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Berlin

By: Natalie Nessus



Prologue: Berlin
'In Berlin by the wall
You were five foot ten inches tall.
It was very nice
Candlelight and Dubonnet on ice

We were in a small cafe
You could hear the guitars play
It was very nice
Oh, honey it was paradise'
(Berlin – Lou Reed)

I guess we all have life changing moments or, perhaps, a better definition would be life shaping moments. Looking back over the years, I can identify many such moments. Am I extremely fortunate to have had so many crammed into my life or am I being punished for something I have done, people I've hurt? After all these years I still don't have an answer and I've stopped looking, relishing instead the memories.

Where did it all begin? I lightly moved my paintbrush over the canvas and looked back through the years, the years of a man.

My life took a sharp turn down a different road when I stayed in Berlin for a few months many years ago, a road I have followed for the remainder of my life as, in reality, I've had no choice. I also would not have wanted it any other way. 

Exactly when did that first life shaping moment occur? Was it when I stood in the London rain outside the grand old newspaper 'The Daily Empire'? Or was it when Claire offered me an alternative escape route that same damp afternoon in the 'Kings and Keys'? 

Or, maybe it was everyday I spent with Caroline in Berlin?

'Oh, honey it was paradise'

Part 1: Men of Good Fortune
'Men of good fortune, often cause empires to fall
while men of poor beginnings, often can't do anything at all.
The rich son waits for his father to die
The poor just drink and cry
And me I just don't care at all'
(Men of Good Fortune - Lou Reed)

My father called me as soon as he heard which was about forty minutes after it happened. I was standing in the drizzling rain, a sodden cardboard box filled with my meagre personal effects, wondering what I was going to do next when my cell phone chimed in my overcoat pocket.

"James," he boomed down the line. "What are you going to do now?"

"What do you mean?" I said weakly.

"Don't bullshit me, my boy. Clarkson just fired you, didn't he?"

"It was a difference of opinion," I said defensively, watching a bus splash through some puddles on the road.

"You don't have differences of opinion with the editor of the best newspaper in London, especially when you're low down in the pecking order," he said mildly. "Clarkson told me he fired you because you just fucking lazy!"

That solved the question of how my father found out about it so quickly. "Not lazy, maybe I procrastinated a little on some tasks. Anyway, I resigned," I added plaintively.

"Fool yourself, Einstein, if you want," he said sarcastically. "Christ knows why I let your mother talk me into sending you to school in England. You've become more of a limey than an American. You haven't been home for nearly three years! The only time I saw you was when Lois and I flew to London eighteen months ago!"

"Can we leave Mother out of this, please!" Especially in the same breath as Lois, I thought meanly.

He ignored me and kept on. "I've deposited enough money in your account to buy a ticket back to New York. You can work for me." He hung up without another word and my heart sank at the thought of being absorbed into my father's huge corporation. I had worked at carefully avoiding exactly that fate as well as America for most of my life but it now appeared I had no choice but to face it. I had visions of myself wearing baseball caps backwards and large, ill fitting cheap T-shirts with some obscure rap artists name splayed across my chest.

Moodily, I thrust my free hand into the pockets of my overcoat, the box tucked under the other arm and sloshed through the rain to the pub. A few pots later, I had a nice beer chill happening when a few of my fellow workers filed in. "Sorry to see you go," Rodney said sheepishly. "At least you've got your father to help you out." Claire, an advertising executive at the paper stood by Rodney's elbow and smiled at me. As usual, she was bloody gorgeous, long dark hair; wide staring brown eyes and lush red and kissable lips. We had been friendly at the newspaper but she was such a dynamo, so focussed in the business that I felt a possibility of a relationship was extremely remote, I mean, she was so beautiful, what could she possibly see in me? Every time I saw her I felt my cock stir but I knew I would be wasting my time even trying to date her, especially since I was pretty inept at that sort of thing. "Guess you'll leave London?" Rodney added.

"Yes, I suppose that's unavoidable now," I muttered as I drained the last of the lager. Did I detect a note of happiness in his shrill and irritating voice, I wondered?

"I suppose you are going back to New York?" Claire asked and I just shrugged, tapping the bar with the empty beer mug to attract the barmaids' attention. Rodney shuffled off, leaving us alone, and Claire moved a little closer. "Are you going back to New York?" she repeated and her sharp tone made me turn back to her.

"Hardly going back, Claire, I've just gone there for the school hols so it's certainly not home for me." I sighed and shook my head. "I hate the bloody place but I don't have a choice, do I?" I said sulkily as I took the new glass of beer.

"Everybody has choices," she said firmly and, startled, I looked up at her. Claire smiled and flicked my hair with her fingers. "Your hair has turned frizzy in the rain. Does your ever loving Daddy know you've grown it?" I shook my head, as growing my hair long was a small rebellious act that, in the long run, was probably futile because I knew I would cut it before I saw him. "So," Claire prompted quietly, "are you going back?"

"I don't know," I said miserably. "I don't know what to do. I see London as my home but once I get back to New York he won't let me come back. I'll be watching gridiron before you know it!"

"James, " she said with an exasperated air. "Why do you allow your father to make all the decisions in your life?"

"He always has and he owns a gridiron team, by the way."

"Who cares! And you let him make all your decisions."

"I suppose I do," I muttered. "You don't know him, how ugly he can get, how demanding! Mother used to shield me but now…" I turned back to the bar and I felt Claire's arm touch my elbow.

"I sorry, James, about your Mother," she said softly.

"Doesn't matter now," I said, turning to inspect the crowd as they jostled in the bar. Rain was falling steadily and the open fire to the right crackled and danced in a merry way, completely the opposite to how I was feeling. 

A lad with long hair in a skinny suit, tie hanging loose from his collar, selected 'West End Girls' on the jukebox in the corner and the Pet Shop Boys swirled in the air with the blue haze of cigarette smoke. 
'In a west end town a dead end world
The east end boys and the west end girls
west end girls
Too many shadows, whispering voices
faces on posters, too many choices'

In spite of everything, I started to hum along with the music, life goes on even though I'm jobless, even in the Kings and Keys on a wet London afternoon with a soggy cardboard box filled with the remains of my journalistic career. Claire studied me for a moment, thinking something through and then she spoke. "I can help you make a decision," she said quietly. "At least I can give you another choice if you want one."

I sipped the beer and nodded. "Maybe. What are you talking about?"

She looked at me thoughtfully for a moment, then spoke, "I know of a job in Berlin."

"I don't speak German."

She laughed softly. "Is that your first reaction? Look, it doesn't matter. The job is really private secretary to a German movie star. She speaks English and most of the people you'd be dealing with speak it as well."

"Private secretary," I said incredulously. "I can't do that!"

"Why not?" Claire suddenly snapped. "Beneath you?"

"No, I just wouldn't know what to do," I said defensively.

Claire smiled strangely. "Oh don't worry about that James, she'll tell you what to do. You'll enjoy it."

"Who is she?"

"A friend, someone I met a while ago and we have mutual interests," Claire said airily. "You'll like her, everyone does. What about it?"

"I don't know. I mean, Berlin?"

"So go back to New York," she snapped.

"I don't want that. Berlin would have to be better than that. I'll have to tell father," I said, draining my beer.

"Why?" Claire asked and I looked at her. "Why tell him? You're an adult, you can make some decisions on your own, can't you? Just tell him you're not coming home."

"Yes," I said slowly. "I could but he would find me."

"Not if you work under another name and I'm afraid you'll have to. My friend won't give you the job if she knows you're James McNamara, son of a media magnate."

"Change my name? To what?"

Claire thought for a moment and, with a sly smile, she leaned forward. "How about Robin? Robin Humphreys?"

I looked at her in surprise wondering how she had thought of that so quickly. "Robin? Isn't that a girls name?"

Claire smiled and shook her head. "Have you forgotten Robin Hood?"

"Of course, Robin Hood." My mind whirled and I started to believe I could just go away, ignore my father and do something else, something he doesn't want me to do. I felt a sense of relief surge through me as I realised I had just made a decision, albeit with Claire's help. "Robin Hood," I joked. "I won't have to wear green tights, will I?"

Claire smiled strangely at me over her glass. "No," she murmured "Not straight away, anyway." Startled, I stared at her and she smiled warmly back at me. "Just a joke, James," she said, patting my arm. "We'll just change your last name so you'll be James Humphreys. And don't worry, I'll help you make all the arrangements."

I was surprised when Claire took complete control of the arrangements but as she seemed to know what she was doing so I let her, allowing myself to be swept along with the flow.

One grey afternoon, Claire was helping me pack when I suddenly realised I had no idea who I would be working for. "Claire," I said, frozen in the midst of folding some shirts. "Exactly who will I be working for when I go to Berlin?"

She smiled at me. "I thought you had no interest in where you were going?" she teased as she rummaged in her briefcase. "You will me working for Caroline Bahlsen."

"Never heard of her," I said, finishing folding the shirt.

"Here," Claire said, handing me a photograph of a woman. It was obviously a publicity still as she was wearing a flowing white dress and posed against a tree with a small dark cigarette in one hand. Although she was much older than I, she was extremely attractive.

"Gosh," I breathed. "She's beautiful."

"The photo doesn't do her justice," Claire said. "Wait until you see her."

I turned the photograph around and saw something written on the back. Although it was written in German, I could decipher Claire's' name. "What does this say?"

"Oh, just warm regards or something like that," she said airily.

"Why are you doing all this?" I asked quietly and Claire stopped folding to look at me.

"You don't know?" I shook my head slowly, feeling a little stupid. "I like you, James, in fact," she added in that serious tone of hers, "I like you a lot."

"Me?" I yelped in surprise. "But, I never knew," I stammered.

Claire laughed. "Never mind, James, we aren't quite ready for each other yet. Now, what other clothes have you got to pack?"

 Soon, my flat was wound up, my belongings except for some of my clothes were placed in storage and James Humprehys was ready to travel to Berlin.

"Goodbye, James," Claire said at the airport and she quickly pecked me on the cheek.

"Thanks for arranging everything," I said sheepishly, wondering if I should hug and kiss her. 

