War: A Love Story - Part 1 free porn video

WAR by Jason Argo "Will there be a war, Herr Strasser?" The room was in shadow, the electric lights had been dowsed and heavy drapes had been drawn across the windows to block out the early evening sunshine of midsummer. On one side of the room atop a small dais stood a slender young woman, her beautiful face framed by a long fall of blond hair. She was completely naked, her breasts swollen, her nipples tight with arousal. Facing forward, she supported her breasts with her hands and lifted them a fraction for appreciation. They had deep pink aureoles, wanton and thrusting. The room was wide and square with a high ceiling, and paintings decorated the walls while flowers brimming from vases scented the air. Opposite to the podium, seated in chairs of morocco leather, two men and a woman watched as the girl's naked figure slowly began to gyrate, hips rolling, torso undulating. One of the men was young and wore a shooting-suit which included baggy Plus Fours and thick woollen socks; the other man, older, wore an all-over black uniform with silver decoration on the shoulders and collar. It was the man in the uniform who responded to the inquiry. "The official communiqu? from the German Foreign Office takes the view that war can be avoided, Fraeulein Dietz. Despite the problem of Poland, the commonsense of European statesmen can prevail." The woman, thin and reedy, dressed in the best of 1930s couture, promoted a cynical smile. "That's the official claptrap. What do YOU think?" Strasser was a big, beefy man, heavily jowled, with a pugnacious inquisitive look in his eyes, and the eyes never flinched away from the contortions of the girl on the dais when he replied. "I believe the Fuehrer will decide the best course of action for Germany. His judgement in the past as consistently proved infallible." The girl in front of them was swaying rhythmically as if to music, although there was none. She was dancing in slow sensuous movements, her breasts moving in time with her hips. And she was excited, her rapid breathing clearly audible to everyone, then, aware of the lack of true astonishment it would produce, she threw back her head as she thrust her pelvis forward to display testicles and a half erect penis. The woman in the chair broadened her smile slightly. "Quite a girl, Herr Strasser, wouldn't you agree?" "Indeed, Fraeulein Dietz. Quite exceptional." answered the man in uniform. "What is your opinion, Eduard?" the woman asked. This time the question was intended for the man in the shooting- suit. He was a generation younger than the first one and he looked at her with an element of disapproval. "Your talent for depravity never ceases to amaze me, Celina." he remarked. Hermann Strasser grinned. He had a dark face with big lips, and one side of his mouth curled up like a sneer when he smiled. "You should try to visit Berlin more often, Eduard. Such decadent creatures are not uncommon in the cabarets along the Kurfuerstendamm these days, and they add a little spice to the usual fare on offer." "What may be acceptable in Berlin often appals the rest of Germany, Herr Strasser." Eduard answered dryly. The girlish thing before them turned slowly, rolling its hips and smoothing two hands down over bare skin, offering a pair of trim buttocks for their inspection. Getting to her feet Fraeulein Dietz stepped across to the dais, her mouth still conveying the hint of a smile as she observed the serpentine undulations of the man-girl creature. "You're a shameless hussy, Rosalyn. You enjoy showing yourself off, don't you?" Above her the models eyes held the sheen of sunshine faraway and the heat of sex. A breathless, "Mmm, mmm," was the only response she received. "Naughty girl. Wanting to please a man. Wanting to give pleasure to a cock." The woman simpered while delighting in the control she had over such people. She turned the girly body slightly, angling it so that the two men across the room would have the best possible view of the up risen penis and its bulbous watering tip. As her hands circled the effeminates ankles and began to slide upwards Rosalyn ceased moving and seemed to be waiting for something, then as the rising fingers brought an insidiously arousing caress to his smooth thighs, he shivered. Brushing aside the raunchy thrust of a penis with the back of her hand Fraeulein Dietz slotted her fingertips behind a hang of well formed testicles and stroked lightly. "Oh, ooh, oooh!" gasped Rosalyn. "A good pair at both top and bottom!" the woman grinned demonically. "And ah, yes, I do believe you are ready, my Liebling. Herr Strasser will wish you to amuse him for a while, so go up the stairs and prepare yourself." The transvestite immediately stepped down from his perch and skipped out through the door, while the man in the black uniform stood up, straightened the front of his trousers and followed without a word. When he'd disappeared Eduard Dietz openly sneered. "I don't know why you invite that man here. He's an animal." His sister answered with as much diplomacy as she could muster. "Hermann is an influential officer in the Sicherheitsdienst, the security branch of the SS. It's useful for me to maintain a cordial relationship with such people." "Thank goodness I never have to spend more than a few hours in his company. I must get changed and be off. I'm expected to report back in uniform in the morning." "You could at least pretend some friendliness towards him," complained the woman, "and why must you hurry, Eduard darling? You should relax and enjoy some of the pleasures that are free for the taking here. I could have Loti ready for you in five minutes." "I'll forgo what you have on offer, Celina. My passion at the moment is for flying, and when I do come down to earth I prefer a more conventional kind of female company. I only attended your questionable little show this afternoon out of curiosity, and now having seen it, I won't be tempted again." "You've done your compulsory military service. I don't understand why you haven't left the air force and entered into commerce. This house needs someone earning a decent salary to help it along." "I've told you before Celina, I enjoy flying. I'd die of boredom if I were confined to an office. If you would only agree to sell this place we could find you a fine little house in Breslau, and in such a place you would have no worries about money." Celina Dietz stepped back in horror and looked affronted. "Sell up! Abandon Ravenskopf? Never. I am not a common hausfrau who would be content to live in a city street. I am a lady, and this is where I live." *** Willy Froehlich climbed from the train and found himself standing in Gleiwitz, a poky little town on the eastern fringe of Germany, a place whose isolation was emphasized by the thickly wooded hills that surround it. Using the last of the money given to him by his mother he hired a taxi cab and asked the driver if he knew the whereabouts of Ravenskopf. "Get in. Everyone knows where that place is." the man said. The journey was short but the going was difficult and Willy became increasingly depressed by the surroundings. A glance at a map had told him that the Polish frontier lay not far away, and having passed through the town of Frankenstein on the train earlier he didn't need to wonder what had inspired Mary Shelley in writing her famous novel - the steaming pinewoods that stank of punk and resin, the muddy hollows, the bestial looking peasants he passed along the way, the barbaric place names and wayside religious shrines, all must have been much the same when she had visited the region. He couldn't imagine what Ravenskopf would look like, but he caught a glimpse of the house through the trees shortly before he arrived. >From a distance the high walls and turrets and the small dome that wouldn't have been out of place on a cathedral looked decorative and gave it a picture-book