Chapter 54: Der Hochadelsball

The Lounge was classy, with Dom Perignon and whatever one wished for, and when we were called to the airplane, I told Maureen to forget NT, NSW and all the other business and look forward to the ball and the trip we would make in Germany. I wanted to drive into to the Alps (the Trapp family came to mind) and stay a day or two in Salzburg and Vienna (see the Spanische Reitschule with its Lipizzanern), eventually go to Prague and then drive slowly back to Munich and enter business life again.

The stewardess receiving us must have been Miss Singapore in her previous life - beautiful, tall, and exquisite. She greeted us by name and showed us to our seats - forgive me, to our seats and Eileen’s cabin. They were rather comfortable, and a glass of champagne waited for us. A hot towel was served by another beautiful stewardess and Maureen´s elbow ended up in my side.

“Don’t stare, James! Isn’t it enough to have three beautiful women at your disposal?”

I shrugged. “My love, I always believed that the female part of our species is more beautiful than the male one, and these two are an outstanding proof, I believe. But you know that there’s a difference between admiration and lust - do you remember what your mother said when I saw her topless for the first time? She saw admiration and not lust and accepted it gracefully. This is the same situation!”

Maureen started to grin. “Do you want to see them topless, too?”

I had learned through bitter experience, that if one falls into a hole of one’s own making, it is recommendable not to dig it deeper. I leaned over and kissed her, and she nodded.

“I know you, James. You’ll look occasionally, but you’ll never touch. You’ll never find anyone better for you than me or Jenny - keep this in mind.” I wondered why she didn’t mention Eileen; was she also getting wearied about the continuing lapses in her behavior? The explosions and the certainty that a late apology was sufficient to make up for whatever had happened? One day there might be an explosion too much! And what then? But that was a problem we would resolve later.

She glanced at me and told me to relax also; I nodded and sipped my champagne. The plane took off and after a while, the seatbelt signs were turned off. We went and visited Eileen in her cabin. It was strange to knock on a door in an airplane and enter a little suite. The seat seemed to be very comfortable and obviously could extend into a bed; there was a smallish table with a chair attached and wide enough for two to work or eat, and there was a tiny shower in the corner; I would probably fit in with some calisthenics, but anyone over 130 kilos would have a problem. The decoration was austere, with pastel colors, and very tasteful.

She had changed already into loose blouse and soft trousers and invited us to drink her champagne; she was satisfied as it was better than the Perignon - it was Cristal, the former Czar’s favorite drink. There was a knock on the door and the stewardess (another one and as beautiful) handed us the menu. There were the obligatory caviar and Lobster Thermidor, but they also included a Wagyu steak and a Thai curry. The wines were outstanding and from all regions of the world - A Riggs Shiraz from South Australia, a Riesling and a Chardonnay from the States, a Saint-Emilion Grand Cru, and a Coup de Foudre Cabernet Sauvignon, and a 1985 Warre Vintage Port to finish. It would keep us happy during the flight. Unfortunately, the cabin was too small to have dinner together so we had a long conversation about our plans for NT and then what we would do in Germany.

When dinner was served, we returned to our seats. It was excellent and the wines matched well the food. I always had thought when flying that at this altitude the wines tasted different, but perhaps the better quality could stand the flight. After dinner, we went back to Eileen, and it seemed that she had enjoyed her wines also. We had a few more glasses of the vintage port and everyone was relaxed. Eileen was getting nervous, and Maureen asked, “Mom, what is happening? Are you well?”

She nodded, then shook her head. “Do you know how much time I have been alone? Maureen, can I borrow James for a time?”

This was strange and I started to change the subject when Maureen surprised me. “Mom, I’ve to finish my financial statements for the last three months and then I’ve to go through the HAY presentation. This is boring stuff; why don’t you and James spend your time on more pleasurable matters?”

I did not expect this, but I trusted Maureen; she always knew what she was doing. She got up and went back to her seat, but not without saying, “I recommend that you keep the door locked!”

Eileen looked at me and opened her arms. “James, I missed you. Come and love me!” She slowly unbuttoned her blouse and presented her breasts, already waiting to be touched.

“These puppies have been lonely, dear. Tell them that you still love them!”

