Chapter 1: Berlin Wall Shadow
Caution: This Horror Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Mult, Were animal, Light Bond,
Desc: Horror Sex Story: Chapter 1: Berlin Wall Shadow - East Germany, December 1979. Wolf, while working as a Stasi agent, seeks to remove the last remnant of the Nazi SS who had threatened to eliminate his kind. Things come to a head when he meets his mate after decades without one. Gretchen had been his target for subversive activity, and his instant attraction to her forces him to become a rogue agent, to extract her from Berlin, and to return to his hamlet in the Black Forest to reestablish his status as alpha wolf.
Stern. A person of any power had to be in the gray world under the shadow of the Wall. So Wolfgang Bauer was stern. Like the Wall hiding the strictures and structures of existence from those living west of it, his stern demeanor hid the complexity and the vulnerability of his soul.
Perhaps his assignment helped her enter his gray walled heart. He had to express his feminine side after all.
The previous Stasi plant had been a dismal failure. She couldn't act her way out of a paper sack, at least as an actress. Even her talent for undercover disguise hit a wall with these subversives. Her eyes never had that spark of mischievous creativity the artists shared. After all, these people risked everything for their art.
Wolf knew why she had been chosen. He had been intimate with the reason. Tall and impeccably toned with a sinuous, lithe body and a beautifully symmetrical triangular face, the blonde beauty signified seductive. She shared duties with him cracking down on subversives or more often black market jokesters who had overreached their boundaries. Officially of course black markets existed only in bourgeois society, a product of capitalist piggery. But the communist oligarchy like any political power not only turned a blind eye but opened a greedy hand to such activities. When the marketers got too greedy, Wolf or his beautiful comrade Maria or both would slither in and expose them and collapse their greedy little empires.
When sharing duty they played at lovers using realist acting technique by becoming actual lovers or at least sexual bedmates. Love had nothing to do with it. Both used their attractiveness and sexual skills to infiltrate the targets. Together they used those skills to pleasure each other to many exquisite orgasms. In fact many early mornings she'd join him in bed literally in order to relieve herself of sexual frustration after suffering through a night of inept sex with a target. Just sex. Great sex. And familiarity. And friendship. They did like each other and respect each other. A lot.
The night before had been unusual. Her failure had nearly brought her to tears. She needed him more than she ever had. Ostensibly to give him intelligence on the clandestine activities of the acting troupe, she had spent the night clinging to him, needing to regain her pride both sexually and professionally.
"It was that damned woman," Maria grumbled, raspier and deeper voiced than usual after the detailed intelligence. "The men all flirted, and a couple of the women as well. They wanted me, if not as a member at least as a lover. But Mueller..." She swept her arm across the small dining table they used as a desk, sending the large stack of writing and photographs onto the floor.
Wolf stood behind her and massaged her neck and broad shoulders. "Tell me about her."
Removing her leather jacket, kept on to prevent the chill in the room from affecting her too much, pulling her arms from it and leaving it draped on the chair back, and unbuttoning the black silk shirt to below her breasts and baring her shoulders and upper back for his caresses, his strong fingers warming her, she sighed. "It must be a Napoleon complex. 160 centimeters, 50 kilograms wet, a perfect little body from what I could tell and this big beautiful head with enormous eyes like blue satin that she uses to penetrate anyone's defenses. Like you, Wolf, only she's a fucking pipsqueak. I'm flirting with this cute man, long blond hair in a pony tail with the kind of eyes that held promise of sweet fucking and a body that could fulfill the promise, and she steps up to me, pulls me away from the man, looks up at me and says, 'Sorry.' That's it. I look at the man. He shrugs his shoulder and gives me a last perusal and sighs and walks away. 'Jealous?' I ask her. 'No, ' she replies. I could have picked her up and tossed her on her head without much of a struggle. And believe me, I thought about it. She stands there in front of me, waiting. Finally a gather my stuff and leave. I felt ... inadequate."
Wolf's hands reached beneath her shirt and grasped her sturdy breasts, exactly a handful for his large hands, his thumbs pressing and rubbing her nipples against the side of his palms, stiffening them to 1 carat diamond hardness, his breath warming her neck and her ear when he told her, "I guess you weren't for this." She stiffened. "Shh. The Colonel misplayed his hand. You're not the sensitive artist type, are you?"
"Fucking right I'm not. But Wolf..." He interrupted her with a kiss and a tighter squeeze of her nipples. He knew she liked pain with her pleasure. She moaned when their mouths separated. "But aren't we actors, Wolf?"
"Every actor has his limitations," he whispered into her ear. His hands reached down and unbuckled her belt. "You just found yours."
"But what about you?" she moaned when he unzipped her slacks and pushed a hand beneath her panties and grasped the top of her pussy. His middle finger rubbed across her small hooded clit and entered her warming and wetting slit and pulled upwards.
"Perhaps she will view me like your blond stud viewed you."
"She likes women too," Maria countered as she stood and pressed her firm little butt against his groin, feeling the growing hardness there. "She liked what she saw when we met. She fucking licked her lips like I was a delicious meal. Oh fuck!"
