Storiesonline.net
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                            All About Gisele
                                by Argon

Copyright© 2006 by Argon


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Description: In Book 1, Thomas Bergmann becomes infatuated with a young woman who he sees in a porn video on the net. He flies to Brazil to find her. His plans to hire her for companionship evaporate when he meets her in person, and instead he helps her to a new start. In Book 2, Stephanie, Thomas' daughter must come to grips with a beautiful, young stepmother, and overcome her own prejudices and traumata. In Book 3, the heroine, Gisele, picks up the tale, and we learn about the ghosts of her own past.

Codes: MF FF slow rom cons oral anal
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Copyright© 2006

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Prologue: A Chance Encounter


The plane was finally at cruising altitude, and all around me, I heard people open their seat belts. With ten hours of boredom before me, I decided to get something done. The young blonde in the seat beside me seemed to be dozing off, and anyway, I wasn't going to write any steamy scenes. I opened my laptop, plugged in the auxiliary battery back that would give me an extra ten hours of charge and started the text program. Suddenly, the young woman next to me spoke up.

"Are you a writer?"

There was the impulse to close the laptop. When I write, I don't like people looking at what I type. But it was my own fault, typing away on a plane. I tried to be graceful.

"I'm just an amateur. I like to concoct these little stories and I post them on story boards."

"I'm sorry, I don't want to be nosy. What type of stories?"

I laughed. "That's awfully close to nosy already. Well, I dabble in historic fiction. Early 19th century, mostly."

She grinned. "Do you write under the name Jane Austen? I think I may have read some of your works."

"You mean "Sense and Senility"? That was my best," I joked.

So, for the next hour and through the "dinner" we chatted. I learned that she was a lawyer from the Hamburg area, and that she was travelling with her father and stepmother. My eyes bugged out a little bit when stepmom greeted me. Stepmom was a stunner. Early twenties, black hair, black eyes, wonderfully tanned skin. The father, at least, was in the age bracket that can have lawyers for daughters, about my age I guessed. I learned that the beauty was a native of Brazil, but attended law school in Hamburg. There was also a husband to the blonde lawyer, and another young couple, the three of them sitting two rows back. One thing led to the other, and I learned about the way the two had met. I thought it was a pretty amazing story, worthy of being told. There was a speculative look in the blonde's eyes, and she suggested that I write the story. I told her it wasn't my regular fare and that I would have to get a lot more information. The three conferred with each other, and we sort of reached an agreement that each of them would write down the story as far as they knew it, and that I would try and concoct a story line out of that.

When we split on Frankfurt Airport, I did not expect to ever hear from them again. I was surprised, therefore, when I received a thick envelope seven weeks later. It contained two CDs and a small diary-style book. The first CD, it turned out, contained a text file, written by the father of the blonde. The second contained the story told by the blonde lawyer, but recorded onto a tape recorder and remastered to CD. And the hand-written story was told by the black-eyed beauty. Over the next days, I read and listened to these stories, told from their individual view points, and I made a decision. Rather than trying to create a gemisch of their individual takes, I would tie their separate stories loosely together and translate and post them with a minimum of editing. And this is what I did, and I hope you will like this tale as much as I did.

Of course, the names aren't real, the locations were changed (Ubatuba really is a coastal resort, but the story never took place there), and some of the particulars about the father's career were altered to protect the family's privacy. The story as told by the blonde daughter, I have re-christened her 'Stephanie', is quite racy, but that is the way she appeared to be. I envy the lucky bastard she married. She really is a lawyer, but in a different field than indicated.



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Book 1: Thomas

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Chapter 1A


Gisele. Gisele was her name; at least the name given to her for one of the hundreds of amateur porn flicks, posted on a web site by one "Rick in Brazil". But the girl was breathtaking. Brown hair framed a bronze complexioned face with high cheekbones, dark eyes, and a thoroughly kissable mouth.

And her body! I had the strong impression that while making her, our good Lord had truly put all his attention to the job at hand. The bikini tan lines highlighted conical breasts, tipped with silver dollar sized areolae, as close to perfect as possible if you have to work with mortal flesh as material. A flat tummy continued into slightly flaring hips and legs that would have been a credit to a Greek goddess.

The jaded guy who worked the camera could be overheard and boy, even he sounded awed by the sight of her. Hell, had I seen her through a zoom lens from close up, I would have become the Human Tripod myself!

I googled her and was able to find eleven mpg clips and four lousy quality wmv files of her before I gave up, and I compiled them into a four minute movie, using Quicktime Pro. Over the next days I perused it time and again. I had become a bit indifferent to most internet porn, but this girl caused instant anaemia in my brain and had my prostrate work overtime to meet the increased demand for lubricant. I just could not get over her.

Then I did something I had never done before. I logged into the site where I had seen her clips, and I paid for full access. $ 5.95 for three days, non-renewable. It took me almost half an hour to find the movie with Gisele in it, and another 20 minutes to download it in high resolution, 800 megabytes of heaven. Thank god for highspeed DSL! I burned a DVD and then popped it into the DVD player. It started with the 'interview' part, what's your name, where do you come from, do you swallow or spit? She was standing in a swimming pool, some lucky bastard holding her from behind and pressing his dick against her string bottom "covered" arse, her breasts still in a bikini top. Then a cut, and the guy had her lying on a towel and on her side, his hands roaming over her tummy and breasts. Next she was lying on her tummy, facing away from the camera. The guy pulled down her bikini bottom, and then she turned onto her back.

"Ooaaahhrg! Jesus fucking Christ!" the cameraman voiced his admiration in the background, and indeed, the sight of her body in this position was awe-inspiring.

The movie continued with her giving and receiving oral and then being fucked doggy style and spoon fashion. She really went with the flow, moaning softly, while the guy fucked her for almost ten minutes. The cum shot was unimaginative and almost an anti-climax. What man with any appreciation for women would shoot off over such a lovely body, I'm asking you? Or jerk himself off in the first place with a babe like this within reach? Pearls before the swine!

I imported the whole movie into iMovie and edited the lousy cum shot out. The scene where she turns onto her back, with her beautiful cones pointing up into the air, I repeated in slow motion. This enhanced version I played for another six or seven days at least twice a day until I began to doubt my mental health.

As a matter of fact, I got an appointment with a therapist and I told her about my fixation with that girl. Of course, it took us five sessions and six hundred fifty Euros to get my background explored, the childhood, the failed marriage, my almost non-existent love live since. Looking back, she was worth that money. Because, after the fifth session, she sat back on her upholstered chair and gave me a smile.

"Mr. Bergmann, Thomas, I don't think there is anything wrong with you. I my view, you have just developed a normal healthy crush for a very beautiful young woman (I had given her a copy of the DVD). The only problem is that you cannot meet her in person to see whether she is really a woman you could fall in love with. I would suggest that you stop tormenting yourself by watching her in these movies. You have to accept that she is unavailable. Go out again and find real life women. You are in good shape and a wealthy man, enjoy life before it's too late."

"I could fly to Brazil," I blurted.

"How would you find her? Posing as porn producer? Auditioning hundreds of poor girls? You cannot be that shallow."

I had a brilliant idea.

"No, I'll hire a private investigator to find her and identify her."

"Careful, that's awfully close to stalking."

"Where there is no plaintiff..."

"I don't want to hear anything more, My advice is, go and throw the DVD away and forget her. She can't be much older than 20, and you are, what, 45 years old?"

"I know, I just have to meet her once. Thanks for setting me straight, doctor."

"I'm afraid, I did anything but that..."

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The porn distributor had his office, you guessed it, in L.A., and that is where I flew a week later. You may ask, with some justification, whether I had no job, and the answer would be, not really. I still do some consulting and work for certain organisations, but I mostly live off my savings and my portfolio. I can afford a ticket to L.A. anytime.

I met with a P.I. who specialised in movie people. He looked at me a little bit condescending, but he accepted my down payment, and three days later, he delivered. I was sitting in his office, and he let me see his results.

"Her name is really Gisele. Gisele Cuzmao, of Rua do Campo, Ubatuba, Brazil. No house number. It's all here in the filings they have deposited here. All the legit porn outfits file proof of age and consent at central repositories here in L.A... I have access. It was just a matter of going through 300 or so files before my man found her."

"Is her profession listed?"

"Yes, student. Now, that can mean anything, she could attend The School of Boinking, for all I know, majoring in Oral. The thing that counts is that she's 21, so she's legal in every aspect. Here, you can have the Xerox copies of her identification card. What are you planning to do now? Go to Brazil, find her?"

I answered cautiously.

"Do you happen to know a trustworthy colleague down there?"

He laughed.

"No, and nobody is trustworthy in this trade. Get that into your head."

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I was lucky. There was an Air Mexico connection to Sao Paulo, via Mexico City, and there was a vacancy in business class. 48 hours after I talked to the P.I., I was in the small coastal town of Ubatuba, 230 kilometres north of Sao Paulo. I checked into an old-fashioned tourist hotel and went out for dinner. The restaurant was named Bailey's. It had been founded by a stranded Irishman and was supposed to be the best eating place in town. It certainly charged prices as if it were. As a matter of fact, the food was really good, and I spent two hours, eating leisurely and contemplating my next moves. I figured that the girl Gisele was a local girl, working at a shop or restaurant, dreaming of a break that would get her out of her dismal situation. Hence the movie. The P.I. in L.A. had told me that the girls usually were paid a hundred dollars for a video. Perhaps she would be willing to be my companion for a week if I offered the right amount of cash. It would be nice to walk the beaches with a pretty young woman, it would be nice to give her presents, and it would be nice, if we clicked together, to spend a night in her arms. There was a nagging worry though, that she would be all greed. If that happened, I swore to myself, I would leave.

The next morning, my first priority was to get a trustworthy cab driver who spoke English. The receptionist happened to have a cousin who had a cab and spoke English. For the equivalent of 100 Euro per day plus gasoline, the cousin was mine. Joao really spoke very decent English, and I had him drive me to the Rua do Campo first, to check whether the address was real. It was. It was not the best part of the town, but neither was it a slum. Lower middle class people lived with their families in four story tenements. The houses and the street in front were kept clean, there were drapes behind the windows, and the hum of air conditioners filled the air.

"Good neighbourhood," Joao agreed. "Workers, nurses, good people."

'How come a girl from such a basically bourgeois neighbourhood would play in a porn flick?' I asked myself. 'And how am I going to find her?' The filings did not give the house number.

I had an idea. I went to a department store and, with Joao's help, obtained a huge yellow cardboard box. I put in a box of fairly expensive sweets and a simple cell phone with a prepaid card, taped it shut and had Joao write the address: Gisele Cuzmao, Rua do Campo, Ubatuba. We posted the big parcel, figuring the mail service would have ways to find the full address, and the next day, I sat in Joao's taxi, waiting for the mail to arrive. It was three in the afternoon when a mail truck came along, stopping in front of Nº 14, Rua do Campo. And yes, he carried the big yellow parcel. At my sign, Joao drove the taxi up to the mail truck. The mail man walked the stairs to the third floor and delivered the parcel to a young girl. In my binoculars, I saw a likeness to the girl in the video, but I did not think it was her. I decided to wait. Joao took a nap while I watched the street. It was three hours later and close to darkness, when a young woman approached. I knew it was her, although the light brown hair was black now, and tied into a braid. She wore some sort of a uniform from a fast food place, and her gait was tired. I quickly climbed out of the taxi to intercept her.

"Por favos, senhorita!" I addressed her, keeping a distance.

She looked up, alarmed, and turned to check her rear before looking at me.

"Do you speak English?" I asked, and she nodded.

"This may sound strange to you, but I travelled from around the world to see you. I would like to talk to you, but I understand if you are afraid of talking to a stranger here on the street. A parcel was delivered to you by mail today. You will find a box of sweets and a cell phone with a prepaid account. I am staying at the Tropicana hotel. Please call me with the phone and I can explain the purpose of my visit. My name and the number are in the parcel, too. Thank you for listening to me. I will leave you now."

I could tell she was apprehensive.

"I will never play in any movies again," she suddenly said, her eyes hard, although her voice was cracking. This was not what I had expected.

"I certainly hope you won't, Gisele," I answered. I gave her my friendliest smile. "Just call me, and I can explain."

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She called me a little after nine.

"Gisele Cuzmao," she said. "What is it you want of me?"

I had to clear my throat.

"Will you promise me to give me five minutes, no matter what I say?"

"I can do that," she said with a small chuckle. "The sweets were wonderful."

So she was a sweet tooth; that was useful information.

"I am glad you liked them, Gisele. Now, I have the impression that you played in one or more videos and that you are not happy about that."

I heard her gasp on the other end.

"Please, don't hang up. Hear me out. I admit that I saw you in a movie. That was over four weeks ago, and I cannot get your face and your body from my head. I have even seen a psychiatrist about it, and she recommended, sort of, to meet you in person to resolve my fixation. That is why I am here. I saw a private detective in Los Angeles, and he retrieved your name and address from an adult movie industry repository where your age certificate and consent documents are stored. Then I flew here, and I had that big yellow parcel sent to you. I watched the street until the post man delivered it at your house. Then I waited for you."

"You came here for nothing," she said, her voice sounding hard again. "I am no puta. I will not sleep with you."

"Please wait! This is not what I came here for."

That was a lie. That's what I had come for, but I really was interested in this girl who did not fit my preconceived concept at all.

"What else then?"

"I would ask you for a chance to meet you and to speak with you. Perhaps in a restaurant of your choice. I will invite you to dinner, and you will be free to leave at any time."

"You come all the way from Almanha to speak to me?" she asked suspiciously.

"You checked me out? Smart girl!" I said appreciatively. "I would like to get to know you, I admit, but if one dinner is all you are willing to grant me, I will be grateful all the same."

"I have to think about it. I also must ask my mother. Can I call you tomorrow?"

"Yes, of course. My visa is good for ninety days, there is no hurry."

That made her laugh.

"You would wait ninety days? I am not that good looking."

"You have no idea, Gisele."

"If my mother agrees, I will eat dinner with you tomorrow. It is my free evening. I will call you and give you the name of the restaurant. I warn you, though. I will pick the best and most expensive restaurant."

"You do that, Gisele. It may be better for me to have good alcohol available if you shoot me down."

"If you are honest and nice to me, I will be nice and polite, too," she said earnestly.

"That is all I can ask. Prepare to be nice and polite, then, for I have no plans to be dishonest or mean. Good night, Gisele. Thank you for calling."

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It was almost 8 p.m. the next evening when she called. I had not expected her call anymore and I was just about to leave my room and have dinner by myself.

"I'm sorry, I just got off from my work," she said. "Can we just meet in the restaurant of your hotel?"

"That's not the best, nor the most expensive," I reminded her.

"But there are many people, and they have security."

I laughed at that. "When can you come?"

"I'm already there. I'm at the entrance. They won't let me in though."

"I'll be with you in a second," I assured her and quickly put on my shoes. Running down the stairs, I was down at the reception in a few seconds. There she was, outside the restaurant door, where a cerberus of some sort stood watch, lest the underprivileged may have a taste of the overpriced food they were selling.

"Senhorita Cuzmao!" I called, and she turned to me. "How nice of you to come. But why are you waiting here?"

The guard dog looked at me uneasily, but stood his ground.

"We do not allow local girls in here," he said. The way he pronounced 'local girls', he could have called her a whore right away.

I shrugged.

"Your loss, not mine," I answered lightly. "Let us go some place else, Senhorita. I hear the food here is not that good anyway."

I offered her my arm which she reluctantly took and led her over to the exit. I steered Gisele outside to the taxi stand and guided her into a car, one of the ubiquitous Volkswagen beetles.

"Bailey's!" I told the cabbie.

Gisele looked at me strangely.

"This is against our rules," she said. "I was to pick the place."

"Yes, I know. But Bailey's is close to your home and I will give you money for the taxi ride home right away. Have you ever been into Bailey's?"

She snorted and shook her head. I believed her. I had eaten there the past evening, and the place was frequented by rich Paulistanos and tourists like me. I noticed that she looked down at her dress self-consciously. It was a pretty dress, but it was cheap. She wore simple sandals and no adornments, safe for a small black purse.

"You will do fine, Gisele," I assured her. "They are nice at this place, you'll see."

The cab pulled up at the restaurant, and I helped her out from the cramped back seat. I paid and tipped the cabbie and then offered her my arm again. The maitre d' looked at us only briefly, but he remembered me, and showed us to a nice table in the back. Gisele sat, flustered by the attention of a waiter who held her chair. She was at a loss what to say when the waiter came with the wine menu.

I ordered a light Chianti wine and a bottle of mineral water. When I asked Gisele what she would like to drink, she smiled self-consciously and asked for a coke. I also ordered a mixed barbecue plate for two, with French fries and croquettes.

The waiter soon came back with our beverage order and placed wine glasses both for me and Gisele. She looked at the glass suspiciously.

"Only if you want to try the wine. It's a light Italian wine, a Chianti, and it goes along nicely with red meat," I explained. "If you are not accustomed to wine, you may better stick to Coke."

She nodded. "Maybe a small sip to try," she said cautiously, and I poured two fingers into her glass.

"You don't have to drink it all," I said, "but if I pour less, it will become stale."

Again, she nodded. She had emptied her Coke rather quickly, and I ordered another glass for her. She smiled shyly at me, but then she gathered her courage.

"Thank you for the dinner. But I would like to know what you want of me."

I looked straight into her eyes, trying to look as sincere as I could.

"I have already realised that I will not get what I wanted. But I have met you, face to face, and I have spoken to you. Now, you have agreed to have dinner with me, and I will get to know you a little bit. That is nice too, I want to learn more about you."

"But why? There are hundreds of girls like me on the internet."

I shook my head emphatically.

"No, Gisele, there is nobody like you. You are the one I cannot get out of my head. I made a fool of myself travelling around the world to meet you. I realise now how stupid and insensitive that was. But you are unique, at least to me."

"But this whole movie thing, it's over. I will never do it again. It was a huge mistake. This is not me."

"I see that, and I am glad for it now. You seem to be a very bright young woman and you should rather try and get a good education."

That was absolutely the wrong thing to say. She turned red, and I saw tears forming in her eyes. I took hold of her right hand on the table.

"Gisele, I'm sorry. I don't know what I did wrong, but I did not mean to hurt you."

I gave her a handkerchief. She used it to dry her eyes, and then she looked at me.

"The movie clips you saw on the internet, one of my college professors saw them, too. I was attending a catholic college in Sao Paulo, on a scholarship. They threw me out. That was my chance, and I ruined it with this damned movie. We cannot afford the tuition for another school, let alone the room and board, not without the scholarship. And they said that my sister will not get a scholarship either, because our family is not morally proper. I ruined my own life and my sister's. Now I work as waitress to save some money so at least my sister can go to school. And you come and tell me to get an education!"

I briefly closed my eyes. Damn, that had been the stupidest thing to say. Or maybe not?

"How many years would you need to finish college?" I asked her, an idea forming in the back of my head. At this moment, the food arrived and we had to sit back for the waiter to do his job. Gisele looked at the huge plate incredulously. When the waiter had wished us a good appetite and left us, she cocked her head.

"This is for the two of us?"

"Sure, eat as much as you like. But you did not answer my question."

She loaded some filet of chicken on her plate, along with string beans and croquettes. When she was finished, she answered.

"I needed only another year. Why do you ask?"

"And what is your major?"

"Business, but I also had courses in international law. But you haven't answered my question."

"Is there another college in Sao Paulo that would accept you if you had the money for the tuition and housing?"

"Yes, there is a very good business school, but I still do not understand." Then she understood where I was heading, but she misinterpreted me. Her eyes filled with horror. "Please, don't make me such an offer. I could never do it. But it would tear me apart."

"What do you mean, Gisele?"

"You want to offer me the money for the business school?"

"That came across my mind, yes. What is so bad about that?"

She smiled a bitter smile.

"You would want something of me in return, wouldn't you? Don't you think I had such offers? I told you, I am no puta."

Now I understood. I shook my head.

"Gisele, this is not what I meant. I want to help you, but I don't want any payment from you. How much money will it cost to get you through college?"

"Around 4,000 Real for tuition," she answered, breathing out, and it was clear that this was a number that had been on her mind for weeks and months. "It's a lot of money, but I would pay you back. I can get a good job with an MBA degree and I would save the money."

4,000 Real, a little more than a fifteen hundred Euro, I thought. Back home, that was a long weekend trip for two to London with just a little shopping, here it meant the future of a person, the difference between spending a life close to poverty and moving up the social ladder.

"I could afford that easily, but will it be enough? You will need books, housing and food."

"My mother is a secretary, she earns enough to feed us, and I can still work on the side."

I gave her an approving nod. "Let me suggest a deal. I will pay the fees for the college. And I will pay for housing on campus. You can pay me back when you have finished college. But I have a few conditions."

Suspicion was obvious in Gisele's eyes. I continued.

"I want you to write me letters, one every month, to report on your progress. And I want to come back here for your graduation, and I want to throw your graduation party."

"Are you serious about that? I mean the money plus another trip here? What do you get out of this?"

I allowed myself a smile.

"You are very good to look at. And I want to make an atonement for the way you were treated and for what I came here for. I am not proud of my motifs. Plus, I missed on the graduation of my daughter, she accidentally gave me a wrong day and time."

I could not quite hide the bitterness that had crept into my voice, and Gisele noticed. For the first time, she touched me. She just briefly put her hand on mine, but I felt the shock. There was a sad smile on her face.

"I never really knew my father. He left us before my sister was born. I would give a lot to have a father at my graduation. But if you want to come, I will be happy, too."

"It's a deal, then?" I asked.

She shook her head.

"I have to speak with my mother first. Please understand that I caused so much shame and trouble for her, I don't want to hurt her again. Would you be willing to speak to her and tell her what you offered me? And assure her that I did not offer you anything in return?"

"I can do that. Why don't you talk to her first and set up a date, maybe on Sunday, where we can meet?"

She smiled impishly.

"Could we come here again? I have never eaten that good."

I looked at her plate and my jaw fell. She had contrived to polish off a full plate of food during the rather brief conversation.

"Of course," I grinned back. "this way I am sure you will come."

Her smile slowly vanished and she looked at me wistfully.

"Thomas, I hope you are aware what you are doing. You are giving me new hope. Please, please, don't let this be some ploy to set me up!"

I was unable to answer. When she looked at me like that, I was putty in her hands. I opened my mouth, but somehow the words did not come forth. It was not necessary, thankfully. After a few seconds, she nodded slowly.

"I trust you," She said simply, and I felt ten feet tall.

