Chapter 1: Berlin Wall Shadow

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'm good."

"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.

"Acquired?"

"Without permission," he replied, his wryness continuing.

"You have an audition piece?"

"Three actually: serious, comic and musical."

"A cappella?"

"Of course."

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?"

Wolf nodded.

"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."

"I'll survive."

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."

"What?"

"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.