I went forward, kissed the tips and she sighed. “It has been a long time, my love!” and opened my shirt and lay her head on my shoulder. “Darling, I need you!”

Kissing me, she led my hand to her pussy. “Do you feel how wet it is? It has been waiting for you!”

This was not the way I wanted to make love, but slowly she got me into the right mood - she knew what she was doing and how to do it. When we had finished, she grinned.

“Now I know why I paid the ridiculous price for the cabin - I have been introduced to the Mile-High Club! Thank you, James.”

She cleaned us carefully, but I still had a tight shower, just for the fun of it; who could claim that he had a shower in an airplane that was flying at 34,000 feet? Eileen sniffed and perceived that our lovemaking had left a telling smell in the cabin, but she had the solution - grinning, she emptied a glass full of port wine on the floor. She wiped it off immediately, but the smell of the wine was strong, overpowering the smell of lovemaking. She smiled, proud of her cleverness and told me that now she could sleep. Another kiss and I went back to my seat.

Maureen was waiting for me. “Maureen, what was this about? I’m not a person that can be told to make love on command, even by you! I did it in the end, because I trust you, but please tell why I did this!”

She looked at me. “James, my love, I know Mom and she was busting with stress. She had been alone in Brisbane, you had your days with Jenny, and Ellen visibly doesn’t trust her. She was tight as a string, darling, and I admit I used you. Please forgive me, but now we can start our trip without having to worry about Mom and her moods. Now, she’s satisfied and happy and we’ll be, too. Forgive me, darling, but I wanted to have stress free days ahead.”

I was not certain that this was the right way to calm Eileen down; I must admit it was enjoyable, but I did not like it. Maureen saw my face. “My love, I’ll make it up to you, I promise. You know that Mom is fragile, but now she - and we - can endure the next days without worrying all the time.”

I shrugged. “As I said, I trust you, but please don’t repeat it.”

She nodded and leaned over to kiss me. I took out a book - typical airport literature with the hero being battled from all sides, but in the end, he saves the world and gets the girl. Maureen could not stand these books, as they were empty for her. I agreed, but previously I had been flying too often on my own and this passed the time on a plane. She finished her work and closed her eyes.

We arrived in Singapore and had to wait for over two hours for the connecting flight.

The new Lounge was fabulous - Krug and Veuve Cliquot champagne, French, Australian and European wines, and hot food. It seems that they were prepared for Eileen - a waiter appeared with a bottle of Cristal. We had eaten a light breakfast before landing and only tasted the starters. Good, as all the rest. We walked through the shopping area, and both bought perfumes, a Boucheron for me, and Opium, Balenciaga and Celui for them.

When we were called to re-enter the plane, there was a little cart waiting for Eileen, so that she did not have to walk the few hundred yards! She enjoyed the attention. It was starting to clear outside and when the plane left, the sun was just coming up. This flight was only for six hours, an improvement against the 14 hours we spent coming to Singapore. When we were in the air, Eileen looked at Maureen.

“Darling, do you want to enjoy my cabin for a while?” She turned to me. “It was fun, wasn’t it, dear?”

I nodded but was satisfied when Maureen declined the invitation. “Well, then I’ll sleep a bit more. Goodnight, darlings!” and she closed the door behind her. We looked at each other; where had the Eileen of only a few months past had gone?

After a while, there was breakfast (again) and we arrived in Munich. The driver was waiting, and he took us to the Mandarin Oriental Hotel in the center of the town. Eileen had reserved the principal Suite - a dramatic main bedroom and a smaller, also refined version as a second room. Two steps led up to the main bedroom, a big round room with a huge bed in the middle and a yellow-golden round carpet under the bed. The decoration was modern oriental, low furniture, and high technology. There was even a Bang & Olufsen sound system in every room! The living room was spacious enough to hold a party, and Maureen looked at the bathrooms - marble all over the place and very roomy. This was high-end luxury and I saw Eileen’s face relax - she was satisfied.

I tipped the guy who had transported all our luggage to the suite and went to the bar. There were single malts, Armagnac, Bourbon, and German red and white wines. They all wanted a drink and I served them the Macallan and took an Armagnac XO myself, completely forgetting the early morning, since for our bodies it was still about midnight. I wondered how they would charge the drinks at the end, but was afraid that to my dismay, I would find out at the end of our stay. The ladies sent their dresses for ironing, and we went for a walk.