Wolf lifted her by her cunt and lowered her onto her stomach on the double bed. He had to release his hold to peal away her slacks and panties.
"Speaking of delicious meals," he rumbled, kneeling behind her, his knees on the floor, pushing his face between her taut buttocks, lifting them to bring her pussy in alignment with his mouth. His tongue speared inside her fragrant little flower dewing rapidly. He pressed his freshly shaved chin against her pubic bone covered by a tangle of light blonde hair she kept fairly long but shaved above her clit to prevent hair getting in between teeth and neatened as well along the edges creating a pear shape pointing upward, and sent his nose, long and broad, almost a small snout, into her asterisk anus.
His mouth busy, he brought his middle and pointing fingers to her mouth which she sucked vigorously. Coated, he shoved them into her anus, the middle finger joining the pointing finger after a few thrusts.
"Fuck me," she demanded huskily.
Obeying her, he released his cock, his pants and underpants pulled to his thighs. Her long fingers reached back and found his thick glans and guided it to her needy hole. While she held it, he grasped her hips and lifted them and rotated them causing his glans to circle her hot entrance, her pungent froth slicking it up, and rubbed it against her distended clit. Her hand pulled up a centimeter to where she wanted it and she pushed back, lips at last closing tightly around the plum sized head. He thrust forward steadily. Eyes closed. All his senses focused on the tight slippery subtly grasping wall surrounding his thick cock until he felt her cervix resist deeper penetration. Fortunately it happened at the point his silver/gray pubic hairs tickled her perfect little ass.
"Yes," she hissed.
For a moment he languished there, experiencing everything about the conjunction. Impatient, she soon leaned forward and pushed back.
"Impetuous bitch," he chuckled and slapped her butt cheek, instantly reddening it with the unrestrained power.
"Ooh," she cooed.
Positioning her perfectly, his hands became useful in other places. They traded. One slapped her resilient cheeks while the other aggressively pulled and twisted her hanging tits like an ungentle milking.
"Oh, oh, oh," she repeated loudly, breath wooshing out with each powerful thrust. Ascending notes reached a squealing height before they silenced and she came, her sex liquids splooshing over his heavy, dancing balls. He continued his thrusts throughout her orgasm and brought her another and another and finally, her fourth climax the biggest and loudest of them all, he fucked rapidly within it until his balls seized and his anus clutched and his prostrate released its product and he filled her already saturated cunt with seed and semen.
"Oh fuck," she moaned and collapsed. Following her down, he kept his dwindling penis inside her swampy cunt, the throbs of ejaculation becoming a pleasant memory. Abundant liquids seeped onto the bed creating a puddle that cooled quickly. Her heated hips and groin felt the coldness but relished it as a product of pure pleasure.
"Thank you," she muttered, her need revealed. She never thanked him before.
Wolf chuckled as he rubbed her bright red tusch. "You won't thank me when you attempt sitting."
"I will," she smiled as his big head rested beside her and their faces faced each other. "It's tingles will remind me of the best fuck of my life."
Turning onto her side, she left room for him to lie beside her. He saw the shine in her eyes. "Tears?" he thought, amazed. When she smiled and chuckled his heart actually skipped a beat.
"You're a bit overdressed," she explained the chuckle. He still wore his leather jacket.
He chuckled. His hand stroked through her soft pale blonde hair, an unprecedented touch of intimacy. She never looked so beautiful. "So I am." He kissed her gently. She took a deep breath and looked at him oddly when the kiss ended and he opened his eyes. Her stare lingered as her face played out an inner dialogue, tightening and relaxing.
She sighed and smiled, her eyes still glistening. "Wolfgang? Get naked and make love to me?"
"Whatever you want, Major," he winked, rising and removing his clothes.
"That's Major Babe to you Major," she snickered.
"That you are, Maria," he smiled, taking in her beauty. Her perfect lithe body of course, but mostly her face which seemed to glow with a weirdly profound aura. "Love?" he thought. He never saw a gram of vulnerability in his comrade before. She needed him. She needed this. She needed love, at least for the night. He knew after he gave it to her, when it was over, when he awoke with her the next morning, she would slide inside her impenetrable shell again.
As much as possible they kept the two blankets and the sheet over their bodies. Making love to her, being gentle, kissing for several minutes and journeying down her body, exploring her flesh, making love to her lower lips as much as her upper ones until she gasped with bliss and took his hardness into her mouth and made love to it as he caressed her vulva and she swallowed his cum and stroked it slowly back to erection while he sucked and licked and nibbled until she came again in his mouth and he lay beside her, her thigh over his, and entered her and they slowly commingled with the gentlest of thrusts timed perfectly, pushing together and retreating together, mouths joined again, tongues teasing, only when the passion overtook them and he fucked her maddeningly, her long legs wrapped around his hips tightening and releasing in time with his chaotic thrusts, did the blankets fall from their bodies. They ignored the cold until he came seconds after she shuddered through another climax and collapsed exhausted onto her torso, pressing weight onto her lungs and she turned and he guided her to lay over him.