charm. Shortly afterwards, where the road began to curve uphill to the right, he was confronted by an obelisk etched with Egyptian hieroglyphs, which signified the entrance to a small park copiously adorned with ancient statuary. Most of the pieces depicting maidens writhing in the grasp of bearded, muscular demi-gods, and only when he was beyond them did the walls of Ravenskopf loom above him like the ramparts of a medieval fortress. "This is the door I'm told to deliver people to whenever I bring 'em here," the taxi driver told him as he drew up to the side of the building. "The front of the house is prettier, but we ordinary folk have to do what we're told around here." A maid answered his knock to a side entrance; a young woman, dressed in black, wearing a small white organdie apron and a faint smile. As their footsteps echoed in the vaulted hall inside the building his gaze followed the wide sweep of a staircase as it climbed beyond an imposing chandelier, then while the maid went away to find someone to greet him he studied the rest of the room. On the walls inset paintings alternated most effectively with mirrors and panelling, and the ceiling was decorated with tendrils of vines spreading over a gilded pergola. He turned to see a tall woman enter the room. He had expected someone older, but she was much younger than his mother, very striking, with luminous blue eyes and straight blond hair cropped just below her ears. Her lush figure was set off by a clinging, deep purple skirt and blouse, and above the pronounced dip of d?colletage arose a marble-white neck and a face that mingled soft curves and angles to striking effect. Imposing rather than beautiful her deep set eyes ringed with mascara seemed to penetrate right through him. "I am Celina Dietz. You must be Wilhelm Froehlich." "Yes, Frau Dietz." "Do not call me Frau. I'm 28 and you may think I should be married, but I'm not. I've yet to meet a man worthy of me." "I apologize. I'll try to remember." "What do you think of the house?" "It's a very fine house. Much larger than I imagined it to be." "Yes, it is large. My family had it built two hundred years ago when Silesia was first ceded to Prussia. We were important then, but unfortunately we are important no longer. My brother Eduard is a Luftwaffe officer and thinks more of dive-bombers than houses, so I live here alone most of the time. For that reason a great portion of it is not in use." Her eyes flashed, hinting at a sharp temper that could erupt at any moment. "Do you know why you're here?" He nodded. He could see those eyes scrutinizing him closely, absorbing the hank of blond hair that hung down the side of his face which he constantly needed to brush back, and observing his narrow shoulders and the spindly wrists that poked down beyond the cuffs of his jacket. "It's to do with conscription," he said, "I'm at the age for compulsory military service, and my mother doesn't think I'd do well in the army." The mouth of Fraeulein Dietz curled slightly in the semblance of a condescending smile. She was as thin as he was, but taller, and she clearly looked down on him in more ways than one. "She's probably right," her tone was derisory, "you certainly don't fit in with my idea of a Panzer Grenadier." "Mother wants to say she doesn't know where I am when the papers arrive. She says I can't even remain in Heidelberg because they'd find me there." The woman arched her eyebrows. "You have no brothers or sisters?" "No." "And your father is dead?" "Yes." Wilhelm resented the interrogation, but there was no way he could refuse to answer. For the near future at least he was going to be reliant on her goodwill. "Are you a National Socialist?" "No, but mother is. She joined the Nazi Party six years ago." "I know that, it's the main reason I agreed to help her. It's wrong to cheat the system by hiding you away, but I don't think we're depriving the Wehrmacht of a particularly great asset. "What were you studying at Heidelberg?" "I was reading Classics and Fine Arts. I hope circumstances change soon because I want to go back to it." The woman nodded, unimpressed. "Well, at least you should be able to string a sentence together when you write, and that I may find a use for. One other thing. While you remain at Ravenskopf you will adopt the guise of a female. Willy blinked hard and his slender fingers reached down, nervously twisting the bottom of his jacket. "A - a female, Fraeulein Dietz?" "Yes. It's important. It's the only way. You must look like a girl and try to behave like a girl. You may be secure from the mainstream of German life in this obscure corner of Upper Silesia, but people in small communities can be inquisitive. I have some insulation against such busybodies, but it's not limitless, and if a young man like you is seen not to be in military uniform they will become curious and begin asking awkward questions. The transformation shouldn't be too difficult for you. I imagine you've put on stockings in the past to amuse your university friends." Willy hung his head, quite incapable of offering a quick response. "I expect most of them called you Willy." "Yes, Fraeulein Dietz." "The name can remain. Willy is an acceptable abbreviation for Wilhelmina as well as Wilhelm." She turned away, as far as she was concerned, the interview over. "Rosalyn." she called, and the maid who had first admitted him returned and dipped a small curtsy. "This is Willy. He will be joining us here. Feed him and find him a place to sleep." A minute later he was sat at a kitchen table eating sauerkraut and cold sausage while the maid who had escorted him stood silently in the corner of the room. A second maid, dressed identically to the first one came through the door, and only then did the one called Rosalyn speak. "Hi Loti, look what we have here. Fraeulein Dietz as found another one." Loti walked over to him and bent down to study his face closely. "You're cute. You'll do well at Ravenskopf," she purred silkily. "His name is Willy," said the first maid. "A good name," grinned the second one. Willy gazed up at the features examining him and he knew at once that the maid wasn't what she appeared to be at a distance. He could identify a cross-dresser when he saw one, and female clothes and lavish makeup couldn't hide reality. He looked again at the one called Rosalyn. The maids were the same in more ways than just the clothes they wore. They were both young men. Two brunettes, brazen and bra-less. "Are you two in hiding here disguised as women?" he asked. "Better that than being in the army," said Loti, abruptly moving away. "All that marching around and shooting guns. Ugh!" "Does anyone else live here?" "No, it's just Fraeulein Dietz and we," replied Rosalyn. "A fat old woman comes in every day to cook a midday meal, but the rest of the time Loti and I are expected to do everything in return for our keep." "The Fraeulein's brother comes here for the weekend sometimes, but mostly he's away serving with the Luftwaffe," put in Loti. "Fraeulein Dietz likes to entertain though, especially if her guests have some influence with the Nazi Party. I don't mind that. Some of the old buffers she invites can be quite entertaining themselves." He turned and stuck out his backside until it strained against the seat of the black skirt he was wearing, and then he slapped it, pitter-pat, with the flats of his hands and grinned over his shoulder. "Do you know what I mean?" "Take no notice of Loti. She's always been a slut," remarked Rosalyn with lofty disapproval. The other maid snorted, fluttering his false eyelashes as he examined his lipstick in a small hand mirror. "I'm no worse slut than you, Rosalyn. You'll drop your pants at the first sign of a man getting hard." Rosalyn ignored the retort and came over to where Willy was sitting. "You've finished eating. Leave the plate. Loti can wash it while I take you upstairs and show you where you