I tore my eyes away and cleared my throat with an effort.

"With this out of the way, why don't we enjoy the food a little more," I suggested to change the subject. She smiled gratefully and loaded some more meat and fries on her plate. I followed suit, and for a few minutes we ate silently. When we were finished, she rose the glass with the small puddle of wine.

"To a wonderful evening," she said.

"And to good company," I answered.

We drank.

"Do you like ice cream?" I asked and was rewarded with a big smile.

"I LOVE ice cream!" she declared.

I let her order ice cream and settled for a cappucino myself. All too soon it was time for her to go home, and I asked for the check. I took care to tip the waiter generously; I planned on coming back, and a well-tipped waiter will look after you the next time around. We asked for a taxicab, and the doorman blew his whistle. Fortunately, the taxi was a four door VW Golf, infinitely more comfortable than a Beetle. We drove to her house and I asked the cabbie to wait while I escorted her to the door. She opened, using her key, but before she stepped through, she hugged me fiercely. I was left rooted to the spot, still feeling the soft swell of her breasts pressed against my skin when the cabbie honked his horn impatiently. I sighed inwardly and walked back to the curb.

Back in the hotel, I relived the evening in my thoughts. I had behaved like a complete sucker, pledging good money without any compensation in sight. But somehow, I could not feel bad.



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Chapter 1B


The alarm clock went off, and I could not find it. Where the hell had I put it? But then I saw the flashing light on the telephone. Two or three fumbles later I had the receiver at my ear.

"Yes?" I croaked.

"Senhor Bergmann, there is a Senhora Cuzmoa to see you.

Senhora Cuzmao, that must be Gisele's mother.

"Can you ask her to wait in the breakfast room? And make sure that the man at the door lets her in? I will be down in ten minutes, okay?"

"Yes, Senhor. I will arrange."

"Thank you."

I hopped from the bed, fully awake now and looked at the clock. Damn it. It was just 7 o'clock. I'm not a morning person, never have been. The hot shower helped me get awake to some degree and, after brushing my teeth, I threw a lot of cold water in my face. That helped, too. I threw on a polo shirt and dockers, with sandals, and ambled downstairs to the breakfast room. I did not have to ask for her, I just saw her and knew it had to be Gisele's mother. She was a good-looking woman, not older than late thirties, and I enjoyed the view while I walked over to the table.

"Senhora Cuzmao?" I asked. "I am Thomas Bergmann. Do you speak English? I am afraid that I have no Portuguese."

She rose and looked at me for a moment. Then she nodded.

"Yes, I speak English," she answered. "I am a foreign language secretary."

"I did not know that. That explains Gisele's good English, I suppose. Will you join me for breakfast?"

"I am not sure..." she said hesitantly.

"You are not sure whether you want to be invited by a man you may want to kill?" I asked.

"Yes. What are you playing at with my daughter? She already made a mess of her life because of another man who made promises."

"But she learned from it, didn't she? This time, she spoke to you before she committed herself. And I am not playing at anything. Let me be honest. I saw that video. And I became obsessed with your daughter. I spend time and a lot of money to locate her. And I did that, expecting a loose woman, a girl I could have some fun with in exchange for money. I'm guilty there. But what I found was a good girl who may have made an error in judgement, but who was given a raw deal because of that. A girl who told me right away that no amount of money would make her repeat that error. I was impressed with her face and body, yes, but now I am impressed with her as a person. And I want to help her out of the bad situation she is in. A bright girl like her deserves a second chance."

"Maybe we need to talk longer," Gisele's mother said, sighing heavily. "May I have coffee?"

"Sure!" I signalled the waiter and ordered coffee and a breakfast for me.

"And what is it that you expect from this?" she asked me when the waiter had left.

"A good feeling?" I offered. "Monthly letters from a delightful young woman? And, perhaps one day, her friendship. I can imagine what you are concerned about. That I somehow may try to make her do things that she should not do. But I can assure you, not only that I will never try that, but also that she will never do it."

She nodded silently when the waiter returned with our breakfast. We were silent while we started to eat. I could tell she was mulling over the right thing to do. Then she took a bite of bread and looked into my eyes, chewing. When her mouth was empty, she spoke again.

"I work at a law firm. I trust my boss, and he will help me. Would you be willing to talk to him, to discuss assurances for your good intent? Please, I am very thankful for what you offer. But Gisele is my daughter, and I could not bear it if she were hurt again."

"Should I come to the office?"

"No, no, that would be too official. But could you have lunch with us on Sunday? In our apartment, of course. I would ask my boss to come, too."

"With pleasure," I answered.

"I need to go to work," she said, emptying her coffee cup. "Will you see Gisele before Sunday?"

"I will not seek her, but if she tries to contact me, I will not deny her."

"That is enough for me. Thank you for your patience. Please, believe me that we are thankful for your generous offer."

"But you have the well being of your daughter to consider," I grinned.

She smiled back. "Yes. Thank you for being understanding. Can you come at 1 o'clock, Sunday?"

"Yes, I am looking forward to it. Could you tell Gisele that I may be gone for the day tomorrow? I need to make some purchases in Sao Paulo. I did not bring suitable clothes."

She nodded and left me to finish my breakfast. I was impressed with Gisele's mother. I would not have taken much prodding to take in interest in her, I admitted to myself.

After breakfast, I packed my belongings and checked out. I had found out about another hotel, the Agua Doce, near the beach, and that's where I checked in. The pool was inviting and I swam a number of laps before lunch. In the afternoon I used the internet access in the lobby to gather information. Then I made an appointment with Joao for the next day. I wanted him to drive me to Sao Paulo to make my purchases. I wasn't into public transportation, and Joao was happy for the business.

The next morning at 7, he was waiting for me in the drive way of the hotel. We took off, and in a little over three hours we reached Sao Paulo. I directed him to a trade centre on Rua Itapicuru. I knew there was an Apple retailer in that centre, and I wanted to purchase a laptop. If I had to stay for a week or more, I better do some work. I got lucky. They had an iBook with English keys, and a special deal on an Office package, and they let me hook up to my.Mac account where I retrieved my current projects. I also got a cheap ink jet printer plus generic ink cartridges and a stack of blank CDs.

A clothing store was next, and I purchased a cream coloured suit, a number of polo shirts and some extra underwear. This whole little adventure had already cost me a bundle. Oh well, what's the good of money if you don't spend from time to time? It was early afternoon when we headed back to Ubatuba. We arrived at my hotel around 5 p.m., and I paid Joao and carried my purchases up to my room.

After taking a swim, I had dinner at the hotel restaurant. I was sitting back, enjoying a cafe espresso, when my cell phone went off. It was Gisele.

"Hello," she said hesitantly.

"Hola, Gisele, that is a nice surprise!"

"Yes, well, my mother just told me how she met you yesterday. I'm sorry, I did not know that. I would have warned you."

"It was not bad. Your mother is a very nice woman, and she cares for you. So you could say that we have a shared interest."

"It really did not bother you?"

"Not at all. She invited me to lunch on Sunday."

"I know. You won't mind, will you? It's only a small apartment, and we cannot afford the things you are accustomed to."

"Get that out of your head, Gisele. I wasn't born in luxury. And I'm not judging people by their wealth or lack thereof. I really appreciate the invitation because it is a personal gesture."

She pondered this for a few seconds.

"Mother said you will not contact me until Sunday?"

"That is what I promised."

"But if I want to meet you, you can see me?"

"I told her that I would not deny you."

"Have you been to Itamambuca yet?"

"That's a beach, isn't it?"

"The best we have. Tomorrow is Saturday and I have the afternoon off. Would you like to see the beach with me? It is okay with my mother. But I would have to tag along my little sister for security."

"I'd love to. But I have one condition."

"What?"

"No string bikini. I don't want to embarrass myself more than necessary."

She actually laughed, a rich throaty chuckle.

"I have a one-piece suit, but you will embarrass yourself anyway."

"I'm certain, I will," I sighed. "Should I pick you up in a cab?"

"That would be nice. At 1 o'clock?"

"All right. Thank you."

"Good night!"

She hung up, and I sat, desperately trying to will down the erection that tented my slacks. Somehow, the mental image of Gisele in a black one-piece bathing suit had me going. I spend the next two hours on the small hotel beach, staring into the night sky and imagining Gisele on the beach. I knew that all I said about appreciating her as a person was true. Yet there was no denying that I coveted her physically with an aching intensity. Tomorrow would be hard, very hard!

After waking up the next morning, the images of Gisele were in my head again, and I masturbated to the fantasy of her gorgeous body. In the shower, I did it again, and I hoped that this would prevent me from making an ass of myself on the beach. Joao had his day off, but he agreed to drive us to the beach and pick us up in the evening. 1 o'clock found me waiting in Joao's cab outside Gisele's tenement house. She came down with her sister right on time. Joao's eyes bugged out when he saw the girls. I jumped from the cab to greet them.

"Hola," Gisele greeted me with a blinding smile. The girl had me figured out. She knew how to push my buttons. "This is Alicia, my sister."

I looked at a slightly chubby version of Gisele, knowing instinctively that she would be just as beautiful in a year or two.

"Hola, Alicia. It is nice to meet you. I hope you speak English?"

She nodded. "Yes I do. Mother says it is important, and I like it, too."

"Great, shall we put your bags in the trunk?"

Joao saw to that, and I moved to sit on the front seat, but Gisele stayed me.

"The back is roomy. Come sit with us."

Who was I to contradict her?

The drive took us close to 30 minutes, and Joao dropped us at a beach restaurant that also had changing cubicles for rent. I paid for one and had the girls use it first. I held my breath when they emerged. True to her word, Gisele's bathing suit was a one-piece. However, it consisted mostly of entry ports for the sunlight, and nothing about her physical appearance was left to my imagination. She shot me a devilish smile when I rushed into the cubicle to change. I was happy that I had brought baggy swim shorts in addition to the Speedos I normally prefer. I would have never fitted into the Speedo trunks. The girls waited outside, and we carried our bags and towels to a spot roughly a hundred meters to the North. Only a few young people were near us and we settled on the sand. Alicia was off to the water immediately, while I applied sun block and Gisele watched me.

"You are in a good shape," she said judiciously. "How old are you?"

"Forty-five," I replied with a mock sigh.

"You are taking care of your body, aren't you?"

"Yes, I like to stay trim. A few years ago, I was really fat, and I hated it."

"You also trim your body hair?"

"I have to. It's turning grey and I look like an old gorilla when I let it grow."

She giggled at that.

"So what do you say about my bathing suit? Is it modest enough?"

"You know perfectly well what you are doing to me," I grumped, causing a self-satisfied grin on her part.

"Should I rather cover myself?" she inquired slyly.

"Are you kidding me? I flew halfway around the world in the hope of seeing you like this."

"And was it worth it?"

"Every single mile."

"You know, this is all I can give you," she said, almost apologetically.

"I know that now, and I accept it. I feel much better about myself that way."

Just then, Alicia came from the water. Wrapping herself into a towel, she dropped the wet swimsuit and rummaged in her bag. She carefully inserted one foot after the other into a black bikini bottom and pulled it up. Dropping the towel, she reached down to retrieve the top from her bag and put it on.

"Stop teasing poor Tomaso, Alicia," Gisele laughed. Alicia looked surprised, then she blushed.

"I'm sorry," she stuttered. "I was not thinking and..."

"Don't apologise for that. I shall lie on my stomach for a while, and it will be okay," I joked, causing a furious blush on Alicia and a throaty chuckle on Gisele's part.

To cover her embarrassment, Alicia went to wash her bathing suit.

"You should have relieved yourself before we came here," Gisele offered with a cheeky grin.

"I did, twice, and it did not help," I answered with mock exasperation, setting off another laughter.

She could not stop laughing and actually doubled over. When she caught her breath, she wiped her eyes, looked at me and started laughing again.

"What is it?" I asked.

"You must be really in good shape!" she squeezed out before the laughter started again.

This set me off, too, and we were rolling in the sand, laughing, when Alicia came back, her wet suit over her shoulders. She spoke to Gisele in Portuguese. Gisele shook her head and answered.

"She wanted to know whether we were laughing about her. I told her that we laughed about you."

"That's right, Alicia. Your sister has been making fun of me."

Alicia said something else in Portuguese, in an admonishing tone of voice. Gisele became serious.

"Tomaso, you are not mad at me for making fun of you, are you?"

"Are you kidding? It's fun to be silly with you." I turned to the younger girl. "Alicia, I laughed because it was funny. Just don't worry, okay. This is a beautiful day, and we have another three hours before Joao picks us up again. Now I will go swimming, and you two girls can laugh about me undisturbed."

I got up and jogged over the sand to the surf line. There was a decent surf, and I enjoyed the play with the breakers. Suddenly I noticed that I had company. Gisele was at my side and for a few minutes we just jumped into the breaking waves.

"So you decided to join me?" I shouted.

"Yes," she shouted back, jumping high over an approaching roller. "It's more fun to make fun of you when you can hear it."

She did not notice the next wave and it broke right over her head. Coughing and sputtering she came up. I laughed at her.

"I thought you would not show me more?"

The breaking wave had dislodged the thin material of her bathing suit and her left breast was on display in all its glory. Wham! The next roller had caught me unaware while I stared at Gisele's tit. I came up gasping to see Gisele laughing her head off. She had not even bothered to cover her breast. When she jumped into the next wave, her breast performed an enticing movement. I could not keep my eyes from her and was promptly dunked by the next breaker. When I got up again, Gisele had covered up.

"I cannot have you drown. Who is going to pay my tuition when you're dead," she shouted, jumping into the next roller. With my mind on the waves, I was able to hold my own again in the surf. That is, until she shouted my name. I looked at her and froze. She had bunched the material of the suit between her breasts and flashed me both her tits!

Wham! The next wave washed over me. I had trouble getting up, the back-eddy tearing at my legs, and before I was really up and could clear my nose, the next one hit me from behind. I felt hands at my arms, lifting me up, and this time I caught a breath and was able to jump into the next wave. Gisele was at my side, supporting me, and grinning sheepishly while we waded into shallow water. I plopped down into the low surf and tried to get the water out of my sinuses.

Gisele sat beside me, stroking my back and shoulders.

"I'm sorry," she said apologetically, "I should not have done this."

I got clean, dry air into my lungs again and drew a deep breath. I looked at her worried face and tried a grin.

"That would have been a news headline. 'Tourist drowned while staring at girl's breasts. Picture on page 3!' The papers would go gaga over this."

"I'm really sorry for teasing you like this. Please don't tell my mother."

"Gisele, you can tease me like this all you want, but only in shallow water. Deal?"

Gisele looked around and I followed her gaze. Her sister was laying on her stomach, her face away from the water. Gisele grabbed the bathing suit's halter and pulled the elastic material over her head. The front of her suit dropped to her waist, exposing her breasts.

"What are you doing, Gisele?" I asked, my voice cracking with excitement.

"Penance," she smiled.

"You are very beautiful," I marvelled. "I don't think I will ever forget this moment."

I reached out with my hand and pulled her head closer. I placed a kiss on her forehead. On impulse, she took my hand and placed it over her left boob. I felt the soft texture, the elastic tissue, and the small pebble of her nipple in my palm. She looked up into my eyes, and no power on earth could keep me from kissing her. Well, no power on earth tried, anyway. When our lips touched, time stood still. My hand left her breast and found its way up over her shoulder to her neck and then into her hair. We broke the kiss after a while, and I looked into her dark eyes for a long time. There was no fear, no reservation in them.

"Thank you, Gisele," I whispered. "Thank you for this wonderful moment. Thank you for being alive."

She choked a little.

"We must not go further, Tomaso. Not today. I am not saying never, okay? But if we go any further, we may ruin everything."

I pressed her small hand and kissed it.

"Let's go and join your sister again."

While we walked up the beach, Gisele did not release my hand. We plopped down on our towels, and Alicia looked up.

"I can't believe you showed your breasts, Gisele!" she chided her older sister.

"Don't be a spoilsport, little sister!" Gisele laughed. "Besides, who started this?"

"I did not think," Alicia defended herself.

"Well, little sister, neither did I, and it was fun. Tomaso nearly drowned while he stared at them."

"He did not!"

"You bet I did," I admitted, laughing along with Gisele.

"I should tell Mother, I really should."

"Then, Alicia, I cannot finish college. Then I cannot earn enough money to get you into college. Which will not matter anyway, because I would kill you right away," Gisele explained in a conversational tone.

"I guess I better not tell then," Alicia admitted.

"Smart girl. Tomaso, don't you think it advisable to bribe my little sister with a big bowl of ice cream?"

I laughed again. "If it does not take more to ensure her silence, we can do this every day."

"You wish!" Gisele grinned.

I turned and waved in the direction of the waiter who oversaw the beach. He trudged over the sand toward us. The girls saw to it that they made the long walk worth his while, both of them ordering huge bowls of ice cream and Coke. Myself, I ordered a mixed fruit bowl and coffee. I have to watch what I eat. The spectre of obesity was always in the back of my mind. While we waited for the waiter to return, I tried to get to know Alicia. She was seventeen and in high school. She read voraciously, and she wanted to become a veterinarian. All this I learned before the waiter returned with our order on a large tray that he placed between us.

The fruit bowl was delicious, and the girls enjoyed the ice cream. When we were finished, the girls stretched out on their towels, and I signalled the waiter again. He came to take the tray and a generous tip for his troubles. For a while, nobody spoke. I was lost in thought myself, my mind revolving around Gisele's behaviour. She was certainly more open than before, and I could not help but feel that there were future possibilities. The question was how far was I prepared to go? Was it possible for me to start something serious with a twenty-one year-old? She was certainly mature enough for her age, she was smart, funny and gorgeous. And then I realised that I would go as far as she would let me. There was no way I could refuse her. I realised something else: Gisele had figured out that I was eating out of her pretty hand, that's why she had opened up towards me. She knew that she had control over the situation.

"You should put sun block on your back, Tomaso," Gisele interrupted my musing. "Or should I do it?"

"That would be very nice of you. And if you want me to return the favour, just let me know."

"You wish," she laughed. "For that, I brought along my sister."

I heard a slap and a squeal. Obviously, Alicia had objected to the task allotted to her. Meanwhile, Gisele had squeezed sun block on my back and started to massage it into my skin. For better leverage, she squatted over my buttocks. As soon as I felt the soft skin of her thighs against my sides, I developed a painful erection.

"Does your offer to do my back still stand?" Gisele asked. "My regular sun block applicator is on strike."

Alicia giggled.

"Maybe in a minute, Gisele. My offer isn't the only thing that is standing," I quipped, receiving a stinging slap on my butt for my effort.

"Does everything I do make you horny?" she asked, exasperated.

"Based on my limited experience, yes," I answered truthfully.

"Alicia, please do my back. This dirty old man cannot control himself."

Alicia giggled and rose to a sitting position. Gisele lay down on her stomach and removed the halter string of her suit from her neck, causing the top to fall away from her upper body. I could not see much, but it was better that she had her sister apply the sun block, considering that we were on a public beach. Gisele stuck out her tongue while Alicia worked her back. The sight of the nubile young girl working the naked back of her sister did nothing to abate my hard on, and I shifted my body cautiously to lessen the pressure. Gisele winked at me and giggled. Alicia was finished now and sat back on her haunches, slapping her big sister's butt.

"I'll go swim," she announced and took off.

"She can be a pain in the butt, but I love her," Gisele remarked absentmindedly. "She never once was mean to me, although I may have ruined her future along with mine."

"Yes I like her... Aaiiiah!"

I jumped up from the shock of the cold sea water that Alicia had dumped over me from a plastic bag. Both girls were rolling in the sand with laughter now. Too late I realised that my erection was on full display, tenting the soft swim shorts. And it did not help that Gisele's exposed breasts jiggled while she laughed her head off at my expense.

"Alicia, get another bag and douse his front," she managed to say between snorts.

I quickly covered my front with my towel and tried to salvage the shattered remains of my dignity while Alicia was fighting a violent hiccup. Finally, Gisele noticed her nudity and pulled up the front of her suit. She grinned sheepishly. When the girls had calmed down, Alicia had a slightly worried look on her face.

"You are not <hick> mad?" she asked.

I shook my head.

"Girls, I cannot remember the last time I had so much fun. But I will have to think of a way to get even."

Gisele batted her eyelids.

"You would not spank us, would you?"

Unholy thoughts, originating in the back of my brain, wreaked havoc in my midsection. I tried to be serious, for once.

"Gisele, if you want this thing with your college to work out, you must not act like this tomorrow. If you do that, and I make a fool of myself like I'm doing this afternoon, your mother will throw me out and will not allow you to accept the money."

She nodded, suddenly serious.

"I know that, and I will behave. Believe me, I don't want to mess up my second chance." She batted her eyelids again. "But it is very hard."

I tried not to groan. Luckily, I was able to steer the conversation towards education. She told me of the things she had learned so far, and it appeared to be a solid base. Curiously however, she had never had computer courses. Small wonder that she did not realise how quickly movie clips can travel over the net.

"You don't know much about computers, do you?" I asked.

She shook her head. "Our teachers were old, and they knew nothing about computers."

"You know, Gisele, that is something we will have to work on. These days, it is impossible to get good jobs without knowing about computers. I bet your mother knows a lot."

She nodded. "She has to. But we are not allowed in the offices, and we cannot afford a computer at home. Nobody in our neighbourhood can."

"And you, Alicia?" I asked.

"We had a few hours of theory, and then we were allowed a few minutes on a computer. But we have only two computers in our school, and the teachers use them mostly."

"I will get you a used computer for your home. Internet will not be possible, I'm afraid, but you should learn to use text programs and database programs. And presentation software. Is there an internet cafe in town?" I had not seen one yet.

Gisele nodded. "There are two, and one is in our neighbourhood. But the people in there are bad. The one in town is better, at least during the day."

I nodded. "Then we will set up an account for you in the better one."

Alicia's eyes lit up. "Could I go there, too?"

"Certainly. We can set up web mail accounts for you two. This way, it will be easier and cheaper to stay in touch with me."

"You mean the reports?" Gisele asked.

"Those, too," I answered. That made sense. I did not know how long it took for snail mail to reach Europe, but e-mail was the better option. I looked at my watch. It was time to break camp.

"Girls, we need to go shower and change. Joao will be here in half an hour."

There was an open air shower stall near the changing cubicles, and I let the girls have first dibs on the water. Thankfully, both of them were quick about it. After I rinsed the dried salt from my body, I quickly towelled and dressed. When Joao pulled up at the driveway, we were ready.