"Fucking cold," she shivered. Reaching down, she brought the blankets over them. He helped her cover them completely. With one last kiss and a lengthy stare ending with her kissing his snout, she sighed and snuggled and let the long day and the intense and lengthy love making night overcome her.
He watched her retreat into unconsciousness in a state of grace he knew he would never see again. Unable to shake his head actually without disturbing the blonde beauty, he shook his head internally. "Love," he spoke with indecipherable quietness.
As predicted, she awoke tough. Sucking him awake, she climbed over him and sunk down and rode him to her pleasure. Her remarkable tightness always felt great, as good as it got as far as fucking,. He let her use his extra long, extra thick cock for a particularly warm and lively dildo.
"You?" she asked when her pleasure abated, her body resting on her elbows, her luscious tits hanging down, her well fucked pussy still embracing his rigidity, her cum dampening his balls.
"I need a shower. Join me?"
"I'll wash your back, Major. You wash mine."
"Yes comrade," she winked with a soldier's naughtiness. "Mustn't waste precious hot water."
Backs scrubbed by the other in order to reach unreachable places, they made quick work of it in the too small shower.
"You okay?" he finally asked her ten minutes later as he sipped his coffee and watched her finish dressing.
"Of course, comrade," she spouted ungraciously. Suddenly her face softened. She leaned over and kissed him on the lips and said, "Thanks. Be careful. She's a wolf in sheep's clothing." Turning sharply on the leather soles of her black leather boots, she stood straight and clacked to the door and out.
Wolf sighed. He pulled his target's file, looking at her photo and spoke to it. "Bitch, you're about to meet the alpha male."
Their eyes collided like two wires fed electricity setting off an explosion. Neither showed more than a spark because both knew how to mask even the most disruptive emotions. He handed her his faked file of past theatrical work in a town in the Black Forest, his actual hometown. Family would vouch for him if inquires were made as they had many times. On top of it rested the notice for open auditions for the Courage Players clipped from a hand distributed underground newspaper. Resting the file on the small wooden table in front of her, not much larger than a pupil's desk, she opened it and read the name at the top of the résumé, "Wolfgang Bauer." No words had been exchanged.
She studied this tall and ruggedly handsome man, broad shoulders tapering to a narrower but powerful looking waist and hips, thigh muscles playing against pants that weren't even all that tight, and the head: the blue/green/gray of his eyes, the powerful unblemished snout full of character, large yet perfect for his not quite round, not quite narrow face, and the prematurely gray hair, silver almost, thick and containing a weird sheen and reaching mid neck and tickling the tops of his ears looking casually managed and yet perfect. Noticing the duster length black leather coat, it made her shiver looking as it did like a Nazi SS coat and seemed as old. With a slightly high voice, roughened by cigarettes, the most recent unfiltered one being crushed into a large silver ashtray coated with the black resin of many such extinguishings and containing only a couple of other butts, this being early in the evening, she finally spoke. "That looks like an SS coat."
Wolf smiled wryly but with a preternatural sneer that sent a shiver through her already excited belly. "My family acquired several." That he himself had killed the original owner would be, to put it mildly, information best kept secret.
"Without permission," he replied, his wryness continuing.
"You have an audition piece?"
"Three actually: serious, comic and musical."
She gestured to the space the troupe of players shaped in their sitting configuration creating a sort of thrust stage out of the cold basement concrete floor. Wolf almost howled as he filled the space with his powerful voice singing Brecht/Weill. The troupe after all chose a name from Brecht despite their seemingly anti-communist leanings.
The petite sprite with incredibly large and soulful eyes interrupted him midway through. "Start again, but at a stage whisper."
He nodded and growled out the song. She actually trembled.
When he finished he waited while the woman glanced at her comrades, finally gesturing at a pretty, black haired, tall and voluptuous woman, a simple twist of her head suggesting the woman join Wolf.
"Improvisation," the leader explained. "Mr. Bauer, I wish you to berate your underling while seducing her. And Trix," nodding at the tall woman, "I want you to insult this man while fawning."
As hoped, the exercise promoted a complexity of responses from Wolf. The man excited Gretchen both physically and professionally. She ended the improv. The tall woman sat. The leader glanced at her players. Gesturing at a slim, short dark haired gay man and a fresh faced, petite, subtly but attractively curved blonde, they nodded and walked onto the stage.
"Movement," she announced. "Each takes a corner of the stage. Mr. Bauer, I want you at back center. Move as if in molasses. Take off your coat, please." The way his body filled his white buttoned shirt and black slacks tight at his pecs and thighs caused her tummy to whir with butterflies. Her panties moistened. "You love the girl, Mr. Bauer. But you're bisexual and the boy has enjoyed you as well. He wants you all to himself. You must destroy him, but he's her brother, so you risk losing her affection. Go ahead."
