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Gisela's Stories

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:doh:Should I assume the position ?
 
All that can be good, Pkin , but your videos #264 and #275 are not avaivable in France ;
concerning the video #276, I dont understand the German language and so, I cant appreciate the subleties of this scene ...:(

Sorry ...
 
messaline said:
All that can be good, Pkin , but your videos #264 and #275 are not avaivable in France ;
concerning the video #276, I dont understand the German language and so, I cant appreciate the subleties of this scene ...:(

Sorry ...
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That's a shame..... In 276 she is singing the first verse of the German (pre 1945) Anthem - the words in German and with an English translation are a bit further down the thread.... The subtlety is the bitterness in her face and voice, the way she moves. You don't really need to understand the words, just the context.... :)
 
Gisela sits at her dressing table turning the card over and over in her fingers. Staring first at the face in front of her, then at her own in the mirror, imagining. She takes an envelope, slips the card inside, ties it with a narrow purple ribbon and slides it into a drawer. Turns the tiny brass key. She turns the lipstick, watching the soft redness emerge, follows its reflection. Her tongue traces the curve of her mouth. She places the lipstick down on the table and smiles.

The taxi pulled up outside the villa, sun gleaming white off its black bonnet. Retracing the route of the previous evening. A gloved hand passing folded paper notes to the driver. The street humming with summer heat, her broad-brimmed hat casting a deep shadow on the pavement. A ticket bought. She seemed to be all alone, taking her seat in the cinema. All alone standing for the Anthem. Almost. One or two others had crept in for the matinée showing, escaping the hum of the afternoon city, finding a dark refuge for an hour or so.

Then it was over. She lingered once again at the rack of postcards, touching them, replacing them. Dimly aware of someone else beside her.

“Do you like her?”

Gisela turned suddenly. A bob of dark, black hair; a smile under swelling cheeks. The most beautiful dress. White, almost, patterned with gorgeous birds in every colour. Crossed over her breasts and cinched tight at her slender waist. Green eyes. Deep green.

“Yes…. I think I do… I think she’s really wonderful… in the film I mean….”

“Hello, I’m Lotta. It’s nice to meet you. I like her too. I don’t really like the film but she’s special isn’t she?”

“Yes… I mean… I’m Gisela…”

Gloved fingers touched.

“Would you like to get a coffee? We could talk maybe?”

“Yes, that would be… I’d like one… Where shall we go?”

“Let’s go to Römischer Kaiser, it’s just round the corner. Alright?”

“Er… yes… alright. But my husband said I really shouldn’t shop there anymore. But I… Alright let’s go there”.
 
Great writing PK as usual. Plus, I do like the cut of that dress!
Spin, twirl ! ;)
 
pkindenhaag said:
The dress design was by the company "Lutterloh" founded in Germany in 1935 - it is really beautiful isn't it?
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I'm sure that I know the type of fabric it's made of having seen many of my grandmother's old dresses. The pattern is wonderful. I love the way the stitching comes down in front and up over the hips where the skirt part meets the top.
 
They crossed the road, busy with the hoots of traffic and the screech of trams, stepping from the glare of sunlight, blinking into the shade of the great department store. It was eerily quiet. A few customers strolled between the counters, the assistants leaning towards them, making conversation. Chandeliers sending glittering light against the gold-painted columns, the dark wood floors gleaming with the scent of recent polish, the brass rails silently leading hands over broad marble steps to the upper floors.

“It’s not very busy these days. It’s a shame. Never mind, the coffee and cakes are as good as always, come on”

“Yes, I know the way. I used to come here…”

“Everyone used to come here Gisela. Anyway, let’s sit down. What will you have?”

They were not quite alone. Three other couples sat at the small bend-wood tables hiding between the waxy green leaves and the mosaic arches. Two old ladies, unseasonably wrapped up. A young man and a nervous fiancée. A couple of suited businessmen, pouring over figures and papers. One of the women looked up from her cake, wiping cream clinging thickly to her lip, nodding a silent greeting to Lotta.

A sigh. “It really is a shame, don’t you think Giesla?”

