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The Crossing - Part 15 free porn video
An escaped PoW now living as a woman in Nazi Germany, I had reluctantly
become the girlfriend of Count Helmut von Rumstahl. Now he wanted me to be
his fiancee.
THE CROSSING - part 15
by BobH
(c) 2015
- 34 -
I stared at the man down on one knee before me, at Count Helmut von
Rumstahl, in open-mouthed surprise, not quite believing he had just asked
me to marry him. The idea was absurd, positively insane, yet given the
circumstances I was in, my need to keep him on 'on side' at all costs for
my spying mission, there was only one possible answer.
"Yes," I said, using all my acting ability to appear delighted, "of course
I'll marry you, my darling!"
He got to his feet and placed the ring on my finger, then I threw my arms
around his neck and kissed him. The others in the room - Wernher von
Braun, Leni Riefenstahl, and Helmut's sister Gerda - all gave a hearty
cheer at this. Or at least the first two did. Gerda frowned when Helmut
proposed, and her cheers were a lot more restrained than theirs.
"Congratulations, Helmut!" said Werner, shaking his friend's hand.
"Thank you, Wernher. I'd like you to be my best man, of course."
"It would be my honour!"
I let go of Helmut in order to receive hugs of congratulation from
everyone, staring down at the diamond ring on my finger in something of a
daze. It didn't seem possible things could have gone this far, yet here I
was.
I was engaged. To a man. Who wanted me to be his wife.
And I had no doubt that if I stayed here in Castle Rumstahl long enough I
would be his bride. The day would come when I would walk down that aisle
to where he was waiting for me, ready to slip a second, far more
significant ring onto my finger.
"It would be my honour to photograph your wedding, if you want me to,"
said Leni, rousing me from my reverie.
"Of course we do," I said. "Who wouldn't want someone of your genius with
images to take their wedding photos?"
"Yes, it's most uncommonly generous of you to offer," said Helmut. "Thank
you, Leni."
"It will be my wedding gift to the two of you," she replied. "Oh, and I
might be bringing someone else along with me."
"Really?" said Gerda, suddenly intrigued. "Are you seeing someone, Leni?"
"More than just seeing," she said, pulling a gold band from her pocket and
slipping it on to her ring finger. "I was going to keep it a secret a
little longer but, what the hell. His name is Peter Jacob and he asked me
to marry him. Like my brother Heinz he's currently fighting in Russia on
the eastern front, but unlike Heinz his current tour of duty is almost up.
We're hoping to be wed as soon as it is."
"So it's congratulations all round," I said, casting a quizzical glance at
Gerda, who still hadn't said anything to Helmut and me.
"Thank you, Eva," said Leni. "In fact, if you don't mind restaging the
moment, I can photograph Helmut proposing to you and slipping the ring on
your finger. Will you help me get my equipment from my room, Wernher?"
"Of course," he replied.
As soon as they had left us, Gerda rounded on Helmut.
"Have you lost your mind?" she said.
"What do you mean?"
"I want nothing more than for you and Eva to be happy, but when a Count
von Rumstahl marries it's not a small event. You're going to draw a level
of attention that people like us really should avoid. If anyone should
discover the truth about Eva...."
"They won't," said Helmut, gripping his sister's shoulders. "Everyone up
to and including the Fuehrer himself accepts her as the woman she appears
to be, the woman she is to me. It would attract more unwelcome attention
if she lived here as my lover and we *didn't* get married. This is a
fairly conservative area, remember. People will expect me to make her my
Countess, and I want no less for her."
His Countess. Yes, of course. If and when we marry I'll be the Countess
Eva von Rumstahl. Strange that it didn't even occur to me until Helmut
said it.
"I'm head over heels in love with Eva, and I intend to spend the rest of
my life with her," said Helmut.
"Well, if you're that determined, then you have my full support, of
course," said Gerda. "I wanted to be sure you'd thought it through and
this wasn't just a spur-of-the-moment romantic gesture made with no heed
of the consequences."