She stopped it almost immediately. Wolf moved like a robot. She stood and walked to him, standing directly in front of him, gazing up at him. "Do you waltz?"
"Put your arms around me like we're about to waltz. Look at your arms. How are they shaped?"
"What do you mean?' Wolf asked.
"They're curved, aren't they? Circles, not squares. Are you familiar with Beijing Opera?"
Wolf frowned. Gretchen Mueller, the pipsqueak powerhouse in his arms had spent a summer in Beijing when her Communist Aristocrat parents had been sent there on a diplomatic mission. She trained in the form. He wished he'd had a week or two to research her rather than a day. He shook his head.
"Watch," she said and gracefully moved in curves around the space, her arms beautifully sweeping in front of her performing water sleeve movements. Her lean body seemed to fill the room. It awed him. She stopped in front of him. "Do you see? Curves. Nothing big, but everything curved, okay?"
When she moved from him, he already missed her delicate odor, like a persimmon with a hint of tartness. She too missed his proximity, smelling his earthy smell: pine in spring after the winter melt.
"Go ahead," she nodded as she sat. Still a bit stiff, he managed to excite her nevertheless, and the more he moved and interacted, the more graceful he became and the more predatory, like his namesake the wolf enacting a primal need to protect his mate. Immensely pleased that his last stumbling block to being chosen had been smoothed away, she hid her glee and her fully churning libido.
"Good," she said, ending the exercise and the audition. She tapped an empty chair beside her. He sat. "I see you have no phone?"
"I can give you a number if you wish," he said, pulling a thin black wallet from his trench coat and finding a number on small lined paper. "My landlady. She may be out, but you can leave a message with her service."
"So everything is correct? I mean your address?"
"Yes," he smiled. In fact the only thing correct on the résumé was the address.
"I'll let you know," she dismissed him. He waited. "Anything else?" she asked. Then it happened. She smiled. For a moment she looked like a woman rather than a director, a woman happy to be beside him. It actually flustered him.
"Uhm, no. Thank you..."
"Gretchen. Gretchen Mueller." Lifting her hand, he took it. Lean yet soft and too delicate for such a powerhouse, she pressed hard enough to be felt. He pressed back with careful restraint. He could rip the hand off of any human, especially on a couple nights during the month when the moon was full. His eyes met hers and lingered a touch too long. Both quieted their fulminating reactions. He nodded slightly and walked to the steps and up and out of the room.
Though Gretchen had final say despite their democratic ideals, his approval proved nearly unanimous. Only one man objected.
"Karl, you're not jealous are you?" she asked the handsome blond man with a pony tail. Her first lover and second in command with the troupe, they still enjoyed occasional trysts when she was horny and he was free, neither happened more than once a month and often less.
"I've seen him before and not as an actor," he said. "You remember that talentless blonde bimbo from a couple days ago? She called herself Maria?"
"I recall you found her talented in a certain way," she teased.
"Yes I did, Gretch, at least potentially, and it made me think the same thing for a moment when you rejected her, that you were jealous." They laughed. "But of course she was useless as a performer as you so wisely concluded. But the thing is her recent presence and his walking into our group reminded me of a gig I performed as a singer for a bunch of stinkingly corrupt oligarchs. It was a couple years ago, so the memory's not fresh, but it emerged when he came in and especially when you danced with him. Their presence couldn't be ignored at that ball, the most attractive couple by a considerable margin. And they ended the evening dancing in other, less attractive arms, although the woman wasn't bad. She looked like one of those gangster molls from Chicago, kind of blowsy and overdone. The man though was a rather stout pig."
"Are you sure?" asked Gretchen.
"Not completely. Like I said, it's been two years."
Gretchen panned across the faces of her troupe, catching a look of disappointment in the tall voluptuous woman who had performed the improvisation with Wolf. "Trix?"
"What can I say, Gretch? He's not only obviously talented, but he's delicious." The women and the gay man tittered.
Gretchen chuckled and addressed Karl, "We're not sure..."
Karl interrupted, "I could get to know Maria?"
"Gee, Karl, I'd hate to burden you."
The small blonde who had danced with Wolf spoke her concerns. "Are you sure? She's a man eater if there ever was one."
Gretchen glanced from the blonde girl to Karl and back, looking concerned. A soap opera didn't need to be added to the complexity and danger of their situation. Not knowing much about the young woman, being the newest of the troupe, she couldn't gauge her sexual predilections.
"Essie's not jealous," whispered Karl.
"Essie, hunh? You've fucked her," Gretchen whispered back. Everyone called her Esther. Karl confessed with a guilty smile and a shrug and a nod. "When?"
"Maria made me horny. And Essie ... oh shit."
"She's been rather attentive towards me. Of course the first woman I'd find to relieve my libido would be her."
Esther stood, fists hitched to hips, adorable in her anger. "Stop looking at me like that the both of you! Yes I love Karl, Goddamnit!" Breaking into tears, she ran up the stairs and through the café they hid beneath and outside into the cold without her coat.