sleep." The stairs were decorated with small statues cast in bronze set into narrow niches in the walls. Most people wouldn't have studied them closely, rating them as just part of the d?cor, but Willy had an interest in art and paused to inspect one or two. To the casual eye they depicted Greek goddesses, partially clothed, demure of expression but provocatively posed. Willy noted that they were all different figures in different poses, and a number of them displayed a set of male genitals. There were paintings too, equally explicit, and he realized that the sensuous works of art were a stage setting, there only to induce a pleasing mood. A backdrop to coax depravity. The room he was given was not impressive and was smaller than the one he'd had in the Hall of Residence in Heidelberg. The contents consisted of just a bed, a dresser and two hard-back chairs with some walk-in storage set into one wall. The furniture was old and so well worn that the varnish had been rubbed from its edges and corners, while the cracked linoleum on the floor was only cushioned by a couple of threadbare rugs. "Hardly luxurious, is it?" remarked Rosalyn with a sympathetic sigh. "Unfortunately the lady of the house doesn't spend money on servant's quarters. Frau Klausen, the woman that comes to cook lunch, says the Dietz family were quite well off once, but they lost most of their money during the hyperinflation that followed the last war. Fraeulein Dietz still likes to put on airs like an old-time aristocrat though, even when her big house is falling down around her ears." "Is the house falling down?" "Take a look at the unused part when you have a chance. The roof leaks like a sieve." The male maid went to the cupboard in the wall and rummaged around inside. "She'll expect you to wear a dress tomorrow. I think this will fit." he said, pulling out a white item and holding it up to gauge the width of Willy's shoulders. "There's more in the cupboard with shoes and things." Being measured up to fit a frock made Willy blush slightly. Although Fraeulein Dietz had guessed correctly when she'd said he'd probably worn stockings on occasion to please people, he'd never gone all the way to dressing as a girl. He removed his jacket and remained stock still while he was being fitted out, which allowed Rosalyn's hand to brush against his bare arm with the intimacy of an established relationship. "You're a pretty thing," he remarked playfully while the tip of his tongue circled his lips. "Would you like to do something nice before bedtime?" The invitation to indulge in carnality was plain, and Willy's reaction was po-faced. "I may like men, but I don't just go with anyone." Rosalyn shrugged without showing dismay. "Don't you? How sad. Never mind, everyone who comes to this house is a freak in their own way." *** Willy Froehlich had no illusions about himself. He was attractive enough, with a good figure, and his long blond hair gave him a sweet little-girl look of innocence, but he wasn't sophisticated and a lack of self-confidence became evident the following morning. It was then he discovered that the white dress didn't really fit well at all, and he replaced it with a simple round-necked, ankle-length thing in lilac floral print. Lacking any guidance he compounded that mistake by putting on white ankle socks and flat shoes. Fraeulein Dietz greeted him at the bottom of the stairs with a grimace that made her dissatisfaction plain. "What on earth do you think you look like? You have a figure with such great possibilities, but you dress it up like a frump." Willy's mind struggled for an excuse. He looked bewildered, brown eyes blinking back at her, and she noticed he still had the habit of flicking a fall of hair out of his eyes. "I put on some of the things I found in the wardrobe. I wasn't sure what to choose." he explained. "Never mind about that for the moment," the woman snapped, "come with me. Other people such as yourself I utilize as domestic servants while they're here, but for you I have a different task." He followed her through into what was clearly an innermost sanctum in a small circular library on the ground floor. Inside a table lamp cast a soft glow on decorations of bronze sitting agreeably on the warm brown of cedar panelling that squeezed between a number of ceiling high sets of shelves crammed with books. It was a comfortable den of a man's room without any softening frills. A solid mahogany door gave it an air of seclusion and an elegant Louis XIV desk piled high with pieces of paper and envelope files stood in front of a casement window. "My father was Professor Dietz. He was an outstanding anthropologist." the woman announced briskly. "This was his work station when he was at home, and what you see around you are the last five years of his research. Unfortunately he was unable to compile his notes into manuscript before his death, and that is something I wish you to rectify. Everything is scattered about and in a jumble, so something more than a secretary is required." A lugubrious head on the end of a long neck peered up at her. "Goodness! It sounds like an awesome task, I - I'm only an undergraduate and I don't know if I'm capable of doing anything as grand as putting together the notes of a learned professor of anthropology." The woman's features became set with determination. "What nonsense, of course you're capable. Since you've attended university you will be practised in making dissertations, and the youthful, vibrant blood of enthusiasm still flows through your veins. The subject is no concern of yours. All the information you require is here and only needs putting into sequence. I'll allow you the rest of the week to read things through, then we'll discuss the matter again." Having settled things to her own contentment she stood back and looked Willy up and down once more. "Now then, we shall go back up the stairs and I shall choose the clothes you should wear, then I shall have Rosalyn and Loti pin back your hair and teach you about makeup. Don't expect this treatment every day. I expect you to be self sufficient in being a girl, and if you don't learn quickly you'll make me angry." The two male-maids were summoned to his room, but she didn't spare him a great deal of time herself. Having selected some items of clothing from the cupboard she threw them across the bed and left Willy in their care. "Nice fingernails," Rosalyn said, looking at his hands, "you grow them long and look after them. That's always a bonus for someone making a transformation." Under the watchful eyes of Rosalyn and Loti he slipped into a suspender belt and silk stockings. "Suspender straps are far better than garters," Loti assured him, "nothing looks worse on a girl than sagging stockings with baggy knees, so I advise you to always choose suspenders when you can." When other feminine apparel was offered in his direction, he gave out a meek gasp. "A brassier! I can't wear one of those. I don't have a bosom, hardly a very big one anyway." "We can stuff it with cotton wool." Rosalyn told him. "It will help you look the part, and showing a bosom will help you feel the part." His hair usually hung thick and straight, sometimes framing his face and sometimes half obscuring it, but Loti skilfully fastened it back to reveal features of haunting Madonna-like purity. "You must wear more makeup," Loti said as he pinned back some rogue tresses. "If you emphasize your eyes you'll become quite beautiful." Rosalyn agreed. "Yes, you have wonderful lashes, and a good lathering of mascara will make sure they're noticed. And a cherry-red for your lips, I think. You'll look gorgeous." It had transpired that both the male-maids had been involved with show business in the past and knew everything about applying powder and paint, but Willy was taken aback by their enthusiasm. "I don't want to look like a painted doll." Loti tutted. "Of course you don't. The whole