During the ride into town, Alicia rode shotgun. She claimed to prefer to sit in the front, a claim that I doubted when I saw the conspiratorial grin that passed between the sisters. Gisele looked lovely in her summer dress of blue denim and her sensuality again cast a spell on me. Now she wanted to know more about me, what I did for a living, how I lived, had I been married, how old were my kids, the whole nine yards. I answered openly, there was nothing to hide anyway.

I had married right out of high school, mostly because of a mishap involving a faulty birth control device. The kid, my daughter Stephanie, was born while I did my mandatory 15-month stint in the Armed Forces. We had a second kid, my son Ralf, while I attended university. I finished with a diploma in informatics and got my first job with a company specialised in teller machines. The money was good, the work dull. I was working on security aspects mostly, but the internal structure and hierarchies of the company drove me up the wall. Our work, our goals, were cut out for us by the money people, and the projects were uninspiring. I began to work on some things myself, spending nights in front of my IBM PC. The first virii had appeared, and together with a friend, I tried to develop algorithms for the search for malware.

With all the time spent before a computer display, both at work and at home, I wasn't a really considerate husband or father. In short, I was an egocentric asshole who regularly forgot the birthdays and school events of the kids, plus the wedding anniversaries. The upshot was that my salary allowed us to have a nanny, and my wife, Inge, was able to go back to school and earn a teaching degree. She also secured a job for herself in a local high school. I guess, it was at that point that we realised how different we were, and from there it was only a short step for her fall for somebody else.

It was a colleague of hers, and I have to admit that they are perfect for each other. We got a clean, friendly divorce, and she married Holger, that's his name, within weeks after that.

The divorce was liberating for me as well. I quit my job and set up shop as independent security consultant with my friend and partner. We got lucky with our virus search algorithms and developed two of the first anti-virus search engines, both of which are still in use in their ninth incarnation. This helped our business, and for a while, six to seven years, we were in big demand. Our little business expanded to a point where it outgrew our abilities as a businessmen. Personally, I also suffered from burn out. Therefore, when a larger competitor offered us a buy out, I happily agreed. I retained a sizeable stake in the parent company, and I sit on their board, but with concern to real, regular work, I went into retirement at age forty. And for the following five years, I have been playing with the money, losing some and winning some, mostly the latter.

This I told Gisele, and she listened quietly.

"Are you very rich?" she finally asked.

"You mean Bill-Gates-rich? No. I guess you could say that I am well off, that's all."

"But the money you offer for me, this will not hurt you or your children?"

"I want you to get the correct perspective here. Those 4000 Real, I would never give that amount to just anyone who asked, but for me, it is far less than a week's income. I do not sacrifice anything, I will hardly feel it."

She motioned for me to come closer and bent over to whisper in my ear.

"If I had known that, I would not have shown you my breasts!"

She leant back, a cheeky grin plastered across her face, but her eyes conveyed something vastly different. I motioned for her to bent over and put my mouth to her ear. Her smell made my heart go faster as I whispered.

"Then maybe I should pay for Alicia's tuition, too, to fully compensate you for the view of your magnificent breasts?"

She put my arm in a vice-like grip.

"You don't mean that, do you?"

"Why not? If I can finance the education of a brat like you, why not that of a modest, sweet girl like your sister?"

"Modest? Sweet? Hah! She was the one who splashed the water over you!"

"Well, yeah, I guess I'll have to pay for two brats then."

Our whispered conversation had not gone unnoticed with Alicia.

"What are you two whispering?"

In response, Gisele whispered in my ear again.

"Will you tell her?"

"Not yet," I answered in my normal voice.

"Tell me, what are you two up to?" Alicia demanded.

"Not yet!" Gisele and I answered in unison. We looked at each other and burst out laughing.

Alicia hurled her wet bathing suit at her sister, but Gisele deflected it, and the wet suit ended up in my face. Even Joao, who had seen this in his rear-view mirror, laughed now. I made a show of sniffing at the suit.

"Stop that!" Alicia shrieked, tearing the garment from my hands, and turning red. "You are a dirty old man," she huffed.

"Yes, but he is my dirty old man. So don't you throw your panties at him!" Gisele retorted.

"If you don't stop it, I will tell mama," Alicia threatened.

Gisele laughed. "Then you will never learn what we whispered about."

I noticed that Joao slowed down from his usual breakneck speed and looked up. We had reached the Rua do Campo. We got out of the taxi, and, to my surprise, Alicia gave me a quick peck on my lips.

"Thank you for the trip and the ice cream!" she said, casting a triumphant grin at her sister. Uh-oh! I knew what was coming, even before Gisele launched herself into my arms and gave me a toe-curling, open-mouthed kiss.

"Thank you for everything," she said sweetly.

Dragging Alicia behind her, she disappeared in the tenement house.

"Now you have two girls fighting over you, boss," Joao grinned.

"Yeah, right! Just bring me to the hotel and go home to your family!" I grumped. And that's what he did, albeit with an insufferable grin. When we drove up to the hotel, he turned to me again, and the grin was gone.

"Boss, you ever had a Brazilian girlfriend?"

"No?"

"You mark my words, stay with the older one. You touch her little sister, and she will kill you."

"I am not touching either of them."

"Sure, sure, boss, just mark my words and stay with the older one."

A sound piece of advice, I thought, while I watched him drive off. I went up to my room and showered quickly. I decided to try the restaurant in the hotel lobby, and I was not disappointed. I was not too hungry anyway, but the three or four beers helped me replace what I had sweated over the afternoon and gave me the right level of sleepiness.

I slept late the next day, and I skipped breakfast. I had asked the reception to get me a flower bouquet, and it was waiting for me when I came down. I also had a large box of sweets that I had bought in Sao Paulo. I was wearing my suit. I figured that Senhora Cuzmao would put a lot of effort into the lunch, and I wanted to show my respect.

It was Gisele who opened the door and showed me in, but her mother emerged from the kitchen to greet me. I could tell that the flowers were well appreciated, as was the box of chocolates. She showed me into the living room. The flat was maybe 500 square feet, all told, with two bedrooms, a kitchen, a bath, and a dingy living room that barely contained the table we would sit at. There was a small balcony in front, though, and the view from the third floor was quite nice. The room was neat, if sparsely furnished, and the arrangements showed taste.

"You have a very nice apartment, Senhora Cuzmao," I complimented her, inducing pleased denials. She went for a vase, and I was surprised when she came back with a mighty brass shell, probably from a four inch-gun and polished brightly. She noticed my look.

"We have to make do with what we have. Life was not easy."

Her look showed some defiance.

"You can be proud of yourself. You did an admirable job of raising your daughters."

"I could have done better," she sighed, looking significantly at Gisele who blushed. "I wish I had looked out for them better."

"I beg to disagree," I said earnestly. "I am biased, I know, but had things been different, I would have never enjoyed the pleasure of meeting Gisele."

She squinted her eyes. "What exactly does Gisele mean to you?"

"Her image set me off to travel halfway around the world to follow a dream. I don't even remember the last dream I had before I saw her. It must have been 20 years ago. That's what she is to me, an inspiration to follow my dreams again."

"Do your dreams still involve my daughter?" she asked, her eyes boring into mine.

"It would be dishonest to deny that. But they are dreams, and where they do not match Gisele's plans and wishes, they will remain just that."

"At least, you are honest. When do you plan to return to Germany?"

"When everything is settled and I am satisfied that I will not be needed anymore. This trip has already given me more than I could hope for."

Just then, the doorbell rang, and Gisele's mother rushed to the door. Gisele quietly moved to my side and took my hand.

"Do I mean that much to you?" she asked in a halting voice.

"That much and more. But please remember that there is no obligation for you when you accept my help."

"Yes there is. Even if you don't want it to be there."

She pressed my hand once more and let go of me. It was good timing. A dignified gentleman entered the room, tall, slender, bald, but with an aura of friendliness. He greeted me with a handshake. Gisele's mother busied herself setting the table and then urged us to sit. There was a white wine on the table, and we toasted Senhora Cuzmao. She had prepared a breaded fish which I did not recognise, and it was simply delicious. There was a friendly conversation going on while we ate. Senhor Morenho spoke very good English. He confided that he specialised in real estate, and a lot of English speaking clients were interested in this beautiful coast line. I resisted the urge to ask him about available water front properties.

For desert, we had a sweet cake and strong coffee, and after that, Senhor Morenho and I talked business. We quickly agreed on setting up a trust fund, to pay for Gisele's tuition and, on my insistence, on an emergency fund to cover unexpected expenses. This town being a resort for rich people, they had a bank that could handle wire transfers, and we set up an appointment for Monday to wire the money and open an account for the trust fund. Senhor Morenho agreed to act as trustee. Finally, he looked at Gisele's mother.

"Eva, I find nothing in this deal questionable. This is all up front and sound, and my advice is to allow your daughter to accept."

Gisele's mother took my hand and pressed it.

"I want to thank you for your generous offer and for your patience with me. Gisele is a good girl, and she will pay you back as soon as she will earn money."

I held up my hand. "Believe me, I know that she is a good girl. But there is something more. I want this trust fund to remain active after Gisele has finished. I believe you have a second daughter who is also a good girl, and very bright. And, as Gisele told me, she will not be eligible for a scholarship?"

To say, Gisele's mother was stunned would be an understatement. She turned pale.

"But why would you do that?" she asked. "You are not interested in her, are you?"

"Not in that way, no. Although I am confident that she will turn out to be as beautiful as her mother and older sister. It is just something I would like to do, if you will allow me."

"But why?" she insisted.

"It will eliminate all the negative consequences of Gisele's video adventure. And that will make Gisele more happy than getting her own second chance. I guess that you know how much she loves her little sister?"

The woman did not know whether to laugh or to cry. But she nodded anyway, with tears glistening in her eyes.

"Can we tell the girls?" she asked, and I nodded encouragingly.

"Gisele, Alicia!" she called, and in a flash both girl came, looking expectantly. Pointing at me, Senhora Cuzmao gave a short statement in Portuguese which I did not understand.

Gisele came over to me and pressed my hand. No words were needed. Then, Senhora Cuzmao spoke with Alicia, and the girl looked at me with trembling lips. Gisele took her sister in her arm and led her to me, speaking to her softly. Adolescent adoration shone through Alicia's eyes, but she kept her voice in check.

"You are the best thing that happened to us in a long time," she said.

"I could say the same about you girls. I just feel good being able to help you. But it is you who will have to make this work. I can only pay the tuition, you must do the learning."

Senhor Morenho cleared his throat.

"If I may suggest, this calls for a celebration. Would you all join me for dinner at the Harbour Lounge?" He looked at me. "They have good fish, though not as good as Eva's."

And so the day ended with a nice dinner in the restaurant overlooking the yacht harbour. Senhora Moreno joined us, and it was a pleasant evening. I insisted on escorting the Cuzmaos back home and returned to the hotel very pleased with myself.

-------

I stayed for another five weeks. The Business School in Sao Paulo accepted Gisele in their MBA programme, and I helped her to enroll for the fall semester. She would live in a dorm and eat in the cafeteria, a luxury that I convinced her to accept. Sao Paulo is also home to a Goethe Institute, and Gisele started a German crash course over the summer, to prepare for an advanced course in college.

Over my week in Sao Paulo, I gave her training on the laptop, not only using it, but also trouble shooting, system updates, security measures and how to install applications. I left the iBook with her, of course, in spite of her protestations, after transferring all my current work to a USB stick.

We spent my last evening in Sao Paulo going to dinner. The impending farewell weighed heavily on our moods. We had become quite close over the last weeks, not physically, but in terms of mutual affection and respect. When I dropped her off at the gate of the campus, she hugged me for minutes.

"I want to see you again, Thomas," she said sincerely while she looked deeply into my eyes. "I am looking forward to next year, you know. Will you really come for my graduation?"

"I would not miss it for anything," I replied, acutely aware of how much I longed for her.

She must have sensed my feelings.

"Everything is possible, Thomas, have patience," she whispered.

And then she kissed me, and the world stood still again.

After what felt like minutes, we separated, and she pressed my hands once more.

"I have to go in. They close the gate. Thank you again from all my heart. I will write you."

"You have the cell phone?"

She nodded and opened the door of the taxi. Waving at me once more, she turned and entered the campus. I was alone.



-------

Chapter 2


The long return trip gave me ample time to evaluate my position in life. I decided that my life had sucked, big time. I had been an empty shell, discarded by everybody I ever knew. I needed to do something. I needed to reclaim my place, to find a centre for my life. If I wanted Gisele, or any other woman, to fill the void I felt, I had open up to people again.

My first priority was to find a real place to live. The apartment I rented sucked in more than one aspect. I just had never mustered the energy to change anything. The day after my arrival, still heavily under the jet lag, I called several real estate agents. What they offered me took me more than a week to inspect. In the end, I found what I looked for, an unpretentious house in the local building style, two stories, with a lot of square footage, but looking smaller, and on a rather large lot of land. The village had just over 1500 souls, there was a bakery and a pharmacy, a pub and a family practitioner. It suited me just fine. The carport was large enough for two cars. The inside of the house was a bit run down; the house had been repossessed by a bank and the previous owner had run out of money for repairs long ago. After a bit of haggling, we closed the deal. Since I could pay cash, there were no banks involved, just a short visit at a notary's office and signing the money order. I had liquefied a small part of my stock portfolio to make the purchase, and I decided to throw in some more money to make the place nice.

The interior designer had worked for my old company at some time and still knew me. I sat with her for a couple of hours, telling her what I wanted, hearing her suggestions, making counterproposals and, finally, agreeing on a plan of different design themes for the rooms. The wall-to-wall would be torn out and replaced by wooden floors. The ceiling in the large living room would have a wood panelling, too. The rooms in the second floor would all follow different themes. The spacious basement would house a gym and a spare bathroom.

All in all, it took three months to get the house ready for me, and I was very pleased with the result. I may not have good taste myself, but I recognise it when I see it, and the interior designer surely had plenty of it.

In all these weeks, I exchanged e-mails with Gisele on a daily basis. She was getting along nicely, she wrote, although she was aware of the impact her one year hiatus had had. Three months into her final college year, she began to write the e-mails in German, claiming that she needed the practice if she ever wanted to become fluent. It was odd in the beginning, but she soon picked up on it, and I realised that she was a fast learner. Once a month, she would visit her mother and sister, and Alicia had visited her once in return.

When I moved into my new house, I threw a party for former co-workers and the few people I called friends. I was surprised at how many actually showed. It was fun and reminded me of the time when I had been at parties every weekend, back before I became a father and husband and workaholic. The other thing I noticed was that I really did not like cleaning after my guests. I put an ad in the local newspaper and soon found a woman who would clean my house, three days a week, four hours. She was a housewife, her kids were in school, and three mornings a week were just fine for her. I have never regretted it. The only thing I have to do myself are the dishes.

Now, with the new house, and high speed internet in all rooms, my son Ralf came to visit me more often, too. It was nice. He is into informatics and will graduate in two years or so, and we spent a lot of time talking codes. I also had my ex wife and her husband over for dinner once, and even that was nice. I found that I still liked her, and I got along quite nicely with Holger, her husband. Over the years we had had telephone contact when they needed my support for anything related to the kids. My daughter Stephanie had caused some trouble as teenager, was even busted for possession of hashish once, and I had retained the lawyer and paid the fine, all through my ex wife. When Stephanie had got her act together and went to law school, I had quietly financed the little extras, like the two semesters in Harvard and Oxford. The pity was, Stephanie had decided to cut me off her list of relatives alive when she was sixteen, and we had not talked to each other since. She finished law school the year before, and I called her at her office once. The secretary informed me that Miss Bergmann was busy and would call me back. She never did, and I left it at that.

Over the spring, Gisele's e-mails became shorter. She was preparing for the finals, and apparently she was sparing no effort. In her short messages, though, she "sounded" confident enough, and she never failed to sign with "Love, Gisele".

Her finals were in late May, and the graduation would take place in July. I had decided to go a bit earlier, in late June, but I did not mention my plans. I booked a flight for June 25, and I was looking forward to seeing Gisele again. She had sent me longer messages again, and she was quite upbeat about how the exams had gone. It was June 22 when she called me with the emergency cell phone I had given to her. Fortunately, I was at home.

"Thomas," the voice I heard was full of anguish and panic.

"Gisele, what happened?"

"My mother, she is dead." The last word was barely audible.

"She is dead? How can she be dead?"

"She was murdered. On the road from Sao Paulo. She and Senhor Morenho, her boss. She did not come home yesterday, and we called the police. They were found them on the side of the road. They had even taken their clothes. They cut off her finger to get her wedding ring!"

"Gisele, Gisele! Is there anybody who can help you? How about the firm where your mother worked? Do you know anybody?"

"No, maybe at Mama's office, I don't know."

"Gisele, listen, can you hold on for a few days? I have booked a flight for the 25th. That's in three days. I'll try to move to an earlier one, but I'll be there for you as soon as possible."

"Will you do that?"

"Yes, of course. How is Alicia?"

The was a sob on the other end.

"She's bad, Thomas. She won't stop crying."

"Gisele, do you have the phone number of the law firm?"

She gave it to me.

"I will call them to get them to help you. Let me make some telephone calls. I will phone you the moment I know more."

"Will you really come, Thomas?"

"Gisele, I care for you. I'll do everything in my power."

"Thank you." The hoarse whisper was barely audible. And then the connection went dead.

I called the law firm. Thankfully, one of the other partners spoke English. After I explained what I wanted and authorised the release of money from the trust fund with the correct code, he promised me to represent and support Alicia and Gisele.

Then I called the air line and asked if I could switch flights to an earlier date. They had nothing. I would have to wait for three days. When I called Gisele, she was composed. I told her that the lawyer would come to help her through everything.

I called again the next morning, and I could tell that Gisele had had some sleep. The lawyer had come and had promised to take care of the funeral arrangements. They would have to wait for the autopsy to be performed, but an undertaker had been retained to arrange for the burial. She said that the local newspapers had gone crazy over the double murder, and that all day people had come to their house, until Senhor Morales, the lawyer, arranged for a security firm to post a guard.

When I called on the next morning, Gisele was hardly able to talk to me. It took me ten minutes to make sense of what she blubbered. One of the tabloid newspapers had taken note of the fact that both victims had been found naked. They had also learned from a police source that semen had been found in Eva Cuzmao's vagina. They claimed the two had been shot dead while having sex on the roadside. They even speculated that Senhor Morenho's wife could have done it. Gisele and Alicia had received dozens of anonymous phone calls calling their dead mother a no-good whore, until they disconnected the phone.

"Why are they doing this to us? Isn't it enough that my mother was murdered?"

I tried my best to calm her and give her my support, but for now, I could do very little.

The next morning, I boarded my flight to Paris and from there to Sao Paulo. I had arranged for my old pal Joao to pick me up at the airport, but there was some trouble at immigration. They were suspicious because I entered the country twice in one year as a tourist, and they questioned me about my motifs. They also gave me a lecture on how they would crack down hard on sex tourists. What can I say, there are enough people who go to Brazil for just that reason, and to be fair, I had been only one notch above those on my first visit. I told them about the murder, and that I came to support the daughters and see what I could do for them. They checked, even with the law firm in Ubatuba, and then they let me go with a sincere apology. I bore them no ill will, they were trying to protect their young people against predators.

Joao drove me straight to the Rua do Campo. It was quiet when I arrived, but I could see the stains on the wall of the building; people had been throwing things. When I neared the entrance, a burly security guard stepped into my way. But Gisele must have seen me arrive, because she shouted down in Portuguese, and the guard let me pass.

I ran upstairs, and Gisele just sank into my arms, sobbing uncontrollably. It was like she had used up her energy over the last three days. I closed the door and gently sat her on the sofa in the living room. Alicia came into the room and ran to me, burying her face in my chest.

When they both had calmed a bit, I asked Gisele if there was anything new.

"Oh yes," she said bitterly. "Some honest citizen came forward with the information that I had acted in a porn movie. My face was on the front page today."

I cringed.

"Thomas, can you take us away? Anywhere, I don't care. I'll do whatever it takes, but get us out and let Alicia live in peace."

"Let's call some movers," I said, thinking it up while I spoke. "From Sao Paulo, not from here. Have them box up whatever you want to keep. We'll get a couple of suitcases, and you can pack your personal belongings. And we'll move out. We'll take a hotel in Sao Paulo, and we will only come here for the funeral and the legal stuff. In Sao Paulo, we'll go to the German consulate and see how we can obtain visa for you. You can also get your graduation papers in Sao Paulo."

In turned to Alicia.

"I'll ask Senhor Morales to accompany you to school, to get your belongings and your report cards."

I called the law firm. Thankfully, Morales did not believe the rumours at all, and he promised to support us. I spent the night on the sofa in the living room. I couldn't sleep anyway, what with the jet lag and the things I had to think about.

After breakfast, I left the house, and Joao drove me to a place where I could make the necessary purchases. Morales had made some calls too, and a moving lorry stopped in front of the tenement before noon. The guys were professionals, and in less then an hour, they packed up the stuff Gisele and Alicia did not want to leave.

With the help of the security guy, we loaded the girls' suitcases into Joao's trunk and left the house. While we were driving to Sao Paulo, Joao told us about a turn of events. A police spokesman had told the press about the results of the investigation, and he had clearly refuted any rumours regarding a possible affair between the two victims. One local newspaper had even run a headline "Murdered Twice", decrying the public assassination of character after the murder. 'Now the Good People can point their finger at the tabloid, ' I thought cynically.

"Does that change anything?" I asked the girls, and they both shook their heads.

I called our lawyer though and asked him to retain a litigation specialist to sue the tabloid for defamation of character. He said he knew just the man for that and laughed darkly. He asked whether Gisele would be willing to take a phone call from the widow of Senhor Morenho, and Gisele agreed. In fact, we made the call from my cell phone, and they talked for a few minutes, with Alicia listening attentively. When they were finished, Gisele had a bitter smile on her lips.

"She wanted to apologise. It was her who fed the newspaper the information of my video. Senhor Morenho had tried to block my expulsion from college, and somehow, she must have learned of it. She said she was so angry about the public humiliation that she wanted to hurt us even more. Now she feels bad." She laughed a short, bitter laugh.

"It does not matter, really. You're leaving. It's just dirt on your shoes, and it'll wear off."

She looked at me quizzically.

"What do you see in me? Why are you helping us? I mean, I'm a mess. This damned video is all over the world now. Everywhere I go, people will recognise me and brand me as a slut."

"I see a wonderful person in you, and if anyone disagrees, he'll have a face full of fist. Can you live with that?"

"Gisele, please stop it. Don't question our luck." That was Alicia.