"Fuck!" grumbled Gretchen. "Grab her coat, Karl. We can't have our troupe dying of exposure. Talk her down and bring her back. Fuck!"
After Karl rushed out, Gretchen stood in front of the rest of them. "Any more fucking confessions?"
"She's young, Gretch," said the gay man. "Besides, I'd feel the same if he bent my way."
Everyone chuckled, including Gretchen.
"She's got to be naïve thinking she can have him all to herself," said Beatrix, the tall woman everyone called Trixie or Trix. One might think the name came from her other profession, dominatrix, but only Gretchen and Karl and her johns knew what she did to make money.
Gretchen nodded. "Truly naïve," she thought.
The knock on the door surprised Maria. She lived a solitary life and liked it that way most of the time. "Just a minute," she growled, grabbing her black smoking jacket and covering her silk pajama clad body. Her one vice: she liked luxurious fabric against her body while sleeping or lounging in the morning. The vice affordable in her well paid profession.
"Karl," she smiled in surprise, opening the door to the handsome blond man. "Come in."
Karl felt the warmth of her well heated apartment. Though still small by Western standards, the apartment had a comfortable spaciousness with two separate bedrooms instead of a bed in the room he entered. She guided him to the sofa, removing his navy blue wool coat and hanging it on the coat tree, joining her leather trench coat while he sat.
"I'm sorry about the rejection," he told her.
"I must have been nervous," she replied, sitting beside the handsome man.
Karl shook his head. "Gretchen and I look for a very special kind of actor, very versatile, the complete package so to speak: acting, singing and dancing and able to think on her feet."
"And I thought the woman ... Gretchen is it? ... simply felt ... uncomfortable with me."
"I'm sure many women feel uncomfortable with you," Karl smiled.
"You know why," he replied and steered her head and brought her lips to his.
Maria growled with pleasure. For a man, Karl had soft lips. The pleasure surged and the kiss became hard, tongues desperately dueling. His hand slipped under her jacket and squeezed her proud breast, feeling the nipple tightening against his palm. He twisted it through the silk. Her hand reached down and found his penis rising and filling the small space of his wool slacks. With deft fingers, she unbuckled and unbuttoned and slipped her hand inside his underpants and held the hot cock.
The kiss ending, both of them panting, Maria bounced off him and rushed to her purse dangling from the hook by the door and found a rubber and had it open by the time she returned. She removed her pajama pants and he pulled his pants low enough to let his cock bounce free. She leaned down and kissed his glans before rolling on the condom and straddling him.
Relief and surprise came to Karl when his hand discovered her wetness and her heat. "They're lubricated, too," Maria's low voice whispered into his ear.
He couldn't believe the tightness surrounding his cock as she lowered slowly and rose and lowered a couple more centimeters. Their kiss resumed. He pushed aside her robe and she let it drop. He pulled up her top and the kiss paused while she tossed it aside. Briefly he examined lithe perfection before their lips resumed kissing. His hands took over the examination, stroking her breasts and kneading her ass.
All the way inside, Maria didn't linger at the completion of the insertion, but immediately began to bounce up and down, pressing pubic bones when she hit bottom, crushing her clit against his rough pubic hair. Both panting heavily forced them to separate lips. Eyes mostly stared into eyes, though Karl occasionally glanced at her perfect body. A skilled lover, her amazingly tight passage and her incredibly sexy body gave resistance to cumming a real challenge which proved too difficult.
"Oh fuck," he grimaced and lifted his body while hers slapped against it. Rising one more time, she pressed down and crushed bones and wriggled at the meeting, giving them more friction, adding to her pleasure but not bringing forth her climax.
"God," he moaned, relaxing after the last ejaculation squeezed out. "I've never cum so quick since I was a teenager."
Maria giggled and kissed his reddened cheek. "I have a way of doing that to men." Lifting up, she let his flagging penis slip out. Removing the condom, she strolled to the small kitchen and tossed it in the garbage. He watched her supple butt muscles play as she walked. She caught his stare and smiled. "Get naked and join me in my bedroom."
Stripping quickly, he entered her room. Her pale body and blonde hair lying on the black satin sheets created a sensuous contrast. Her fingers strummed her clit and twisted a nipple. He noted they did so with force. Her head rested towards the foot of the bed as she lay on her side, her long right leg lifted, the knee pointing at the high ceiling. Obviously she planned to restore his cock.
Without the fearful gentleness of most of the women he had encountered, her tight squeeze of fingers slicked by oil and lips holding tightly below his glans and pulling brought his cock to a recovery unprecedented since his teenage years. She seemed to be turning him into a late adolescent. Despite his aggressive mauling of her breasts and buttocks, his teeth scratching at her clit, she never wavered in her focus in bringing his cock to full erection.
Having achieved her goal, she pointed at the condom packet on the bedside table and got on hands and knees. "Put it on and fuck me hard," she commanded.
Second later his cock returned to the impossibly narrow channel. He began slowly, but she demanded, "Just shove it in and fuck me!" So he did.