Her leather coat creaked as she folded her arms and she looked me up and down. "Give my regards to Caroline and don't worry, she'll like you, you look sweet," she said. "Just remember she has a bad temper so don't get her angry. Enjoy your self," she added with a strange smile and quickly walked away without a backward glance.

Once again, I checked the written instructions Claire had given me and wondered, for the thousandth time, what Caroline Bahlsen was like.


Part 2: Loving the Alien
'Watching them come and go
The Templars and the Saracens
They're travelling the Holy land
Opening telegrams oh oh'
(Loving the Alien – David Bowie)

The plane was full of serious businessmen and women, deep in sheafs of papers and laptop computers as we spiralled towards Germany. My feelings were mixed. On one hand I was relieved I had something to go to, while on the other I wondered how I would fare in a strange country. I had never been to Germany; somehow I had avoided it in my quick jaunts across the channel, choosing instead to visit France and Spain.

I took a cab to the hotel Claire had reserved for my first night as Caroline Bahlsen expected me early tomorrow morning. The Hotel Tiergarten was a small hotel reasonably close to the Alexanderplatz and, the cab driver assured me, assuming I was another English Public Servant, easy to get to the government buildings.

After checking in, I spent a while wandering the city, taking the underground from Tumstr three stops to Kurfurstendamm. People ebbed and flowed around me but I felt apart, separate and detached as I knew I was only avoiding the inevitable so I wandered back to my room.

For sometime I perched on the edge of the bed staring at the telephone until finally, I plucked up enough courage to ring New York. A deep breath and I picked the phone up, my hand trembling as I rang the direct number to my father's office. 

"Yeah?" a soft voice musically answered and I felt a surge of relief, as it was Susan, my father's long serving personal assistant.

"Susan," I said quickly. "It's James."

"Jimmy," she exclaimed with genuine delight. "You've still got that sexy little accent, honey," she drawled. "It's great to hear from you. Your father isn't here but Bob is. Will I put you through?"

I agreed and a moment later my stepbrother answered. "Jimmy, is that you?"

"Hello Bob. How are you?" I asked politely. We were not close, the hostile divorce followed by my father marrying his mother, Lois, put a strain on our interactions, especially after my mother died. 

"Fucking busy, as usual. Hear you're coming home?"

"Ah, actually, no."

"No? What do you mean?"

"I have something else to go to so I'll be busy for a while. Tell Father, will you?"

"Tell father, will you," he mimicked. "Hey, buddy, you know it's not going to be that easy. He's not going to like it," Bob warned. "He'll come looking for you, Jim and he will be really pissed. You know what he's like, man."

"He won't find me. Look, I have to go. Do your best to calm him down for me?"

"Ok, I'll do what I can. Jim," he added after a moment, "good luck."

"Thank you Bob. Good luck in running the corporation."

"Me? That's not decided," he said quickly and I smiled to myself in my small hotel room, imagining Bob sitting astride a huge leather chair while New York sprawled, ready to be taken, outside his skyscraper window.

"I don't want it, Bob," I said and realised for the first time that was true. "I really don't and you do. And you are good at it. Good luck," I added and I meant it.

"Thanks Jimmy," he said very slowly and paused. "I'll do what I can for you, man," he added after a moment. "Take care, man," he said and I hung up. I never spoke to him again although, over the years, I've seen photographs of him in magazines with his wives and many children and I knew I made the right decision.

I spent a lonely night in my room watching German television, a surreal experience, and half expected my father and some of his people to come bursting through the door to take me back. After tossing and turning all night, I checked out and took a cab to the address Claire had provided.

Flecks of snow were visible on the wind as I scurried for a cab in the busy streets. Unfortunately, I was running late when the cab dropped me off outside Caroline Bahlsen's house, which was surrounded by a high wall. Nervously, I buzzed the intercom and a female voice snappily said, "Guten Morgen".

"Ah, James Humphrey's to see Caroline Bahlsen," I said into the small grill, smiling sheepishly when I realised that I was being watched from a security camera.

"You are late," the woman snapped in English and the gate slowly opened. She was waiting for me at the front door and I gaped at her. Claire was right, the photograph did not do her justice and she was extraordinarily beautiful. Her blonde hair framed her regal features and she was dressed in a simple pale blouse and long flowing black skirt. "I do not appreciate lateness," she said coldly as she held the door open for me and motioned for me to quickly to enter.

"I am so sorry, Ms Bahlsen," I stuttered. "This is my first visit to Berlin." I looked around as we stood in the foyer. It was a dark area; a single chandelier hung from the domed ceiling and cast deep shadows against the paintings on the walls that surrounded us. The paintings were portraits of serious people who all looked like they also disapproved of my lateness. 

A large staircase wound its way upward to the light, I saw a large fern on a landing perched on a carved table and a leather armchair. Music, I guessed it was Mozart, played quietly in the background and pale light filtered down from a frosted sky light at the top of the stairs.

"A poor excuse,' she interrupted me and pointed to a door under the staircase. "Your room is there. Leave your luggage there and join me in the office." Without another word, she strode off into a doorway close to the stair well. The room under the stairs was small but comfortable and I left my suitcase on the narrow iron bed and quickly walked to the other room where Caroline was waiting. 

She was standing next to a long window that overlooked the street, sheer white curtains stirred around her as she sucked on a short, dark cigarette. "I despise lateness," she said, not looking around as I entered. "It is a sign of weakness." The room was hot from the central heating and I suspected she had the window open to remove the cigarette odour.

"I am terribly sorry, Ms Bahlsen," I said quickly. "It won't happen again."

Her eyes ran over me and I was startled by how blue they were, a cold blue that seem to be impassive to all that went on around them. "Nein," she said calmly, closing the window with a bang. "It will not happen again." I watched as she moved to a white sofa adjoining the fireplace and sat, arranging her long flared black skirt around her. "So," Caroline said in that crisp accented English I was becoming used to, "you are recommended by Claire?" 

"Yes," I said nervously, wondering if I should sit down as well, "Claire suggested I come here."

"You are lovers?"

I was astounded by the bluntness of her question and felt my face flush. "No, of course not," I stuttered."

"So, you don't like the women?" She asked the question evenly while looking me up and down. "You prefer the boys, perhaps little ones?"

"No, of course not!" I exclaimed. "Claire and I are just friends."

"Impossible. Ich verstehe nicht," she said calmly, stubbed her cigarette out in a large crystal ashtray on the coffee table and regally stood. "It is impossible to be just friends, especially when you are so young, when you should be so full of passion. What was your name once again?"

"James Humphreys," I stammered.

She wrinkled her nose. "Hässlich! Boring English name for such a gutaussehend boy. Perhaps it should be changed." Caroline gestured at the room. "This is my office and you will work there." A finger with a deep red nail pointed at a desk and a electric typewriter in the corner. "The telephone is the most important device here and," she said, a half smile on her beautiful face as she knowingly tapped the side of her nose, "it is also important how we answer the telephone."


Berlin: My First Time



Dear Jane,

Thanks a lot for your letter. I really enjoyed reading it. It sounds as if we're on pretty much the same wavelength and I'm glad we're going to be writing to each other, so I guess it's up to me now to start things going. You mentioned you like going to bed with good-looking women. Me too, so I think I'm going to start off by telling you about the first time it ever happened to me.

It was just after I finished university. I was 22. I'd spent the summer travelling round Europe, sometimes on my own, sometimes with a friend, once, for a while, with a really sweet guy from Portugal, and it had been great. It was getting towards the end of August, almost time to go back to Britain and start being sensible, and on the way I decided to go to Berlin for a few days. I'd never been there before and lots of people had told me how good it was there, what a lot of life there was and all kinds of other good stuff, and there was a girl I'd been at school with who was living there and teaching English. She'd written a few times and it always sounded as if she was having a whale of a time.

So off I went. Katie was really happy to see me and we had a marvellous time together. She knew all sorts of interesting people and places and the first few days were just like one big long party. There were bars, restaurants, clubs, concerts, parties, all kinds of stuff. I'd been on a pretty quiet Greek island for most of the previous month and so I thought it was just wonderful. Going out till late, crashing out at her place, getting up around lunchtime, having a lovely long bath with all the smellies she had lying around in there, then a lazy lunch and then getting out and about again. It was just so exciting!

One day, after about a week, I got up when Katie was already out at school. I was just having some coffee and toast when the bell rang. I answered it and there was a woman there I hadn't seen before. She started out in German, which I didn't really speak much at all, just a few words, so I just sort of smiled and told her I was English and that I didn't understand. "Oh, sorry," she said.

"Is Katie in?"

"No, she's gone to work." She looked a bit confused by that, so I asked her if she wanted to come in for a minute and have a coffee.

"That would be nice," she said, and in she came. Well, to cut a long story short and spare you all the dialogue, she was a friend of Katie's called Monika, and she wanted to know if Katie felt like going out with her that evening to a dance performance. Well, I knew that Katie had something on that evening anyway, but I was at a bit of a loose end, and I think she must have seen it in my face, because she asked me if I felt like going with her.

"Why not?" I thought. She seemed really pleasant and friendly, and I thought it would be interesting to go out with her and watch the dancing rather than just sitting at home and waiting for Katie. So she told me how to get to the theatre and we agreed to meet outside at about seven.

When Katie got home I told her all about it. I thought she'd be really pleased, but she didn't seem that way at all. "What's the matter?" I asked.

"Oh, nothing," she said, in that kind of way that makes it as clear as day that there is something the matter.

"No, come on, tell me, Katie. I'm not stupid. Tell me. Please."

"Well," Katie said, "if you're going to go out with Monika there's something that you probably ought to know..."

"Yeah, what then?"

"Well, she's, she's..."

"Come on, TELL ME!"

"Well, she might be interested in a bit more than just going to the theatre, if you see what I mean."

"What? You mean she's a lesbian?"

"Well, not exactly, but I think she likes women as well as guys. No, I know she likes women as well as guys."

"How?" "She tried it on with me once, when we were drunk at a party."

"What happened?"

"Nothing happened. I made sure of that."

"Wow. When was this?"

"Oh, ages ago, when we first met. I really like her, she's a nice woman and a good friend and everything, but I just don't have any interest in that sort of thing. If I'm going to have anybody in my bed, it's going to be a guy, not a woman, however attractive she might be. Right?"