point of makeup is to enhance natural beauty with a beguiling radiance. It's what the lady of the house will expect." "Not Garbo," said Rosalyn, "More Rogers." Willy looked at him. "What do you mean?" Loti beamed. "Rosalyn thinks you look like the film-star, Rogers." "Ginger Rogers, the American? Do you? Do you really think that?" he asked Rosalyn. Rosalyn said he did, but Willy was hardly placated. "Is he teasing me?" he asked Loti. "I think he meant it." "Do you think I look like a film-star?" "Yes, of course." "I don't feel glamorous. I must look a sight. I don't think I'd be comfortable going into the town dressed like this." His two companions glanced at each other and then at him. "Don't worry about that." said Rosalyn, "the lady doesn't allow her house staff to go into the town. She keeps us at a distance from other people in case they guess the truth about us. From now until you leave you'll be expected to stay within sight of the house at all times." "We're practically prisoner's here," added Loti, "the only compensation is the chance to dress nice." "Fraeulein Dietz isn't a very pleasant person, is she?" grumbled Willy. Rosalyn responded with a brief, cynical laugh. "You haven't seen the worst of her yet, my little treasure. Most people wouldn't treat a Cocker Spaniel the way she treats us when she's in a bad mood. The trouble is, we're stuck, aren't we? You and us alike. We have nowhere else to go." Eventually Willy became established as fully dressed and he was able to shoo the others from the room. It took him a while after they had gone to adjust to the strange feelings that now enveloped him. The odd shoes that deformed his feet took some getting used to, as did the tight hose that clung to his legs and a skirt that swirled around his knees. His face was masked with sweet-smelling substances, and most alarming of all, he had a bosom. He wanted to look at the finished result but the mirror in his room was only ten inches square, and he had to go out onto the bedroom landing to find a full length reflection. Fraeulein Dietz had selected a crisp white blouse to accentuate the creamy texture of his skin, and to accompany it a black skirt, narrow waisted, hip-hugging and tight in a Chinese cheongsam style, knee- length with daring slashes half way up his thighs. The shoes she had chosen for him had incredibly clunky high heels, but when he examined himself in the mirror he noticed that they did promote a rather nice stance of elegance, and with the stockings they did emphasize the smooth slender curve of his legs in an attractive way. Enthralled with his reflection he swivelled left and right to examine his appearance from every possible angle, grinning, pouting and pulling funny faces. Although he lacked the vanity to consider himself perfection, he was small and slim and he did feel like a film- star. The colour scheme, starkly black on white, also emphasized the sooty black of his eyes, and with his hair freshly brushed and feeling silky and lustrous he felt better able to cope with the demands being made of him. By the time he was ready to descend the stairs again it was time for lunch. At lunchtime Rosalyn and Loti catered for the needs of Fraeulein Dietz who ate alone in a rather grand dining room. It was salad and a poached tranche of fresh salmon for her; boiled salted codfish and potatoes for everyone else, to be consumed at the kitchen table. Frau Klausen, the cook, was a large blousy woman and fervent National Socialist, who listened to music on the wireless the whole time she was there. Willy was partial to American swing, or even a good rendition of The Blue Danube, but the woman's taste was limited to martial music of the German kind that never veered from venerating the Fatherland and its Aryan stock. To its accompaniment she would constantly march back and forth, gyrating her spoons and ladles in the manner of a drum-major. When he had eaten he went to the library and began the mighty task that had been bestowed on him. At once his interest was captured and within minutes he was absorbed. It soon became apparent that although Fraeulein Dietz's father may have been a highly intelligent man, he wasn't an organized one. The professor was in the habit of writing down his thoughts on whatever piece of paper came to hand and in no specific order. There were a number of hard-back journals and leather bound notebooks, but most of his work had been recorded onto lose-leaf sheets of paper that were now stacked in untidy heaps on every flat surface in the room. Initially Willy had intended to read everything chronologically in date sequence, but then he found that very few of the documents had any date on them. Instead he started to read things randomly and that seemed to work in an odd kind of way, because when he'd become accustomed to the content he found he could compile separate piles for notations that commented upon relevant issues. From the start he knew it was not going to be an easy task. It would require endurance and pain-staking observation, but given the week promised to him he was confident that eventually he would find a common factor to link them all together. He closed his eyes, and suddenly his head was back in Heidelberg, the place where he really belonged and where he could submerge himself in real study. The time he was compelled to spend at Ravenskopf was merely an interlude, he reassured himself. It wouldn't last long. Soon things would return to how they had been previously. *** Willy was a little bit wary of Rosalyn and Loti to begin with. Their attitude to sexual matters was to say the least, loose, and they openly admitted they sometimes slept together. He himself was more reserved. Although no angel, he preferred relationships to have some mutual rapport and not to simply serve as an excuse for gratification, but after he had declined their invitation to make up a threesome a few times they got the idea, and left him alone. The thing that made living with them easier was their good nature, not to mention their actual skill. As housemaids their efficiency was as far above reproach as their morals were beneath it. This was a fact that Fraeulein Dietz must have recognized but seldom rewarded. Although she spared them military service, she ran the house like a military camp, directing things, throwing out orders and demanding obedience. Her harsh words seemed to accompany everything they did, and it was not an uncommon sight to find them on the verge of tears after she had smacked their hands with a wooden spoon as punishment for some perceived stupidity. When he went to eat his lunch one day he heard conversation in the room where Fraeulein Dietz ate her meals. "Does she have a guest today?" he asked Rosalyn. "Her brother is here for the weekend." "Her brother?" "Eduard. He's stationed at an aerodrome near Grottkau, but he seems to get away quite often at weekends." Rosalyn told him. Willy then remembered an earlier mention of Fraeulein Dietz's brother. "What's he like? Rosalyn purred like a cat. "Good looking. Big and strong. Loti caught a glimpse of him in the bathroom once - said he was hung like a cart-horse. But I've never known him show any interest in us kind of girls." He never saw much of Eduard during his brief visit. Eduard dined with his sister at meal times but spent most of his time out of doors with a twelve gauge shotgun, a fact verified by the amount of game brought back to hang in the kitchen larder. Willy's only close encounter came when the man was on the point of departing and made an unannounced visit to the library. "You must excuse me for interrupting you, but I'm off back to my unit this morning and there is a book I want to take with me." His words were polite but abrupt, spoken as employer to staff, to someone he considered somewhat inferior to himself. He stared at the bookshelves on one side of the room and then the other. "I know my father