The weather was brisk and sunny. Maureen was in one of her little summer green dresses, and Eileen had selected white blouse and tan slacks. I was in black jeans and a white polo shirt. The Marienplatz was close by, and it was interesting for me to see the city again, and at 10 o’clock the figures on top of the Rathaus spun around in their traditional dances. The central square was crowded, with local people hurrying around and tourist starting their shopping sprees. Eileen had received recommendations from friends and led us to the Oberpollinger Kaufhaus, a mall where all the famous brands were represented. The ground floor was already crowded, and Maureen had pity with me.

“My love, I saw that there’s a coffee shop on the top floor; why don’t you get yourself a newspaper, order a coffee and a cake, and wait for us.” She had already inserted the local mobile phone chips into our phone and communication was easy.

I had time to read the whole edition of the Süddeutsche Zeitung, when the ladies finally appeared. To my surprise, they were not loaded with shopping bags; only Eileen had a bag with Versace printed on it. She showed me the black purse; it had a gold clasp and she said that it would fit her dress.

I took them for lunch to Dallmayr; it was close by, and we could walk. Dallmayr is a super hyper delicatessen shop that has everything, from champagne to wine to meat to fish; whatever existed in Germany or outside, Dallmayr had it.

It is not a restaurant - the two-star restaurant is on the second floor and opens only at night, but to shop and to eat, you must stand or sit on high chairs before a small table. I got them caviar and introduced them to smoked eel; the first part demanded champagne, the cheeses later a full Burgundy. It was fun - the food was outstanding and the shoppers around us always stayed for more time than they needed, as my two ladies were simply beautiful and stopped the shop. Finally, I paid the bill and we walked back to the hotel.

Maureen was a bit tired, and she decided that she had to plan for the next day; I suggested that she should lie down for a time; later we could order room service and sleep early. She decided also that the next day she would spend at the spa and the hairdresser; I don’t know how she did it, but Jenny had sent already a recommendation and had made a reservation for her and Eileen. I would talk to my family’s lawyer and see how affairs had been settled. Today we would have supper together and then they would relax.

I told them that this was not acceptable. Could they dance the minuet? They stared at me. Dance the minuet? Why? I told them that in these events couples were supposed to dance minuets, a slow, graceful dance in an almost waltz rhythm. Eileen said that she had seen it in movies, but how did one dance it? I explained as I had learned this as a child; couples would be close together, eventually holding hands, bowing, or curtsying to each other, scraping their toes, and then change partners. Most dances were timed that at the end of the music, one was back to one’s original partner. And why? It was printed on the invitation, and we did not want to be considered peasants from down under, did we?

Maureen asked, “Can you show me?”

I got up, pulled her in front of me and started “One, two, three, one, two three,...” I kissed her hand and bowed deeply, then counting the rhythm, moved around her until I was back in front. Then I lifted her hand and led her around me. “Count, Maureen - one, two, three!” I told Eileen to stand beside her daughter and repeated the moves. They still stared at me with disbelieve in their eyes. I gave up and called the concierge and asked for help.

Two minutes later a graceful woman knocked, and I explained the situation to her. She smiled.

“Count de Winter, I believe that I can help. If you give me a moment?”

She picked up the phone, “Give me Mr. Soliterra.” A moment later “Mr. Soliterra, I need your help. Could you come up to the Senior Suite, please?”

She turned to us. “I’ve known Mr. Soliterra for many years; he’s retired now, but he was one of the dance masters of the Bayrische Oper. If anybody can help, it’s him.”

Five minutes there was a knock on the door and an elderly gentleman entered - white hair, straight position, and a little smile on his face.

“How can I help you?”

Very polite, but he was a man also, and his eyes appreciated the two beautiful women in front of him.

I explained the situation. “I’m Count de Winter and this is my wife, Maureen. My mother-in-law, Mrs. Monahan. We’ll go to the Hochadelsball tomorrow and the two ladies need an introduction to the formal dances, especially the minuet. I tried to do it but was not successful. Could you teach them and refresh my memory, so that we don’t create chaos tomorrow night on the dance floor? I can assure you that they learn fast!”