"Yeah, sure. So are you saying that I shouldn't go out with Monika tonight?"

"No, stupid. You're a big girl. You can look after yourself, can't you? I just wanted you to know."

So now I knew. And what surprised me, to be perfectly honest, was that I wasn't bothered at all. In fact, truth be told, once I thought about it I found it hard to stop my imagination from working. Getting it on with another woman wasn't something I'd ever actually done, but on the other hand it wasn't something I'd really not done either, if you see what I mean. I wasn't a prude. I'd always said to myself that I should try things before knocking them, and now it looked as if I might get the chance to see if I was just bullshitting myself or whether I really meant it. And, if Monika tried something on with me, why not? She was a nice woman, I'd enjoyed talking to her in the morning, and she was certainly good-looking enough, slim, pretty face, nice auburn hair, smiley grey eyes, that sort of thing, and so the idea of getting something going with her was actually pretty exciting in a weird kind of way. I certainly wasn't going to start anything, but if she did, well, I decided I wouldn't say no straight away. We'd just have to wait and see, wouldn't we?

You might not believe me, but by the time we met outside the theatre in the evening I'd half forgotten about all this business. As soon as I saw Monika, though, it all came back to me. She was standing alone on the steps, looking around, for me, I suppose. It was one of those really warm summer evenings and she was wearing very simple clothes that suited her well, just a dress with a denim jacket over it. She had nice legs, I noticed, slim and lightly tanned. As soon as she saw me she broke out into a big smile and waved.

"Hello," she said, "you're looking great. Let me look." And she held me at arm's length and looked me up and down. I had on a sleeveless baggy cotton dress that I'd bought in Greece, one of those ones with buttons all the way up the front. It was comfy and easy to keep clean, and when you're living out of a rucksack that's ideal. Anyway, Monika seemed to like it. She nodded and smiled again and then put her hand on my arm to hand to take me through the door. There was quite a crowd of people in the foyer, and she took me by the hand to lead me through them and into the auditorium.

It felt nice. Her hand was nice and dry and smooth in mine and it felt good. When we got to the end of the row where our seats were she let it go, though. We sat down somewhere in the middle and she took off her jacket. Her dress was one of those really light cotton ones with shoulder straps and the sort of neckline they used to call daring. She looked great in it, lots of creamy back and shoulder on view with just a dusting of suntan, and try as I might I just couldn't stop myself from looking. And thinking, of course.

Have you ever read "Sons and Lovers" by D H Lawrence? Don't worry, I'm not about to go all literary on you, but there's a bit in that where this guy, Paul, goes to the theatre with this woman, Miriam, who he's really in love with right then and he just can't keep his eyes off her, especially, I think, a little vein in the hollow of her arm. Well, that's a bit like how it was. She had lovely tanned skin. It looked so soft and smooth and I just couldn't stop wondering what it would be like to touch her legs. The dress had ridden up a bit and they were showing way above her knees. Then she leant forward to wave to somebody she'd seen coming in and I got a glimpse right down the front of her dress, just for a second or maybe even less, but it gave me a lump in my throat, honestly. She wasn't wearing a bra and I just got this quick flash of her breasts and one of her nipples, not even enough time to focus or anything but it was just so exciting. Of course, right then she turned and looked at me, and it must've just been so obvious that I'd been peeking. I started blushing, I felt so stupid, and she just went on looking into my eyes, far too long for it to be a normal glance, and gave me this secret sort of a smile and then looked as if she was about to say something, but just then the lights went down and saved me.

I just sat there in the dark with my face glowing, feeling a real idiot, but nothing happened and after a bit I calmed down and started to concentrate on the show. I really enjoyed it. The dancers were great and there was something just so thrilling about being in the dark next to Monika and thinking about her and enjoying the feeling of her warm and close to me but not touching and the smell of the perfume she was wearing - she didn't have any make-up on but she did have this light gentle scent of violets about her - and the feeling that she'd caught me out and that I was on the verge of something that thinking about made me feel both guilty and all excited at the same time, something a bit like how I used to feel before I went on stage when I did acting at university.

There wasn't any interval or anything like that, so when the lights went up it was already time to leave. Monika didn't take my hand this time.

"A drink?" she said as we walked away from the theatre.

"Mmmm, sure. Where?"

"Well, there's a place not far from here that's okay, or, if you prefer, we could go back to my flat. It's not so far from here." I'd always thought that it was just a cliché when people said their hearts jumped inside them, but it's really the only way to describe what I felt right then.

"It's happening!" I thought, and it was such a strong, strange thought, at the same time incredibly exciting and deeply worrying. "Should I do this?" (Jane, I hope you don't mind these italics, I know they're a bit literary , but it's the best I can think of to try to show how I felt.) The answer to the question took only a second or so to come, but that second seemed like the longest one of my life. It lasted for ever. "You've got to. If you don't you'll wonder for the rest of your life what you missed this evening. Do it!" "What about you? What would you prefer?"

"My place?" she said with a little smile. "Okay. Your place it is."

The flat was in an old house that we reached through a courtyard. "Who lives here with you?" I asked as we toiled up the narrow stairs to the fourth floor.

"Just me," said Monika. "And here we are." We walked in through a double door that led into a small hall. Monika didn't turn the light on but kicked off her shoes and walked straight through another door into the room beyond. A light clicked on.

"Come on in," she said. Monika's living-room was, as I'd half-expected, simply but tastefully decorated. White walls, a polished natural wood floor with a couple of small rugs here and there, a sofa and matching armchair in black, a coffee table, a stereo, a TV, a couple of plants, a few pictures on the walls, a lot of books. Light came not from the big fitting hanging from the ceiling but two lamps on the bookshelf. I liked it a lot.

"Do you want to listen to music?"

"I don't know. You?"

"Not desperately. What about a drink?"

"That would be nice," I said.

"Red wine?"

"Lovely." It might help me to relax a bit.

"Take a seat. I'll just go and find it." I sat in the armchair. Monika went into the kitchen. I heard cupboards opening and closing, then the clink of glasses and the popping of the cork. She came in with a bottle and two glasses on a tray and set them down on the coffee table. "Is Burgundy all right?" she asked.

"That's fine. I like it." Monika poured the wine into the glasses and handed me one. "Cheers," I said. "Prosit." And we drank. The wine was good. And for a minute or two neither of us said anything. I looked at Monika, sitting across from me on the sofa, her legs crossed and catching the light, and she looked back at me, and then we both drank again. Say something.

"This place is nice. Have you been living here long?"

"Three years." I drained my glass and shivered.

"Are you cold?" she asked. "No, just a bit..."

"A bit what? Nervous?"

"Yes. How did you know?"

"I have eyes. I'm not so stupid. But don't worry. I'm not dangerous," she said, and laughed. She had lovely teeth, very white, very even. She had a lovely laugh, too, throaty and musical. Oh no? Monika poured me more wine. For a while we drank and talked about trivial things, things which weren't anything to do with the atmosphere that was developing in the room, an atmosphere of expectation, of tension, of waiting for something that both of us knew was going to happen but neither of us was sure how to start. During a lull in the conversation I got up and walked over to where the albums were stored on a shelf. They were a mixture of vinyl and CDs, mostly jazz and blues, but I didn't recognise a lot of them. Then I found one that remembered from when I was at secondary school, one we listened to a lot during lunchbreaks. It seemed funny to find it here, in such a different situation from the one I knew it in.

"Would you like to hear it?" Monika's voice, soft, came from by my side.

"Not right now, thanks. It's just something I remember from somewhere else." Once more her perfume was all around me. I caught my breath.

"You like my smell, don't you?" she said quietly. "I noticed in the theatre."

"Mmmm," I nodded. "It's lovely."

"You like me, too, don't you?" she continued. "Yes, I do, but ..." I can't say it! Please, please, can't you understand how I feel? Just do something, do something now, or even say something, and break the spell, and I'll go along with everything you want to do! Just something! Please!

"But what? Nervous?"

"Yes, a little bit."

"A new situation for you?"

"Yes," I said, and laughed. Even to me it sounded hollow. "I've never done anything like this before."

"What, had a glass of wine with somebody?"

"No, you know..."

"Been with another woman who you think's going to make a pass at you?"

"Yes."

"Because I won't if you don't want me to."

"No, it's not that, it's just that I..."

"Yes, you feel nervous, but you also feel excited, and you have butterflies in your stomach, and you wonder what's going to happen. Is that right?"

"Yes," I nodded.

"Just take it easy," Monika said. "Just forget about being scared. Nothing's going to happen if you don't want it to. Relax. Enjoy yourself." As she said the last words she put her right arm around my shoulders. For a moment I stiffened and took a gulp of breath, and then I looked down and saw her fingers resting there - she had lovely nails, I'd already noticed in the theatre - and then I relaxed and snuggled closer to her. And somehow it seemed to be the most natural thing in the world to put my left arm round her waist and just let it rest there. I'd done it before, of course, with guys, but with Monika I was just amazed. There was the way she felt so soft and smooth and warm and there was the narrowness of her waist and her softness and the little ridge of her panties and the feeling of her hip against mine and the way she just flared out from the waist down. It was beautiful. It felt like an electric shock. It was so different. We stayed like that for what seemed like ages, and then we turned to look each other in the eye.

It seemed as if it was happening in slow motion. Her face was very close to mine. God, she's lovely. And she was. She had one of those heart-shaped faces, framed in those auburn curls, and not a grain of make-up. She didn't need it. Creamy skin, a straight nose that turned up just a little bit at the end, soft-looking cushiony lips parted just a tiny bit, and above all her huge humorous grey eyes looking straight at me. I was so close that I could see every detail of her face, the fine lines on her forehead and at the corners of her mouth, the long silver earrings that dangled through the thickness of her hair, each individual hair of her eyebrows, and even the tiny ones on her top lip, and through it all the smell of violets, now mixed on her breath with the sweetness of the wine. Smiling at me all the while, she moved smoothly to face me, her hands meeting behind my neck, and bent her face towards mine.