“Hmm… well. I suppose so. I… I mean it…I…”

“I still come all the time. Anyway, let’s eat. They’re so tasty!”

“So, do you often go alone to the cinema Lotta?”

“Not really… no… but the children are away this week, and… well, it’s a change... I… I like to dream. It’s like magic isn’t it? And I… Well, I like to be alone too, and forget about things. And.. I…”

“So you have children?”

“Yes, two. Two little girls, Eva and Hanna. They…we just came back this year from their grandmother’s…”

“Eva and Hanna… Nice names. I’m sure they’re pretty girls if they’re like you Lotta…And your husband, what does he do?”

“Louis? He… He works here. He’s one of the directors. He…”

“So… so…. Lotta…. You’re Jewish then? You don’t look Jewish… I mean, well, you’re very pretty… I… Oh, I’m sorry Lotta… I mean I hardly know you! You really don’t look Jewish at all though…”
 
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Lotta turned so very slightly, her eyes staring deep into Gisela’s.

“Is it good that I don’t look so very Jewish do you think Gisela?”

She allowed her fingers to move silently across the table, gently touching Gisela’s wrist, her dark brow lowering almost imperceptibly, her lashes closing over her eyes. Then opening brightly.

“Let’s go shopping shall we?”

Gisela beamed, the moment of tension, of unanticipated confusion, broken.

“Yes let's! I love shopping!”

They laughed their way from counter to counter, picking clothes of racks, holding them in front of each other. Then to the haberdashery. Gisela running her fingers over the fabrics.

“I’ll have some of these I think… The broad silk ribbons. I love them. One roll of black… and…hmmm… The pink I think.”

“What will you do with them Gisela?”

“Oh, I don’t know… I think they’re pretty. I’ll think of something. Come on, let’s pay. I need to go home. Kurt… I mean my husband… He’ll be coming home soon. Are you coming? Where do you live? I haven’t even asked you that!”

“I think I’ll wait here til Louis is finished. He has the car with him. I prefer not to use the tram or taxis these days”

Gisela moved close to Lotta, her smile broadening.

“I just absolutely love your dress, did I tell you?”

A kiss on each cheek. Hands held, then parted.

“Let’s do it again shall we?”

“Maybe. It would be nice I think.”
 
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Chapter 4​


“Come on Gisela! Hurry up”!

Kurt shouts down the stairs, his voice flowing through the broad hallway, into the sitting room, where Gisela sits lazily on the piano stool, facing outwards towards the open garden windows. Her lips squeeze together into a child-like smile as she once again throws the little ball of wool, looping in the air, and waits with a squeal of delight as Venus rushes hither and thither, searching it out, growling her tiny growl and with two leaps flies into Gisela’s lap and into a smothering of strokes and laughter.

“Gisela! Come on! We’ll be late!”

“Ooh Kurty! I’m playing with Venus! Can’t you wait a bit!”

He’s half-way down the stairs now, leaning over the bannister, his shirt half-open, black braces pulled tight over his chest, his hair a damp mop uncombed over his brow.

“Really we have to get ready! Come on, we have to be on time! They won’t wait for us! And I’ve got something for you too… Come on Gisi!”

“Oh poor little Venus… You just want to play don’t you my little darling! Well mummy has to go upstairs with her big bad husband… You be a good little Venus won’t you? Oh, alright Kurty, I’m coming now…”

Gisela slips off her blouse, unclips her bra and feeling relieved falls backwards, her arms stretched over her head, onto the duck-soft bed. Her hands reach over and round her head, pushing her curls over her ears, her lips becoming the proscenium to her wandering tongue.

“Well, at least you’ve got this far. Come on, we really must be moving. Come on, get dressed Gisela!”

“Oooh, Kurt, don’t you want to play? Don’t we have time just to play a little tiny bit?”

Kurt stoops down, kisses her once on her forehead. Pauses. Kisses her again on the lips. Pulls his shirt away and folds himself onto her body, her arms wrapping him tight.

She steps out of the shower, steam and water on the white tiles, the thin green line, beading on her shoulder. Kurt’s fingers push her dark dampened hair away from her neck. She feels his fingers, warm on her skin. And something cold and heavy. She looks down as he slides the closure on the necklace shut. Her fingers touch the stones, green as her eyes. Her face turns to Kurt’s and she kisses him again, deeply. She touches the stones again.