He looked at them. “Would you please get up and walk to the door and come back?” They did it and he turned to me. “What do you know?”

“Childhood’s memories; my family held occasional events and the adolescents had to perform all these dances.” He asked me, “Try the initial movement” and I did my bow, my toe scraping and danced around an imaginary woman in front of me.

He shook his head. “You need a lot of practice also, Count, but I believe that we can get the rudiments of the dance into you three. Ladies, please change into dresses with a long skirt, and you, Count, into a suit. We cannot do this in slacks.”

It was almost three o’clock and we did as ordered. The concierge had found a boom box and a CD with traditional dances, and Mr. Soliterra told us to line up. He explained the main movements and we had to practice, and then practice more, and then repeat them all over again. The music helped and my ladies were fast learners indeed. My memory came back and after two hours he was satisfied. “I would not take you into a solo performance on stage, but in these events, you can hide your mistakes easily. What do you want to do now?”

I remembered that there might be other dances, too. There was the waltz, the polka, and probably the quadrille. This one frightened me - I had never done it well. It was normally danced by four couples. I remembered that they lined up in a square, facing the center. One couple started with a dance figure and then the others had to repeat it. Then the second one had to start and so on. It was a courtly dance normally set to string and flute music, and it could be complicated. Mr. Soliterra looked at me.

“If you can, avoid this dance, but if not, try to be the last in the group and when it’s your turn, improvise. They might smile, but they’ll admire your courage.”

We thanked him and asked him to come back tomorrow afternoon to practice a bit more, but he declined. “You’re good enough that you’ll not step on your partner’s foot, and more practice might just confuse you. Have fun, and good luck! The concierge will send my bill.”

We looked at each other - there was more work involved than we had thought, but suddenly Maureen laughed.

“This is fun, James! I see you already trying to avoid my high heels! Mom, let’s try once more!” and off they went, whirling, curtsying, and laughing. In the end, they collapsed, still laughing and I reminded them of the spa they had reserved. They got up, changed into more comfortable clothes, and left, but not without kissing me. Life got back to (almost) normal.

I called our lawyer and agreed to a meeting the following morning, and then went into the internet to refresh my memory on social behavior. Maureen had joked when she said that my family was the upper half on the German nobility, but in the end, I was right. We were not simply Grafen, i.e. Counts, but ‘Reichsgrafen’, meaning that the title had been conferred in the 1400s by the German Emperor. In the German Nobility Register, the Gotha, we were classified as ‘Uradel’, as one of the oldest noble families in Germany. We were never considered royalty but were respected as if we were. ‘Honor et fortitude’ was our family motto, and honor and courage my family had always shown in their service to the German people and the nation. The next night we would meet princes and earls, rich and poor, old families, and new ones, and I needed to hold my head high. My father would never have forgiven me if I did not hold our standard high above all heads.

In these times, there was no real benefit anymore for my title, but it helped to make reservations and get an upgrade in airplanes. And for Maureen it was fun since we were placed just below royalty and above all other counts. I hated to repeat to her, however, that the crown was still out - it was a coronet.

The ladies came back, red and flushed, but happy. Eileen laughed. “James, you would not believe this - the massagist was very good, extremely handsome and at the end, he whispered that he was free after nine o’clock. Do you believe this? What did he think? Imagine his audacity!”

“I imagine that he has a good taste in women! But let’s forget the guy and order dinner.”

We were not very hungry, and I looked at the room service; the hotel had an indoor restaurant I remembered from New York - Matsuhisa. The starter list was impressive, and we ordered some tacos and Eileen the Blue Lobster with truffle cream, Maureen the spicy Snow crab and I the King Crab Tempura; I always had enjoyed King Crab, which in my opinion had much more taste than lobsters. I asked for help with the wines and the sommelier recommended a Grand Cru Montrachet for the Lobster and the King Crab, and a German Clean Slate Riesling for the spicy Snow Crab.

We had never heard of this wine, but I trusted the professional, and he was right. The selection of Mosel grapes from various vineyards in the region produced a clean, crisp flavor with minerals and ripe peaches. It matched the spicy Crab wonderfully. And nobody could go wrong with a Grand Cru Montrachet! The food was delicious, the wines matched the quality of the food, and the Riesling was a big positive surprise!