Leni and Wernher returned with her cameras, a tripod, and some lights,
which she proceeded to set up with help from him and from Helmut. Watching
them working away so we could restage the proposal reminded me of my
experiences with amateur dramatics and I found my thoughts drifting back
to Stalag Luft XII and to Alec Delon, the other 'female' in the camp's
theatrical troupe. If Benton had chosen him rather than me to escape with
it was possible he'd now be the one in this position. Then again, we
weren't interchangeable. No, on second thoughts while I suppose Helmut
could have fallen for him, it didn't seem very likely. Alec's female
persona was vain and bitchy whereas the one I'd crafted for myself was
much sweeter. Inadvertently, I'd made myself Helmut's dream lover, so much
so that when we met what followed was almost inevitable. I wondered where
Alec was now. When last I'd seen him he and another of our troupe, Robert
Simpson, had been paired off and were escaping together. Were they among
those recaptured, or did they manage to make it back to Blighty? If they
had, were they now enjoying some leave after their ordeal, or had they
already been redeployed? It would be ironic if they were assigned to the
bomber crews that had been making raids on Berlin recently given that I'd
been under the first of them.
It was odd restaging the proposal but we did so anyway, this time with a
somewhat more dramatic reaction to it on my part, the actor in me unable
to resist. Afterwards, Gerda took me to one side.
"Come with me to my room, Eva. There's something I want to show you."
We excused ourselves and I followed her out, curious as to what this might
be. In her room she opened her closet and took down a large cardboard box
from the top shelf, placing it on her bed.
"What is it?" I asked.
"You'll see", she replied, lifting the lid off and peeling back the tissue
paper within to reveal a folded dress.
A wedding dress.
"It was our mother's," she said, running her fingers over the exquisitely
embroidered bodice that was all that could be seen of it, "and now it will
be yours."
"Wh...what?"
"I think mother always hoped I might wear it one day, but it's much too
small for me. Helmut and I inherited our height from our father but our
mother was short, though not quite as short as you."
"Most people aren't."
"We can compensate for the difference in height by making sure your heels
are high enough. Naturally, you'll need to wear a corset but I'll still
have to modify the dress so that it fits your figure. It will take several
fitting sessions to do so, but they'll be fun. Fortunately, we'll have
plenty of time."
"We will?"
"Oh yes. Counts von Rumstahl always wed in August. It's a tradition."
"Then thank you," I said, eyeing the dress dubiously.
"The current tedious restrictions on the use of materials are only going
to get worse as shortages increase, so you're lucky we have this. I won't
take it out now, but you're going to love it when you see it in all its
glory. I imagine you must always have dreamed of walking down the aisle in
a gorgeous wedding dress...."
"Since I was a child," I lied.
"You'll make an absolutely radiant bride, and I can't imagine you finding
a more beautiful, more feminine wedding dress than this one. It even has a
three metre train."
"Three metres? Won't that be difficult to move in?"
"We'll get cousin Martin's daughters to carry the train. "You remember
cousin Martin? You met him at the autumn ball."
"That's right. He's married to Katrina and they have three daughters."
"Alyce, Annamarie, and Agneta," said Gerda. "The two oldest girls can
carry the train, and the youngest can be the flower girl."
So that was it. Everything was decided, all neat and tidy. With every
passing day it felt like I was falling further and further down the rabbit
hole.
- 35 -
Rising early the next morning, I slid out from beneath Helmut's arm,
climbed out of his bed, and donned my bathrobe. Yawning, I padded over to
the window and gazed down at the snow-covered village below where laughing
children were already throwing snowballs at each other, some of them
climbing up the hill to the castle in order to hurtle down it again on
sleds. Sighing wistfully, I made my way back to my own room so that I
could take a relaxing bath and get dressed.
The bath was as soothing as I'd hoped it would be and afterwards, sitting
at my dressing table clad only in stockings, suspenders, French knickers,
and my bathrobe, I contemplated the events of last night while applying my
make-up. Gerda and I had eventually rejoined the others in the family
room, the five of us then consuming far too many bottles of wine from the
cellar. My head ached a little, but I suspected it would be worse for
Helmut and Wernher since they had also gotten seriously stuck into the
schnapps.
Breakfast was eggs on toast and the very last of the real coffee. It was a
light meal, but then it needed to be. On Christmas Day dinner was served
at three in the afternoon, several hours earlier than it was the rest of
the year. I was the first one down, but the others filtered in slowly,
looking various levels of hung over. We mostly ate in silence. Mostly.