The recent cum allowed him a relentless fuck that lasted fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes of the best fuck of his life as her interior grasped his cock like a slick vise. She didn't need to tell him to squeeze her nipples aggressively. Pinching with all his might, he wondered if such force would cause injury, but her loud moans and unladylike grunts let him know she wanted his manipulations painful. Meanwhile she stroked her clit with equal aggression, only stopping when she came. "Keep fucking me," she yelled within her orgasm. Immediately upon abating, she stroked her clit and came again. The third time she squealed loudly, trembled and collapsed while he pounded his last thrusts and let his balls churn out semen safely held in the rubber.
Pulling out of her carefully, he leaned down over her inert body and whispered, "Maria?"
"Mmm," she murmured, apparently unconscious.
Gingerly Karl crawled off the bed and wandered to the bathroom, dropping the condom in the toilet and pissing over it and flushing. After washing his hands and staring at his handsome face in the mirror, he shrugged and thought, "Maybe I don't have to wait."
Glancing back into the bedroom, he heard her actually snoring. Practically on tip toes he wandered to the next room done up as an office and perused the desk and the bookshelves and carefully opened the file cabinet. Files contained accounting spread sheets highlighted with pink and green markers, dossiers similarly highlighted, and photographs, both portraits and clandestine images of sex. Only the subject of the file's face could be seen. The body of the sex partner though looked like Maria's in a couple shots. The male with either a male or female could have been Wolf's. It was a formidable body rippling with muscles but not bulging with them.
Finally in the middle under M he found what he searched for, a file on Gretchen packed with photos of the troupe, fliers for performances and a dossier on his director. "Shit, they know," he cursed to himself, looking at a photo of Gretchen having a smoke outside one of their venues, a tall, willowy man in his late thirties towering over her, leaning a little, smiling and smoking as well. Beside his image two letters thickly applied in marker identified their contact: CY. Constantine Yablonski. Connie. Nerves frayed, the loud ringing of the phone made his heart stutter. Carefully replacing the file and closing the cabinet drawer with shaky hands, hearing a squeal of metal on metal that amplified in his imagination ten fold, he tip toed out of the office just as the phone stopped ringing.
"Hello?" Calming himself with two deep breaths, he stood in the doorway of the bedroom naked meeting her smile with his as she talked into her phone. "Yes. No I'm fine. Yes I was, but I'm fine. Do you think that's wise? Of course. Maybe Katzekeller would be better. Unh-hunh? Alright. I'll take care of it. Yes. That's fine. See you then. Bye." Cradling the phone she continued to smile at Karl. "I must have dozed." She stretched seductively. "I had a late night and an early morning."
"Another late night tonight?' he asked.
"Yes unfortunately. Join me in the shower?"
This time sharing the shower, she did more than exchange back washing. Thoroughly cleaning his pecker until it went stiff while his hands sudsed her breasts and butt, she managed to squeeze out a last cum from him making his legs buckle and tapping out the last of his energy.
"Such a fine penis," she sighed, releasing it. "I so much wanted to get to know it better."
"Me too," he smiled and they laughed. "Could I perhaps join you at Katzekeller?"
"You're too handsome Karl," she smiled and kissed him quickly. "Too distracting. I must dress."
Climbing out of the tub, she toweled off, snapping an end at his taut little butt and giggling. "You must go, handsome. I presume you have my phone number the same as you have my address."
"I wanted to surprise you," he informed her, climbing out of the shower and taking the towel from her hand.
"And so you did. A most pleasant surprise."
Leaving him in the bathroom, she returned to her bedroom and dressed. By the time he readied to leave, she sat in front of her vanity finishing her make-up.
"You don't need that," he complimented her.
"That's sweet," she grinned. "Don't be a stranger."
He kissed her forehead and moseyed out. The door locked behind him.
"Idiot," she muttered. "At least he's a pretty good fuck." She dashed to her office and pulled out Gretchen's file. Grabbing the photo that upset him, she sprinkled it with powder and raised a fingerprint. Pulling a board from the desk she flipped it over. It had to be Karl's fingerprint. It didn't match any of the others. "Idiot." She called the Colonel back.
"Yes I was. You won't believe with whom though. We may have to play our hand heavy on this one. Heavy and swift."
Though he hadn't been explicit about his intentions, Gretchen knew Karl. If a pursuit, especially with such an attractive conquest, came to his mind and actually popped out of his mouth, nothing would stop its completion. Little Esther had sated him momentarily, but bringing Maria back into his sex obsessed mind had heated up his need and focused it at the source.
Unlike Karl, when Gretchen became attracted to a man, making her intensely horny, only that man could relieve her need. Karl had been the first to benefit. It struck her rarely, but struck her mightily to the point of complete distraction. Even more than Karl, her lust took her over and led her by her throbbing clit.
She fought it, knowing the stupidity of pursuing this man. How dangerous. How threatening it would be to her pursuit of ending the pseudo communist stranglehold of a reign she wanted above everything to destroy. And yet the danger of it, especially the danger exuding from the man like a black cloud aura, just made her want him with more desperation. In fact she never felt so desperate and horny. By the time resistance fragmented into a million pieces, she travelled to his apartment at the same time Maria did.