It was getting late, and tomorrow would be an exhausting day, so I suggested that we retired early. They agreed and the white, fluffy robes fell off their bodies as they walked to the bedroom. They knew that I was looking and swayed on their way, something someone had once described to me as ‘wall-to-wall-walking’. I enjoyed the view as I followed them and when they lay down, it became even more interesting.

I was never too tired to look at my ladies. Eileen was a woman at the peak of her beauty - a slim body from years of running, full curves of breasts and hips, large areolae with small nipples straight looking back at me, and when she opened her legs a bit, I could see her shaved crinkly pussy with her clitoris already protruding a bit. Maureen was as beautiful, but in a different way - younger, firmer, as slim as her mother from running and martial exercises, and when she saw Eileen opening her legs invitingly, she followed suit. She also had her pussy shaved and her pronounced mound hid her labia in a closed half shell. I knew, however, how I could invite her clitoris to come out. And as always, the best part was the smile that was on their lips, inviting and loving.

I lay between them, and they laid their heads on my chest. “Mom, I’m a bit tired, but if you want to fool around, feel free to do so. Tomorrow will be tiring; can you imagine dancing the minuet? I just want a hug and a kiss...” and turning to me she did just that.

Eileen thought for a moment but took a deep breath. “I had my fun on the flight in, so I follow you, dear.” and lifting her body up, offered her breasts for my kisses. “Extended local rules!” she grinned.

Nobody asked for my opinion, so I closed my eyes and followed them into sleep. The last thought I had was how wonderful it was to have Maureen’s warm body close to mine, of holding her breast in my hand, and of smelling her light taste of Celui; and to feel Eileen behind me, with her arms on my chest, and her breath tickling my shoulder.

There was no noise from outside and the curtains blacked out all the lights, and we slept well. Whenever I turned to my other side (which I do quite a lot, unfortunately) there was always a body in front of me to hold, and a body behind me to hug me.

The alarm clock woke us up and Eileen jumped out.

“I have to lie in my bed at least a few minutes - what will they think if it’s untouched!”

I waited until she was almost on her way and whistled. “Oh, men!” was her only response, but she came back and fulfilled her obligations. Maureen laughed, “You have your women well trained, my love!” and followed suit. We ordered breakfast and again it was of excellent quality, and the German bread selection was exactly what I wanted.

Maureen decided to come with me to the lawyer (after all, she was family) and Eileen went to the Deutsche Museum, a worldwide known museum of technical accomplishments. If I remembered right, they even had the first Luftwaffe jet fighter, the Messerschmidt Me 262, on permanent exhibition. Maureen and I were properly dressed for a visit to a lawyer - Maureen in a light blue blouse with a little bolero jacket and a narrow dark blue skirt, and I in my business outfit of suit and tie. Eileen had selected a green dress that showed off her body; she was lucky since the weather was nice and the sun warm. We put her into a taxi and walked to the lawyer.

Dr. Willington was waiting for us, and we did not need long, since he had settled affairs well. The money was distributed to remote family members, and they had apparently never even said thank you, and his bill was paid from the estate. He agreed to be available if anything ever came up and that was it.

We walked back to the Marienplatz, walked around the square, and looked at some shops and then took a taxi to the Tantris restaurant, which the concierge had recommended and made reservations in this two-star Michelin extravaganza. We had given Eileen the address and she arrived shortly after us. The restaurant was on a quiet street, and the retro décor was in beige, reddish and orange colors, with simple, elegant tables covered in a white tablecloth, and black chairs. We decided to go directly to the food and selected their Business Menu, a selection of salmon and asparagus, an Entrecôte with mushrooms, and a chocolate dessert with rhubarb and banana ice cream. They recommended a bottle of a Brochet 1st Cru, a little French champagne, and a German Spätburgunder, a Stodden Herrenberg. The match was perfect, but I thought that the meat could have stood a heavier red wine, the ladies, however, were satisfied. I paid the bill, and we took a taxi back to the hotel.

They had a busy afternoon - spa, hairdresser, makeup, you name it. I was told to read a book and relax. I had my laptop with me and contacted Jenny via Skype. There was a difference of eight hours, but she was still awake and probably even waiting for my call. I told her everything about the flight, the hotel, the food, that Eileen behaved well and that I missed her. She wanted to speak to Maureen and was sad that she missed her. Then she looked at me.