"I'm not questioning it. I want to understand."

Joao drove us to a Holiday Inn. I had reserved a suite under my name. This allowed me to register the girls under my name. They did not have passports yet, but Senhor Morales had promised to see to that.

Meanwhile, we were parked in a nice suite with two bedrooms. Under my direction, the bellhop put the girls' suitcases into the larger bedroom, and mine in the smaller one. Gisele, noticing this arrangement, pressed my hand.

Later, Morales called to bring us up to level. Eva Cuzmao's body had been released to the undertaker, and the burial was scheduled two days later. He had arranged for security at the cemetery. There was no family except for the girls, and there would be only a few co-workers who had expressed the wish to attend. He had also obtained Alicia's school report card. The principal had been very upset about the public defamation of the family, and he had talked with Alicia's teachers. They had agreed to give her final marks based on her performance over the last year. The principal had also volunteered to write a letter of warmest recommendation, describing Alicia as model student.

"See, there are good people who are willing to stand by you," I told the girls after relating the information.

The next day, we went shopping for black dresses and a black suit. I have never owned a black suit in my life, and given my size, I am 190 cm (6'3") tall, to find a suit for me proved to be the most daunting task. I finally settled on a charcoal grey, single-breasted suit. For the girls in was calf-length, black dresses. They both refused the offered veils. Black nylons and black, low-heeled shoes completed the outfit, and we returned to the hotel. We had room service for dinner, but the girls ate little. The next day weighed heavily on their mind.

But the burial went well, as well as a burial can go. In his short sermon, the priest, a Jesuit padre, decried the brutal murder of a loving mother, and delivered a stinging accusation against the gossip mongers who had, as he said, killed the poor woman a second time. Then he said, that she, like poor Lazarus, had earned paradise through her suffering. I don't know where he got this information from, but Gisele and Alicia were thankful for his kind words.

More were coming from the colleagues, who had brought a huge wreath. They hugged the girls repeatedly, although one of the older women studiously avoided Gisele. The padre saw this, too, and he made a point giving Gisele a formal embrace and a blessing, leaving her a little flustered. Seeing how well everything went, I asked the mourners to join us for lunch at a nearby restaurant. We were only eleven people and we easily fitted around one large table. Somehow, the Jesuit priest sat beside me and asked me in his passable English how I was connected to the Cuzmao family. We were waiting for the food anyway, and I decided to give him the true story and see how he reacted. He took it in a stride.

"It is always nice to hear of these Saulus to Paulus transitions," he remarked with a smile.

I had to grin, in spite of the occasion.

"I don't know whether I want to be a Paulus. He always struck me as something of a fanatic, rather than a believer. A typical convert."

"And what will you do now?" he asked.

I told him of the plan to let them continue their education in Germany, and he grinned.

"If the Dean should ever hear of this, he would be very displeased. That a sinner, expelled from his college, is now rewarded with a free education overseas will destroy his views of the world."

After the impromptu lunch, we drove to the law firm, and Senhor Morales handed us the papers he had prepared. There was a document appointing Gisele as Alicia's legal guardian, as Alicia was still three months short of 18. When everything was settled, and the girls were looking through the documents, I asked him for the bill for his efforts. He simply shook his head and explained that Eva Cuzmao had died while working for the firm. They would never charge the girls.

Then he told me about the litigation against the newspaper. The owner of the newspaper, a prominent industrialist from Sao Paulo, was very embarrassed about the incident, and had sent his lawyers to talk settlement. They would throw in the head of the editor, if we insisted, and figuratively speaking.

"Tell your colleague to settle out of court, if possible. The girls do not need any more unsavoury publicity."

(The whole thing was settled a little later for 200,000 Real, giving each girl a nice nest egg).

A few days later, and back in Sao Paulo, we started the campaign for visa.

We arrived early at the consulate and, having an appointment, we were quickly shown into the office of a consular agent. I guess it helped that my visiting card identified me as Vice-Chairman of the Council of German Software Developers, one of my little jobs that served to keep me busy. The agent turned out to be a young woman in her late twenties.

I sat after Gisele and Alicia, and waited for the opening gambit.

"Yes, Mr. Bergmann, isn't it? What can I do for you?"

"Well, this is about these two young ladies, Senhoritas Gisele and Alicia Cuzmao. They were recently orphaned. I am a friend of the family, and I would like to sponsor their education in Germany. Gisele Cuzmao has a degree from the Business School here in Sao Paulo, and her sister has finished High School with a 3.78 grade point average. They are both very gifted and I would like for them to continue their education under my sponsorship."

The agent looked at me with the disillusioned eyes of a public servant who has already heard every imaginable piece of crock.

"I take it that they want to apply for student visa? For that, we need a letter of acceptance from a German school or university, plus a scholarship certificate from one of the recognised funding agencies."

She noticed our looks and spread her hands.

"I'm not making those rules. But the student visa have been misused heavily in the past, and we have strict guidelines."

"And could they just get visitors visa first, to find schools that will accept them?"

"Yes, but then they will have to wait for one year, before they can apply for student visa. They are not relatives of yours by any chance, or have German ancestry?"

I shook my head, and Gisele drily answered.

"I am not really the blonde, blue-eyed type."

The agent smiled apologetically. She spoke to the girls.

"What you have to understand is that those rules were made to prevent the exploitation of young women." She rose her hands to quell Gisele's protestation. "I am not insinuating anything personally here. These are general rules, and we cannot make exceptions based on who's story we believe. And you would not want other girls to end up in brothels all over Europe."

Gisele nodded. "I never thought of this. So there is no way for us?"

The agent shook her head. But I was not ready to give up, yet.

"In my experience, there are always bypasses for rules. Unofficially, how do the traffickers get the girls into Germany?"

"Unofficially? They have men who will marry the girl in form. The men get paid for that, and they get a divorce after three months."

"I guess we need to discuss our options. Thank you for your time, I appreciate your openness."

In sombre mood, we left the consulate and sat on a bench in a public park.

"What do we do now?" Alicia asked nobody in particular.

"I don't know," I admitted. "I never thought they'd be so pigheaded."

"But I could not stand to go to school in Ubatuba. They point their fingers at us and give us bad names," Alicia said.

"As I can see it, there are just two options. I can help you move to another town here. Maybe find a boarding school for you, Alicia, and a university with a dormitory for you Gisele."

"And the other option?" Gisele asked with a clouded look.

"Yes, the other option. You could marry me on paper. As soon as you both are entitled to resident status, we can have a quiet divorce, and nobody is harmed."

"Why?" Gisele asked with a choked voice.

"Because, as my wife you would get resident status automatically," I answered stupidly.

"No, why a divorce?"

"To set you free, of course. I would not use this situation to coerce you into being my wife."

"Oh!" she said, looking away. A thought seemed to have struck her. "But I can decide when I want to be set free?"

"Yes, of course," I said, slightly put off.

"In that case, and only if you propose to me properly, I will agree. You know, as a girl, when I dreamed of that moment, it was never like the man would say: 'You know, the easiest way to solve our problem is to marry. So let's!'. I want to be proposed to. Properly, too."

In spite of myself, I had to smile at her viewpoint.

"In this case, why don't I drop you off at the hotel. You can freshen up, and we can meet for lunch in the hotel restaurant at one?"

We took a taxi to the hotel, and I let the girls go up to their room while I asked the cabbie to drive me to a jeweller. The cabbie grinned and made me understand that a distant cousin of his has a pawn shop. Good selection, good prices, he maintained. I thought it could not hurt and let him take me there.

Indeed, it did not hurt. The pawn shop was on the small side, but clean and well-lit, and the cousin was happy to show me his best pieces. I saw what I wanted right away. There was an old-fashioned, matched set of a tiara, a necklace, earrings and a ring, made of gold and rubies. The ring was wonderful, a two carat ruby surrounded by eight smaller diamonds, The same theme was repeated on the tiara and necklace, albeit with more modest stones. Yes, it was an antiquated design, but in its simplicity, it was also timeless. It looked like a family heirloom. We haggled a little bit over the price tag. In the end, noticing my cheap quartz watch, he offered to throw in a Rolex Blue Oyster. It was rather worn, he admitted, but I could have it refurbished in Europe far cheaper than he could have it done here. I called it a deal then, and I collected the boodle for a little over 8,000 Real. There was the matter of payment. He would not accept a credit card over this amount, but I had brought 5000 € worth of old-fashioned traveller's checks with me, foreseeing the need for cash at some point. I fervently hoped that the gems were real.

I let the cabbie drive me back to the hotel, and then I took another taxi and had myself driven to a real jeweller. I asked this man to clean and polish the ruby ring. Of course, I also wanted to have him ascertain that the gems were real. He came back from his shop with a gleam in his eyes, asking me whether I wanted to sell this ring. I asked him why, and he told me that this was a piece by a famous designer from the 1920s.

"You would not happen to have the other pieces of the ensemble?"

I showed him the other pieces, the tiara and the necklace.

"Priceless!" he exclaimed, and I agreed they were quite pretty. He squinted his eyes at me. "Did you buy these items in Sao Paulo?"

"Yes, at a pawn shop."

"And what did you pay, if I may ask?"

"8,000 Real, including this Rolex."

He looked at it, too, and inspected it from all sides.

"A 1962 Blue Oyster! And all this for 8,000?" he groaned. "Senhor, this is worth at least 20,000 Real! The ring alone may fetch 5,000. And you will not sell?"

"I bought this for my fiancé," I answered.

"Say no more," he sighed. "Forgive me, but I see you cannot part with this."

I paid the man for his effort, and had myself driven to the hotel where I deposited everything except the ring in the hotel safe. It was almost time for lunch, and I went to pick up the girls. The restaurant was fairly crowded, but I could secure a table for us. While we had lunch, I could see that Gisele was apprehensive, but I wanted to wait for the dessert to pop the Question. I ordered champagne and strawberries for dessert, and when they arrived, and the glasses had been poured, I knelt before Gisele.

"Gisele, before your sister and all these people I ask you to become my wife. You know that I care for you, and you will make me the happiest man alive if you agree."

Gisele blushed deeply, not prepared for this to happen in front of all those people in the crowded restaurant. But she found her resolve and nodded solemnly.

"Yes, Thomas, I want to become your wife."

Alicia stared at us, her mouth hanging open.

"Please, Gisele, take this as pledge of my love for you," I continued, placing the ring over her finger.

The ruby and diamonds contrasted wonderfully with the tanned skin of her slender hand.

"Thomas," Gisele whispered, "this ring, it must have cost a fortune. You are crazy."

"Crazy for you! And this afternoon, we will find out where we can marry as quickly as possible."

In the end, we decided to go back to Ubatuba for the wedding. Gisele wanted to have two old school friends as her bridesmaids, and it was fine with me. It took us three weeks to organise everything. We stayed at the Agua Doce hotel during that time. Understandably, neither girl was in festive mood at first, and they stayed in their room most of the time. We went to Sao Paulo twice, to get an appropriate dress for Gisele. The preparations served to distract Gisele and Alicia from their mourning, though, and when the big day approached, Gisele began to smile at me again.

First, we had a civil ceremony. After that, we drove to a small chapel, where the young Jesuit priest, Father Anselmo, blessed our wedding in an abbreviated ceremony. A small number of her old friends from high school had shown, to Gisele's surprise and delight. She was wearing a simply cut dress of white silk we had found in Sao Paulo, and to me, she looked like a queen. I had given her the tiara and the necklace before we left for the magistrate, and the rubies and diamonds sparkled in the sunlight when we left the chapel. There were Ohs and Ahs from her friends, and we invited all to a quiet celebration with us. We had lunch with all her friends. From my side, only Joao, the taxi driver, had come, and he had been my best man, a role that delighted him and his young and very pregnant wife. It was a pleasant gathering, and Gisele looked as happy as recent events allowed.

At one o'clock, Gisele threw her bouquet, and we left the terrace without much fanfare. The taxi brought us to Sao Paulo and the consulate where we presented our marriage certificate, passports, and the documents showing Gisele to be Alicia's legal guardian. The agent congratulated us with a wry smile, and promised us to process the visa applications as fast as possible. Still, it was another week before the girls received their visa and another four days until we could snatch seats on a plane.

We were travelling light; all the belongings of the girls had been sent ahead by air freight, all we had were duffle bags and a clothes bag. We bundled into a limousine and took off for the airport. With two hours to spare, we checked in. The girls were too apprehensive to be hungry, but I coaxed them into eating a sandwich each while we waited for the boarding call.

We were flying Air France, Sao Paulo to Paris, non-stop, and then another ninety minutes to Hamburg. Somehow, at the check-in, they had seen that we had married a week ago, probably from Gisele's passport. We had just taken off, when the Captain spoke through the intercom, congratulating the newlyweds, namely us. A bottle of decent champagne was brought for us, courtesy of Air France, and Gisele smiled shyly at the other passengers as they toasted us.

While Alicia immersed herself in the tiny TV set, flipping through the channels, Gisele and I used the opportunity to talk some more. I finally took the plunge and asked her why she had done that movie. She was thoughtful for a moment, but then she set her jaw.

"It started with Giulio. He was my first boyfriend. We had been going for almost four months, and finally, one evening after a dance, we went to his place. His parents were out dancing themselves, and he became my first that night. We repeated this a few times, until one night, his parents came home earlier and caught us. Oh, Giulio's mother was livid! His father is a dentist, and she thinks she is so much better than people like me. She called my mother and told her to pick up her slut of a daughter. You can imagine how my mother felt. She grounded me forever; no more dances, no more going out on Saturdays. And the worst was that Giulio avoided me. Once I cornered him, and he told me that he could not see me anymore, that I was not good for him."

I gently rubbed her shoulder while she relived the hurt.

"The next weekend, I was on the beach, alone. There was Giulio with his friends, and he did not even greet me. When this older man came and paid me compliments, I thought I'd make Giulio jealous by flirting with that man. Giulio did not even look. I was so desperate that I went with that man to the nice house. They had a swimming pool, they gave me things to drink, complimented me, told me how beautiful I was. They really made me feel good. Then one guy pulled out a camera and started to film me in the pool. And the other man, he held me from behind and whispered all those nice things into my ear. It just went gradually. Take off that top! Come on, show your tits! Just hold his dick in your hand. Come on kiss it! It was piece by piece, and they gave me to drink all the time. In the end, they gave me 100 dollars, a fortune. I bought myself a dress and shoes and blue jeans, and soon the money was gone. I did not remember much about that afternoon, but then, a few weeks later when I was back in Sao Paulo, how do you say?, the shit hit the fan. The Dean ordered me into his office, and told me I was a tramp who brought shame over his fine school. And they kicked me out. You have married a stupid woman, Thomas."

"Ssh! You were naive, maybe, not experienced, and you were set up. You made a mistake, but you learned from it. Forget that now. You will start again where nobody knows you."

After the in-flight dinner, Gisele and I decided to skip the movie, and rather try and sleep. Not so Alicia, who could not get enough of the in flight entertainment. I suspect, she did not sleep a minute. I did not either, at first. Gisele had folded the armrest away, and had rolled up on the seat like a cat, with her head in my lap. She had taken my right arm under her own and pressed my hand to her breast. Nothing was between my hand and her breast than a thin layer of raw silk, the most sensuous feeling imaginable. Her legs and lower body were covered by a flimsy blanket, and the thought of her slim, tanned legs under the thin fabric fired my arousal. She must have noticed, for she placed a cushion under her head, giving me a friendly smile and releasing my hand. This way, my erection abated to the point that Gisele could sleep undisturbed. Myself, I must have dozed off, too, because I awoke with a start when the cabin lights came on and the usual hot wash rags were given out.

Gisele woke up, too. She gave me a smile and a kiss, and then gratefully applied the hot wash cloth to her face and neck. I felt a certain urge and rose from my seat to find the galleys. There was a line in front of them. A few seconds later, a man joined the queue. He patted my shoulder and I turned.

"Say, that's a nice pair you got. You really married one of them?"

"I beg your pardon?" I had just woken up, and I was a bit slow on the uptake.

"They're sisters, aren't they. Gosh, I had sisters once, too, not as pretty as yours, but they gave me my money's worth. Those spic sluts know how to suck you dry, eh?"

"Exactly what are you talking about?"

"Them two hotties, goddammit! Myself, I never thought of marrying one of 'em. Why take one, when you can have 'em all? And fuck, I can have 'em all, can't I?"

"You're disgusting. Just leave me and my wife alone!"

"Yeah, sure!" he sneered.

Luckily, the restroom was free now. I left him standing and locked myself in. What an asshole! I flushed, washed my hands, and left the restroom. He was gone, thankfully, probably in the other galley. I walked back to my seat. Gisele was fully awake now and smiled at me. Just then, Mister Asshole loomed over us. He held five banknotes into my face.

"These 100 bucks say she'll suck another dick before the year's over! Wanna bet?"

I must say, the French police were surprisingly understanding. While the loudmouth was wheeled to the airport infirmary, still dripping blood from his broken nose and split lips, we spent less than half an hour giving depositions to the Airport police after we landed at Charles de Gaulle. An elderly Dutch lady who had been seated across from us, came forward to corroborate my deposition. Then we were transferred for a quick hearing in front of a judge.

The judge was rather young, female, and of North African descent, quite pretty, as a matter of fact. She read the report and the depositions. Then she looked at us and asked me a few questions about our relationship. Just then, Mr. Asshole came in, his broken nose in a plaster, and she looked at him with disgust written all over her face. He gave a statement, too, which was translated into French by the same interpreter who had helped us. He maintained that he just wanted to "pull that stupid Kraut's leg, 'cause he married his little spic slut, what a sucker!", and the judge's face actually turned red with anger. He did not notice it, and continued in the same vein. He ended describing how I beat him brutally.

Then judge then asked me how many times I had hit him, and I told her, once. She nodded, obviously satisfied, and had the court adjourned briefly. When she returned, five minutes later, she announced her decision. We were to be set free as of immediately, and no charges would be pressed. Asshole jumped up to protest when he heard the translation, but a flic put his hand on his shoulder to stay him. Then the judge ordered Mr. Asshole to be charged with sexual harassment, insult, and disturbing the order on an international flight, and he jumped up again. What he had to say about women and ethnic minorities in office was duly translated by the interpreter, and the judge coolly ordered him removed from the court room in cuffs.

The interpreter then told us that a court hearing on those charges was scheduled for the early afternoon and that we would have to appear as witnesses. A representative of Air France also came forward to assure us of a seat on any connecting flight once we were finished. We would receive complimentary upgrade to First Class, and he apologised for the inconvenience and the troubles. I looked at Gisele and Alicia.

"What do you say? We have to stay until the afternoon. Why don't we just stay a day and I will show you Paris? It's a wonderful city, so why not combine the pleasant with the necessary?"

"Do you think so?" I could tell that Gisele was not convinced.

"You know, most women would give a leg for the chance to shop in Paris," I grinned.

Gisele's eyes grew big, and Alicia punched her from behind.

"Say yes!" she hissed at her sister, and Gisele nodded.

"You have just convinced me."

"Would you like us to find an affordable hotel for you?" the Air France man offered, and I thanked him for the consideration. We were given the street address of the court house and some reimbursement forms, and then made our arrangements for the hotel and the connecting flight two days later.

A taxi brought us to the hotel. One thing you have to know is never to put the two words "affordable" and "Paris" in one sentence, unless separated by a "not". And it was still just a tourist hotel. All they could offer us was a double room with an extra bed. We were beat, after this morning's events, and we decided to nap before we had to appear in the court. The girls opted for a shower first, Gisele going first and followed by Alicia. While Alicia was busy in the bath, Gisele sat with me, still wrapped in her towel.

"How is your hand?" she asked.

"Bruised, but not broken," I grinned. "It will hurt for a while, but it's not bad. I guess I'll have to..."

I was silenced with a kiss. A long, drawn-out kiss, full of tenderness and care. When we broke, Gisele stayed close to me.

"Thank you for standing up for me," she said.

"You are my wife," I reminded her.

"And I am getting used to that," she smiled and kissed me again. The towel finally succumbed to gravity, and I had my arms full of naked woman, deliciously naked woman.

Alicia cleared her throat from the bathroom door.

"Should I take another shower?" she asked, and I think she even meant it.

I gave Gisele another kiss and pulled up her towel.

"I better had a shower myself."

I stood under the cool spray for at least ten minutes, washing away the sweat. When I emerged from the bathroom, the girls were dressed, and a man in a suit was standing close to the door.

"Monsieur Bergmann? Sergeant Duclos, of the judicial police. I am to inform you that the proceedings against Mr. Dickerson have been postponed indefinitely, and you are excused for the time being. Your testimony may be needed at a later date, but we shall serve you with papers and hope you will find it convenient to appear."

"May I ask what happened?" I was curious.

He dropped his voice. "You did not hear it from me, d'accord?"

I nodded. "Certainly not."

"Madame la Juge was troubled with Mr. Dickerson's attitude and his derogatory remarks. She ordered his luggage searched by the douaniers, and did they find something!"

I raised my eyebrow to indicate my curiosity.

"A laptop computer and several DVDs, filled with what appears to be child pornography of the worst sort. Violent stuff, perhaps even snuff! We don't know yet. Obviously taken with his own digital camera, which we also secured. This is not just some file swapper. I've seen some of those pictures and videos, and they are sickening. We have already contacted the Brazilian authorities, and they will follow up on their side. Madame la Juge is obviously very excited."

I had a knot in my stomach. What a sick bastard!

"I'm sorry I hit him only once," I said.

The sergeant grinned. "Better once than never! I'd love to spend a few uninterrupted minutes with him, too. I have to leave now. This is a big investigation, and I am part of it! Thank you again, and have a nice stay in Paris!"

After he left, I sat on the single bed, slightly dazed. Gisele sat beside me. She looked at me, took my right hand, the bruised one, and kissed it tenderly.

Alicia was dazed, too. She looked up and whispered.

"Gisele, do you remember poor Maria Andrade?"

Gisele paled. "Oh my god, yes."

I looked at them.

"A girl from Alicia's class. She was ten at the time. Maria disappeared on her way from school. They found her a month later. We were never allowed to hear the whole story, but the rumours in school said that she was raped and tortured for a long time before she was killed. I can remember how we were not allowed to play on the streets for months."

Alicia shuddered. "I used to be afraid of every man, back then." She looked at me. "What will they do to him?"

"I am not a lawyer," I said cautiously. "I suppose, the French can charge him with possession of illegal pornographic material, but the real crime did not happen on French soil. They will probably extradite him to Brazil."

"Wouldn't the Americans prosecute him, too?" Gisele asked.