Our lips just brushed together at first, incredibly gently, incredibly tenderly, just for a split second, and then she moved back a bit and looked me right in the eye again. I ran my tongue over my own lips, savouring the softness and the taste of her, and then moved my mouth towards hers once more. This time the kiss was longer and deeper. Our lips mashed together and then parted as our tongues met for the first time. Hers was vigorous and thrust between my teeth, where I parried it with mine. To and fro, to and fro, our tongues played in and out of each other's mouths until our chins were wet with each other's spit. Her hands were round my neck, mine held her head, caressing her thick hair. The contours of her body were against me and the scent of violets and the heady taste of wine were everywhere.

"Oh, lovely," Monika said with a smile when eventually we came up for air.

"Yes, lovely," I echoed.

"More," said Monika.

"Yes, more," I said. And we had more, this time with her hands on my shoulders, fondling my bare upper arms and holding me close to her, while mine met in the small of her back. We kissed and nibbled and sucked each other's mouths for what seemed like an age before eventually we parted. As our eyes opened and met again Monika brought her hands to the buttons at the top of my dress and, looking me right in the eye the whole while, undid them, one after the other, until it was undone down to the waist. Then she took the edges between her fingers and thumbs and pulled them out and down so that the dress fell to the floor and lay there in a pool of crumpled fabric. I stood there, just in my underwear, and let her eye rove over my body. I don't think I'd ever felt so excited in my life.

"You're beautiful," she said.

"Do you really think so?"

"Yes, look in the mirror. Aren't you lovely?" So I did. It was one of those full-length ones and I had to admit I did look pretty good. I had a nice tan from all those weeks in Greece and the simple white bra and panties I had on looked good against it. I watched in the mirror as she came up behind me and wrapped her hands around me and buried her face in my neck, nuzzling away as her fingertips rhythmically caressed my belly and played in and out of my navel. We look so good together. Just look at the contrast of her creamy skin and my brown one. Look how I curve and swell and how she plays on me like an instrument. Anything this exciting just has to be right.

"This isn't fair," I said over my shoulder.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, look at me and look at you. You're overdressed for the occasion."

"So close your eyes," she said, a mischievous smile in her eyes. I closed them. She moved her hands away from my belly and I heard a rustle of cloth.

"Open them and turn round." I did. Honestly, I almost came on the spot. From head to toe, all she was now wearing was a simple gold chain around her neck and a tiny pair of black panties, just a skimpy vee of material drawn tight over her sex, framed in crinkly brown hairs. Narrow ribbons reached up and around to the back of her, emphasising the narrowness of her waist and the swell of her hips. She had good legs, long and slim and shapely, and the kind of breasts that would probably never need a bra, small, firm-looking, and rounded, with prominent uptilted nipples.

"Wow," was all I could say.

"Now you're overdressed," she answered, and took a step towards me. Her hands reached behind my back and unclasped my bra, which joined the pile on the floor. Clasped in each other's arms, we looked into the mirror, Monika auburn-haired and creamy-skinned, me blonde and tanned, and the two of us together wearing nothing more than a few square inches of cloth.




Berlin: My First Time



"Aren't we beautiful?" she said dreamily, and brought her hand up to cup my breast. I've always had sensitive breasts and I love having them played with, and Monika knew just what she was doing. I watched in the mirror as she stroked them softly, enjoying their softness and elasticity, lifted them gently and then allowed them to fall down into their natural position against my ribcage, ran her nails around my nipples till they grew puckered and hard, then rolled them between her fingers and thumbs, first one at a time and then both together. My breath was coming in long sobbing gasps by now and I was sure that between my legs I must be absolutely dripping. I was so aroused I could hardly stand up. One of her hands snaked down over my belly again, but this time it didn't stop there. I watched it as it continued down and slid into my panties, and felt it as it ran through my pubic fuzz and down to my most secret place, parting my outer lips and searching out my clitoris, which by now was absolutely throbbing with desire for her, so much so that it was like a physical pain.

"Oh, you're so wet for me," Monika murmured thickly in my ear, and withdrew her finger from inside me. She put it into her mouth and sucked on it slowly, fixing her eyes on mine in the mirror as she did so.

"Oh, and you taste so good, and I want you so much." Watching her do that just drove me frantic with lust.

"I want you, too," I said in a weak voice.

"Desperately. Let's go to bed now. Please."

"Come on, then," she said, and put her arm round my shoulder. I put mine around her waist and we went through a door in the corner of the room. "Just wait here while I find the light." she said, and left me standing by the door. A moment later a dim yellow lamp came on to reveal a big double bed with dark green bedding: a sheet, two big pillows, a quilt, already pulled back. Monika was sitting on the near edge.

"My bedroom," she said. "You are welcome here." As I moved towards her my hands went to my panties to take them off. Monika lifted a finger to stop me. "No," she said. "Please. I want to do that for you, but not just yet." Still sitting on the bed, she caught my hand and drew me towards her. She looked up at me and gave me a look I'll never forget, a look of pure desire and, yes, maybe love as well, and then her hands reached round behind me, found their way inside the elastic of my panties, and clasped my clenched buttocks.

She ran her nails teasingly across them. Then she kneaded them gently as though they were dough. Finally she ran a finger gently down the cleft between them and made me wriggle with pleasure. "You've got a lovely ass," she said, "but there are other parts of you that I want even more." With that she thrust her face into my groin, inhaling deeply and sighing with pleasure. I could feel her nose sticking into me and the way she inhaled and exhaled. Just thinking about what we were doing and what we were about to do drove me absolutely wild, and I took the top of her head in my hands and held it close to me.

"Oh baby, you smell so sweet," she said. "I've just got to see how you taste. Can you imagine how it's going to feel? Can I imagine? I've been imagining for what seems like hours. Those elegant womanly hands spreading my legs. The sight of her breasts hanging down as she bends towards me. That lovely head of hair bobbing up and down between my thighs. Those beautiful lips on my cunt. That tongue of hers driving me wild. Can I imagine?

"Come and lie down," she said, and rolled backwards and sideways so that she flipped me on to my back on the bed, legs hanging over the edge. She jumped up and knelt on the floor between them, gently prising them apart and running her hands up my calves, my knees, the insides of my thighs, doing it so gently that it hardly touched me at all, driving me mad with wanting her. As her caresses grew closer and closer to my groin I thrust at her, willing her to find the heart of me, only for her to keep maddeningly away.

I moaned, I moved towards her, I pumped my hips up and down. Please! Please! Achingly, one fingernail moved at a snail's pace up the sopping gusset of my panties. And then down again. And back. And then away. And now she's hooking her fingers and thumbs into the waistband of my panties at the sides and she's pulling them down, millimetre by agonising millimetre, and they're inside out now. One final little tug and they're as good as off. She's sliding them down over my thighs, my knees, my calves, over my ankles and off my feet, and she's twirling them round and she's got her nose buried in them and I'm just lying here, as naked as the day I was born, breasts flattened against my chest, legs akimbo, dying for this gorgeous woman who I'd never even set eyes on twelve hours ago to make me come.

She's looking at me with those great grey eyes, smiling at me, telling me I'm beautiful, and now she's coming towards me. Is this real? Monika moved to sit by me on the bed. I moved so that I was lying fully on it. Leaning on one arm and smiling down at me, she brought her free hand to my thigh, caressing it once more, alternating her fingertips and nails, slowly but surely moving higher, her eyes unflinchingly glued to mine. My sex felt as if it was melting. Touch me! I want to feel your fingers, your tongue, your lips on me! I want to suck you deep inside me and keep you there for ever! Suddenly, from the inside of my thigh, Monika's hand moved to my vagina, one finger exploring the length of me while the others followed it along the outer lips.

She got as far as my clitoris, allowed her fingertip to rest on it for an anguished millisecond, and then repeated the movement again. And again. And again and again, till at last one finger stayed on my clitoris, rolling it this way and that, while she ran the others through my fuzz as I whimpered and moaned and rolled around like a mad thing. I was so close to coming now that I thought I would scream. And just as I thought I would do so, she took her hand away. With it, and the other one, she clasped my buttocks, ducked her head between my legs, and brought her mouth down on my cunt and in next to no time she hit a rhythm that was just perfect. God, she knew how to eat pussy!

Hard and soft, short and long strokes, she ran her tongue along my labia, buried it as deep inside me as it would go, licked around my clitoris, sucked and nibbled on it as if it was an exotic fruit, and all sorts of other things I'd never dreamed of. I was hardly able to breathe any more, I was that excited, and the way I was thrashing round showed her just how close I was. It seemed as if she'd hardly started when I felt an absolutely incredible orgasm coming on. It just welled up inside me like a tidal wave and when it hit me almost broke me in two, and then it just went on and on, wave after wave, until it eventually ebbed away in spasms that seemed to get further and further from some kind of centre deep inside me until I was left with a feeling of fulfilment, of perfect contentment, and with my hands clamped tight in Monika's hair as she rested her face on my abdomen.

"That was fantastic," I said. "Nobody's ever made me come like that before."

"No?"

"No. You were great."

"I'm glad." We just lay there for a while after that, me running my hand through Monika's hair and feeling utterly at peace. It was a beautiful moment.

"I'd like another glass of wine," she said after a while. "What about you?"

"Please."

She got up and padded to the other room. I watched her slim figure as she retreated. She was still wearing the black panties. There was even less of them at the back than there was at the front, really just another ribbon running down between the cheeks of her rump. This is amazing. Just so out of the blue. What on earth is Katie going to say? I must have laughed out loud at that point, because Monika came back with the wine and asked me what the matter was. "Does it bother you?" she asked when I told her.

"Not really. I wouldn't have missed this for the world."

"Nor me," said Monika, and we sat side by side in bed for a while and drank our wine. I finished mine first and put the glass on the bedside table. I put my arm around Monika's shoulder as she drank hers. She still smelled of violets but now of sex as well, and despite the feeling of satisfaction that I had I was aroused by it. My cunt's purring like a well-fed cat, but what about her? Aren't you going to try to do something for her after what she did for you? Monika reached across me to put the glass down next to mine.

Keeping one hand round her shoulder, I put the other one on her breast and kept it there as we lay down face to face. It felt good, smooth and firm, and I played with it in the same way as I enjoyed my own being played with. At the same time I kissed her teasingly on the face, which had a bouquet composed in equal portions of Burgundy, violets, and my own juices.

"Do you like that?" I asked her.

