha males went head to head. The competition was completely good-natured and I was pleasantly entertained and more than a little distracted from feeling self-conscious about my nose.

We’d made it an early evening since we were heading off to Norway in the morning, but Jon and I made love before we called it a night. Jon was slightly inhibited, avoiding anything he thought might possibly re-injure my nose, so it wasn’t one of our more torrid encounters. He was careful and tender and I found myself feeling even closer because of his gentleness and we both slept soundly despite all the coffee we’d drank.