"I think they would. This would be a high profile case, and prosecutors love that. But I suppose that Brazilian authorities would have the first claim. Wherever he ends up, he'll be in a living hell once his is in prison. Child molesters are not appreciated by the inmates. His dance card will be filled every evening."

Gisele shivered. "I am sick. Sick and cold. Can we try and sleep a while? I don't feel like eating or anything."

"Of course," I said.

"You guys are sitting on my bed," Alicia reminded us, and I started to protest.

"Shouldn't I sleep on the single?"

"Not in your life, husband of mine," Gisele said and pulled me up. She stripped off her blue jeans and pulled a pyjama from her duffle. Alicia disappeared in the bathroom and came back, a minute later, wearing just a huge T shirt. I put on some shorts only and slipped under the covers. It was a typical French bed, five feet wide and with a single mattress. Gisele had slipped in from the other side, and she immediately snuggled up to me.

"Hold me please," she whispered, scooting around until her head was against my chest.

Alicia closed the curtains before the windows to darken the room and went to lay down on her bed. After a while, we were just dozing off, I heard Alicia sob. I looked up, alarmed, and saw her sitting on the side of her bed, shaking. In a flash, Gisele was at her side.

"I can't stop thinking of Maria," Alicia whispered. "She was only ten, and they did those terrible things to her."

Gisele held her tight, waiting for the sobs to subside. Then she pulled her sister up and led her to our bed. Lying with her back to me in the middle, she had Alicia lie on the far side, hugging her front to front. She turned her back to me.

"Thomas, can you cuddle against me?"

This is how we fell asleep, me cuddled against my wife's back, and Alicia hugging her from the front. After a while, Alicia hands included me in her embrace, and I felt a paternal affection for my young sister in law. Over the next two or three hours, however, the focus of my affection must have shifted, as I found out when I woke up. I was sporting a major erection, and it was nestled snugly in the crack of Gisele's behind. More so, it must have rubbed along her crack for a while because the front of my shorts, as well as Gisele's pyjama bottoms, were soaked. My eyes opened wide and I looked around. Gisele seemed to sleep, but Alicia smiled at me from the other side. Then I noticed that my right hand was cupping Gisele's breast under her pyjama top. I blushed and tried to withdraw it, but Alicia shook her head.

"I'll draw a bath," she whispered, "don't mind me."

When she got up, I noticed that her nipples poked through the fabric of her T-shirt. In the space of a year, the slightly chubby duckling had matured into a slender, well-proportioned swan, and she knew it. Stretching leisurely, she pranced towards the bathroom, where she turned and stuck out her tongue, before she closed the door.

My chuckle woke Gisele, and she stretched, too, pressing her backside into me. I tried to pull back, but there was no room if I did not want to fall out of the bed.

"Stay," she mumbled sleepily. "I like it."

"Did you sleep well?" I asked, just to say something.

"Wonderful. But my pyjama is soaked, front and back," she added, laughing a throaty laugh.

"I'm sorry, it happened while I slept."

"I said front and back, Thomas. I can only make you responsible for the back, the front was my doing."

"You mean you..."

"Well, what do you think? I haven't had sex in over a year. And then you press that thing against me, and I cannot do anything because my baby sister is lying right next to me. Where is she, by the way? Did you send her on an errand, to have your way with me?"

"No, she wanted to take a bath."

"How considerate of her," Gisele smiled. "Nothing beats a well-trained sister."

Then she lifted her midsection and, just like that, pushed down her bottoms and wriggled her legs out of it. The wriggling did wonderful things to me because her butt was pressing against me again.

"Lose those shorts," she said, a little out of breath.

I complied, my erection jumping forward and against her buttocks. She giggled, and turned her head to me.

"Kiss me!"

I did. Then I did it again.

"Put it in!" she said when we separated.

"You do know the word 'please', don't you? What happens if Alicia comes in?"

"Then she will see us under the covers. Stop worrying. I want you. Please!"

She was incredibly slick already, and my penis had long since found its way between her legs. With her right hand, Gisele guided the tip between her lips, and on the second attempt, I gained purchase and pushed in. WOW!!! Double WOW!! She was tight! I only gained a couple of centimetres on the first push and paused. Her head was half turned, and she had a look of intense concentration on her face while she tried to pinch off the head of my dick with her pussy.

"Slowly," she whispered. "Slowly!"

With only the tip of my member inside, I moved only a little bit, just a gentle back and forth movement until she relaxed.

"It's been quite a while," she panted. "Give me some time."

I had been so eager to penetrate her at her urging that I had completely forgotten the rest of her body. Idiot! I chided myself.

"Let's take our time," I whispered into her ear and kissed her neck. Nibbling softly at her throat, I let my hand wander under her pyjama top and felt those wonderful breasts under my palm. They seemed fit to burst, and I pinched the nipples lightly, biting the nape of her neck. She moaned, and the tip of my dick felt as if stuck in molten lava. With a push, I inserted another five or so centimetres, and she gasped again. Her butt began to undulate against me. All I had to do was stand my ground while Gisele literally screwed her vagina over my penis.

"Is it all in?" she finally asked.

"Yes."

"Thank god," she panted. "Can you try to move?"

I pressed a little inward, causing an intake of breath, and drew back.

"Like that?" I whispered.

"Mhm," she responded.

I was acutely aware of the intense friction between my tightly embedded penis and the walls of her vagina. I needed for her to loosen up more or I would not be able to last longer. Opening my mouth wide, I bit her nape again, causing her to shudder. Again, there was hot lava around my dick, but her pussy relaxed slightly. I kept my teeth at her neck and pinched her nipple again. Another shudder went through her, but now she tensed up and forced her back against me, forcing me to penetrate her even more deeply. I felt the lava around my dick pulse and soften, gripping and releasing my engorged member. The sensation was too much for a mortal man. With a suppressed cry, I pumped into her, three, four, five, six times, until I felt the surge from my balls. I continued to hammer her while spurt after spurt erupted from my penis.

I came to with the eerie feeling of standing beside my body. Had I died in this moment of intense lust? What a way to go! It was almost with regret that I realised I was very much alive. But then again, if I was alive, perhaps we could do this again when I had recuperated, in a year or two. I was still firmly embedded in Gisele, and I felt the soft contractions of her pussy.

"Thomas," she whispered.

"Yes, my darling?"

"What if I don't want to be set free?"

"What?" Blood was still in short supply in my upper regions.

"I said, what if I don't want a stupid divorce? Not ever? Could you live with that and with me?"

"You mean that?"

Gisele looked at me and nodded.

"Gisele, you can stay with me for as long as you want, and I will be thankful for every minute of it."

There was a knock from the bathroom door.

"May I come out?" Alicia asked timidly.

Gisele and I looked at each other and burst out laughing. We had both completely forgotten Alicia. I sniffed the air. The room reeked of sex. Apart from that, Gisele had her top on and we were covered by the blanket and linen.

"You can come out if you don't mind the fact that we cannot get up," I laughed.

Alicia peeked out and, seeing us, began to giggle. Then her nose began to analyse the smells, and she became flustered.

"Are you hungry, Alicia?" I asked her gently, and she nodded.

"There is a brasserie in the hotel lobby. Did you see it when you came in? Fine. Now take my wallet. Take a twenty Euro note. That should be enough for the first hunger. We'll take a shower and be with you in 10, 15 minutes. Okay?"

Alicia took the money and was out of the room like a bat out of hell. Gisele started to disengage herself from me but I stayed her.

"Gisele, there is something I need to tell you before you get up. Two things, really."

"What is it?" she asked, slightly worried.

"Number one, I love you. I think I forgot to tell you that."

"I knew that already," she grinned, relieved. "What is number two?"

"You need to put something between your legs when you get up, or you will leave a trace of slime on the carpet like a snail."

"Oh, you!" she started. With a plop, my penis left her pussy as she turned onto her belly. Then she launched herself on top of me, squatting over my belly. Although she had meant it as punishment, it was an incredibly erotic sight, her slender body squatting over me, leaking juices from her pussy onto my stomach. She jumped up.

"Now, who is the snail?" she laughed, running into the bathroom. It was the first time ever I had seen her running naked, the innocent sensuality leaving me breathless. I snapped back into reality and found my discarded shorts at the foot end of the bed. With one foot, I fished for it and used it to wipe off the majority of the spunk on my belly. Then I followed Gisele into the bathroom.

She was waiting for me, holding open the shower curtain.

"Come in, my husband, we need to clean you!"

I joined her, and it was fun, indeed, to shower with her. Knowing that Alicia waited for us downstairs, we did not fool around, well, not too much anyway. I slowly began to realise that this breathtaking creature really wanted me, was not going to leave me at the earliest opportunity. It dawned upon me that my life was getting good, real good, fan-fucking-tastic, to be exact.

Towelling my lovely wife dry was nothing to sneeze at, either. I was rock hard by the time I finished, and Gisele sighed.

"We can't let her wait any longer, Thomas," she stated apologetically.

"I know. I will just need some industrial strength shorts."

Five minutes later, we were dressed, and left the room. We found Alicia, three empty plates in front of her, and chewing the last bite.

"I was hungry," she explained. "And I did not think you would really come down," she added impishly.

We took Alicia in tow and left the hotel, looking for a likely place to have dinner. You'd think that, in Paris, we would have gone to an haute cuisine restaurant, one with Guide Michelin stars, but I wasn't in the mood for five courses of dressed up nothing. Paris also boasts a huge variety of ethnic eating. We settled for a Tibetan restaurant. When I told the girls to be careful with their orders because the food would be spicy, they gave me patronising smiles and told me they came from Brazil where spicy food was invented. They were in for a surprise. The Tibetans seem to have an altogether different concept of hot, and after the first bites, both Gisele and Alicia looked at me with open mouths and teary eyes. They had ordered Coke along with their food, another major mistake, because Coke did not quench the burning. On my advice, they took lassi, a yoghurt drink with mango flavour, and that helped some. Hot or ultra-hot, the food was delicious, and we wiped up the last traces of sauce with delicious pan bread.

After dinner, we strolled along the streets and dropped into a street cafe where I enjoyed Alsatian beer and the girls had some ice cream. We returned to the hotel room around 10 o'clock, but because of the jet lag, we did not feel tired at all. We sat at the table and discussed our program for the next day. We settled for Notre Dame, the Montmatre, and the Louvre, a ridiculously ambitious program as I tried to tell the girls. We also decided to visit a cabaret after dinner. Alicia was still underage, but argued that she would take Gisele's ID card, while Gisele would ride on her passport.

Well, the next day was brutal! Notre Dame was fine, but Montmatre got us delayed immediately when the girls decided to have their portraits done by one of the numerous 'art students' who offered their services. They got their cheesy portraits, and then they found a second hand store. I realised the danger immediately, and tried to head them off, but it was too late. I still credit myself for the fact that we got away without actually buying large pieces of early 1960s furniture, but a number of 1960's ballroom and cocktail dresses required the purchase of a brown, vulcan-fibre suitcase which, to me, smelled like it had housed rodents for most of its life.

There was no way that we could tour the Louvre on the same day. Instead, we deposited the suitcase at our hotel and headed for the Eiffel Tower. We stood in line for almost an hour, but it was worth the wait. The weather being clear and sunny, with no haze, the view was magnificent from the top platform. An hour later we came down again, and took a taxi to the Arc de Triomphe. Close by, we found a street cafe to satiate the girls' craving for ice cream. My feet hurt like hell, but the excitement Gisele and Alicia exuded made up for this discomfort.

For the night about town, I had tried to get tickets for one of the major shows, like the new Moulin Rouge, but we could not get three tickets for any of them. I was dubious when the receptionist suggested a travesty show, but had relented when nothing else seemed available. I had seen similar shows in Hamburg when I had to entertain business partners, and the transvestites had always looked rather ridiculous to me, with their huge feet in stiletto heels. This show, however was different. The dances were quite well choreographed and the playback song numbers convincing enough. Gisele and Alicia had a ball, though. They watched the numbers in rapt attention, laughed at the comical acts, and pointed out things to each other. They were both wearing their 60s style dresses and had done their hair in pony tails (At least they had not arranged their hair in beehives!). We stayed for almost three hours and left when the show moved towards the more raunchy numbers. We had a minor with us, after all.

The next morning, we took a taxi to Charles de Gaulle for the last leg of our interrupted journey. By midday, we were in Hamburg, and I retrieved my car from the long-term parking to get us to my home, north of the city.



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Book 2: Stephanie

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Chapter 3


My name is Stephanie Bergmann, attorney at law. Impressing, isn't it? But I'm only a second year grunt in a mid-sized law firm in Hamburg. I do immigration law, mostly, like helping people file for citizenship or fighting deportations. It makes for a living, but it is depressing. I had entered this field because of my interest in human rights, and I thought I could help persecuted political activists to find asylum. The problem, however, is that most real political activists are well known and rarely ever threatened by deportation. The people I get to represent will never be invited to Oslo. They are mostly petty criminals who keep an affiliation with one separatist movement or the other as an insurance against being sent back to their home country. They just want to postpone the inevitable deportation as long as possible to finish whatever business they do. Oh, I was idealistic when I started. But when you see all those poor fugitives, living on the meagre state subsidies, but wearing chunky gold watches (and paying our healthy fees with cash), this idealism wanes rapidly.

But this day, I was upbeat. I had landed a wealthy client. He was a merchant from Turkey who owned an export/import business and who wanted to run his business from Hamburg. He was very westernised, his German was fluent if accented, his clothes those of a well off citizen. No chunky watch, no gold teeth, and when he signed the contract, he did it with an expensive Pelikan M800 fountain pen (I'm a sucker for fountain pens). His business were herbs and teas, he explained, and he wanted to use Hamburg as his main port of entry for those goods. That would be a breeze, I decided, a man who would bring business to the City would not have to wait long for a hearty welcome. We decided for a two-pronged approach, via the commerce authority and via the immigration department. It never hurts to align the big guns on your side, and commerce is the biggest gun in Hamburg.

My mood was excellent when I left, and I decided to drive home directly, rather than going back to the office. I needed to think. When I arrived home, a wonderful day went down the drain. I still live with my parents, in a separate apartment to be sure, but in the same house. I'm not much of a cook myself, and I like the cooking of my mother. She was home when I arrived, and I went by the main entrance to say Good Evening.

"Hi mom!" I said, joining her in the living room.

My mother is easily fifteen centimetres smaller than me. I inherited her face, hair, and light complexion. The long legs come from my father's side, my biological father's side. I call mother's second husband father, my BF left us when I was twelve. Well, not exactly. Mother divorced him, because he spent all his time typing code into a computer, and never noticed us. Good riddance! Holger has been there for us, has cared for us and for mother ever since. They both work as teachers in the same high school and there has not been an ugly word between them as long as I can remember.

My BF had made a show of keeping a place in his apartment for us, inviting us over for visits. But I stopped visiting him when I was sixteen. Seeing my friends on the weekends had been more important to me. I heard of him, both from my mother and from my little brother, who actually visited him regularly. He made a bundle of money after the divorce, when he sold the stupid software company that had caused all the trouble, and now he was supposed to be on several boards of directors, and in semi retirement. Well, I never needed his money. I got by with what my mother and Holger could provide. Ralf, my brother, had no such compunctions. He was driving a sleek little convertible, courtesy of his daddy, and he always has the latest computers. No wonder he was into informatics himself now, aiming for a doctorate. To be fair, Ralf is a good boy, and I love him. He always made sure that I got his used computers, usually barely a year old, and he even asked our BF for a sleek Power Book, only to pass it on to me, when I finished law school.

I could see that something was troubling my mother.

"Everything all right, mom?"

She gave me a smile. "Yes, no problem. Well, there is, sort of. I want to ask something of you."

"Sure, anything."

"Not so fast, Steffi!" she laughed. "Holger and I went to a musical yesterday. And we met your father and his new wife."

It was tough to talk with the jaw on the floor.

"His what?"

"New wife, as in 'just married'."

"She must be really desperate. Or after his money."

"No, I did not have that impression. It rather seemed like they are completely smitten with each other."

"Come on, we are talking Thomas Bergmann."

"Your father has changed. A lot. I have never seen him like that. Perhaps it's the girl, she surely is the type that can turn a man's life around."

"Oh no, trophy wife?"

"Not really. But she is quite young, early twenties, and she is beautiful. There is no other word for it. And very nice. She's Brazilian. I automatically pictured her on a beach with one of those tiny bikinis," my mother laughed.

"You are taking this in a stride," I marvelled.

"Why shouldn't I? Remember, I divorced him to marry Holger. He cheated me only with his computer. If he can find a woman to love, good for him!"

"Well, if he is happy with his mail order bride, that's pathetic enough, but I won't have to deal with him."

"Don't be such a cynic, Steffi, it isn't becoming. Anyway, he specifically asked to see you again."

"Oh no!"

"Oh yes! You really did not visit him in nine years? I could not believe it. He is your father, Steffi."

"So where was he when I needed something. Like when I went to Harvard. I could have used his fatherly support then, if he's so damned rich as Ralf always says."

"You still have not figured it out? Who do you think came up with the money for Harvard and Oxford? Who do you think retained that expensive lawyer when you were busted with hash? Or paid the fine? Do you really think that Thomas did not know who that fancy laptop was for? You would not talk to him, but he asked about you all the time. How he could help you, what you needed. That internship in Zurich, you got it because he vouched for you."

"Oh thank you, mother, that is all I need to know. Sorry, Steffi, but you did not do it on your own. It's your father who bought your way in."

"Don't be stupid! He did what every father with the necessary means would do. And he would have done it openly if you had allowed it. You could have a nice car instead of this heap of rust. And now he asks to see you, and if you refuse, he might never ask again. Do you want that? Do you want to lose a part of your identity? Come on, tell me, did he ever hurt you?"

"He left us!" I had not meant to shout. My mother narrowed her eyes, and I knew that she was pissed with me.

"He did not leave us. I divorced him to marry Holger. And your brother, who is less pigheaded than you, sees him all the time."

My mother should have been a lawyer. I was running out of arguments quickly.

"Steffi, why is it so hard to visit him once and see how he really is. Not the distorted picture that you carry around, but the real man. Once you see that he is no cold hearted monster, you will also feel better about yourself."

"What is that supposed to mean?" I snapped.

"I mean that bitchy Ice Queen image that you so like to project and which is so far away from the real you. Look, I told him that you are engaged with Lennart, and he would like to see you both. I phoned Lennart and he is okay with it."

"Oh great! Do I have any say in this?"

"No. I know you have no plans for Saturday, so you will visit your father for dinner. And you will keep that tongue of yours in check."

I took a deep breath. When my mother employs a tone like that it is time to knuckle under. It must be this teacher thing, she can always make me do what she wants with just this tiny change in her intonation. I had met young people who had had her as teacher, and they looked at me almost in fear once they learned she was my mother.

"All right, I'll do it."

"Thank you. That will also give you a chance to discuss your wedding arrangements with him. After all, he wants to pay for it."

"No!"

"Yes. Actually, Holger insists on sharing the costs. And Thomas agrees. He said Holger should pay for the privilege of having you as daughter. They both had you for twelve years, and they will share the costs, fifty-fifty. You should have seen them haggling!"

"You find that funny?"

"No, I found it heart warming. I did not realise it, but I still care for Thomas. I am happy that he found love, and I am happy that he gets along so well with my husband."

I turned and left. One more word, and I would have puked. What was it about my mother? But then I realised that she had never spoken a bad word about my BF. Some people never learn! Well, I would survive an evening with him and his gold digger wife. And if he wanted to pay for the wedding, I'd see to it that it would be really expensive. Less money for her when they would divorce eventually.

-------

"Relax, Steph! We're only visiting him. You won't move in with him."

"That's easy enough for you to say. What is it with you? You're so eager to see him."

We were driving north on the Autobahn, towards the small village where my father had moved. I had never been out there, but Ralf knew the way. He had decided to come along, why, he did not volunteer to answer, and was sitting behind us.

"Well, I read up on him," Lennart mused. "The man made an impact."

That was just like Lennart. He just loved to meet people, especially those who, in his words, had made an impact. He always complained about the mediocrity of the politicians he met in his job. He had been a reporter for eight years, off to every catastrophe or war on a moment's notice. Two years ago, he had snared a job as staff writer with a big political magazine in Hamburg. We had met when I had defended a hapless Kurdish family against deportation, and the rest is history, as they say.

"Don't be too disappointed!" Ralf interjected. "He's just a regular guy."

"But that's just it. I read up on him. He stepped away from his job, his company, when he felt burnt out. Now he's helping out from the outside, but he does a lot of public service. I mean, he was one of most outspoken critics of those European software patents, although he would profit from them."

"He was never interested in the money," I admitted grudgingly.

"But he knows how to make it," Lennart laughed.

It was time to leave the Autobahn.

"Turn right after the exit, then straight for two kilometres," Ralf instructed me. After two minutes, I turned right again, into a small village.

"The next left!" Ralf commanded. "Into that driveway!"

It was dark, but I could see that the house was the typical fare for the region, unpretentious, functional, just like him.

"He is no show off," Lennart remarked, echoing my thoughts.

We got out of the car and walked to the door. I rang the bell, and the lights went on. The door opened and I groaned inwardly. The girl could not be older than 18. She sure was pretty, no, beautiful. She beamed at us.

"Hi, I'm Alicia. Oh, hi, Ralf!"

In amazement I saw her throw her arms around my geeky brother. There was affection in the hug, if not more. I still stared when Ralf saw my look.

"She's the sister, you doofus!" he grinned.

Just then, somebody else came into the hall, and I held my breath. No matter what my BF had paid, he had got his money's worth! She was almost my height, bronze skin, black hair tied back in a pony tail, no makeup, and a body to kill for. Almost black eyes took in my appearance, and then a hesitant smile broke out on her face.

"You must be Stephanie! I am Gisele."

She came forward to hug me, but I was stiff and unprepared for a display of affection from a stranger. She let go of me as if burnt, and her smile was gone in a flash.

"Thomas will be down in a minute. He chopped fire wood and had to shower."

She turned away from me. "You must be Lennart," she offered, standing undecided.

"I would not mind a hug," he grinned, and I could have murdered him for showing me up. I had not meant to be rude. I just was not prepared.

The girl hugged him, her smile back, and then she hugged Ralf and kissed both his cheeks. He hugged her back. Well, of course! She was trying to align the men on her side.

"Why don't you take off your coats," the younger girl, Alicia, offered.