"Yes," she said softly, and ruffled my hair. "I like everything you do."

"Do you want me to love you the way you loved me?"

"Do you want to?"

"Yes, but I'm not sure if I'll do it right. Will you help me?"

"If you need me to, of course I will, but I think you already know. You're a woman. You know what women like." I like having my nipples nibbled. I'll try that. Monika's breasts were smaller than mine, and as she lay on her back they were spread against her ribs, small round convexities. From close up, I was able to see every tiny detail of them, even the microscopic hairs, and with my fingernail I traced the path of a winding blue vein. She's enjoying this. Her breasts are all goosebumps. She had lovely nipples. They were dark and rubbery and went erect as soon as I started touching her breasts, but I remembered the way she'd enjoyed teasing me and didn't go straight for them.

Instead, I spent as long as I could bear it just circling round them with my fingertips, my nails, my palms, but I couldn't resist for long. She was kissing me hard now, her teeth chewing on my lower lip, and she stiffened as if a shock had gone through her when I took her nipple between my fingernails. I've got long ones and they were painted red, and it just looked so erotic, my nails around this other woman's breast, that I started to get excited all over again. Monika was excited, too. Her head was moving rhythmically from side to side on the pillow and her eyes were shut. When I took her nipple in my mouth, just seizing it very gently between my teeth and tugging gently away from her and towards me, then rolling my tongue around it and flicking it this way and that, she really liked it a lot, I could tell.

She started running her fingers through my hair and her breathing got more and more uneven. I kept her nipple in one of my hands and carried on sucking and nibbling at it, while allowing the other one to move down her belly. Her eyes were closed tight, but I really wanted to see what I was doing and so I threw the quilt off us both. What an image we must make. Me crawling all over her, not a stitch on me, and her just lying there, loving it. Just look how narrow her waist is, what a sweet navel she's got, the shape of her legs, the way her sex bulges inside that tiny pair of panties... I let my hand come to rest on the little wisp of cloth at the base of her abdomen and felt the plumpness of her sex, its warmth and wetness, through the material. She spread her legs to allow me to get at her more easily.

I stroked her for a moment and then sat up. "I think these are coming off," I said. "I want to see you." Monika arched her back as I took the cloth in my hands. The tiny panties came off in one smooth movement and I tossed them on to the floor. And there she was, not a stitch on her, lying on the bed propped up on her elbows with her big grey eyes looking right into mine, legs spread wide, a lovely gift freshly unwrapped for me.

"Show me your cunt," I said. "I want you to show me what it looks like and what you like to do with it." Will it excite her when I use language like that? Is she as much of an exhibitionist as I wish I could be? Monika didn't bat an eyelid. Reaching behind her, she took a pillow and placed it under her buttocks and signalled to me to move round to face the light. Never taking her eyes off mine even for a second., she ran both her hands down over the smooth skin of her stomach and abdomen to the triangle of hair where her legs met.

"Now you see me," she said. "Isn't that nice? Look at the insides of my thighs. Look at these lips. It's lovely and smooth and wet there for you. See? And then, when I put my fingers here, it just opens like a flower, a secret flower for you to pick and enjoy. And here are some more lips. Don't you like the way they glisten? That's because they're waiting for you, for your fingers, your mouth, your tongue. And up here, this is my clitoris. It's big, isn't it? I love to play with it, to rub it and feel it grow, but even more than that I love the idea of you doing that for me. Just try the taste. Isn't it beautiful?" She took her finger and raised it to my nose. It was wet and had a perfume that was familiar but yet not familiar, a lot like my own juices, which I knew well, but different as well, rich, musky, and exciting as hell. I stuck my tongue out and licked it clean.

"Now touch me," Monika commanded me. I let my fingers run through her pubic hair. It was softer and silkier than mine. My fingers slid between her legs and into the warm wetness of her sex, slippery and dripping with desire. She pulled my face to hers and our lips met in tender kisses as I rhythmically played with her vagina, running my fingers along the soft grooves of her labia, feeling the heat inside her, fondling the stiff knob of her clitoris. Her legs jerked closed and enveloped my hand, pumping it so that it was a tool doing her bidding. I felt her tension under me as she willed herself to a climax, and then the way she caught her breath and her body jerked as it washed over her. I was powerless to move. One of my hands was caught between her thighs as effectively as if it were held in a vice, and the other one was tightly wrapped around her shoulders. Hers held me tight round the body. We stayed that way for a few minutes.

"Are you tired?" Monika asked.

"No. You?"

"No. Do you want more?"

"Yes. I haven't eaten you yet."

"Do you want to?"

"Yes, very much."

"I want to eat you again too. I'm a pig."

"Can we both do it together?"

"We can try. Let's lie on our sides, like this. I'll face this way and you face that way. Can you reach me, do you think?" Oh yes, I can reach you. There you are, right in front of my face. I can see the little bumps on your skin where the hairs grow, the ones you must've shaved off so that you'd look nice on the beach, and I can see the roundness of the cheeks of your ass, and how swollen with hot blood and desire you are, and I can feel the heat and the wanting you give off, and I can smell the sheer raw female animalness of you, because that's what we are now, animals, all glands and sex and instinct and, oh sweetheart, I want you so badly and I know you want me too.

I can feel your breath on the inside of my thighs, and now your nose is nuzzling my pussy and you're waiting for me to just go and then you'll start as well. I took a deep breath and went for it. My mouth descended on Monika's sex at exactly the same moment hers did on mine. It was as if we were one creature, doing the same thing at different ends at the same time. I took my cue from her. When she kept her tongue stiff and lapped at me like a cat, when she took my clitoris gently between her teeth, when she darted her tongue inside me, whatever she did, I did the same to her. Each of us had our hands clamped on the other's buttocks, kneading and fondling at them as we established our sweet rhythm, and we rocked gently to and fro as we both grew closer and closer to our orgasms. There wasn't the same urgency about either of us now as before. Instead, we were able to concentrate on the little things we hadn't bothered with before, the textures of each other's bodies, the scents, the little creases, the details.

We had forever. And then I was on the verge of coming and so, I could tell by the increased urgency of her movements, was she. She buried her face deep in my vagina, her tongue thrashing round like a harpooned whale, and I did the same. We didn't quite come simultaneously but there can't have been more than about four seconds in it. My orgasm was different this time, a wonderful warm flush that just spread out all over my body and stayed there glowing for ages afterwards, and when Monika came her sex contracted and actually ejaculated a quantity of a thick sour-sweet liquid that I lapped up eagerly. I held it in my mouth and rolled it round on my tongue, loving its taste for a minute or two before climbing out from between her legs, seeking out her mouth with mine, and using it to lubricate our kisses.

"Mmm, that's me," she said, smacking her lips and wrapping her arms and legs round me.

"And now, let's get the duvet and sleep snuggled up together as long as we want. We can make love again in the morning."

We did, too, and a lot more times besides. The look Katie gave me when I finally crawled into the flat some time about three days later was one I'll treasure for the rest of my life. "Monika?" she asked. "Monika," I answered. "Toast? Tea?" Of course she got the story out of me, but not in the sort of detail you have, but then she was a shocked friend. You're different.

I stayed in Berlin a lot longer than I'd planned because of Monika. God, she was gorgeous. I'll never forget her as long as I live. After all, she did me a big favour, didn't she?

I hope you've enjoyed reading this and that it maybe turns you on a bit. Write and let me know, and tell me one of your stories as well.

love

Jessica



Berlin



"I'm sorry," I said hesitantly, "I don't understand."

She sighed and walked over to the window, staring down into the street. Was she waiting for someone, I wondered? "You are aware I am in the cinema?"

"Yes, a very famous actress," I rushed in, not really knowing what to say.

"You've seen my films?" she asked, a mocking tone in her voice as she glanced at me.

"Ah, no. I haven't," I confessed, blushing at being caught out.

"Then, how do you know?" she prompted, her ice blue eyes boring into me.

"Claire told me?" I said hopefully, digging a deeper hole for myself.

"I do not think so. Do not attempt to lie to me again," Caroline said flatly and I felt embarrassed as, after all, I was just trying to make polite, social conversation. "I am attempting to secure a part in an American film or movie as they call it. This movie," she said the word disdainfully, " could help me make money for my twilight years so it is important that I seem unattainable and exotic to these bourgeois American studios. Such fools," she sighed. "No class and no appreciation of cinema art. You have to help me lead them on so I get this part. It will be a good film, not European cinema but good enough to make me a star in Hollywood."

"I see," I said, not really seeing at all. I felt like I was drowning in iced tea, desperately trying to recall if I had ever seen a German movie. "What is the movie called?"

"Called?" She looked at me strangely, obviously wondering why I would want to know the name of the movie. "Stupid title,' she said dismissively. "The Templars and the Saracens". I watched as she lit another cigarette. "It is about fat bankers on Wall Street in Hollywood." I watched her plump lips close around the cigarette as she sucked on it.

"Ah, New York," I said, instantly cursing myself for opening my mouth when she turned that ice-cold gaze on me.

"Yes?" she said icily.

"Ah, Wall Street is in New York," I stammered, "not in Hollywood."

"Do you consider that I even care where that stupid street is?" she hissed and I flinched under that withering gaze for a few moments, my face turning red and sweat starting to form in my arm pits. Thankfully, she turned away and continued. "As I said, it will be a stupid film but it has a good part for me. I don't care what they call it or where it is."

"What is it you want me to do?" I asked after a moment when I considered it safe.

"I want you to answer the telephone in an imperious tone that will always suggest I am busy and in demand. You will also attend to my correspondence, my visitors and any other matters I decide. Cook will provide meals and you will start here each morning exactly on time. Do you understand completely?" 

"Yes, I think so."

Caroline stood next to me, gazing down into my eyes and I suddenly felt very small next to her. "Thinking is not good enough but we will see, answer the telephone."

I looked around. "But it's not ringing."

She sighed. "Claire did not tell me you were an idiot, ahnungslos," Carline tapped her forehead with a long finger and I flushed. "Rehearse your answer."

I cleared my throat. "Ms Bahlens residence," I said weakly, looking at her hopefully but her eyes narrowed.

"Pathetic," she pronounced. "Slowly, coldly and with disdain like this. Caroline Bahlsens' Residence. Again."