"I would say 'never again'," said Helmut at one point, his hands trembling
as he sipped his coffee, "but we all know it wouldn't be true."
"Yes," chuckled Wernher. "Never has been, never will be."
After breakfast it was time for Gerda, Helmut, and me to open our presents
so we all moved across to the family room to where they were arrayed under
the tree. Helmut had bought a gold necklace for his sister and cosmetics
for me. After cooing over these I handed him the gift I'd bought him last
month. When it was unwrapped, he stared at it in amazement
"My God!" he said.
"Is that really...?" began Wernher.
"It's a model of the rocket from 'Fritz Lang's 1929 film 'Frau im Mond',"
said Leni, finishing for him.
In English 'Frau im Mond' is 'Woman in the Moon'.
"Why is everyone acting so surprised?" I asked, genuinely puzzled by their
reaction.
"The Nazis took the film out of circulation because they thought the
rocket in it bore too much of a resemblance to the one we're working on
for them," said Wernher. "I had the 'Frau im Mond' logo painted on the
base of the first of those rockets we successfully launched."
"The film was very popular among the rocket enthusiasts of Verein f?r
Raumschiffahrt when Wernher and I were members," said Helmut. "Hermann
Oberth worked as an advisor on it, and Willy Ley also served as a
consultant. That's why the rocket was so realistic."
"Should you really be talking about this stuff?" said Leni, sounding
uncomfortable.
"Why not? The British bombed the test site back in August so it's not as
if they don't know we're developing rockets to use against them. But Eva,
where ever did you find this?"
"In a shop window in Berlin," I said. "It was tucked away at the rear of
the display, but it was out there in plain sight."
"I was there with Eva when she bought it," said Gerda, "so I can confirm
her account. I can only suppose no one important ever noticed it."
"Well I'm certainly glad you did, Eva," said Helmut. "It will have pride
of place on my desk. Thank you, my love."
"I knew the stars of the film, " said Leni, "Willy Fritsch, Gerda Maurus,
and Klaus Pohl. And of course Fritz Lang the director and Thea von Harbou,
who wrote it. Fritz always regarded it as the first true scientifiction
film."
"'Scientifiction'?" I said.
"A term apparently coined in America by someone called Hugo Gernsback, who
edits trashy pulp magazines with garish covers depicting rocketships and
scantily clad women being menaced by drooling space creatures."
This turned the conversation to this form of 'literature' for a while
rather than to the serious discussion of rocketry I'd hoped for when I
chose that gift for Helmut. However, technical matters can't have been too
far his thoughts because soon afterwards he and Wernher excused
themselves.
"Come into my study," said Helmut. "There are some calculations I want to
go over with you before dinner."
"Certainly," said Wernher. "You ladies don't mind, do you?"
"Of course not," said Gerda. "I'm sure we can amuse ourselves while you
boys play with your slide rules."
There was a moment's silence, then Leni and I burst out laughing.
"Oh," said Gerda, red-faced, "I suppose that did come out sounding dirtier
than I'd intended it to."
This was all very well, but after they'd gone I knew I'd need to excuse
myself too so that I could listen in on their conversion from the secret
passage connecting my room to the study. I was about to do so when there
was a knock on the door. It was Helga the maid.
"Excuse me, milady," she said, addressing Gerda, "but you have a visitor."
She opened the door wide and there he stood, resplendent in his Wehrmacht
uniform.
"Hans!" said Gerda, rushing over to her lover and throwing her arms around
his neck.
He lifted her and spun her round, the two of them laughing delightedly.
"But how...?" she asked.
"My unit were issued a number of passes for Christmas leave," he said,
"all but one of which we gave to those men with young families. Names were
drawn out of a hat for that one, and I got lucky. I would have let you
know I was coming, but I wasn't entirely sure I could make it here through
the snow and I didn't want to disappoint you. I had hoped to be here
yesterday, but...."
"All that matters is you're here now."
"It's good to see you again, Hans," I said, shaking his hand.
"And this is Leni," said Gerda, introducing them.
"I've greatly enjoyed your work, Fraulein Riefenstahl," he said, shaking
her hand.
"Please, call me Leni. My, you're a beautiful man!" she said, looking him
up and down admiringly. "Would you or Gerda object if I took some photos
of you?"