Lennart helped me from my coat and got a nasty look in return. 'What?', his looked signalled. We went into the living room, led by the lady of the house, and I was impressed. Really. This was designer furniture. Comfortable, too. Probably done by an interior designer, but I was amazed that my BF would care about such things. This was so not-him, based on my recollections.

"Can I offer you drinks?" Gisele asked, studiously looking through me.

"Water, please, I have to drive," I tried to be nonchalant.

"A beer?" Ralf asked, to which Lennart concurred.

"Let me help you!" Lennart offered, and rushed after her, while Ralf and the younger girl settled on the sofa. I sat on a rather futuristic looking swing chair that was surprisingly comfortable, while Ralf and Alicia chattered away. My brother. Chattering. With a girl! I could not resist the gibe.

"Who are you, and what have you done with my brother?"

"What?"

"Since when do you talk to girls? I mean, beyond 'yes' and 'no' and 'really'?"

"He isn't like this all the time?" Alicia asked. She spoke almost fluent German, but with a noticeable accent.

"I was rather tongue-tied when I was younger." He turned to me. "It's really fun to talk to people, you should try it some time."

Now, what was that supposed to mean? Just then, I heard laughter from the kitchen. What was going on around me? I wanted to go and check, but when I stood up, somebody else entered the living room. Somebody I knew, but didn't really. I knew I looked stupid, with my mouth hanging open. Who was that? My father had been tall, yes, but he had always worn those baggy clothes, disreputable sweaters, and he had been overweight. I always was embarrassed when he picked me up at school, with his junk heap of a car. He still was tall, but he was trim now. His hair was cut short and wet from the shower, and his once straggly beard trimmed short and turning grey. The polo shirt was Ralph Lauren, but the blue jeans were worn.

"You look good, Steph," he said, his warm voice overwhelming me with memories.

"You have changed, Papa," I answered, realising belatedly that I had not called him Papa in over ten years.

"I hope for the better," he grinned wryly. His grey eyes were shining. "May I hug you, Steph? It's been so long."

I could not speak, so I nodded. In one long stride, he covered the distance between us and hugged me.

"A small step for humanity, but a huge step for me!" he quipped, but I could hear that his voice was shaky. Damn, why were my eyes burning?

"Look, I'm sorry, Papa. I should have come more often..."

"Ssshhh! You came today."

"Mama told me how you always asked for me and how I was doing. And how you secretly pushed my career. I'm sorry I was so, so..."

"Pigheaded?" he offered.

"Pigheaded, yes. I don't know what is wrong with me. I resented you being away, and I resented you being preoccupied all the time."

"I am sorry, Steph! I know that I was a miserable failure as father. I'll try to do better from now. Have you met Gisele yet?"

Why, oh why cannot I keep my mouth under control?

"Well, she's really pretty. She is what, half your age? Did you find her through one of those agencies?"

I watched the warmth leave his eyes, replaced by sadness, and he slowly shook his head. He opened his mouth, but before he could say a word, I was pulled around. I looked into the black eyes of his wife, and I became a little scared. Lennart was there, yes, but I could tell from his disapproving look that he was not ready to support me. I looked at my brother, but he had his face buried in his hands, while the younger girl looked at me like I was shit under her shoes.

"Why don't you sit, while I have a little talk with my new stepdaughter?" Gisele said through clenched teeth and pulled me into the kitchen, slamming the door shut.

"Now that it is just us girls, tell me what is your problem with me?"

I tried to resurrect the Ice Queen personality.

"Yes, why not? Firstly, I resent gold diggers. I resent it when women like you lead desperate older men around by their dicks to wring some money from them and to secure a way out of their miserable existence. An secondly, I resent older men who buy girls over the internet."

I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw how pale she had become. She took a deep breath.

"Your boyfriend, he told me how you are a champion for human rights and for suppressed women. Does he know how you really think about the people you represent? You are such a fake! You help people get residency, but god forbid that they would try and live in your neighbourhood! Those poor women from the Third World, we need to help them, to liberate them. Just don't let them touch me! What do you know about me, huh? What do you know about your father, anyway, after leaving him alone for ten years? What do you know about us? Nothing! Nothing, but your racial prejudice. I'm Brazilian. So I must a street whore! I am young. So I am only after Thomas' money. I'm pretty. So I must fuck my way through life! What about you? Don't you wear short skirts when you meet important men? Makes things so much easier, doesn't it? But it's different. Because you're lily-white, and you have Barbie hair and Barbie legs! And I'm just some latina slut, right?"

"This isn't about race at all!" I tried to defend myself. "But how can you claim to love a man twice your age? You are just setting him up to be hurt."

"Your boyfriend is eight years older, too. Don't you love him? Are just fucking him because he knows important people?"

"Look, I don't need to listen to this."

"Sure, but I have to listen to your snide. Because I'm just the slut. You would be okay with me if had just come here to clean your house or sit your children. But that I dare to care for your father, that's inexcusable. Let me lay it on the line for you: you cannot have him. He's your father. You have to make do with one of the three billion other men, and I believe you already found him. You should be happy. And you should be happy for your father. I have news for you: if you think you can bring us apart, you better think again. It's not going to happen, Barbie!"

I felt cornered. Her anger was real, I felt it. I looked for a life line.

"But how can you endure the image you are projecting? You set yourself up for being misunderstood by marrying a rich older man."

"I'm quite happy with the image I project, Barbie. I was number two in my year at the business school. That was after I had to interrupt my education for one year to work for our living. Before that, in the other college I was top for three years in a row. I was accepted at the Bucerius Law School, on a full scholarship. Plus, I love Thomas. What other people think of me is irrelevant to me. But if you hurt Thomas, like you just did, I won't stand for it."

She was at Bucerius? On a scholarship? They take one hundred students per year from around the world! And they usually let them pay dearly for the exclusive education. O fuck! She must be some genius. What had been wrong with me? Had I been that prejudiced? Was I really jealous of her over my father? Was I that screwed up? I needed to do something, and quick, before everything was ruined. Somewhere, in the back of my head, there was the image of Lennart, with the disappointed look on his face. Of course, they had talked in the kitchen, he must know about her. Damn it, I had to eat humble pie, and quickly. I looked at her, and she looked back defiantly.

"Gisele?"

"Yes?" she snapped.

"I think I may be guilty of a horrible error of judgement. You were right, I was jealous. God, I must be sick! And it's true that I have an attitude problem. I just never met a person like you to set me straight, I guess. It's just this automatism. Young woman from Third World plus older guy from Europe equals sexual exploitation. I probably read too many feminist magazines, too."

Gisele snorted derisively at my last sentence, but the anger was slowly leaving her eyes.

"Would you tell me about you, Gisele? I want to understand you. If you want, I can tell you about me, too. Not now, they will probably come in in a moment to collect my remains."

She really grinned at that, but it did not quite reach her eyes.

"When?"

"How about tomorrow? I could pick you up, and we could walk on the beach of the Elbe river, and talk."

"That's not a beach," she smiled. "But okay. Truce?"

"Truce! Thank you for not killing me."

"I think you may be not so bad, Barbie."

"Would you please stop calling me Barbie? It's derogatory, too."

She grinned.

"I'll do that."

She pushed me out of the kitchen and into the living room. Four heads turned to look at me and I had to clear my throat.

"This isn't easy," I began. "I have hurt your feelings. But most of all, I have offended Gisele. Before all of you, I want to offer my apology for being insensitive, bigoted and mean. And I ask her to forgive me."

I felt a hand around mine. It was Gisele's. She had stepped to my side.

"I believe her, and I am okay with her apology. I ask you all to leave it be. We have dinner to eat now."

I stood in front of my father.

"I'm sorry, Papa. I would like to say that I did not mean what I said. But that would be a lie. I meant it, and that makes me ashamed. I have to work on some attitudes I seem to have acquired. Would you consider not throwing me out, please?"

He wiped his eyes quickly.

"Stephanie, we need to know each other better. That's a sad thing to say for a father, but we mustn't live in different worlds. Gisele is not taking me away from you. It's her who has brought me back to the living."

I nodded. "You are right. I was foolish."

"Okay, now let's sit and eat."

Lennart took my arm and led me to the table. His look told me that I had some more explaining to do before the day was over.

The dinner went well, considering the fact that my brother did not talk to me and the girl, Alicia, shot daggers at me every time our eyes met. Father and Lennart made polite conversation, while Ralf tried to get Alicia into a better mood. He was not very successful, and he did not love me that much this evening, I could tell. I debated with myself whether I should say something, not wanting to make things worse. When poor Ralf was shot down again, I decided to try.

"Alicia?" I began hesitantly, and all conversation around the table died.

"What?" she spat.

"I know that you are angry with me, and you have every right to be. But my brother had nothing to do with this. Please, don't punish him for my insensitivity. He was just an innocent bystander."

"I'm just not sure anymore what he sees in me. Maybe he just thinks I'm easy."

"Alicia!" That was Gisele.

"What? He's her brother!" Alicia flung back.

"And he is Thomas' son," Gisele said in a calm voice.

Alicia turned pale in an instant, tears forming in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she whimpered and fled from the table, stomping up the stairs.

I stared ahead, not daring to look into anyone's face. I was the human wrecking ball. Just put me in a room with five happy people and watch me make their lives miserable.

"Just great, Steph! What's next up your sleeve? You haven't pissed off Lennart yet. Come on, only one to go!" That was Ralf.

"Let her go, Ralf. She meant well, and she was right. Alicia treated you like shit for no valid reason. I'll set her straight."

I could not trust my ears. This was Gisele, defending me against my brother? I looked at her in awe. Papa caught my eyes and he actually smiled.

'Can you see why I love her?' his look conveyed.

I nodded.

"I suggest nobody sets anyone straight anymore this evening. Let me talk to Alicia and see whether we get some semblance of reason into this party."

Kissing Gisele's forehead and whispering into her ear, he stood up. Gisele kissed his hand in return, and he left the living room and we heard him climb the stairs.

"So, when are you going to pick me up?" Gisele asked me.

"Umh, around ten? You still want to talk to me? There's a chance I'll start a civil war just by saying 'Good Morning' so someone."

Lennart chuckled darkly at that.

"On a positive note, it cannot really get worse. You don't have firearms here, do you?"

The absurdity of the situation caught up with me, or else I simply lost my mind. I started to giggle. And Gisele joined me. Lennart and Ralf looked at us dubiously. After a while I had to stop; it sounded hysterical. Gisele had already recovered as well.

Papa was coming back, looking at us curiously.

"Ralf, Alicia asks you to come up to her room. She needs to talk to you."

I could see my brother steel himself. He stood and walked to the door, but Papa stayed him.

"She feels really guilty, and she'll do everything to make up for what she said. Just don't let her do everything, okay?"

Ralf looked at my father and nodded. He turned to leave, but Gisele jumped up and whispered into his ear. Ralf blushed and nodded, and she sat down.

"So, what can we do with the rest of this pleasant evening?" Papa quipped.

"Maybe I should leave before there is any gunplay," I suggested, my mind now easier after the fit of laughter.

"Don't be stupid," Gisele said. "We will fix you the free guest-room and you can stay over night. I don't think Ralf will be down anytime soon."

"I don't know, we did not bring anything," I tried, fencing for time.

"I can give you something of mine to wear, that is, if you don't mind wearing my stuff."

There was something in her look that let me know that I was toast should I refuse her "stuff". She had me, and she knew it. I tried another thing.

"What do you think, Lennart?"

"I'm a guy. I don't need much."

He really wasn't much of a help tonight.

"It's settled then," Gisele stated brightly. "Thomas, why don't you open a bottle of real wine, now that they don't have to drive?"

He did, and we drank wine. The first bottle led to a second, and slowly my embarrassment receded, leaving only some dull discomfort. I began to ask questions, like what my father had done those past 9 years. He answered openly, and I got a glimpse at how lonely he had been. He did not say it, but I knew how much I had hurt him by not visiting anymore. Finally, I brought up the courage to ask the big question.

"Will you tell me how you two met each other?"

Papa looked at Gisele, and she nodded imperceptibly. looking straight into my eyes, she started.

"I made a terrible mistake, three years ago. I let somebody talk me into shooting a video. An erotic video. I probably had too much to drink, but it was still terribly stupid. The end of the story was, they kicked me out of the college I was attending. One of the professors had obviously found the video on the internet. I had no idea of the internet at that time, and the world caved in on me."

Papa cleared his throat.

"Well, you know I was alone. I had googled for pictures of celebrities, and Gisele Bündchen was last on my list." He blushed. "I had searched for 'Gisele Bündchen' and 'Brazil', and one of the links said video clips. I clicked it, and there were clips of Gisele. I think I fell in love with her that very moment."

I saw Gisele touch his hand lovingly, and had to swallow.

"So I tried to find that video and I downloaded it. I watched it time and again until I became worried about my mental health. Really, I even saw a therapist! She told me that I could not resolve my fixation because I could not meet her in person. So I took off to look for her. An agency in Los Angeles found her address, and I was off to Brazil. That was last year in spring. I met her, we became friends, I resolved my fixation with her, but I fell for her personality. I helped her some to finish her degree, with approval by her mother. Mind you, Gisele made it clear that she would never trade favours for help. When I left in summer, I had the feeling that I had done something good."

"I had to write him every month, that was his condition for helping me, but I wrote almost daily. You see, I had nobody but Alicia and my mother, and he would always answer me and help me with advice. Then in June, things turned bad. My mother was murdered. She had accompanied her boss to a business meeting in Sao Paulo, and they were robbed and killed on the return trip." She paused and Papa put his arms around her shoulder.

"Then the rumours started. My mother was her boss's lover, they were killed while having sex in the car, you name it and they did it, according to the rumours. His widow was really pissed at all this and fed the newspapers information about the video I had been in. People started smearing stuff on our door. It became so bad, I did not know what to do anymore. So I called Thomas for help. And he came. Just like that." She kissed the hand on her shoulder.

"He offered to help us get an education here in Germany. But the regular way to get a visa would have taken more than a year, and we could not live in Ubatuba anymore. So he offered to marry me pro forma, so we became eligible for visa. We were married, applied for our visa in Sao Paulo, and left the country two weeks later. We flew via Paris and stayed for two days. And in those two days I did my best to convince him to forget about this pro forma thing."

"Not that I needed much convincing," Papa piped in with a rich chuckle.

We heard steps on the stairs, and Ralf came in, Alicia in tow.

"Come and sit," Gisele said lazily. She seemed very comfortable in my father's arms.

Alicia came to stand in front of me, and the tension was back in the room. She took a deep breath.

"Can we call it quits?"

I'm afraid I looked dumb.

"I'll forgive you if you forgive me," she elaborated impatiently.

I did not know what I could forgive her, but I stood and offered my hand. Alicia shook it solemnly and sat down on her old place at the table. I looked at Ralf.

"What about us?" I asked and opened my arms tentatively.

"You are something, Steph," Ralf said and gave me a hug. "When do you guys want to leave?"

"We'll stay over night," Lennart said quickly.

"They will stay in the guest room," Gisele explained. "You can have the sofa in the study," she added with a grin.

"Why don't we get them ready for the night?" my father suggested. "It's getting late."

We all trouped upstairs. The guest room had a double bed, already made. The single upright wall was fir wood-panelled, the bed was fir wood, too, and there was a fir wood wardrobe. Again, this room followed a theme, farmhouse. I asked my father.

"Yes, you know me. I'm not that good with decoration and such. I had an interior designer come, and we worked out the themes for each room."

"What's your room like?" I was really interested.

"Have a look," he said casually, and I walked to the indicated door, opening it without thinking. I had done it again! There was Gisele, changing into her pyjamas, and stark naked. She turned with a smile, but when she saw it was me, she covered herself with a robe.

"I'm sorry," I stammered, "I should have knocked. But Papa said I should have a look. At your bedroom I mean."

She had recovered from the surprise and grinned at the double meaning of my words.

"It's okay. Would you mind closing the door? I don't mind you in here, but I'd rather not give the men a show."

I hastily closed the door and looked at her again. She had dropped the robe and was standing in all her naked glory, identifying the right orientation of her pyjama bottoms. Stepping into them and pulling them up, she looked at me while she grabbed the top. I visit a health club regularly, and I use the sauna. I have seen many naked women there. Some of them are quite beautiful, but I had always prided myself as holding my own with any women, body-wise. Now, my confidence had a dent. Strangely, there was no jealousy; I rather felt like seeing a beautiful painting or statue.

"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen," I blurted, blushing hotly at the same moment.

"Thank you, I think," she answered. "It's a gift and a curse. Most people can't see beyond my body, and that can hurt." She looked at me. "You know that, too, don't you?"

I nodded. Did I ever know that!

"Let me get you something to wear for the night."

She pulled me to an adjacent small dressing room, perched into the corner and under the roof of the house, and opened a built in wardrobe.

"Here, try this. It's not really my colour and I have worn it only once."

I was a royal blue satin pyjama, and I had to agree, the colour would not be becoming for her.

"Try it on, let's see whether it fits."

I hesitated briefly, but what the hell! I had seen her, she might as well see me. I quickly shed my clothing down to my underwear, my panties that is. My breasts don't warrant a bra. I caught her looking at me appraisingly.

"And?" I asked, stepping out of my panties and fishing for the pyjama bottoms.

"At home, on the beach, you would cause a riot. Real blondes are so rare," she said, pointing at my flaxen "landing strip". "And your legs are sensational."

Real flattery will get you far into my favour, and I smiled at her.

"Yes, I think I like my legs. As for my breasts, well, at least they will never sag."

"Stephanie?"

"Yes?" Hell, she was using my first name.

"You should know that, in spite of what happened this evening, I think I may like you."

I had a lump in my throat.

"You know, when you hugged me at the entrance, I just was not prepared. I don't show my feelings that openly, usually. I did not mean to be brusque, then."

She opened her arms.

"Hi, I'm Gisele, and you must be Stephanie."

I was strange to feel the soft swell of female breasts against my chest, strange to kiss a girl's cheek, and even stranger to distinctly feel Gisele's mons on my thigh through the thin fabric. This girl, or rather woman, was all or nothing. I had seen her spitting mad today, and now I was treated to the absolute opposite. She pointed to the door-mounted mirror and giggled.

"Look at us. A good thing that we are alone, or I would not hear the end of it!"

I had to laugh. She was right. We looked like lipstick lesbians on a photo shoot.

"At least, I seem to have a fall back option if this attorney thing does not work out."

"And how do you like the bedroom?"

"Yes, that's why I came in, didn't I."

The bedroom was Colonial style, the furniture of dark plantation teak wood, the walls white washed, and the floor made of oiled wooden planks. I also noticed that you could eat from the floor, literally.

"How do you manage to keep this place so clean?" I asked. "I mean, you go to law school, Alicia goes to school, and Papa never touched a broom in my recollection."

"We have a cleaning lady. Actually, Thomas hired her last year. She comes three times a week, does all the laundry, changes the linen, sweeps the floors. All we do is wash dishes. We could do it ourselves, of course, but Thomas does not like the image of us cleaning his house. And I don't mind. I had cleaning duties in my high school. It was part of the scholarship deal. I was accepted at this very good school, but I had to clean the classrooms every morning, together with three other girls. We came in at half past six, to clean up, and at half past seven, the princesses came in and dropped their dirt everywhere."

I felt guilty. I had been such a princess all my life. Okay, I kept my apartment clean, but I never touched a broom before I was 19. She broke into my thoughts.

"You must be tired. I know that I am. There are toothbrushes in the cabinet in the bathroom, towels, too. I don't have any makeup removers, sorry, but you can use the skin cream."

That was right. She did not wear any makeup. I only used some eyeliner and lip gloss, and that could be removed with water and soap. I found the bathroom and the cabinet, and after brushing my teeth and scrubbing my face, I joined Lennart in the guest room. He was wearing shorts and nothing else, but I had never seen them.

"Ralf keeps some stuff here," he explained.

I switched off the lights and found my way under the cover.

"Lennart, I guess I have some explaining to do," I began.

"Sshh, not now. I guess I understand the most of it. You had over a decade of resentment which just came to the light in a few minutes. You should have seen your father much earlier. He really seems to be an okay man."

"That advice comes like 8 years too late, but thank you."

"You made peace with Gisele, didn't you? I think she is an amazing young woman."

"Uh oh," I joked, "do I sense the seeds of infidelity? And you have not even seen her naked yet."

"Have you?" he asked innocently, but I felt some pressure against my butt. Lennart held me in a hug from behind.

"When I barged into her bedroom without knocking, she was changing into her pyjamas. And she was butt-naked." The pressure increased.

"And?"

"When she saw it was just me, she continued to change. She has these perky breasts that stand out like volcanoes. Her butt is perfect, and then her legs! Beautiful feet, too, come to think of it."

I had a bona fide boner pressing between my legs from behind. Lennart has this little foot fetish. Nothing kinky, he just likes pretty feet, and he likes to paint toe nails. I had added the little remark about Gisele's feet purely for his benefit, and I was not disappointed.

"Careful, buster," I purred. "We have to return the pyjama and the shorts tomorrow. No stains!"

"Fine by me," he replied huskily and proceeded to pull down my bottoms.

The thought of having sex under my father's roof was exciting, in a kinky way. Not to mention that I had gone without for almost a week. So had Lennart, as was evident from the haste with which he pushed down the shorts he was wearing. He pressed his boner between my legs and pushed the tip along my slit, rubbing my clit in the process.

"You are so wet!" he whispered.

"Put it in, please. I need you," I whispered back.

Lennart has this long cock which is straight as a lance. It's just made for penetration from behind, because it rubs against all the right places inside my cunny. Which is nice, because I like being taken from behind. I love it when a man, well Lennart, kisses the nape of my neck, my shoulders, or my spine. And I love it when he holds and pinches my titties while he drills me. They may be small, but they are sensitive. And all that he did. He fucked me slowly, with deliberate long and steady strokes, mashing his pubes against my butt.

That's something I love, too, this pounding against my butt. I sure have some sensitive nerve endings there. When I was 18 or so, I had an exam by my gynaecologist. I had been deflowered the week before, an unpleasant experience which hurt me and made me fear that I had sustained an injury. After a thorough exam of my pussy, she put on fresh gloves and squeezed jelly on her fingers. Then she carefully inserted first one, then two fingers into my rectum. I remember how I squirmed on her seat with the sensation. It must have been five minutes before she pulled her fingers from my ass and wiped me clean. Back then, it would have never occurred to me that a female doctor would do that for other than professional reasons. But now, seven years later, and after reading Anais Nin's Delta of Venus, I cannot help but suspect that she finger fucked my arse for her own entertainment. But that had been the only time in my life that something had gone up there against the one way street sign.