"Caroline Bahlsen's Residence," I said, copying her style.

"That is better, not much better but better and you will improve." As if on cue, the telephone in the corner jangled and Caroline stared at me.

Nervously, I rushed to it but she stopped me as I reached to pick it up. "Always let it ring three times," she cautioned and after the third ring, hand trembling, I picked it up.

"Caroline Bahlsens' Residence," I said slowly and Caroline nodded in approval.

"Hi there," an American voice crackled over the wire," who's that?"

"This is James, Ms Bahlsens private secretary," I adlibbed and again, Caroline nodded in approval and I suddenly felt proud of myself.

"Hi James, this Dave Reed and I'm calling from London. Put Caroline on, will you?"

"I believe Ms Bahlsen has someone with her, Mr Reed. However, I will check for you." I covered the mouthpiece and looked at Caroline who slowly shook her head. "I'm sorry, Mr Reed, she still has someone with her. Can I take your number and have Ms Bahlsen return your call?"

Reed laughed bitterly. "What for? Caroline never returns calls, not mine anyway. Can you tell her I called and that we are getting closer to the deal? Got that?"

"Yes, Mr Reed," I said, he rang off and I suddenly realised I was sweating.

Caroline stubbed the cigarette out as I waited for her verdict. "That was adequate but you have much room for improvement. Attend to the correspondence and I will return later." With that, she swept out of the room.


Part 3: Caroline Says
'Caroline says she can't help but be mean
Or cruel, or so it seems
Oh, Caroline says, Caroline says'
(Caroline Says – Lou Reed)

I worked through to lunchtime filing letters from directors, screenwriters, producers and fans and the telephone did not ring again. A stout woman who spoke no English at all and who I assumed was cook provided a simple meal of sausage and bread, which I ate while perched by the desk, waiting for the telephone to ring. It didn't so, after a while, I found myself wandering into the lobby and through the grand house. I left the plate in the kitchen and, late in the afternoon, was examining the portraits on the stairs when I heard the telephone ring faintly from the downstairs office. In a panic I was rushing down the stairs just as the front door opened and Caroline stood there in a black full length leather coat, her hair wrapped in a dark scarf and eyes alive with fire.

I felt those eyes on my back as I scrambled through the office door and I reached the telephone just as it stopped ringing. Chest heaving from the exertion, I stood staring at the phone, wishing I could fall through the floor as I heard Caroline enter the room. 

Turning, I spread my hands in a form of nervous apology. "Ms Bahlsen," I began but got no further.

"Dummkopf!" she said quietly, her voice full of menace as she slipped out of her coat, tossing it and the scarf onto the sofa. "You know what that means?" she snapped, walking towards me. I could guess but she wasn't about to let me answer. "Fool! Moron! Dummkop!" Her hand flew and slapped me firmly across the face and I reeled back in shock but she advanced and seized my tie. "This is very important to me, you fool! You are destroying my life with your stupidity!" she hissed and I cringed against the desk.

"Ms Bahlsen," I stuttered, my legs pressed against the desk and my head pulled forward by her relentless grip on my tie.

"Silence," she spat and quickly lashed the tie around the top of the chair, pulling me forward into crouching position, my hands flailing uselessly. Caroline pulled open a desk drawer and removed a black cord, the kind that one sees on ornate curtains, and tied it around one wrist and threading it through the heavy chair back and tying it around my other hand. "Now," she announced, "I know you will not leave the telephone again!"

As she stormed off I realised I could reach the telephone but I was secured to the heavy chair by the ropes and my tie. An absurd thought popped into my head that she must have done this before but I immediately dismissed it.

I was left alone in the room in an embarrassing position. A few struggles told me I could not move and an immediate feeling of helplessness swept over me and, to my horror, I felt my cock start to swell in my tight trousers. How humiliating, I thought, I'm getting an erection and it will be obvious to whoever walks back into this room. It could be Caroline or the cook and I felt my face burn at the thought.

Silently, I commanded my cock to subside but arousal was rising in me stronger than I had ever felt it and the hardness remained. I heard the door open behind me and my face was hot as my cock pulsed as a strange combination of helplessness and humiliation engulfed me, making me dizzy with desire.

I heard the click of a cigarette lighter and, a moment later, the acrid smell of cigarette smoke. Slow footsteps and Caroline was standing beside me and I felt her eyes boring into me, my cock continuing to throb with desire. "So," she said softly, "I think we have discovered something?"

"I'm sorry, Ms Bahlsen," I croaked, hoping she was talking about the episode with the telephone and not my pounding erection.

My face flushed as I felt her fingers trace my hard cock through those tight fashionable trousers. "Yes," she whispered, her breath warm against my ear, "we have discovered something, ja?" I hung my head, hoping the floor would swallow me up when her fingers expertly opened my trousers. I gasped in horror and shame as I felt her peel my trousers down and they fell around my knees. "Such ugly things," Caroline said in a flat voice as she revealed my grey briefs. I opened my mouth to protest but no sound emerged as she deftly peeled my briefs down and my hard cock bobbed free.

Caroline exhaled some smoke as her fingers lightly ran up and down my hard cock for a few seconds and then they were gone. "You will call me Madame," her harsh voice seemed to echo in my ear, "and you will obey me completely. We will not have any more of these stupid mistakes. Do you understand?" she asked in a voice that dripped with menace.

"Yes Madame," I murmured, head hanging low, my hard cock on display and my face crimson with humiliation.

She walked away and I assumed, no hoped, she was going to leave the room. I heard rustling of clothing and then a sharp whistling noise followed by a sharp crack against my bottom. "Ow," I cried in shock and exclaimed again and again as she slashed at my bare ass with, I suspected, the belt of her coat.

After a few strokes, she finished and quickly unlashed my hands and my ties. Standing, my eyes pricking as I fought back the urge to cry, I couldn't resist rubbing my stinging bottom as she stood close to me and her fingers slowly circled around my cock. I moaned as she slowly caressed me and then, maddeningly, stopped. "You enjoyed that, didn't you?" she whispered. "The humiliation, the submission and the pain, all of it?"

I blinked the tears away, rubbing where she had whipped me and looked down at my hard and bobbing cock. "You may relieve yourself," she breathed in my ear, standing so close and I looked at her in shock and shame, arousal filling my every need. Caroline saw my burning face and smiled coldly. "We have no secrets now, James," she said. "I know exactly what you are and that you need my command. Now," she snapped, "I will not order you again."

Dazed and incredibly aroused I watched as if from a distance as my own hand encircled my straining cock and slowly began to masturbate as this incredibly beautiful woman watched, a cold mocking smile on her face as she watched.

It didn't take long and I traversed that invisible boundary and erupted into the most powerfully intense orgasm of my life, my seed spraying over the desk. Chest heaving, gasping for breath and my face burning in humiliation, I waited.

"Clean it up, James," she said in a calm voice. "Be on time tomorrow. Schlaf gut." Seconds later she was gone from the room and, the front door slamming, from the house.

Part 4: Sister Europe 
'lonely in a crowded room
the radio plays out of tune
so silently
the radio upon the floor
is stupid, it plays aznavour
so out of key

sister of mine, home again'
(Sister Europe – The Psychedelic Furs)

I often think back about that moment, the moment I gave in to her without a simple symbol of defiance against her strong determined will to punish me. Was it something I wanted, needed? Or was I so used to other people, especially my father, making decisions for me that I just automatically acquiesced?

The psychology of dominance and submission has fascinated me since, teased me with its many connotations as I valiantly attempted to understand all the permutations and, finally, realising that no simple formula, no simple answer, can ever exist.

Caroline, however, believed she knew it all, that she had complete governance of all the nuances and that all submission belonged to her. She also, after a time, with me anyway, expected it and I gave it completely.

Europe, sister of America and England but not that close, perhaps half-sister is more apt a description. Alien to me but strangely, even after all that had happened to me that day, I felt at home, at one and at home, home again.

Home again in Berlin and how I remember it, I remember it well. At that time it was a strange and lost city, different from the rest of Germany, different from Europe. Part of the city believed the propaganda of 'Cabaret' and myths regarding the in between World War period and its bohemian behaviour while other sections of the community strived to transform the city into the financial capital of Europe. Unknown to us and to the rest of the western world, the Berlin Wall, that intractable and immutable object, was beginning to show fine and delicate cracks and in time would bulge against the surge of eastern failure.

Shamefully, I had retired to my small room after cooks meagre meal, bathed and fell into my cot so I could rush to sleep to escape the images of what I had just done with my new employer. After watching television and striving to assimilate some of the language, I switched off the tv and the lights and lay in the dark, begging sleep to come. I tossed and turned, sometime crying 'No' out loud as I tried to erase the image of my humiliating masturbation from my tired mind.

At last, sleep took hold of me but I was dragged from it's comfort late in the night by the erratic sounds of Caroline arriving home, soft drunken or drugged singing accompanied her teetering and strange movements up the stairs to her bedroom. Strangely, the knowledge she was under the roof again comforted me and I fell immediately into a deep sleep.

I was on time the next morning and worked studiously on her correspondence for some hours, although I was afraid to face her but I need not have worried as Caroline finally swept in dressed in a stylish cream suit and dark glasses to hide her eyes.

"Guten Morgen Madame," I said nervously as Caroline entered. "Coffee, Madame?"

"Danke," she muttered and collapsed on the sofa as I poured the thick brew that Germans seem to love that cook had left for us.

As she sipped the coffee and I thought I saw her hands tremble, the telephone rang, it's shrill bell cutting the air like a knife. I waited for the three rings and then picked the receiver up. "Ms Caroline Bahlsens Residence," I said slowly and primly.

"That you James?" the American drone from the day before wafted down the line while Caroline drank her coffee, my anxious face reflected in the dark lens of her glasses. "This is Dave Reed. Is Caroline available?"

"I'm terribly sorry, Mr Reed," I said and Caroline turned her face to look at me and I saw my reflection in both lenses. "I'm afraid Ms Bahlsen is in conference with two gentleman from France." I thought I detected a faint glimmer of a smile on her face when she heard my improvisation but I continued to focus on the voice at the other end of the tired European telephone network.

"From France?" Reeds voice took on an urgent tone. "Say, James, was one of them a tall guy with a beard?"