had a copy of Voltaire in his collection, but where to find it is the problem." Being only 5'6'' Willy had to tilt up his face to study the man closely, and he gazed up beyond a broad sun-tanned face and straight into the eyes of... a god. Not that he was like one of the statuettes of Greek deities that filled the niches on the stairs. Instead he took after the kind of dark warrior who appeared in late Renaissance paintings. Quite easy to look at, Willy decided. He was smart and upright in his perfectly tailored air force uniform, and as tall as his sister with thick wavy blond hair clipped short and with blue eyes shaded by spiky gold lashes. He was not handsome in the conventional sense, his appeal was much more subtle than that, and the faintly mocking twist to his mouth was an enigma. His prominent cheekbones, firm jaw and slightly crooked nose gave him a rugged appearance, but it was the startling blue eyes and high-voltage melt- your-bones smile that made his pulse jump. "Voltaire is on the second shelf from the bottom," he said without even thinking hard, "it's on the right hand side, next to the book by Alfred Rosenberg." The visitor gave him a quizzical look that was tinged with amusement, then his eyes stalked visually along the shelf indicated until he snatched a volume up in his hand. "Quite right. Exactly as you said. It hasn't taken you long to get to know the lay-out of this place." Eduard was the first attractive man Willy had met since arriving and he suddenly felt very aware of the bra thrusting out the front of his blouse, and of the two buttons unfastened at the top that exposed the hollow of his throat. "I have an interest in books, Herr Dietz, that's all one needs really. I love books, and I love art too." "Art!" The man's eyebrows lifted as he paused to consider the word. "Yes, of course. Appreciation of art is said to be a measure of civilization. Good art can be a joy." "Examples of bad art are rare, Herr Dietz. Misunderstanding art is far more common." Such a settled opinion caused the visitor to chuckle. "Holding firm views on things is worthy of respect. You must be the new - erm - person my sister informed me about. The one she as elected to write- up my fathers notes." Willy nodded, suddenly becoming quite breathless. Eduard dominated the room. He had tremendous natural charisma and would have dominated a room anywhere. The man cast around with his eyes. "Settled in, have you? You'll find this a very pleasant place to work, I'm sure. Sadly the library is in a terrible mess and my father left behind such a lot of correspondence to be dealt with. It'll take you six months to read everything." Willy peeped up sweetly from under his lashes. "Fraeulein Dietz requires me to read everything in a week." Eduard raised his eyebrows. "A week! If you can do it in a week I'll give you credit for being a top scholar." "Oh, a week is long enough I think if I start early each day and finish late. The professor's writing is quite legible and I'm a quick reader." The man grinned at that, an outright humorous grin that unexpectedly struck Willy like a blow to the solar plexus and made his nipples stir inside the cosy confines of his bra. The man was attractive of course, but he had no idea how irresistible his smile might be. Willy had regarded him speculatively at first, wondering if his sister's heartlessness was a family trait that he needed to be wary of, but the cheerful smile dispelled such fear. Now, with the lighter creases beside his eyes deepening to reveal laughter lines and his lips parted to reveal even white teeth, he was devastating. "You are somehow different to the others I meet here." the man conceded, his eyes warming appreciatively as they rested on Willy's delicate-hewn features. "Not as tall. A little shrimp really. Refined. Not as sexually brash as they, and yet somehow more striking, and more - erm - more feminine." Willy felt a blush on his face rising up like a fiery dawn and he smiled awkwardly, unsure how to take the compliment, but he thought about him when he'd gone, remembering his smile. Eduard Dietz was everything he disliked about people in general of course; too self- assured and far too opinionated and over-confident, convinced he knew best about everything and infinitely superior to someone dressed as a girl. Even so, he had been utterly captivated by him, and his eyes glowed against the disturbing paleness of his face at the mere idea that the gorgeous man had noticed him. It was important to stop such unsettling thoughts, he decided. He had to sweep them from his mind. A man such as Eduard Dietz was sure to have a girlfriend. He had the kind of looks that probably left broken hearts everywhere. He probably had lots of girlfriends. Real girls. He slumped down in his chair. 'Oh, Heidelberg, where are you?' he thought. Gone were all those sunny, carefree weekends along the Neckar, laughing and joking with the lean bodied young men, who sought to court him. Gone, all those days of being chased along the river bank until they had their arms around him. Naughty boys, kissing him like they did, undressing him like they did, doing the other things that they did. Eventually his face began to resume its delicate porcelain colour, but then he was startled by a tapping on the casement window. Looking round he saw a man outside gesticulating to speak to him. Getting to his feet he went across and opened the window as if it were a door. "Who are you? What do you want?" The stranger offered a broad grin. "I'm Guenter. I'm Frau Klausen's nephew and I too work for the lady of the house. Three days each week in the flower garden, then two in the park. I heard she'd taken on a pretty thing to do some office work, so I thought I'd take a look." Willy gazed up into a tanned outdoor face under a mop of windblown auburn hair. How handsome he looked. How tall and muscular. His lean aggressively masculine body was wrapped in a white linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and his very masculine arms were matted with a delicate fleece of fine hair. He watched in fascination as the muscles in his arms bunched with each movement they made. He made all the boys he'd known at university seem insignificant, and he was a good substitute for the unattainable air force officer who had so recently captured his thoughts. Still in some awe Willy watched the visitor push his hands into the pockets of his trousers, and became aware of the strong muscles of his thighs. "You are very cheeky, Guenter. Do you want to come in?" The young man grinned. "No, can't do that. The snooty Fraeulein doesn't allow outside workers into the house. But I bet you haven't seen anything outside yet, have you? Would you like me to show you the garden?" "The garden! But I'm busy." "You must be allowed a breather. The Fraeulein can't expect you to work the whole day without taking a short break now and then." Willy brought a hand to his mouth and bit a nail, then caught himself and stopped. He found himself acknowledging Guenter's undoubted physical attraction. He suited the casual attire of a gardener. His long muscular legs looked good in close fitting trousers, and the tightness of his shirt exploited the flatness of his stomach and the strength of his hips. Why not? he thought. Why not take a break? He'd worked pretty well nonstop for the past few days and never been thanked for doing it, and was it not reasonable to take the opportunity of viewing other aspects of the place where he now lived. He opened the window to its full extent. The sill was very low so he was able to step over it quite easily. Outside the garden was scented with the perfume of late summer and Guenter rejoiced in being his guide. Although the hawthorn hedges had lost their blossom other things were in riotous colour; there was broom providing its own splash of golden brilliance, pink and purple pansies, and in the park further on