“Thank you Kurty. I love them… Thank you”

A row of emeralds and diamonds. Tiny stones lacing between circles holding tiny twisted crosses. She lifts them from her neck, feeling their weight, then lays them back, her hand closing over them and slowly sliding down her breasts, her nipples rolling under her light touch, her palm slipping to the soft dampened hair below, teasing herself gently.

“They’re beautiful Kurt. I love you so much…”
 
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pkindenhaag said:
Chapter 4​


“Come on Gisela! Hurry up”!

Kurt shouts down the stairs, his voice flowing through the broad hallway, into the sitting room, where Gisela sits lazily on the piano stool, facing outwards towards the open garden windows. Her lips squeeze together into a child-like smile as she once again throws the little ball of wool, looping in the air, and waits with a squeal of delight as Venus rushes hither and thither, searching it out, growling her tiny growl and with two leaps flies into Gisela’s lap and into a smothering of strokes and laughter.

“Gisela! Come on! We’ll be late!”

“Ooh Kurty! I’m playing with Venus! Can’t you wait a bit!”

He’s half-way down the stairs now, leaning over the bannister, his shirt half-open, black braces pulled tight over his chest, his hair a damp mop uncombed over his brow.

“Really we have to get ready! Come on, we have to be on time! They won’t wait for us! And I’ve got something for you too… Come on Gisi!”

“Oh poor little Venus… You just want to play don’t you my little darling! Well mummy has to go upstairs with her big bad husband… You be a good little Venus won’t you? Oh, alright Kurty, I’m coming now…”

Gisela slips off her blouse, unclips her bra and feeling relieved falls backwards, her arms stretched over her head, onto the duck-soft bed. Her hands reach over and round her head, pushing her curls over her ears, her lips becoming the proscenium to her wandering tongue.

“Well, at least you’ve got this far. Come on, we really must be moving. Come on, get dressed Gisela!”

“Oooh, Kurt, don’t you want to play? Don’t we have time just to play a little tiny bit?”

Kurt stoops down, kisses her once on her forehead. Pauses. Kisses her again on the lips. Pulls his shirt away and folds himself onto her body, her arms wrapping him tight.

She steps out of the shower, steam and water on the white tiles, the thin green line, beading on her shoulder. Kurt’s fingers push her dark dampened hair away from her neck. She feels his fingers, warm on her skin. And something cold and heavy. She looks down as he slides the closure on the necklace shut. Her fingers touch the stones, green as her eyes. Her face turns to Kurt’s and she kisses him again, deeply. She touches the stones again.

“Thank you Kurty. I love them… Thank you”

A row of emeralds and diamonds. Tiny stones lacing between circles holding tiny twisted crosses. She lifts them from her neck, feeling their weight, then lays them back, her hand closing over them and slowly sliding down her breasts, her nipples rolling under her light touch, her palm slipping to the soft dampened hair below, teasing herself gently.

“They’re beautiful Kurt. I love you so much…”
Click to expand...

Tastefully, elegantly and excitingly written!
 
The car pulls up outside the steps of the Weimar Staatskapelle. Gisela glances out of the sun-dazzled window. The huge pediment crushing the six plain columns under the filigree balcony under the five tall windows and the arch above and above all the blue, cloudless sky, staring down on Goethe and Schiller. Just a faint breeze flapping the red banners, long red banners with their white and black. And their tiny crooked crosses. Floating. In the summer breeze.

She steps onto the cobbles, her heels placed with care. Kurt’s hand links with her gloved wrist. He smiles. As she stoops he can’t help but glance and smile at the shadows her breasts make the one against the other, under the tight cut of the gorgeous green silk. The way the necklace hangs in space… glinting an invitation. He looks at her eyes as they look up to him and then she’s standing there with him and the Gauleiter is kissing her hand and saying such nice things and he’s so smart in his uniform and the others are all looking so smart and handsome too and the sun is shining. It seems so early to be at the opera.
 
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