"I am sorry, sir but I am unable to confirm that description."

"Yeah, yeah," Reed said dismissively. "I get the picture. She's talking to her friends in France. They love her there. Ok, James, this is what you got to tell her. It's all go; I'm talking contract and dollars now so she has to hang on. You got that?"

"I think so, sir."

"Ok, you make sure you tell her. And, by the way, the working title is no longer that Templar thing. It's called 'Massacre on Wall Street'. Ok?"

"Very good sir. Thank you for calling." I slowly replaced the receiver and looked up. "It's now called 'Massacre on Wall Street', Madame and he's talking dollars."

Caroline stood and walked over to me, her arm sweeping behind my back, holding me close as her hot lips claimed mine. My cock sprang into hardness as she kissed me, her tongue probing my mouth, taking possession and control. I was gasping as she pulled away and I saw my flushed and panting face reflected in her glasses. "I think we now understand each other," she said, a mocking tone in her voice as she pulled a cigarette from her gold cigarette case and extended her lighter towards me. "Do we not?" 

"Yes Madame," I said softly, my cock pulsing as I flicked the lighter and lit her cigarette.

She reached out and held my trembling hand steady as she lit her cigarette. "Are you hard?" 

"Yes Madame," I murmured, my cock pulsing in my trousers.

"Excellent," she said calmly and sat on the sofa. "You have work to complete, do you not?

"Yes Madame." As I turned back to the desk and the correspondence, I heard a soft giggle behind me.


Part 5: Let There Be Love
'it heals and it hurts
She leads you to heaven's door
And leaves you for dirt'
(Let There Be Love – Simple Minds)

We worked together through the morning, answering the pile of letters that sat on the antique desk. She paced as she dictated and I typed into the word processor then printed them onto her elegant letterhead for Caroline's signature. The dark glasses were tossed aside after her second cup of coffee and her eyes were clear and ice blue when she turned her gaze on me.

Her presence was arousing to me and once, when she bent next to me to sign a letter, her musky perfume swept over me, sending my cock to back instant hardness. After a while she ceased pacing and elegantly sprawled on the sofa to smoke a cigarette while I printed the last of the letters. As I brought it to her, I saw her skirt had risen up and my eyes were drawn to her nylon-covered thighs, my cock was immediately hard. 

Face hot I glanced up and saw a mocking smile on her face as she saw the bulge in my pants and she waved a long admonishing finger at me while that teasing smile remained.

We worked through to late lunch and drank a glass of wine with the heavy meal cook had prepared. Caroline recalled funny stories from her many movies and I was soon hanging on every word.

I watched as she slowly stood, her blue eyes staring down at me for a long moment, then that teasing smile on her face as she turned and started up the staircase. A crooked finger and I was quickly following after her, my eyes fixated on that lush bottom in that cream skirt moving from side to side as she slowly climbed the staircase.

Her bedroom was large with a substantial four poster bed in the middle, dark curtains covering the French Doors which opened to the balcony that hung over the busy street. "Naked, please," she airily instructed and disappeared into what I assumed was a dressing room.

Nervously, I removed all my clothes and stood embarrassed next to the bed, my hard cock jutting from my body. Caroline stood in the doorway, a black cloth bag in her hand, looking me up and down with that strange smile still on her face.

"Bed," she snapped and I lay down, watching her as she removed items from the bag and I was soon tied spreadeagled on the bed. Caroline sat beside me and teasingly ran her fingers over my straining cock. "We do things my way," she said in a matter of fact tone as she slipped her dress off over her head and I gasped as she smiled down at me dressed in a white silky slip.

Leaning down, her hot lips closed over mine, her teeth pulling on my bottom lip as she rang her finger through my long hair. I was gasping for breath when she pulled back and dangled a black silk scarf over my face. "You will focus on me," she said, wrapping the silk over my eyes and I was plunged into darkness.




Berlin



The bed moved and I felt her straddle my chest and suddenly her wet pussy pushing into my face. "Lick me," she demanded in a husky voice and for the first time in my life, my tongue tasted the intimate juices of a woman.

I was useless or that was what she told me over and over again as I licked and kissed while attempting to breathe at the same time. Finally, through my clumsy efforts and her use of my chin and nose, I heard her moan as she orgasmed.

The bed moved and she was gone from my face, leaving her juices and her perfume on my mouth. Her fingers touched my hard cock and I moaned. "Not yet," she murmured and I felt her tighten something around the base of my cock. The scarf was removed and I saw a thin strap has been fastened around my cock. Caroline spilled packets of condoms on the bed and rolled one over my straining cock, then another and another until my cock was wrapped in several condom layers. I stared down at the foreign object that used to be my cock and opened my mouth. A sharp slap to my cheek and I shut it again as Caroline climbed on top of me, her large breasts threatening to spill from the white lace of her slip. Smiling down on me, she sat over my now plastic embalmed cock and slowly impaled herself on it. A satisfied smile appeared on her face as she slowly began to move but I felt nothing except for vague movements around my numb cock.

She used me wantonly with no thought of my pleasure, using my hard, numb cock over and over until she screamed with abandoned pleasure. We were both covered in sweat when she rose off me, leaving my swollen condom covered cock wet and denied.

Caroline giggled as she removed layer and layer of condom from my cock and finally removed the thin strap and I felt a sharp sting as the blood circulated again. "We can not keep this on too long," she murmured dangling the cock strap in front of me, no more than half an hour," she added and I realised she was instructing me for future use.

She released me and pulled the dark curtains apart so the weak light filtered into the room from the French Doors. A flurry of snow drifted against the glass as Caroline sat on a chair next to the French Doors, smiling at me as I lay on the bed, my hard cock waving from my belly. "Come here," she said, the white slip seeming to glow in the dim room.

Unsteadily, I moved to her and following her gesture, knelt in front of her, her legs teasing me. Her fingers caressed my hair as she whispered in the dark, "You will learn, little boy. You will get better," and my cock throbbed. "Would you like to touch yourself?"

"Yes Madame," I croaked and tenderly seized my cock when she nodded agreement. Slowly, she parted her legs and slid the white silk up her thighs so I was staring directly at her pussy, her pubic hairs wet and matted. "Kiss me while you do it," she said and I leaned forward to bury my face in her pussy as I frantically jerked my cock. It didn't take long and I was soon spurting against her legs and the chair while she giggled softly above me.

I pulled back, my face burning as she tenderly stroked my cheek. "And now?" she asked, an eyebrow raised and I guessed what was expected.

"Thank you Madame," I murmured and she smiled as the wind and the light snow rattled the French Doors.


Part 6: Complicated Game
'They wanted Tom
They wanted Joe
To dress 'em up and stick 'em out on show
They were arrows in a very bad aim
It's just a complicated game
(Complicated Game – Andy partridge XTC )

The weeks rolled by and Caroline extended her control over me with each passing day until I was a willing and unquestioning slave to all her desires. The games started small, making me sit at the desk with my pants undone and my hard cock jutting out under the desk while the gentle cook bustled in with our coffee.

Or on my knees in her bedroom, licking her for what seemed like hours while she chattered in German on the telephone to her many friends and admirers, than casually denying me any release for a few days while mercilessly teasing me.

One night, I found myself strapped naked to her bed, a leather harness around my head with an obscene dildo jutting from the gag she had inserted in my mouth. Laughing, she had slid up and down that fake cock while my helpless eyes had to take in every second of it sliding in and out of her pussy while, all the time, completely ignoring my hard cock.

Then, there were the times she would tenderly caress my hair while she casually reached into my pants and stroke me to an urgent, spurting orgasm in the back of taxis, in the last row of a movie theatre or in some dark nightclub while plump singers crooned in German. I never knew when or how I would come and I just gave myself up to her.

All the time, the telephone calls came with offers for Caroline to star in the American movie, which was now called 'Money'. She felt the offer was reaching finalisation and her career was about to, at last, take off in America so she insisted she take me to an interesting club in the Motzstrasse for a long lunch.

The restaurant was stark and all the waiters were women, dressed like men in old fashioned dinner suits while accordion music was played by a three piece band, seated behind potted palms. I sat between Caroline and her two female friends who completely ignored me and chattered in fast and unintelligible German while sipping wine.

Suddenly, Caroline turned to me and looked me in the eye. "Undo your pants."

I quivered at the words but had no hesitation. "Yes Madame," I murmured and, reaching under the white tablecloth did as she demanded. 

"Slide them down." Again I did so and as she had instructed me sometime ago never to wear underwear, my cock was fully exposed. As Caroline had insisted I remove my pubic hair some weeks prior, my hard cock stood in my denuded crotch, making me feel even more naked. 

Caroline said something to her friends who leaned forward, lifted the tablecloth and stared down at my throbbing cock. One said something to the other, all women laughed and I felt myself flush but I didn't cover myself.

The conversation resumed as I sat there exposed for the entire evening. Every now and again, Caroline would slowly stroke me so I was always hard and show her companions who would giggle behind their hands.

It was some sort of game, one I just didn't understand but gave myself willingly, as Caroline required. At the conclusion of the meal, I was allowed to pull my pants up but had to leave the fly open so my cock was exposed if anyone should open my overcoat.

Later that evening after pleasuring her on my knees in her bedroom, she allowed me release as she smoked a cigarette and watched. 

It was all a complicated game. 

Part 7: How Do You Think It Feels?
'How do you think it feels
When you're speeding and lonely
Come here baby'
(How Do You Think It Feels – Lou Reed)

I was constantly stimulated in all ways and very happy but that soon changed.

Late one afternoon the telephone rang and it was an apologetic, defeated David Reed who spoke. "It's over James and you're going to have to tell her."

"I'm sorry, what do you mean?" I asked but, with a sinking heart, I understood all ready.

"They've chosen someone else, a British lady and she can do a European accent so the producers are happy. Tell Caroline I'm sorry but that's show business." The phone went dead and I looked over at Caroline who was seated on the sofa, cigarette in one hand, coffee in the other. She was looking at me calmly but I intuitively knew she had heard every word.

"Madame," I began nervously and she held up a delicate palm to stop me.

"I believe I can foresee the future," she said in a bitter voice. "And that future does not include America."