there were acres of buttercups. The view to the front of the house extended over a formal garden to the nearby town, but each side of it was terminated by hedges and little grass plots where the family in the past had erected tombstones to their pet animals. At the back of the house orange trees in large tubs were ranged along the terrace. "It's lovely." Willy said, very conscious of Guenter behind him, looking at the close fit of his skirt and the curve of his legs: overtly assessing things that had nothing to do with horticulture. He turned and Guenter turned his chiselled features up to the sky. "No rain today. A good day for being out of doors," he said. "Yes," Willy agreed, "but unfortunately I must return to my work." "Shame you can't stay out longer. There are so many things a girl and boy could do together on a day such as this." Willy's cheeks suffused with hectic colour. The handsome gardener was making a pass at him, and he rather enjoyed it. But he wasn't prepared to give in on a first meeting. "I'm afraid you will have to do them alone today," he panted. Guenter leaned forward. "What I have in mind takes two," he growled against the shell-like cavity of Willy's ear. As they walked back he slipped an arm around Willy's waist and rested his hand on the shelf of his hips, achingly aware of the slender, shapely body he enfolded. "It must be awkward for you here. I expect you're a townie, who's used to being around boys a lot." Willy nodded. "It is different here to what I've been used to in the past." On reaching the window Willy made to lift himself through, but before he could do it he felt strong, masculine fingers close over his wrist. With no warning Guenter touched a finger to unresisting lips that promised the sweet taste of a mountain spring. "Shame you can't linger awhile longer. Perhaps I should offer a sample of what you'll been missing." The look in the man's eyes became one Willy could easily fathom and he shifted unsteadily under his gaze. "Guenter, don't you dare kiss me," he spluttered in a gush of air. He swallowed, feeling his throat constrict, and he couldn't prevent his face from showing a blush. He knew he should have said more - he should have protested more fiercely, but further words became stifled at the source when the man's mouth descended onto his own. Heat. At the touch of his lips, a volcanic shock seemed to flood along Willy's veins, searing him with the intensity of molten fire. His knees buckled beneath the man's probing caress and he clutched at him helplessly. Words were quickly forgotten and his good intentions fled the moment the burly man's arms closed around him, pulling him forward and drawing him in until he was curled into his embrace. Fingers slid over his skin and tremors rock him, and he was lost, and all the time Guenter's mouth writhed against his own in a kiss that demanded everything, and gave everything. When the kiss broke for a moment Willy whimpered softly. "Please - please let me go." Slowly they drew apart, and the man stood smiling, making no attempt to hide the arousal in his trousers. "That's a good start. We must try it again sometime." he said. *** Celina Dietz was in love. She loved Ravenskopf. Or at least she loved the status that living in such a fine house gave her. As she walked disconsolately to the window, she stared with fierce possessiveness over the lawns and flowerbeds that bordered the house. This was her home, it was the place she had been born, and she knew every each of it with the familiarity of long use. How could her brother even suggest that she leave it all to live in a grubby town suburb? As a small child she had known a time when famous people had enjoyed hospitality beneath its roof; it had been a time when her family had owned estates that stretched back almost to the Oder. There had been picnics and hunts and wonderful parties in those days, but then had come the bleak time of the 1920s when the value of the German Mark became virtually worthless, and practically overnight the family fortune had dwindled to nothing. They had to sell most of the land around them simply to maintain a decent standard of living, and keeping such a large building in good repair soon became impossible. With her father always so detached from everyday life and engrossed in his work it should have been Eduard's responsibility to put things right, but her brother was a boyish devil-may-care adventurer even in maturity and he had no idea how to do it. Instead she had taken upon herself the task of saving everything from falling into ruin. On coming of age she had encouraged a wealthy industrialist to court her, and his promise of marriage seemed to be the answer to everything. Damn the man, for he had deserted her well before any wedding, and >from that time on she had sought to take out her spite on all men in whatever way she could. Having a handful of emasculated males around her was a sop to her vindictiveness. She took pleasure in their humiliation, delighted in bullying them, and revelled in controlling everything they did. In the library Willy was composed when she entered. The room was a cool place, having the benefit of the northern light, but seldom direct sunshine. Nevertheless the book-lined walls were warming. It was the seventh day since his arrival, and fully expecting her visit he leapt to his feet and did a little curtsy as he'd learnt was expected when she entered a room. Before him covering the whole tool leathered surface of the desk lay batches of papers; the professor's notes, divided and subdivided into relevant divisions, each neatly clipped together and fronted by a tag for his own guidance. The notes were so profuse that a score of other piles had been laid out on the floor. The woman waved him back into his seat. "Have you read everything?" "Yes, Fraeulein Dietz." "What do you think?" He drew in a deep breath. "It's an extraordinary study. Your father was truly a diligent and dedicated man." The woman nodded and without saying another word she walked across the room and opened a cupboard to reveal a typewriter. "Did you learn how to use one of these whilst in Heidelberg?" He nodded. "Yes, but my speed isn't very good." "I'm sure it will improve as you go along. There is plenty of paper in the cupboard underneath, so I want you to begin writing-up the notes at once." Willy slowly sank back into his chair, a slight expression of trepidation on his face. "There is something I've been meaning to speak to you about, Fraeulein Dietz." "About the notes?" "Yes, Fraeulein Dietz." "Well, go ahead. Spit it out." "Your father, the professor, from what he's written I believe he was seeking evidence to confirm the existence of a past master-race." "Yes, I glad you understand that much. He took it upon himself to establish the truth about the racially superior Aryan people of antiquity from whom all true Germans are descended. It is a subject Hitler himself is most passionate about and I believe my father's work will answer all the outstanding questions." Willy only half-smiled, in fact he almost winced. "Oh, um... er, perhaps you shouldn't expect too much. It would probably be unwise to claim that all the questions have been answered. The Herr Professor clearly worked long and hard on the subject, but I don't think he has provided any real proof that a master-race ever existed." The woman responded with blank look of dissatisfaction and dismay as pride and indignation warred within her. "You must be mistaken, Willy dear. My father's health was not at its best towards the end of his life, but he was a very learned man who was revered by his peers. He wouldn't have spent his last five years researching something that couldn't be proven." She gave a dismissive wave of her hand. "No, no. Clearly you have skimmed too quickly through his work and missed something important. You'd better read everything again." Willy was certain that he'd