“My love, I am counting the days until you are back. I’ve visited Ellen and she is worse, and Allan and I are very worried about her. She sends her love to you and Maureen and tells you to enjoy your stay.”

Then she started to grin. “James, local remote rules apply?” I nodded. “Then goodnight, my love” and she leaned back a bit, pulled her pullover down her shoulders and pushed first one breast, then the other to the camera on her computer. “Kiss them!” I bent forward and pressed my lips to the screen; stupid, childish even, but it was fun. Then she blew me a kiss and turned the thing off.

It was getting late when the ladies returned, and I was getting tense. Punctuality is one of the vices of the German people and this ball started at 7:30 sharp, and no excuses. Waiting for a woman to get ready is an art form. Trying to rush them is a very bad idea. It may or may not speed up the process but will almost certainly irritate the woman. Besides, the results of simply waiting usually make the wait worthwhile.

They were different creatures from the ones that had left earlier. I had always cherished Maureen’s natural colors, her sparkling eyes, her soft cheeks. Even Eileen never used heavy makeup, but tonight? The hair was carefully put up and was placed in waves that would support the coronet and the tiara. The eyes were underlined by almost heavy blue-green mascara in Maureen’s case and dark brown, red on Eileen’s face. The eyelashes were carefully brushed (?) and the only thing missing was the lipstick. They walked straight to the bedroom to change, telling me to get into my tuxedo. It was laid out in the second bedroom and looking at the mirror, I had to say that I was not ugly. Tall, slender, light blond hair, eyes a mixture of grey and green, and in a straight position honed by endless martial art exercises. The phone rang; the driver was waiting for us.

Then Eileen appeared and again all I could say was, “Wow!”

She used the black dress she had worn to Allan’s event - black with fine gold threads woven through the cloth, a long slit up the left side, and embroidered below her breasts. Her cleavage was just a bit less than decent and emphasized her opal pendant. She had her transparent grey-green cashmere stole around her shoulders and her huge blue diamond ring on her finger. The tiara we had given her, complimented her face and hair - the blue sapphire as the centerpiece with the six-sided star floating on the surface of the stone was almost translucent, with a cabochon cut, set in platinum, and the white and blue diamonds at both sides emphasized the beauty of the stone. It was supported by waves of her golden-red hair, and she was beautiful.

She was satisfied with my reaction and turned around slowly, showing off her slim body and the rather large cutout at her back. “Do you agree?”

I nodded wholeheartedly. “As always, and today more than before, you are a beautiful woman. I’ll be honored to be at your side.”

Then Maureen came into the room, and I was unable even to say ‘WOW’. Whilst Eileen exuded wealth and success, Maureen was elegance and love in person. Finally, I saw the dress she had hidden from me. It was made of luscious silk damask in the most beautiful color of blue I had ever seen. The golden threads woven into the fabric shimmered as she moved under the light. The dress was full length, and the bodice was laced in the front. It had a square deep neckline with a panel of golden silk running down the front to the floor. The bodice nipped in at the waist, and the dress fell from there into a full, flowing skirt that was heavily petty coated. The sleeves were long and wide, shaped into a point that hung down from the wrists. When she stepped forward, her move caused the skirt to rustle. She had a pair of silk slippers that used the same fabric as her dress and matched it to perfection, trimmed with gold braid.

She moved demurely forward, and I stared at her, unable to say a word. Her hair was put up and supported her coronet, which circled her head, nestled in her luscious red hair, and looked lovely on her - it was artisanship at its best. The nine tines showed that it was the coronet of a count, and the main tine had a beautiful opal glittering in blue and green, with red flashes when she turned her head. The other minor tines had opals and black pearls showing that it belonged to a senior count; the jeweler had mixed red and yellow gold in the circle so as with the opals, the color changed slightly at every move. The band showed our family ‘Honor et Fortitude’ and in the middle showed a minute engraving of our family crest. I must admit it was beautiful, and on her, it shone like a beacon. She wore our family signet ring, and the opal pendant was hanging from a neck. There was a bit of blush on her cheeks and a pastel red color on her lips. Her eyes were sparkling, asking whether I liked it?