"Madame, I am sorry," I rushed but she was all ready standing, stubbing her cigarette out in a furious manner.

"Silence. I will go and visit friends for a while." Without another word she stalked out of the room and up to her room. About an hour later, I caught a glimpse of her in black as she passed by on her way out and, moments later, I heard the front door slam.

Late that night, I tossed and turned in my little bed, straining to hear some noise that would herald her return. I must have fallen asleep because I was woken by the front door slamming shut and then my bedroom door thrust open. 

Blinking the sleep from my eyes, I saw her in a black cocktail dress, her shoulders bare and a string of pearls wound tightly around her long throat, pearls dropped also from her ears.

Caroline was wide eyed and staring down at me as she dragged me from my bed, her fingers tearing at my pyjama pants until they were around my ankles. As her hand closed over my cock, I opened my mouth to speak but she seized my jaw with her other hand and glared into my eyes. "Silence, slave," she hissed and I shrank from her.

I had never seen such fire, such craziness in her blue eyes, rooted to the spot as she tore my pyjama top into pieces and I was completely naked.

A strange smile played on her face, her eyes wild and open as she led me by my cock up the stairs and to her room. Thrusting me face down onto the bed, I heard her rummaging in the bag and then felt my wrists cuffed together.

I was afraid of her energy and her wildness as I sensed she was either drunk or on pills so I slumped on the bed, all ready surrendering to her completely. A rope was attached to the wrists and I was dragged to stand in front of the curtains, my arms over my head as the rope was lashed to the bulky curtain rod.

A gag was roughly jammed into my mouth and she laughed when she saw the fear in my eyes. Regally, she walked away, my eyes glued to her as she pulled her dress off over her head. My cock stirred at the sight of her in her black corset, stockings, heels and pearls my heart pounded when I saw her pick up a thin cane, muttering to her self in German.
How do you think it feels
When you're speeding and lonely
Come here baby
How do you think it feels
when all you can say is if only
Caroline leapt forward, whipping the cane across my buttocks and I screamed into the gag as she shouted at me in her native tongue. Again, fire erupted across my buttocks and I cried out uselessly.
If only I had a little
If only I had some change
If only, if only, only
How do you think it feels
And when do you think it stops?
Shouting all the time, mostly in German but sometimes in English when she shouted, "How do you think it feels?", she slashed the cane across my shoulders and I screamed in pain.
How do you think it feels
When you've been up for five days
Come down here Mama
Hunting around always oooh
'Cause you're afraid of sleeping
Again and again, the blows rained down as I squirmed from side to side, pulling on the rope, straining to avoid the pain while still she shouted and flailed at me, my entire back a sea of pain.
How do you think it feels
To feel like a wolf and foxy
How do you think it feels
To always make love by proxy?
How do you think it feels
And when do you think it stops?
When do you think it stops?
Urgently, I pulled at the rope and, suddenly, the rope slipped from the curtain rod and I fell onto the floor, sobbing into the gag, my wrists still cuffed together. Caroline stood over me, staring wildly at me, her breasts rising and falling in the black lace with her passion and exertion.

After a moment, she threw the cane into the corner, squatted down to remove the cuffs and moved away, leaving me sobbing on the floor as my trembling fingers removed the gag. Caroline was standing by the French Doors, looking down onto the street and as I crawled to her, I could see a trickle of tears falling down her cheeks.

My lips pressed to the sheer silk covering her groin, my body racked with sobs as she idly stroked my hair. Through all this, my cock had been rock hard and remained so while I frantically kissed the silk, tears flooding down my face.

I knew it was not me she saw as she wielded the cane but those people in Hollywood who had tantalised her with a promise of a future that proved false and then brutally revealed their true selves. I was simply the chosen receiver of her pain.

"Tut mir leid," she murmured as she tenderly took me to bed. Light rain brushed against the French Doors as she held me all night and whispered to me as I lay in her arms until I fell into welcoming sleep, my face pressed against her breasts.

Part 8: All Tomorrow's Parties
'And what costume shall the poor girl wear
To all tomorrow's parties'
(All Tomorrows Parties – Velvet Underground/Lou Reed)

For the next few weeks, Caroline was much gentler with me although she kept a firm control and would brook no disobedience at all. The city was moving towards Christmas, decorations in the stores and the cold winter wind was insistent and biting when I ventured outside.

My hair was shoulder length and Caroline would not even consider allowing me to cut it so I reconciled myself to keeping it. One day I heard her instructing cook on a special meal and she smiled at me oddly, a combination of delight and dread, when she told me we were entertaining a visitor tonight.

In the dining room I looked at the settings for two and looked questioningly at her. "I am dining with our guest, James," she said, a far away look in her eyes. "You will be our waiter. Cook will leave the food keeping warm in the servery and you provide a service. Do you understand?"

"Yes Madame," I replied, eyes lowered and an uneasy feeling came over me.

From my room, I heard cook leave and, sometime later, the doorbell chimed and faint female voices came from the lobby. Minutes later, Caroline appeared in my room, dressed in an elegant pale blue cocktail dress, her heels clicking loudly on the floors. As instructed I had waited for her naked, my groin newly shaved and my hair in a ponytail.

"Good," she smiled, looking me up and down before handing me a jumble of light green nylon. "Put this on," Caroline commanded and I slowly slid the green pantyhose on, my cock absurdly exposed through a hole cut in the crotch.

She clipped a ring around my balls and another around my cock while slowly stroking me to full hardness. A small bow tie on an elastic strap was placed around my neck and she was satisfied. "We will need wine in two minutes," were her last words before she swept out, leaving me to stare at my ridiculous image in the mirror.

Subconsciously, I had all ready figured it out so I wasn't that surprised to see Claire seated at the table, beautiful in black and red, with a broad smile on her face as she watched me walk into the room in my lewd costume with a bottle of fine red.

"Well, James," she smiled, looking at hard cock, "I see you are glad to see me. Come here." Self-consciously I stood before her as her light fingers ran over my straining cock, while her other hand patted the nylon that covered my buttocks. "Remember? I said you wouldn't have to wear green tights straight away?" A small giggle and, face flushing, I poured the wine for Claire and then Caroline.

"As you can see," Caroline said as I returned with the first course. "He is well trained. Of course there is more you can do."

"I'm sure there is. Thank you," Claire replied, raising her glass to Caroline in a small salute.

Caroline called me and I stood beside her, my cock still jutting out. "Yes Madame?" I asked.

"You will spend the night with Mistress Claire. Understand?"

"Yes Madame," I said sadly and continued with the meal. After the coffee, Caroline stood unsteadily and I thought I saw a little sadness as she smiled at us. "Enjoy the night," she murmured. "Träum was Schönes. Guten Abend." 

Claire smiled at me and tapped her wineglass with a long finger once Caroline had left. Quickly, I refilled the glass. "I am in the guest room. Do you know where that is?"

"Yes Mistress," I said softly and she smiled over the rim of her wineglass. 

"Wait for me there. You'll find some things on the bed, use them to prepare yourself."

I found a gag, cuffs and chains on the bed so I followed orders. A few moments later I had gagged and cuffed myself onto the bed to wait for my Mistress. Sometime passed but she finally arrived, smiling down at me as she lightly touched my straining cock. "If your father could see you now," she giggled.

It was a passionate teasing night with Claire satisfying herself many times and in many ways before she allowed me to climax. As she held me close, the sound of rain against the windows and her warm breath in my ear, she said, "You father has given up looking for you. He thinks you've been murdered or something. You should let him know."

"Yes Mistress, I will write."

"Good." Claire snuggled closer. "I always knew," she said softly after a while. "Knew what you were, although I wasn't completely sure. I certainly suspected anyway, that we were a perfect fit. You just had to find out. When will you come back to London?"


I turned my head away to watch the rain running down the windowpanes. "I don't know."

"I will wait for you, my sweet," she murmured in my ear as she snuggled closer.


Part 9: Oh, Jim
'All your two bit friends, they asked you for your autograph
They put you on the stage, they thought it would be good for a laugh
But I don't care where it's at
'Cause honey I'm just like an alley cat'
(Oh Jim – Lou Reed)

Claire left the next morning and Christmas rushed towards us as we resumed our life, although Caroline was slightly withdrawn. The games continued but there was a half-hearted feeling to them except, occasionally her harsh side surfaced.

One afternoon, the doorbell rang and a short balding man, wrapped in a cashmere overcoat stood at the door.

"Yes?" I inquired politely 

"You must be James," he said in an American accent as he pushed past me before I could protest. "I'm David Reed. Where is Caroline?"

"Mr Reed," I protested but he was all ready moving towards the stairs when the door to the office opened and Caroline stood there watching him impassively.

"Caroline," he enthused, turning back down the stair. "Honey, you look great."

"Behämmert," she observed and I smiled quietly. Caroline walked back into the office and was seated at the sofa, fumbling for a cigarette when Reed and I walked in.

"Madame," I said quietly as I lit her cigarette.

"Honey," Reed said. "Have I got the part for you! It's great, it's you!"

"And this wonderful part is?" she asked coolly, blowing smoke into the room while I stood beside her, wondering if Caroline was going to explode and take the cane to this fake American.

"It's a sure thing for an Oscar for Best Supporting, nothing surer."

"Unfortunately, a lot of things you claim are not sure. Who is the Director?"

"An American kid the studios think is brilliant. The studios are ready to invest," Reed added, pulling a script from his bag and dropping it on the coffee table.

"I will have to read it," she said, eyeing the script with complete distaste.

"Hey, I know that but you are in, you have got the part and I have the contracts to prove it." He wildly waved a sheaf of papers. "I have to go to another meeting but read it, it's the character Roslyn, and let me know. I'll see myself out. I won't take no for an answer," Reed added as he sailed away.

The door slammed and Caroline slowly reached out for the script and I left her alone to read it. A while later, I heard her go up to her room to dress and I sat down with the script.

I finished it and threw it down on the sofa when I realised Caroline had been standing in the doorway watching me. "Madame," I exclaimed as I jumped to my feet and she sailed into the room. Leaning against the fireplace, she looked at me keenly, her blue eyes burrowing into me.

"Well?" she asked, eamining her make up in the mirror over the mantlepiece. "Your opinion is?"