"Of course not. We'd be honoured."
I chose this opportunity to slip from the room and head for my own.
Everyone knew I preferred using the lavatory there so they would assume
this was the reason. Once inside I headed straight for the secret passage
and Helmut's study, of course. What I heard him and Wernher discussing
raised the hairs on the back of my neck. This was something Benton needed
to know about as soon as possible.
- 36 -
At 3.00pm, we took our seats in the dining room and the staff brought in
our Christmas dinner. This would be their final duty to us of the day. A
small goose had been cooked for us, and a much larger one for the staff's
own Christmas dinner in the Grand Hall. Down in the village, most families
would be serving carp - which might seem bizarre to an Englishman but was
a traditional option. In both village and castle dessert would be stollen,
a rich fruit-bread I remembered from my own childhood Christmasses in
Germany.
Helmut carved the bird, and there were plenty of vegetables to accompany
it, as well as a thick, dark, gravy.
"Eat, drink, and be merry," he said. "We need to enjoy this while we still
can."
It was the best Christmas dinner I'd had in years.
"Why haven't you made any more documentaries, Leni?" Hans inquired of her
as we ate.
"Firstly, because I was increasingly being asked to consider material I
didn't feel comfortable with; and secondly, because Minister Goebbels used
his influence to prevent me from making those films I *did* want to make."
"Why would he do that?" asked Gerda
"Because I refused to become his mistress. His wife Magda is beautiful and
intelligent and the mother of his children, but that isn't enough for him.
The man is a pig! She's better than he deserves, frankly, a lot better."
"I heard you were a war photographer for a while," said Hans.
"Yes, for a brief time in 1939, in Poland."
"What happened?"
"Let's just say the things I witnessed soon made me realise I didn't have
the stomach for the job. But what about you? Gerda tells me you're serving
in Normandy. What's that like?"
"Boring. I'd like some action to relieve the tedium."
"My brother and my fiance are serving on the eastern front; I'm sure
they'd happily trade places with you. And you should be careful what you
wish for. If rumours about the huge build up of American troops in England
are true it can't be for nothing. Sooner or later the western Allies are
bound to invade France."
"That's the general opinion, yes, which is why Calais has been so heavily
fortified. Our leaders obviously think so, too. Rumour has it that Hitler
will appoint an anti-invasion chief soon with overall responsibility for
repelling any invasion."
"Who do you think he'll choose?" asked Helmut.
"The smart money is on Field Marshall Rommel, but we shall see."
"He'd be a good choice," said Wernher, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
"Changing the subject, Helmut tells me you have your own plane, Wernher,"
I said.
"Yes, a Fieseler Storch. Had the weather been nicer I'd have flown it
down. The captain I lent it to after the raid on Peenemunde said landing
on the valley floor here was easy."
"I've always found it so," said Helmut.
"You can *fly*?" I said, surprised he had never mentioned this before.
"Yes, but only light aircraft like the Storch," he said. "Speaking of
which, what was your take on the rescue of Mussolini, Wernher? I didn't
think a Storch could manage more than two people."
"It can't, but that glory-hound Otto Skorzeny insisted on accompanying Il
Duce in it. Word on the grapevine is the pilot had one hell of a job
keeping it in the air and that they almost crashed more than once."
"That would've been a fine thing," said Gerda, "rescuing our ally then
killing him in a plane crash. What a risk to take! Men!"
"Never underestimate the male ego," said Leni.
"Can't argue with that," I agreed, nodding.
"I think they're ganging up on us," chuckled Hans.
"I feel I should offer a defence of my gender," said Helmut, "but I really
can't."
We laughed, but I was still thinking about Helmut's revelation. Unlike,
say, Alec Delon who though only a Flight Lieutenant had earned his wings,
I was a lowly Flying Officer and had never had the opportunity to do so.
Had I been called up before the Battle of Britain it might have happened
for me, but I wasn't.