But the memory surely increased my arousal, like it always did. I never mentioned my little anal fetish to Lennart, but he sometimes brushes the tip of his boner against my pucker, and this always causes a shiver deep inside my core.

Mmmh! Those nasty thoughts really had me going. Lennart's steady pounding had increased both in force and amplitude, and I could tell he was close to shooting.

"I'm coming," he whispered urgently.

Now for my little trick. I thought of his long slender dick, how it pushed into my little asshole, spreading it open, and spewing his thick juice deep into my bowels. Whoa! Yes, it worked like a charm. My nasty fantasy and his jerking cock in my pussy conspired to induce an explosion of fireworks behind my eyes. I lay there, panting, while Lennart did his best to crawl into me in his post-orgasmic bliss. He was like a little kid afterwards, gushing nice things into my ears, and moving his softening dick in little circular movements that caused delicious aftershocks in my overcharged nerve endings.

"We must clean up," I whispered.

"How? I did not bring anything."

"We'll make a dash to the bathroom. Just keep your dick off the linen when you get up."

Lennart rolled on his back, pulling his dick from my pussy, and I covered it with my left hand and scooted off the bed. Lennart covered his dick with the left hand and, giggling with the silliness of the situation, we made a mad dash for the bathroom and inside. It was deer-in-the-headlight time.

We should have seen that the light was on, and they should have locked the damn door. Here I stood, butt-naked, and my hand between my legs to stem the flow of cum from my pussy. And my brother, washing his dick in the sink, the wash cloth showing traces of red, stared at me. There was Lennart, too, of course, covering his dick partly with his left hand and fighting a grin. And Alicia, squatting in the bathtub, the shower head between her legs, and looking thoroughly busted. Thank god, I was still in silly mode.

"Umh, hi, could I use that shower when you are done, Alicia?" I grinned sheepishly.

But then I saw her lower lip, and it was quivering. The girl was in panic. And I thought I knew why.

"Relax, Alicia. I won't tell anybody. And neither will Lennart. He may be a reporter, but he doesn't run a gossip column."

I turned. Ralf was still standing at the sink, with his dick in his hands and staring at me.

"Okay, you guys. Wash and leave. Alicia and I will be with you in a minute." I spoke in a low tone. The last we needed was Gisele or my father coming to look.

Ralf towelled his midsection while Lennart dashed for the sink and performed a quick cleaning job. He smirked at me when he left, and I closed the door and latched it. Alicia was still squatting in the tub, her eyes downcast. Going to the sauna regularly has its benefits. A naked person cannot faze me. I climbed into the tub and took the shower head from Alicia's hands, Squatting, I flushed my pussy thoroughly. When I was finished I closed the valve. I lifted Alicia's chin and gave her what I hoped was a friendly smile.

"This just isn't our day, is it?"

She shook her head.

"You're embarrassed?

Nod.

"This was your first time?"

Nod. Tears.

"Did you enjoy it?"

A look of horror at this kind of question, then a reluctant nod.

"Then there is nothing to feel bad about. Just imagine, five years from now, when you will tell your girlfriends how you lost your virginity, and when you washed up afterwards, wham, the door pops open and this other woman rushes in, with her pussy leaking sperm. You will roll on the floor, laughing hysterically, believe me. I know I would. And if, hopefully, you and Ralf will stay together, you and I will be sisters-in-law and we will always have something to laugh about."

"I don't feel like laughing. I was scared shitless. I peed in the tub. I thought it was Gisele, or Thomas."

"Now, if it had been Gisele, and she would have had her hand clamped over her pussy like me, she would have been in a bad situation to make a scene."

That brought forth a weak grin.

"I suppose you're right."

"See! Let's towel dry and hope that nobody is in the hall."

We towelled and I looked at her. I could understand my little brother. She was a stunner. Maybe not as perfect as her sister, but throw in the virginal aura, and even Siegfried would leave Roy for her.

"You won't be mad at Ralf, will you?" she asked.

I held her shoulders and looked into her eyes.

"Look at me! Am I in a position to judge anybody? After what I managed to do today? You are eighteen, right? It was your and Ralf's decision, and that is it for me. And if you liked it, I am very happy for you. Because my first time was terrible. Now go and cuddle with him, because I want to go and cuddle with my man!"

I cracked the door open and peeked out. The coast was clear, so to speak, and we sneaked out and to our rooms.

Lennart waited for me with a big grin that showed he was embarrassed, too.

"I feel like Mr. Bean," he admitted. "God, that must have been her first time. Did you see the blood, too?"

I nodded. "I hope she will be all right."

"And I said, it couldn't get worse!"

"Famous last words in history!"

"Okay, get your naked butt into the pyjamas and come to bed. We need to sleep."

I did and we did.

It was almost nine when I woke up. Lennart was awake and stirring, sort of. As a matter of fact, he was stirring between my legs again. I turned half-ways.

"Down, boy!" I laughed. "No way I'll run to the bathroom again."

He answered me with this rich chuckle that I love so much.

"You do look good in that pyjama!"

"Good, as in... ?"

"Good to eat."

"Speaking of eating, I could eat a horse."

"Maybe, we should go down then. I heard some rummaging from the first floor."

We got up and dressed in the clothes we had worn the day before. We made sure we knocked before we entered the bathroom and brushed our teeth. We also washed our faces and combed our hair. Lennart's hair stood on end, though. He has to wash it every day. We ambled downstairs and found my father and Gisele at the set table. They even had fresh rolls from a baker.

"Good morning!" my father smiled. "Sit and have breakfast!"

We wished a Good Morning, too, and sat. Gisele looked at me.

"Was anything wrong with you? I thought I heard voices from the bathroom."

I managed to keep a straight face.

"Oh no, nothing wrong. I had to go to the bathroom. I forgot to knock, and Alicia had forgotten to lock, and so I barged in while she was busy. But we resolved the situation without further bloodshed."

Papa chuckled.

"I heard you guys want to marry. Have you set a date yet?"

"April 1st," Lennart answered with a straight face. "Really, it's a Friday, and it's perfect."

"You're setting yourself up for all sorts of practical jokes, you know that?"

"Oh, no! I told you!" I had not been enthusiastic about this date in the first place, and now I just knew that we would find our car caked in wet toilet paper and other "original" jokes.

"Will you let me help with the celebrations? It would mean a lot to me. Holger is okay with it, by the way."

"I bet he is," I laughed. "Lennart has like 200 friends who may come to the reception."

"A little less, actually," Lennart asserted. "We thought we should have a reception with a buffet for the friends, and then dinner with just the family and the witnesses."

My father grinned smugly, something I had never seen before.

"Would you two agree to let Holger, Inge and me organise the reception and the dinner?"

"As long as mother has the last word in everything, I have no problems," I answered. I mean, I love Holger like he was my real father, but to let two men organise the most important day of my life? Get real!

"You know your mother. If she's involved, she has the last word. Period."

We heard steps on the stairs and Alicia came in with Ralf in tow, ostentatiously holding his hand. I noticed a quizzical look from Gisele, and grin and a nod from Alicia, and an answering grin from Gisele. Ralf was flustered, and he shot me a sheepish look to which I responded with a shrug and a grin.

"Good morning, you two. Sleep well?"

I had timed this perfectly, for Ralf had just taken a large sip of coffee. Coffee running from the nose is not a pretty sight.

"Sorry," he gasped when he could talk again. "I've had this thing in my throat the whole morning."

I thought it wiser not to pursue this. Or maybe it was the fact that Lennart had stepped on my foot under the table. What's the use of a little brother if you are not allowed to tease him? Instead I turned to Alicia.

"Your sister was worried. She heard us in the bathroom. I told her that we shared the facilities peacefully."

She caught on and smiled.

"Yes it was awkward, I had not latched the door, and she came in while I was busy."

Papa spoke up again.

"So, Stephanie, you still plan to go on a walk with Gisele?"

I looked at her and she nodded.

After breakfast, we climbed in my car and drove off towards the river. Lennart and Ralf stayed, but they assured me they were fine. Well, Ralf sure did not mind!

"Alicia was not really using the toilet when you walked in on her?" Gisele asked in a conversational tone.

"No, she was using the tub, sort of." I knew that Gisele knew about the reason.

"They have really grown to like each other over the last three months. My sister is no slut."

"I know that. I was the same age when I lost my virginity, and I don't see myself as a slut. She was terribly flustered when we came in." Oops. I had done it.

"We? As in... ?"

"Me and Lennart. We did not know how to clean up and we did not want to soil your bed, so we ran for the bathroom and barged in." I giggled, I couldn't help. "I'll remember that scene to my last day. Your sister in the tub, my brother at the sink, both cleaning, and me, standing there with my hand between my legs, trying not to dribble. It was priceless."

"You're kidding me! All four of you? And your brother, too. God, I would have died."

"He's seen me before. We used to go to the sauna with the family."

"That's something I heard about. What is the deal with this? You go there to sweat?"

I laughed. The concept of sauna or Roman steam bath must seem stupid to somebody who grew up in a subtropical climate.

"The Northern Europeans used sweat baths from the beginning of time. It helps clear the pores of the skin, increases your resistance to the cold, and makes you feel relaxed. Would you want to try? I have a membership where I can bring guests."

"I suppose I could."

"I always go Wednesdays. It women only, then. It's not that the men stare all the time, but it's just as bad if they pointedly don't stare."

"I'm off at four on Wednesdays."

"We have a deal, then. You want to come to my office? We can drive in my car. You don't drive?"

"Only a little. I don't feel comfortable yet."

"Then I'll drive you home afterwards. Okay, we're there! Better put on the cap. It's windy here."

We climbed from the car. The weather was cold, but sunny. We took off, along the water line. The Elbe is a tidal river downstream of Hamburg, and there are some extended beaches along its course. This was one. The sand was wet and solid from the preceding high tide, and walking was easy. A lot of people were out there with their dogs, mostly big friendly ones which formed impromptu packs and chased after thrown sticks and balls.

"One day, I want to have a dog again," I sighed when a massive black Labrador came up to greet us, wagging his solid tail.

"You had one?"

I nodded. "We had a big dog, Rufus, when I was a kid. I know I cuddled with him all the time. When my parents split, we briefly moved into an apartment where they allowed no dogs, and Rufus went to live with a colleague of my mother until we found something better. They left the garden gate open, and Rufus was run over by a car. I think I still blame my father for this. If he had spent less time at his computer and more time with my mother, this would not have happened."

"Is this why you did not visit him anymore?"

I was mute for a while. Was that it? Maybe. Of course, it also had to do with the fact that I wanted to spend the weekend with my friends and not with a sloppy, distracted father. But Rufus' death had played a big role.

"It's part of the reasons, no doubt. Jeez. This would have probably taken a half dozen sessions with a therapist."

We continued our walk and talk. Since I had already learned a lot about Gisele the last evening, it was just us two chatting about just everything. Eventually, I told her about some of my clients and their particularities.

"You should take your clients more seriously," she said with slight disapproval. "All you see is a guy who acts and looks different, and you automatically regard him as inferior. You see, that is part of the fuel for the resentment against Westerners around the world. You don't take people from other cultures seriously. I notice that, too. When people talk to me, they use monosyllables and speak slowly, as if everyone from outside Europe or the US just climbed down from a tree."

"That's something to think about. Gisele, if you ever catch me talking down to you, just kick my shins."

"Don't worry, I will," she laughed.

We had lunch at my father's house before I packed Lennart and a reluctant Ralf into my car and headed back for Hamburg. I was in thought during the drive, and my passengers were mute, too. Too many of my truths had been put to doubt in the last 24 hours, and I needed to think.

That evening, I picked up Lennart at the newsroom, and we had dinner. I told him a little bit about my conversation with Gisele, and he smiled gently.

"I'm happy, she told you all this," he grinned. "I didn't have the heart to tell you. Plus, I was afraid you'd cut me off if I did."

"So you agree with her?"

He nodded, but took my hand. "You have built up this wall of cynicism, Steph. And you seem to be of the opinion that everybody has to see the world like you do. The funny thing is that you don't want to be like that."

"You need to tell me things like that."

He grimaced. "I can do that on selected occasions. But I don't want to be your headmaster."

That evening, each of us went to his own apartment. That was another issue. Of course, we would move together after the wedding, but where? Lennart's apartment was small, and it was near the St. Pauli district, party central in other words. On weekends, you could not sleep with an open window. We usually spent the weekends at my place, but once we moved together, we would have to duke it out at his place, unless we found something else. But Lennart was stubborn. He insisted that he wanted to move into a real house, and he needed another year or two to save up for a down payment.

The house was dark when I arrived, and I assumed that my parents had already gone to bed. I let myself in, and kicked off my shoes. I switched on the TV and plopped down on my sofa, clicking through the channels without finding anything. A soft knock on the connecting door brought me to my feet. My mother was standing there, in her robe.

"I heard you come home. Would you mind if I came in?"

Sighing inwardly, I held the door open. I was about to get my arse chewed.

"So, how did it go," she asked brightly.

"Come on mama. We both know that you grilled Ralf as soon as he came home. So you know perfectly well what a colossal ass I made of myself. I'm not proud of it, and I've done my best to mend fences since yesterday. Can we leave it that way?"

"Ralf wouldn't say a word. He's been running around with an idiotic grin on his face, and he spent hours on the telephone. I think, he may have a girlfriend."

To this day, I am proud that I did not roll on the floor laughing. Maybe I smiled, okay, I grinned.

"Of course he has a girlfriend, mama. She is a very nice girl, well-educated, outspoken, and very pretty."

"You know her?"

Yes! I had her on a different track now.

"Only if you don't pester him about it. This is among us until he decides to come forward."

"What's this all of a sudden?"

"I'm just being discrete. Will you promise."

"All right. Now, who is it. Do I know her?"

"Did you know that Gisele, Papa's wife, has a younger sister?"

"No. Is she here, too?"

"Yes. Try to imagine Gisele, only four years younger. Her name is Alicia."

"That's why he's visiting Thomas all the time."

I laughed. "He gets along with Papa, but not that good!"

"I think it's time for us to invite my ex-husband and his lovely wife for coffee. And they should bring her sister, too, by all means."

"Be gentle to her, mama. She really is nice," I laughed.

"Do you suppose they may be, you know, intimate already?"

"Search me! I'm not my brother's keeper. They are both of age, and it's their own business."

"That means yes. Oh well, I'm a bad example myself. Could you, discretely of course, make sure they are using proper and safe protection. You can talk to him."

"I better talk to Gisele. I'll see her Wednesday."

"So, you two get along well? That's nice."

Dammit. Why didn't I watch my tongue!

"We do now. I wasn't on my best behaviour at first, and she pretty much chewed my arse over it. But we had a long walk together this morning, and we sorted things out. I think I may like her; I certainly have respect for her, the way she handles herself. That remark that I made on Thursday, you know, the mail order bride, that was really stupid of me. She goes to Bucerius, on an academic scholarship! Can you imagine that?"

She did not look surprised.

"You knew that! Couldn't you like fill me in on such trifle details? I really don't relish putting my foot in my mouth."

"You did not ask. Your opinion was ready when you heard she was from Brazil and young."

"Mama, am I really such a self-righteous, bigoted bitch?"

She patted my hand and grinned sardonically. "You're not a bitch."

"But I am self-righteous and bigoted?"

"Gnothi seauton!"

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"It's ancient Greek, supposedly from Sokrates, and it means 'recognise yourself'."



-------

Chapter 4


Monday and Tuesday were productive days; a whole family from Afghanistan finally received their citizenship. They had been in Hamburg since 1981, and they successfully ran a chain of three restaurants. We had the final hearing, and when the decision was announced they all hugged me and shook my hands, the old people, the sons and their wives. They would celebrate Tuesday evening in their original restaurant, and they asked me to come. It's funny; a week ago I would have stalled and invented an excuse. But I pulled out my cell phone and called Lennart, and he agreed to come to.

It was an amazing evening, the food was overwhelming, and I found that I had really grown to like these people. And looking at the work they had put in to build up and run three restaurants, I think I did my country a service to help and keep them here. An added boon came when two distant cousins who were in the dry cleaning business approached me with the request to handle their applications for citizenship, saying that they did not feel comfortable with their current representation. I gave them my card and they promised to call upon me. I could tell that Lennart had a blast, too. He had been to Afghanistan twice, and he even knew the city from where the old people had come. We left at two in the morning, and I slept at Lennart's place.

My workload on Wednesday was moderate, mostly dictating letters to clients, reading draft papers, and generally emptying my in tray. At three o'clock, my secretary stuck her head in.

"Mrs. Bergmann for you, Miss Bergmann," she grinned, proud of her little joke.

Gisele came in, a gym bag in her hand.

"Am I too early?"

"Just a little. I need to finish this draft letter. But have a seat at the table, and I'll be done in 15."

She nodded, sat and pulled out a textbook, without a word. Within seconds she was deep into whatever she was reading, and I concentrated on my proofing. Ten minutes later, my boss Engmann stuck his head in.

"Sorry to interrupt, Miss Bergmann. I wanted to tell you that I read your report and I approve of your views. Again, sorry. Are you a client of ours, Miss?"

This was in Gisele's direction.

"No, I came to pick up my stepdaughter, but I was a bit early," she answered brightly. This stepdaughter thing seemed to amuse her, and Engmann eyebrows shot up.

"Oh, Mr. Engmann, this is Gisele Bergmann. She married my father recently, so technically, she is my stepmom."

"Not the evil stepmother, though?" he joked.

"I would hope not, Mr. Engmann," Gisele smiled, and I could see how Engmann started to salivate. He noticed her textbook.

"Are you interested in constitutional law?"

"I just started at Bucerius this fall."

"How wonderful for you! Well, should you ever want to do an internship in an administrative law firm, just let me know."

"Thank you, Mr. Engmann, I will keep this in mind."

"Well, I'll leave you then. Enjoy your evening."

He left and I smirked at Gisele to which she screwed up her eyes, grinning.

We left twenty minutes later. When we had cleared the door of the building, Gisele brought it up again.

"Was he serious about that offer?"

"Why?" I asked while I steered her to the parking lot across the street where I kept my VW.

"Because he does not know me."

"He's seen all he wants to know."

"Ahh, I'm eye candy."

"He's not shy about it. The way he figures it is that if you take pretty interns, they are just as likely to work out fine as the ugly ones, but they are better for his eyes. I'm only quoting. But if you want a job with him, you better be good. On the other hand, if you are good, being pretty won't hurt your chances either."

We sat in my car and drove the twenty minutes to the public indoor pool. On the way, I gave Gisele a short run down on what to do and what to expect. I explained the benefits of Roman steam bath and Finnish sauna, of hot and cold baths, and various other goodies. I drove into a large parking facility, and we made our way to the entrance. We paid and went to the changing area and undressed, putting our clothes into lockers. With our towels, we made our way downstairs and cleaned ourselves in the showers. I told her to rub herself dry before we went into the Finnish sauna. Gisele gasped when we first entered the wooden structure. We sat on our towels on the mid level benches and relaxed. Within two or three minutes, perspiration caused a sheen on my skin, and I could see that Gisele also developed a healthy sweat. There were two other women in the sauna, so we could not talk freely, and we exchanged only few words. After fifteen minutes, I gave her a sign and we gathered our towels around us and left the sauna. A hot shower washed away the sweat, and then I jumped into the cold water basin. Gisele tested the temperature with her foot first and shrieked, assuring me of her impending death should she immerse herself in the freezing water. I told her to just take a cool shower instead, while I changed repeatedly between the hot and cold water basins until my skin tingled. Afterwards we wrapped into our towels and sat on a pair of recliners in a resting room. Nobody was in there, and we had a chance to talk freely.

"How is my father holding out without you this evening?"

"He should be fine," she grinned. "He is meeting with your mother and her husband. The wedding committee."

I groaned slightly.

"I shudder to think what they may come up with. So Alicia is all alone."

"She's a big girl. Besides, I seriously doubt that she is alone."

"You mean Ralf? Yes that's quite possible. Oh, Gisele, I don't mean to pry, but is Alicia protected?"

"She has a box of condoms. And she promised me not to be foolhardy."

"She's not on the pill? Listen, this is not my business, but I know for a fact that they did not use a condom on Saturday."

When we had met in the bathroom, Ralf was washing his penis, and there was the blood on it. I could tell that Gisele was worried.

"I have a cell phone in the locker. You want to call her and give her a little pointer?"

She nodded. "I should better do that."

We picked up my cell phone from the locker, and Gisele dialled my father's number.

Apparently, Alicia picked up quickly, and Gisele talked to her in rapid Portuguese. There seemed to be an argument, but Gisele maintained the upper hand as to guess from her calmness. When she ended the call, she smirked.

"She thinks she's in the safe part of her cycle, and she hates the condoms. I told her I would see to it that she gets on the pill if she promises me to use the rubbers for the next two months."

"And she accepted?"

"Only after I said that if anything happened, Thomas would blame Ralf. She promised me to be careful. But she needs to get on the pill."

I had to smile.

"Alicia respects my father."

Gisele nodded. "She thinks the world of him. I hope she realises that Ralf is not his father."

"But close," I laughed.

I introduced Gisele to the Roman steam bath next. The steam room is designed like a grotto, with condensing water dripping from the ceiling and walls, and indirect, coloured lighting. The extreme humidity makes for easy sweating, and it is soothing for the respiratory tract. Gisele enjoyed it. You don't wear any towels in the steam bath. There is a hose which you use to clean the bench, and you just sit on the warm, polished stone of the bench. I watched with fascination as the tiny droplets of sweat formed on her bronze skin, joining to form beads, and finally, when gravity overcame adherence, running down her body or dripping off an extremity. There was a rather steady drip of sweat from the tips of her breasts, I noticed, and it looked like her nipples extended every time a drop was forming. She noticed me watching and smiled.

"What are you watching so intently?"

I know I blushed.

"This will sound weird, but I was watching the drops of sweat fall from your breasts. It is a most fascinating sight."

She looked down. "You think so?"

I nodded. I tried to keep it in, but then I blurted it out anyway.

"Your breasts look wonderful. Oh my god, I sound like a guy. I must ask my mother whether she weaned me too early, or something."

"Why," she grinned, "you feel the urge to suckle?"