Fortunately sitting in her decrepit Russian made compact car near the entrance to Wolf's apartment building trying to reintegrate her defenses allowed her to see Maria park a couple spaces up, bounce out of the fancy new sports car and bound up the stoop and into the building. A shock of fear subdued her libido in her belly. She waited.
Gretchen saw the scowl on the blonde beauty's face before hiding low in her car so Maria wouldn't spot her when she emerged from the building a half hour later. She waited a couple minutes after Maria drove off burning rubber before exiting her car and entering Wolf's lair.
Opening the door to the petite powerhouse, Wolf sighed. "Gretchen, what are you doing here?"
The sparseness and the tininess of the one room flat surprised Gretchen. No warmth there and not just because of the chilly air from very little heating.
"Sit," Wolf commanded, gesturing to a wooden chair at the small wooden table near the kitchen area. Wolf sat with her. "How much do you know?"
"About what?" she shivered.
"Have you talked to Karl?"
"He's a fool."
"Perhaps. We're friends and he's talented."
"Not as a spy."
"How much do you know?" Gretchen asked sternly.
Wolf laughed. "You're really something, do you know that?"
"What did he do?"
Wolf sighed. "Maria's quite good, but she has her weaknesses. Pride before the fall."
"We're not hiding anything between us, are we?" Gretchen realized. "No clever spy games here."
"You're in danger my cute little sprite. Maria let Karl into her chambers and let him peruse your file. Why she can't at least lock the fucking cabinet..."
"What does it say?"
"You're working with Yablonski. He's a rather unpleasant thorn in the party's side and seems to escape our rather capable grasp at every turn. He's your cousin, right?"
"Distant, but part of the family."
"A family of diplomats."
Gretchen nodded. "But he's a playwright and known in the West. Isn't that more what protects him?"
"It's all one thing Gretchen and you know it. Your family, his family, playing communist but..."
"But he's a playwright and a cousin. Why would his presence at our shows cause concern?"
"Why indeed. Let me show you some things." Using a key, he opened a door at the back of the apartment, switching on a light. She could see a large room filled with stuff: rifles and clothes and metallic objects: hi-fi receivers and cameras. He rolled out a large television on a cart with a new fangled video tape machine under it. He returned to the room and grabbed a cassette tape and a large mailing envelope. "See, a simple key and you're secure," he illustrated by locking the store room back up.
"So you do spend your money."
"What do you mean?" Wolf asked, plugging in the devices.
"I saw Maria arrive here and leave. She owns a very expensive vehicle. And you live in a Spartan one room apartment with no heat."
"I'm sorry. I like it cool. Let me turn it up, but it clangs something awful." He adjusted the metal radiator sitting under a small window. It hissed and clanged.
Popping in the cassette, he turned on the large color television. A black and white film appeared somewhere in the middle of a Courage Players performance. Gretchen spoke a monologue. The camera swept the audience catching people pressing recording devices. Wolf chuckled. The Gretchen sitting beside him looked embarrassed. "Pretty crappy rebels, hunh?" she said.
"Turn'," said Wolf. "It's what you say to cue them, right? As in, this is the speech so turn on your fucking tape recorders, you fucking idiots?"
Gretchen smiled wryly and shrugged. "They're not exactly trained like you or Maria."
"A cipher of course. What is it, Shakespeare?"
"More relevant. Danton's Death by Buchner."
"As in revolution. Fine. Why tell me?"
"What difference does it make? We're done obviously. How did you find out?"
He plopped a black and white photo on the table and pointed at a nondescript man in his twenties.
Gretchen nodded and looked like she wanted to kill the SOB. "Double agent."
Wolf sighed. "You have ten representatives of various underground factions. You have to figure one of them is playing for the other side."
"Fucking Connie. Talk about pride before the fall. He figures everyone is devoted to him like he's the fucking messiah or something."
"Do you know the communications?"
"No. He couldn't chance that. We ... had our own plans."
"How many do you trust to save?"
"Let's just say I like your little group of counter-revolutionaries."
"You don't have a phone."
Entering the store room again, he pulled out a large satellite phone. "Use this."
Unable to figure it out, Gretchen gave Wolf the number and he handed it to her when he heard it ring... "Trix?" said Gretchen into the phone. "We're found out."
"I know," said Trix. "Karl fucking called me from his own fucking telephone a couple minutes ago. I better get my ass in gear. They're sure to trace it. Don't say anything. Are you home?"
"Good. But wherever you are, better get them moving as well."
"I don't think that's a problem."
"What is it?"
"Don't know, but I'm positive it's untraceable."
"Give me an hour and call me, okay?"
"They're compromised already. I can call them."
"I would, but I don't have the numbers with me."
"I know. We planned this. Let me do my thing."
"Of course my love. Just call me in an hour or I'll worry, okay?"
"Okay," Gretchen handed Wolf the phone to shut it off.