missed nothing. So often bewildered by everyday life a change came over him when placed in front of any kind of text. His brain cleared at once, it came naturally to him. It always had. It was no lucky chance or favour that had won him a place at a university in Heidelberg. He could analyse the written word with such clarity that discrepancies glared out like the headlights on a car. Modest and still lacking self-belief he regarded such a gift as mere common-sense, but it was a kind of common-sense that few others possessed. He had quickly observed that contradictions abounded in Professor Dietz's notations, and they were also full of theories, assumptions and biased opinions that lacked any evidence. Taken as a whole the notes comprised a mass of wishful-thinking, and he had decided early on that the learned professor must have been descending into dementia when he compiled them. "I assure you I've already read everything very thoroughly, Fraeulein Dietz." he insisted bravely. For a moment the woman's facial features froze and only her eyes glared menace. But then a storm broke, her cheeks reddened, her lips twitched and words poured out in an enraged torrent. "Have you indeed? Well perhaps I should remind you, little Willy, that my father held professorships in anthropology and eugenics before you were even a gleam in your father's eye." Without warning she grasped the top of his head, wrapped her fingers in his hair and pulled viciously. Willy squawked, but his anguish was ignored. "I will accept no truck from effeminate upstarts such as you, who think they know better than he," she continued, "the Aryan people did exist. My father proved it and you will record that fact." Completely dismissive of Willy's discomfort she bounced his head up and down, then rocked it cruelly from side to side. "You will do as I wish and make a good job of it, or I'll inform the police of who you really are and tell them how you tricked me into employing you. And I'll tell you now, if you don't already know, that wretches, who purposely try to avoid military conscription are thrown into a Konzentrationslager where conditions are not pleasant." At last she released him, and gradually her look of hostility faded. A softness, even a glint of amusement came into her eyes as she smiled her careful tight-lipped smile at him. "Being a conscript- dodger is a crime and being homosexual is illegal. Do look at everything again, dear, I'm sure you will find the inspiration you need. After all, breaking rocks to make roads and being marched out every day to lay railway lines in the middle of winter would ruin your fingernails. You'd hate that, wouldn't you?" Expelling an audible grunt, she strode purposefully toward the door but swung about sharply before departing. "I wish to have my father's work in book form, so by Friday I want to see the outline of an introductory chapter." When she'd gone Willy collapsed in misery behind the desk. Doing has she demanded was impossible, but the consequences of not doing it were terrifying. How on earth was he to get out of this fix? He toyed with the idea of going home, but that wouldn't do either. His mother was a solid Party Member whose main pastime was denigrating those who weren't. If he went home she would despair of him and ensure he enlisted in the army at once, when the only thing he really wanted to do was appreciate art and read well written books, and perhaps one day write a book of his own. He glanced scornfully at the piles of yellowing papers in front of him. His mother would say that here was his chance to write a book, but how could he make a book from a mass of such inconsistencies and faulty ideas? It then occurred to him that perhaps he could do something. If he bent the professor's research and twisted the facts a little he may even come up with something that would satisfy his obsessive host. He carried the typewriter to the desk and stared at it for a while, then with a single first finger and his heart heavy with misgiving, he typed the first line. *** Breakfast was never a thing to look forward to. Slices of bread, scraped over with beef dripping, when dripping was available, was all that was provided. It was a rule impossible to thwart since the lady of the house kept the kitchen larder locked until Frau Klausen arrived, and when the cook had gone she made a personal check of things inside before locking it again. Loti said, only half joking, that she knew every egg inside by number and every potato by name. Lunch was little better since Frau Klausen always provided house staff with food that was the cheapest in the town market. Hunger drove Willy Froehlich to eat as it drove everyone, but at Ravenskopf eating was rarely a pleasant experience. Fraeulein Dietz herself lunched with people every alternate day, but few of her guests had any allure. Most in fact reminded Willy Froehlich of the villains that inhabited Grimm's fairytales; a miscellany of witches, ogres and knaves. One lunchtime he looked on enviously as a silver flat loaded with succulent looking breasts of poultry masked with rich red wine sauce was taken into the dining room, accompanied by a plate of 'obazda' brot oozing cream cheese and onions. "Is she entertaining someone today." he asked. "Yes, Otto Hahn," Rosalyn said, "Otto is her solicitor, and from the snatches of conversation I hear at times like these, I have the impression he's a shifty character, who's helping her to hang on at Ravenskopf, probably by using the kind of tricks and shady deals only legal minds can understand." Mildly taken aback Willy expressed his surprise. "But he's a professional man, and professional men should have scruples. Do solicitors do shady deals?" His innocence caused Rosalyn's mouth to crease with mirth. "Do dentists pull teeth? He gives the Fraeulein's difficulties a great deal of attention, and in return she allows him some freedom with people here, if you know what I mean. He fancies himself as some sort of Don Juan with Loti and me." Willy wrinkled his nose. "That's disgusting." "No, that's life." Rosalyn replied fatalistically. By that time Willy was beginning to understand that such arrangements were not unusual at Ravenskopf. As a reward for favours Fraeulein Dietz often entered into a conspiracy, and following lunch she would allow her guests freedom to roam about the house and gardens and amuse themselves in whatever way they wished. And what they usually wished for was some time alone with one of the maids. Just two days previously he had noticed a fierce looking old man disappear into the disused part of the house with Rosalyn, reappearing sometime later smiling with contentment, with his white moustache plastered with red lipstick and the front of his trousers unbuttoned. Willy was wary about being drawn into such cold affairs and always retreated to the library as quickly as he could. But following lunch that day he almost collided outside the kitchen door with Otto Hahn. He was about fifty years old with a fat face and black hair slicked back and plastered down with brilliantine. For several moments he was aware of the man's undressing stare, and his face wasn't a pleasant face. Somehow it seemed all mouth - mouth and lips - a big wet mouth and flabby lips, until he smiled, when it became predatory. Otto Hahn at once became predatory. "Ah! You must be the new one called Willy. Fraeulein Dietz mentioned she had fresh meat in her larder. I must make a point of taking lunch here more often in the future." Blushing with indignity Willy stared at him. "I doubt we are ever likely to dine together, Herr Hahn." He leered, his teeth showing in a white line, like those of a rabid animal. To judge by the fixed, uncaring expression in his eyes he was incapable of warm affection and thrived on lust. "You miss my point, sweet poppet," he teased, "not inexperienced, are you? Not exactly untouched by human hand, I vouch. The