They walk into the gilded, white-columned hall. The room filling with suits and uniforms, shining boots, rainbowed with dresses and the clink of glasses bubbling with chatter. He places a hand on her bare shoulder and with a kiss slips away to join a group of friends. She squeezes past officers in black and grey, their hats under their arms, juggling their drinks and turning to glance as she moves to where Julia is standing by a small table.
“Kurt! So, did you enjoy Tristan? Excellent performances yes?”
“Yes sir, it was marvelous. We both…”
“Now, now…. Let’s not pretend. I think we all saw the ladies looking bored… Never mind. They’re happy now it’s over… Look at them… So delightful…”
He laughs lightly. “Yes, of course you’re right sir. But really, it is a splendid evening”
The Gauleiter places his arm around Kurt’s shoulder and draws him just very slightly from the group.
“Kurt. Just a warning. Do tell her not to go shopping in those Jewish stores. And not to be seen out with the daughter of the owner, eh? They’ll be gone soon enough and then she can shop wherever she likes, but… you know Kurt. You have a reputation to keep. Don’t spoil it… A quiet word, eh? Just buy her something nice, she’ll be happy enough. A quiet word…”
Rain splashes on the cobbles as they dash to the open door of the Mercedes, Gisela jumping in and sliding along the leather seat, wiping dampened hair from her eye. The car murmurs its way through the ink black, cross-black night, yellow headlamps illuminating the road signs. White, black and red. They’ve left Weimar behind.
Kurt leans against Gisela and strokes her hair. There’s hardly any light in the car but the green of her dress still shimmers. His lips kiss her ear. He whispers something to her. She wants to speak but he places a finger on her lips. His fingers touch the clasp of her necklace, then unhook her dress and slide down the zip. She can feel him tugging at his clothes. She glances into the mirror over the dashboard, but the driver’s eyes are focused on the road. She breathes deeply.
She feels him against her, inside her. Her hands reach up to the misted window, her fingers splay out, scratching a watery darkness in the grey. Her body becomes tight, her lips are against the window now, her breath pumping against the chill of the glass.
Gisela’s eyes shut tight. She could feel his fingers running through her thick, tangled mass of red hair, sliding over her, tracing the outline of her face. Slipping behind her neck and with utter delicacy stroking her ears; then running slowly, slowly to the tip of her nose, creating the most delightful tingling. Parting her soft, moist lips; pulling gently down, as a mother might to a baby, then sliding inside. She could sense her breath touching him, feel the warmth as it somehow reflected back. The sharpness of his nails drawing wonderful sensations from this soft, damp, pink cave. Her head fell backwards onto the silk sheets. Her eyes opened, welcoming in the golden light streaming through the heavy dark trees crowding the garden.
I think I can "put up" with this for quite a while longer!