"Tell me how you figured us out?" asked Wolf.
"Karl recognized you and Maria. He saw you as a couple at some fancy party two years ago."
"Two years. The crooner with the slicked back black hair."
"That'd be Karl. How could you remember?"
"He tried putting the moves on Maria."
"Sounds like Karl. What happened?"
"I guess I glared him away. If I hadn't or we weren't on assignment, I'm sure he would have found her most agreeable. I suppose he found that out two years later unfortunately for him."
"Is she that bad in bed?"
Wolf laughed with his entire body. "No, Gretch. I'm sure that part of it he found most pleasurable."
She frowned, instantly jealous. He noticed. "We're not a couple, Gretch. Not yet."
She became uncomfortable, the reason for her visit returning. "I should go."
"Gretchen, why exactly did you come here?"
"I ... I wanted to congratulate you for joining the troupe."
"Gretch," he said as she moved towards the door, his hand catching her arm and pulling her to him. She ended up on his lap somehow as he sat on his chair. "Don't lie."
For an instant she resisted his kiss, but it was as powerful and dangerous as the rest of him and she felt the heat of it thrilling her heart and belly and her vagina which sang a wet hymn of rejoicing. Her fingers slid through his seemingly premature gray hair. It had a slick smoothness and yet felt weirdly bristly like the rough coat of a german shepherd. When their lips finally parted, she asked him, "Why are you gray? You don't look more than late twenties?"
"I'm older than I look Gretch, but it's the hair I was born with. I won't dye it or shave it if it bothers you. Sorry."
"I wouldn't want you to." Her fingers continued combing through as they continued kissing. "I need you," she panted when they stopped, her deep blue eyes piercing his steel blue/gray eyes.
"How much?" he answered, combing through her soft wavy brown locks.
"What do you mean?"
"Would a night sate you?"
"I ... I never felt like this."
"You must have had girls..."
"Yes, Gretch. And you've had men."
"Yes. A few."
Suddenly she began to sob. Her arms circled his thickly muscled torso as her face pressed against his chest. Through her sobs and muffled by his chest, she spoke. "I want to be brave, Wolf. I knew this might come, that I'd be caught and ... tortured even. I believe in our struggle with every beat of my heart and every breath. I want us to own our own country again instead of being subjugated by Soviet puppets. I want an impossible world, a world grounded in the earth from which we emerged and for which we shall inevitably return. I want that stupid wall torn down, but I don't want the wave of capitalism that will drown us when the dam wall releases the greedy exploiters living only for the mighty buck. I want to be free to be a human being and to exult in all the best we can be. It's a pipe dream, but it's mine and no one can take it. If they catch me, I'll die. I won't accept torture or a hard cold stone and metal cell. I'll kill myself, rip my veins open with my teeth if I must. I thought I was the brave one, the proud one, the righteous one, kicking against the pricks, but I feel so weak and cowardly and vulnerable and stupid.
"I'm your enemy, Wolf. And I'm clutching you like a defenseless child begging for mercy. Except what I want isn't mercy. You're a soldier, an agent of the regime, and you've captured me. I don't understand this. You're asking if I want to be with you beyond this moment. You let me call Trix to warn her. And yet you should be bringing me in to your leader. You're Stasi, Wolf. You're the most treacherous of the treacherous. Tell me what this means or put me out of my misery, please."
Gently lifting her face, so beautiful and expressive it caused his heart to throb, he kissed beneath her eyes, tasting the salty wetness. "It means, my love that we must go. It's time for me to return to my home. I have been away too long. And now that I found you, it's time for me to return and reclaim my place as alpha. We will be safe there. I'll make sure of that."
Instantly Gretchen abandoned his lap and ran to the door, opening it and attempting to dash away. Two steps into the hallway, she found herself whisked off her feet and back into his apartment. Held like a vise around her waist, she thrashed her arms and legs, but had the wisdom not to scream. She grumbled instead, "What kind of psychological trap have the Stasi created now? Luring me to some sanctuary and pretending to placate me so I confess in some kind of lover's embrace?"
Wolf chuckled, causing Gretchen's grumble to become a frustrated roar. "My sweet little drama queen," he smirked. "You already told me you know nothing of Yablonski's plans. And as for your little troupe's plans to get rid of the regime, however grandiose it might have been, its disbanding seems to have curtailed that." He carried Gretchen into his water closet.
In horror she watched Wolf use his free hand to pull a syringe and a vial from a hidden stash, sliding out the wood frame of the medicine cabinet door to extract it. Pushing the needle into the rubber top, he turned the vial upside down and pulled the plunger back. His teeth held the vial as he pulled out the needle.
"What about the troupe?" she whined.
"Name those you trust the most," he demanded.
"Trix and Joseph and Michael and Karen and..." She couldn't think of anyone else for some reason.
"He's been found out."
"You all are."
"Karl ... I guess I don't trust him completely."
"Karl's a dick."
"It will only make you sleep. When you wake, just some rather nasty dry mouth." He stuck her in her neck. She passed out.