buttocks of a sweet tart such as you I would expect to find on the menu." Willy shuddered with revulsion. Appalled at hearing his tittering laughter he could hardly bear to look at him. He felt intimidated, and to avoid further conversation he stepped back into the kitchen and then went through to the garden at the back. There he almost collided with Guenter. "Willy, my love, I haven't seen you for a couple of days. Have you been in hiding?" "No, I've just been busy. I only hide from people I dislike, and you aren't one of them." The man swung a broad arm around his slender waist. "I've shown you the garden, now allow me to show you the rest of the house." "I've been told it's in bad repair." "Sadly, it's almost a ruin." Guenter said. When they walked along the rear elevation it was clear that Ravenskopf had once been a grand house, but impressive as it was Willy could see as they made their way along its exterior that there had never been any attempt to stun the visitor with an expansive stony courtyard as was the case at Versailles and Schoenbrunn, instead a simple colonnade faced onto a small stream which framed a view across water to a great zone of resin-scented pinewoods on the far side. Guenter swung him about and walked him up a ramp. The unused part of the house was entered by a neoclassical portico, and a person with time to spare could enjoy taking the air beneath the eyes of long- suffering caryatids that supported its heavy entablature. Beyond a rococo decorated vestibule lay the magnificence of a central hall. The vast oval chamber, now devoid of furniture, was floored and walled with Carrara and green Prato marble of the most delicate vein and hue and Corinthian columns stretched up high into a central cupola. This area had obviously been commissioned by a person of exquisite taste long ago and was a room that would have been incredibly impressive in its prime, but now could be whiffed the smell of damp and decay. Grime laden watermarks on the walls spoke of rain seeping in from the roof over a number of years. The longer he stood in that vast hollow space the more it fitted with the idea of a forsaken cathedral or gigantic elaborately carved cave. It was dingy inside, and nervous of encountering spiders amid the gloomy shadows Willy felt along the wall for a light switch, found one, and found it didn't work. "There are no electrics in this part of the house," said the man with him, gazing down at the youthful girlish form in his arms and pressed her against the wall. She was so fragile he feared he may bruise her. And yet even while that thought flitted through his mind, he drew her even closer, until he could feel the thundering of her heartbeat on his own chest. His hands were all over her, she was letting him touch and feel freely. He was licking her ears and biting her neck, and she was loving it. Guenter's dark, heavy lidded eyes glittered with excitement. He had waited long enough and he could wait no more. He was a man and he had to take her. He would give too, but then he would take her again. He would take her until she was full to the top with him. His fingers encountered the swell of her breast beneath the soft fabric of his blouse and he heard her quick little intake of breath. Instantly his touch gentled, and he moved to the small of her back, stroking, arousing, until he felt her begin to surrender. He was experienced. He could tell when a girl was ready for a good fucking, and this one was as ripe as any he'd ever known. Willy felt Guenter's hot, hard length rub his stomach and he wriggled against it seductively, a feminine ploy that seemed to have developed naturally of its own accord. It was shocking and primitive and exciting, but it made him long for more. "The central hall must have been a lovely place in the past," he murmured. "Ja," Guenter said cynically, "but now it doesn't even make a good potting-shed." He tugged his arm. "Come with me." Willy followed him without a murmur. He was curious to discover what this man, who was capable of unsettling him with a mere glance, had yet to show him. They went towards a battered wooden door with an iron ring for a handle. But it provided no exit; instead it led into a smaller, high- ceilinged salon with a frieze of an old-time hunting scene incorporating bears and deer. A little milky light seeped into the room through small windows high on the wall, and in a dim haze the armoire, some overstuffed worn chairs and a chaise lounge bulked like enormous dozing animals themselves. Willy turned to him wide-eyed. "Why are we here? What are you going to do?" Guenter chuckled. "Fraeulein Dietz allows her guests to use this place as a play-room. It's a good place for a girl to stretch her legs wide and there is no reason why we can't use it too." He winked. "Do you understand what I mean?" Willy did understand, but before either of them could make any move to play they heard footsteps approaching on the outside. "Just our bad luck," bemoaned Guenter, "that gruesome lawyer as decided to use the same room today. Get down at the other end, screened behind the cupboards and other junk there we'll be able to see everything without being seen ourselves." Mystified, Willy again followed his man friend. They scuttled to the far end of the room where a motley of disused things had been stored, and there they secreted themselves in the darkness between old cupboards, coils of rope and piles of worn out carpets. Within seconds there was a noise at the door, and they both shrank back into the shadows as two people appeared. Otto Hahn was followed by Loti, and Loti was the star of his own show that day; hair pulled softly back, begonia lipstick perfectly in place, still wearing his housemaid dress but looking... just lovely. Willy gave Guenter an urgent glance. "Why are we staying here?" he hissed softly. The man put a finger to his lips. "Keep quiet and you'll see," he whispered back, "I told you it's a play-room." "I don't want to watch other people." "It's only a bit of fun. Crouch down or Otto may see us, and if he sees us he'll throw us out." At the other end of the room Loti had swung about and was now pressing himself against his own man's obese figure. "You've been keeping me waiting, Herr Hahn," he said, his voice husky and believably feminine. "You know I always wait until I've had my lunch," the man replied. "Why is that?" "It is important to show civility to one's host before pursuing ones own diversions, and anyway, I can never spank a girl on an empty stomach. Not even a girl such as you." Loti tilted his chin. With the lines of his throat ironed out by that attitude, it was one of his best poses. "You really are cruel and heartless." he said with a weary sigh. Loti stepped forward in his perilously high heels and did a deliberate pirouette in front of the man, fawning before him for his pleasure. Willy felt the tightness of revulsion in his stomach at such a shameless come-on. "How would you like my bottom?" asked Loti. "Bare, of course." "I know that," Loti told him, wiggling a pair of lace panties down over his legs, "but do I bend over or do you want me across your knee?" "You are so forgetful." Otto Hahn retorted as he reached out and took hold of a neat little ear and led Loti over to the armchair. "I smacked you over the chair arm last time I was here, so today it's across my lap." Placing himself firmly on a seat a mildly protesting Loti was helped to bend over his lap. Immediately he grasped Loti's skirt at the back and pulled it up over a pair of tense and slightly quivering buttocks. The black fabric complimented the exposed white skin perfectly, and its uplift allowed him to contemplate the smooth white curves at leisure. Loti's was at his disposal, poised gracefully over his lap with his bare bottom sticking up beautifully. Suddenly Otto seemed to remember that touching was better than looking and he reached out and stroked the war