The afternoon turned into evening and much wine was drunk, but no one got
as inebriated as they had the night before. Hans and Gerda were the first
to turn in, she taking his hand and leading him out of the room. I doubt
sleep played a big part in their plans for the hours to come. Wernher and
Leni also headed for their rooms relatively early. He was staying with us
through New Year's, but she had to be up in time to catch the first train
out of Rumstahl tomorrow. That left just Helmut and me. I told him to give
me fifteen minutes then join me in my room. Fifteen minutes was the time
it took me to get ready and put on the Christmas lingerie Gerda and I had
bought in Berlin. This consisted of a red 'baby doll' with white fur trim,
a red garter belt, red stockings, and a white fur garter worn on one
thigh. Hans' visit meant both of our boyfriends would get to peel us out
of that lingerie after all. I heard Helmut opening the door and so put on
my smile, ready for what would happen next.
Back in Britain the following day would have been Boxing Day, but here it
was Second Christmas Day, St. Stephen's Day, or just the day after
Christmas. Even so the cafe on the village square was open and lunchtime
found me sitting at a window table, the red-covered book of poetry in my
hands. I looked up at one point to see Benton, wrapped up against the cold
and trudging across the square. He had seen the book and was heading for
the cafe. I used to wonder where he was actually living, knowing there was
no point asking since it was something he'd never tell me. Turns out he
didn't need to. I'd overheard two of the servants talking about him and
one had mentioned he was staying in a room above the village inn. As
usual, he took the table next to mine, his back to me. No sooner was he
seated than Joachim was there with a cup of chicory and a plate containing
something other than his usual strudel.
"Stollen, Herr Schmidt?" Joachim obviously had leftovers he was trying to
shift.
"Yes, why not?" Benton replied. I could almost hear the accompanying
shrug.
I waited for until Joachim was back behind the counter before speaking to
Benton.
"I have an explanation for those fuel calculations," I whispered, "and you
were right. They are for a bigger rocket."
"How much bigger?"
"Well the rockets Werner von Braun is developing are designated in an A-
series of ascending numbers. The current one is the A4 - Hitler gave it
the V-2 name, the V-1 and V-2 being what he terms 'vengeance weapons' to
be used against us when they're ready. The one those calculations were for
is the A10."
"What's its range?"
"Intercontinental. It's designed to be able to reach America from Europe."
"Christ! I assume it's all just theoretical at the moment? I mean, they
haven't perfected the V-2 yet."
"By the time one weapons system is ready to be deployed, weapons designers
are usually working on the next generation, so yes, sort of."
"'Sort of'? What do you mean by that?"
"The A10 will be launched from silos and the Nazis are already
constructing launch facilities for it. Unfortunately, I don't know where."
"Bloody hell! The Americans will need to know about this," said Benton,
clearly shocked by this revelation. "Do you have anything else to report?"
"Only that Count von Rumstahl proposed to me."
"Really? How interesting! You said yes, I hope?"
"Of course; I'm not stupid. But this is getting out of hand. First I
became his lover and now I'm supposed to be his wife? I've gone along with
everything so far, but this really is too much."
"It's not for real, remember. No civilized country will ever allow two men
to marry. The very idea is absurd. So while I'm sure the ceremony will be
impressive it won't have any legal standing. You won't actually be
married. So keep your chin up, Ripley. You're doing work vital to the
Allied cause, as you've proved only today. When is the wedding scheduled
for?"
"Sometime in August. Counts von Rumstahl have always married in August,
and the family is big on tradition."
"Hmm, further away than I'd have liked, but otherwise this is great news.
It will give me the opportunity to carry out my primary mission, the one I
was sent here for in the first place."
"What do you mean?"
"*He* will be there, Ripley; he wouldn't miss it. So I'll finally get to
kill Adolf Hitler."
*****************
To be continued
*****************
Notes:
That bit about the A10 isn't something I made up. The Nazis really were
constructing silos big enough to take ICBMs capable of reaching America.
These are located on the Cherbourg peninsula in northern France and can
still be seen there today. I'm kind of surprised they aren't better known
than they are. My source for this is HITLER'S ROCKET SITES, a fascinating
book by Philip Henshall which has copious drawings and photos and was
published in 1985.
I've comfortably managed to write and post a 20K or so chunk of this story
every week so far, but what with season-related real life demands on my
time this will be the last one before Christmas, and probably until the
new year. Purely by coincidence it is itself seasonal. I didn't plan it
that way, honest. I hope you all have a good one.
Nadine
- 31.10.2022
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