I'm sure my face glowed in the dark. Her grin slowly mutated into something I could not quite define. She rose from the bench and stood before me. She took my hands and pulled me up. I stood there, almost face to face with her, and we looked into each other's eyes, searching for answers to the questions we did not dare to ask. Suddenly, she nodded slightly and moved forward by just a few centimetres until her breasts touched mine. I stood mesmerised while her nipples softly grazed over my chest, and I gasped when they touched mine. She grew bolder, and rubbed her entire chest against mine. It was the most delicious sensation I had ever felt upstream of my navel. Our bodies were slick with sweat and condensed steam, and I experienced a shortness of breath, born out of the excitement I felt. She made me turn now, and I felt her breasts against my sweaty back, rubbing in circles. Then her hands moved from my hips to my small tits, pinching the nipples lightly and eliciting a moan from deep within my throat. Encouraged, she pinched and pulled with vigour, at the same time pressing her mons against my butt. Oh god! She really got me worked up now. Her hands never strayed downwards to by pubes, but she rubbed herself against my back and pressed against my derriere. That repeated touch and her hands on my breasts finally did it to me, and without prior warning, I crashed over the edge. The waves of pleasure made my knees buckle, and I would have collapsed had she not held me from behind in her surprisingly strong arms. Gently, she sat me on the bench and joined me, her arm around my shoulder, and my forehead in the hollow of her neck.

"I've never done this before," I whispered. "Have you?"

I felt the soft vibration when she chuckled.

"I went to a strict Catholic school, there were only girls to practice with."

"Oh." Suddenly I saw the merits of girls' schools. "Do you want me to, you know, touch you?"

I was flustered, and she noticed.

"Maybe not," she said calmly. "You need to think about this. There is no obligation. I enjoyed this as much as you did."

"You did? But why?"

"I don't really know, but you are something like a female version of Thomas. I feel attracted to you."

A female version of my father? Hardly. Perhaps physically, though. She was right. I needed to think. Not that it would change anything. I already realised that no thought process would keep me from trying to repeat this exquisite experience. A bubble bath! From nowhere, the vision of Gisele in a bubble bath appeared, and I imagined sitting behind her and letting my hands roam over her sudsy body. I squirmed, and Gisele giggled lightly.

"I said, think about it, not of it."

"Am I this obvious?" I asked, sitting upright and grinning at her.

She nodded, and grinned back.

"We need to go out," I said reluctantly. "I don't know how long we've been in here, but I'm sure it's been too long."

I pulled her up and out of the chamber, towards the showers. I admired her body as she rinsed the sweat off her skin, while luxuriating under the warm spray myself. Now she had me under her spell, too. It was time to regain footing. I dragged her away from the shower and to the cold water basin. Not listening to her screams, I pulled and pushed her squirming body to the edge and, hugging her tightly, I flung myself into the icy water. She screamed her head off! I held her tightly, despite her squirming and kicking, until she adapted to the temperature.

"See, it's wonderful after a moment."

I let go of her tentatively, and I saw the conflicting thoughts in her face. In the end, she nodded.

"You are right. I get all tingly now. What do we do next?"

"The hot water tank."

I flung myself over the divider into the hot basin, enjoying the intense tingle when my cold skin encountered the hot water. Gisele followed closely, and I could see how the sensations impacted on her.

"This is wonderful," she said in a low voice. "Can I do it again?"

"Of course," I laughed and jumped back into the cold water tank.

Gisele followed without hesitation, but shrieked when she felt the cold. Once more, we jumped back into the hot tank before we climbed out and showered again. We towelled dry and sat on neighbouring recliners to rest. I was surprised when Gisele took my hand, but it felt right, and I pressed hers in response.

"This is wonderful," she smiled lazily. "Can we do this again?"

"Absolutely," I answered with conviction. I knew I would have some doubts later, but right now and in her presence, I knew I wanted to do it again. Everything.

That evening, after I had driven Gisele home, I went over to Lennart's place. I could tell he was happy to see me, but he was in no way prepared for the next two hours. I sucked him, I let him eat me, I let him fuck me in at least four different positions. And I came at least three times. When I fell asleep in Lennart's arms, I was thoroughly satisfied that I still liked men. It was wonderful. Gisele was like a perfect hors d'oeuvre, she was a delicious treat, but she did not spoil my appetite for the main course. Suddenly I had the vision of Gisele, being pounded thoroughly by my father, and I squirmed in Lennart's arms. Naughty. Naughty, but good!

Over the next weeks, while our wedding drew nearer, Gisele and I met at the health club regularly. She came with her own car, now that she felt comfortable driving. And we relaxed with each other. Somehow, things never went as far again as on that first occasion, either we were not alone or we were not in that special mood. But we horsed around in the cold water tank and in the indoor pool that was reserved for the sauna visitors. We hugged each other often, even when naked, and we felt comfortable together. When we talked, a lot of things came to light, on both sides. Gisele had suffered terribly from the desertion of her father. Having no father, she had also been taunted by other students at school. All this together explained her striving personality, he urge to excel.

And then, I finally realised how a beautiful twenty-three year-old could love a forty-six year old man. We were sitting on the recliners again after finishing with the sweat sessions for the evening, and Gisele related another story from her youth.

"I had these two friends, Gabriella and Simone, and we were together all through high school. Simone, she had this gorgeous father. I remember how I had my first orgasm thinking of him. He was only in his mid-thirties, and he looked good! Simone's mother looked great, too, and I always thought how lucky they were. But when I visited them more often, I noticed how he rarely was at home. And when he was, he was reading the paper or watching the TV. And when he noticed Simone, he would always touch her butt, and I could tell that she hated it. Later, her mother and he got a divorce, that was a huge scandal. We heard that he cheated on her mother all the time. We could not meet at Simone's place anymore, so we met at Gabrielle's. Her father was really old, I mean, over sixty. And he was the kindest man I ever met. Always paying her mother compliments, helping her with the chores, making her and us laugh with his jokes. He was such a sweet man. And Gabrielle, she was the apple of his eye. She could have almost anything of him. And if he said no, he took time to explain his reasons. Sometimes, for no reason at all, he would ruffle her hair, and say, 'You are the light of my life.'. That's when I decided that I wanted to have a good man and a good father for a husband, not some handsome prince."

I remember holding my breath when I asked.

"And you think my father will be a good father?"

"We'll find out," she grinned, and dropped her voice. "I'm going off the pill in summer. I want a spring child."

"And your education?"

"We talked about it. Thomas will stay at home to care for the children. He says, he has nothing left to prove but that he can be a good father."

-------

We also had the coffee invitation at my mother's house, where she checked out Alicia. That went well. There wasn't anything my mother could do anyway. The way Ralf and Alicia clung together, my mother had two choices, accept Alicia or lose Ralf. But she managed to convey the impression that her approval mattered.

"Now that Stephanie is leaving my house, Ralf will have her apartment. No doubt we will see each other more often then?"

Alicia did not bat an eye. "Absolutely. We can have breakfast from time to time," she said sweetly, leaving my mother speechless for once.

-------

And then, the big day drew near. We had decided not to have a bachelor party. I mean, what's the big thing about getting stone cold drunk on the night before the Day of Your Life? And all the people throwing china for luck, and the friends outdoing each other with "original" practical jokes? Maybe that was fun for kids, but Lennart, I mean he's over 30, and he's had enough windows blowing in on him and shit like this when he was on assignments. No, not for us. All our friends would be invited to the reception after the wedding. None of my numerous parents had divulged any information on the whereabouts of the reception, and I had this nagging worry that there would be a few cases of cheap bubbly wine on the front steps of the City Hall.

"You'll see," was all I could get out of my mother.

Same for the after-wedding planning.

"We have arranged for something. Just have an overnight bag ready."

I suspected that they had rented a newly-wed suite in a fancy hotel, the Prehm, or the Four Seasons. Anyway, we had spent the night in Lennart's apartment. I had dressed in my new blue dress which I thought looked splendid on me, and Lennart wore a very nice single-breasted suit of black merino wool. Posing in front of the mirror, we decided that we looked a million. A taxi brought us to City Hall where we met our relatives and friends. There were over fifty people to witness our wedding in front of the magistrate who performed the ceremony with quick efficiency. That's the problem with civil ceremonies: there is hardly anything to watch for the guests. No sermon, no organ music, no cute flower girls. Lennart's witness was his long time photographer, Rory, an Irishman. I had asked an old school friend, but she bowed out a week before because her mother was diagnosed with cancer. I understood that she was not in the mood to celebrate with me. I had been embarrassed to ask Gisele to fill in, but she had just hugged me and said no problem. So they were standing on each side of us, and Rory stole glances at Gisele all the time. She had really done her best not to upstage me, her dress modest to the point of being bland, her hair in a simple pony tail, but that could not detract from the simple fact that she looked her usual gorgeous self.

Finally, we signed our names under the marriage certificate, and we exchanged our simple, gold wedding bands. Pretty unexciting. But then, Lennart kissed me, and he applied a liberal interpretation to the magistrate's permission to kiss the bride. There where whoops and whistles from our friends by the time he released me. We had to leave the room quickly, because the next couple was waiting, but in the anteroom, we received the congratulations by our families and friends. When all the hugs had been exchanged, everybody looked at Holger and my father, and they directed us out of the building. A photographer was ready when we stood of the grand stairs outside the City Hall, and then I saw the bus. A real, red, double-decker trolley bus.

We had to board the bus, and Lennart and I got to sit in the front seats of the upper deck. When all our friends were on board, the bus took off on a tour through the city, honking wildly. Of course, the people in the street waved good-humouredly, and we sat in front with silly grins pasted on our faces until my lips hurt. Champagne was passed around in the bus, and the party began. I don't know how long we drove, that bus was old and slow, but we were having a blast by the time it came to a stop in a residential area I did not know.

Holger and my father already directed our guests along a driveway to a red brick house. We were the last to leave the bus, and we were escorted along the driveway and to the door. The door was open, and we wanted to just go in, but my father put his hand on Lennart's arm.

"I suggest you carry the bride across the threshold."

We must have looked stupid. Then Lennart asked "Why?"

"Have a look at the letter box!" my father grinned and Holger slapped his shoulder.

On the letter box, there was a brass sign, engraved with 'Lennart & Stephanie Bader'. Looking up, I saw a huge red sash around the chimney, and I took a deep breath before I asked my father.

"Really?"

He nodded with a boyish grin.

Lennart still did not comprehend, but I pointed to the chimney and the coin finally dropped.

Our parents stood around us, grinning like Cheshire Cats. The surprise was complete, and we were floored. Lennart's father had joined Holger and my Papa, and together they yelled "Surprise!".

Raising his eyebrows, Lennart bent down and lifted me into his arms. A flash went off as he carried me through the door. "Upstairs, upstairs," our families chanted, and Lennart really carried me upstairs, and through an open door. There was a large bed, with white linen, and a huge flower bouquet on a dresser. Lennart's back was killing him by now, and he dumped me on the bed and jumped in behind me. The door to the bedroom filled with family, but Papa shushed them out.

"Just catch your breath for a few minutes. We'll call you when the party starts."

He closed the door from the outside, and we looked at each other.

"They bought a house for us?" Lennart asked incredulously.

"I should have known. He was so smug when he asked to organise the wedding."

"Your father?"

"Of course. But your father and Holger were in on this, too. You saw how proud they were. Oh my god, I can't believe this!"

"But this is a good bed," Lennart remarked. "I think I like it. Remind me to ask for directions to our house, though."

I giggled. "This is crazy."

"How long do you think they will leave us alone?" Lennart waggled his eyebrows in a fair Groucho Marx impression. Trust a man to think of sex two minutes after being presented with a prime piece of real estate.

"Oh no, you're not!"

"I am too!"

"You are crazy!"

"Yes."

He kissed me, real nice, and all my protests died unspoken. I was wearing garters, no panty hose, and my thong was not designed to protect my virginity. We made love, no, we fucked fully clothed on that bed. It was intense. I felt incredibly naughty, getting it good from my husband while our relatives and friends waited downstairs. It was a first for me, to get fucked on my back, with my legs up in the air and wearing four inch fuck-me heels. I held Lennart by his tie while I chewed off his lower lip, and he pumped me with long, measured strokes. He bottomed out in me, for the first time in months, and when he unloaded against my cervix, I could really feel it. This set me off, too, and I just hope that I did not scream too loud. I had not even needed to employ my little fantasies this time, and this made me happy in itself.

We cleaned as best we could. It was conspicuous, that my mother knocked approximately ten minutes after we had finished to tell us that the reception could start. I'm sure we had a sheepish expression on our faces, and I'm sure everybody in the room knew that I had just been fucked royally. Ralf approached us, looking really contrite.

"Steph, I'm so sorry. I should have told you about the closed circuit TV in the bedroom."

"The wha... ?"

The blood shot to my face and I wanted to die. Lennart put his arm around me, but I didn't dare to look up. But Ralf gently lifted my chin and grinned at me.

"Gotcha! April fool's day!"

I could probably plea it down to second degree manslaughter, with temporary insanity thrown in, I reasoned. I could go scot free if I killed the little twerp right now and played my cards right. Should I throttle him or dig my nails into his chest to rip his heart out?

The problem was, everyone was laughing, and there was no way but to join in on the laughter.

For the next three hours, we toured the living room and the big heated tent that had been erected on the terrace. We received and opened all the gifts, and Ralf helped us by taking photographs of gifts and cards. This would allow us to connect the presents to the people later. Around five o'clock, the bus left with the non-family guests. That was neat. The departure of the bus sort of made sure that the house was cleared. It also precluded anyone from driving under alcohol. Finally we were alone, and I hugged my parents once more to thank them for the wonderful wedding present. It turned out that everybody had made an input. I also asked where we were, and they laughed explaining the location. Well, it was exactly half ways between my mother's and my father's places, and a convenient 25 minute drive to the city. A commuter train station was around the corner, and I realised that this was prime property. Well, Lennart's father is a banker, and I suppose he chipped in, too.

We did a quick tour on foot through our new neighbourhood while a bunch of guys were busy in our garden, removing the tables and the big tent from the terrace. When we returned from the walk, they were gone, but the catering company had started to prepare the living room for the dinner. Therefore, we decided to tour the house. There were four rooms upstairs, and two bathrooms, one a little smaller than the other. Aside from our bedroom, there was no furniture in those rooms. We decided to have two home offices and a guest room, and my father showed us the LAN outlets in each room for the high speed internet that was installed already.

When we toured the basement, Gisele took the lead. There was a small laundry room, a storage room with a huge freezer combination and shelves, and the boiler room. Then, with a flourish, Gisele showed us the remainder of the basement. There was our very own, private health club. One room held a Stair Master and a spinning bicycle, there was a shower stall, and there was a room that held a jacuzzi, perhaps seven feet in diameter, and a separate cubicle in the corner. When I looked inside I saw it was a Roman steam bath for perhaps four persons. The whole room was freshly tiled, and there was a floor drain. I had my very own private spa! I was speechless.

Gisele grinned at me smugly.

"Knowing that you take so much pleasure in having a steam bath, I talked Thomas into having one installed here."

I was the only one to catch the real meaning of 'pleasure'. Lennart grinned at me, but I suspected he simply envisioned having his way with my slippery body in the steam room. I gave Gisele an industrial strength hug.

"But you have to promise to come and use it with me," I said innocently. "Without you, it's only half the fun."

"I was hoping you'd say that!" She wasn't easily daunted. "Here, this is from me."

She pointed at a pile of big towels, three each of five different colours and five matching unisex bathrobes.

"I got you something you can use down here or wherever you want," Ralf said, pointing at a shelf on the opposite wall. It was an Altec Lansing sound system for my iPod! This was really nice! Sitting here, between sweat sessions, and listening to music, that was a nice touch.

Then Holger piped in. "The lighting in this room can be switched. You have the neon lighting for like cleaning the room, and we have indirect illumination with changing colours, for relaxation."

"You guys are spoiling us rotten!" I exclaimed.

"Wait until you get your first electricity and water bills!" Papa laughed. "Oh, another thing. We had a solar heating system installed on the southern roof, and the steam bath is driven by the natural gas heating system. That should cut down the costs."

I could only shake my head in amazement.

The dinner was nice. I could not remember the last time I had had dinner with a table full of people I really cared for. Lennart's parents were a little bit lost among us, as they were at least ten years older than the rest, and a little on the stuffy side. They left around nine o'clock. I had seen the looks of my mother in law when she watched Gisele, and I had a very good idea what she was thinking. Lennart's father had also watched Gisele, Alicia too, for that matter, but there had been no disapproval at all. Well, they were not likely to see each other all that often.

My side of the family left around ten thirty. Two taxis drove up, but Ralf and Alicia went with my mother and Holger. Ralf had taken possession of my apartment the last week, and I suspected Alicia would have her first breakfast with my mother.

Gisele was the last to leave, she had obviously been to the bathroom once more. She hugged me one last time and whispered in my ear.

"The steam bath is running, and the jacuzzi is preheated. You two have fun!"

Then she gave Lennart a full kiss and ran along the driveway, her whole body exuding sensuality.

"What a girl!" Lennart shook his head. "Your father is one lucky guy. But so am I," he added, turning to me.

"Nice save," I laughed. "Come on, husband of mine, lose that suit. I want to have hot sweaty sex with you."

He raised his eyebrows. "Hot and sweaty?"

We closed and locked the door and almost ran down into the basement. Lennart brought along a fresh bottle of champagne and two glasses, and I had a plate of cheese. In a flash, we were both naked and showered before we entered the steam room. The room was really comfortable. The benches were tiled and formed a U, with the two sides being extra wide. In the centre, a little water fountain improved the climate. We settled on one bench. He sat, and I lay on my back, with my head in his lap. It took five or six minutes, but then we developed a nice sweat. At this point, I was also squirming on Lennart's lap, because his right hand was all over my body, massaging my tits, pinching and pulling my nipples, and diving between my legs. I could also feel his dick against the back of my head, and I giggled.

"What?" he grinned.

"It feels like you plan to literally fuck my brains out."

"If my mother could hear you, she would disapprove."

"Oh my, yes. She was very disapproving of poor Gisele."

"So this steam bath was Gisele's idea?"

"Yes," I answered. "Maybe she just wants the benefit of a private steam bath without having to clean it herself."

I could feel added pressure at the back of my head.

"You two must look gorgeous together. I often wished to be a fly on the wall when you go to the spa together."

"Oh yes, you should see her when the droplets of sweat collect at those nipples of hers," I teased him further. "She has these stunning tits, you know."

His hands roamed my own tits, while his dick desperately tried to drill a hole in my skull. I decided to take matters into my hands, or rather mouth. I turned onto my side and opened my mouth to engulf his long and straight penis. It tasted salty, from the sweat, but that was gone in a few seconds. While I went to town on his dick, Lennart's hands caressed my back and my buttocks.

"Gisele may have fabulous tits, but yours is the most beautiful backside I've ever seen."

My "Mmpf" probably sounded appreciative, because his hand kneaded my buttocks and delved into the crevice between them. I moaned against his cock in my mouth when his finger brushed over my anus.

"This feels good," he whispered mischievously and let his fingernail graze over my puckered opening. I must have gone berserk on his cock for he made the connection and started to play with my asshole, tickling it, scratching lightly, pressing against the opening with his fingertip. I squirmed on the wet, tiled bench, his cock in my mouth, while he wormed his middle finger into my tight opening. Letting go of his cock, I moaned deeply.

"You like that?" he whispered gently, using his left hand to caress my face.

"Don't stop," I hissed. My own left hand was buried between my legs already, working furiously on my clit, while my right hand continued to stroke his cock. Talk about multi tasking!

His finger began to pump my little butthole in earnest, while I frigged my pussy and pumped his shaft. When he had me loose, he added a second finger, and I lost it. I screamed. God, we were lucky to have our own house. In an apartment or in my mothers house, somebody would have already pounded on the door and demanded an explanation. But here, I could scream my lust, and only my lover could hear me. I looked up, glassy-eyed. There was a question in his eyes as he looked down at me, and I nodded.

"Can you try and fuck my arse, darling?" I asked, still a little breathless, and I felt his dick twitch in my hand.

"Really?"

"Absolutely! It's the only virginal opening I can offer you in our wedding night."

This made him chuckle.

"How?" he asked.

I had already thought about it. I stood up and laid on my stomach on the opposite bench and arched my butt up invitingly. Lennart moved over and on top of me. I could feel the tip of his penis at my opening, no longer tight, but half open and tingly, and I felt the pressure that forced the ring muscle wider open. The sensation was weird. There was some discomfort to be sure, but the was this feeling of absolute connection. I never before felt so penetrated. When he was fully seated in my rear, his pelvis against my buttocks, he began to fuck me, lightly first, but soon with more vigour. The friction was unbelievable. I felt like he turned me inside out whenever he withdrew. And then, fullness, when he fully penetrated me. His pace picked up, no doubt spurred by the intensity of our coupling. He sobbed uncontrollably when he finally pressed himself inside me as deep as he could and I could feel the pulsing of his cock deep inside. I was shocked by my own scream when I came like a freight train.

Then, there was nothing but this incredible feeling of closeness as he lay on top of me, his shrinking dick in my pulsing asshole.

"Are you still alive?" I whispered.

"Yes, barely, but I will need a hearing aid," he chuckled. God I loved that. His chuckle caused his dick to move in my sensitive opening. "You are one incredible, sexy woman, Stephanie. I love you."

"I bet you say that to every girl who lets you fuck her bum."

After we disentangled from each other, we took a shower to clean up, and he lovingly washed my backside. Then we hopped into the jacuzzi and floated in the hot water. We nearly fell asleep, and it was sheer willpower that let us get out of the water, switch off the heating systems, and tumble upstairs to fall into our bed. What a way to get married!



-------

Book 3 - Gisele

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Chapter 5


My thanks to Knight Ranger for a critical reading and advice on all things Brazilian.

The third trimester at the law school was beginning, after just one week of free time. They really put us through our paces, and of the 100 students who had started the first trimester, only 87 were still with us. Another ten to fifteen were expected to quit after the third trimester if rumours were to be believed, but not me. It was tough, yes, but I could do it. It was easier, now that I was used to learning again, and the lecturers and professors were an enthusiastic bunch themselves.

Things had become easier for me when I finally felt secure enough to drive to school myself. I had opted for a small french car, a Peugeot 206, figuring that I did not need anything bigger. Trust my husband to get me something simple. Of course, he had bought me the convertible version of the 206, the 206CC. And I loved it, especially now that the temperatures were finally rising after a long, cold, and nasty winter. Can you imagine how a girl from the beaches of Brazil feels in a Northern German winter?

But not today, and I had the roof folded back while I drove leisurely through the evening traffic on the Autobahn. It was a twenty-five minute drive when everything went fine, but normally it took me thirty-five to forty minutes. Today was no difference, but I did not mind. The sun was shining on my head, and for once I felt like at home. The final meters in the village were slow work because of the parked cars in the main street, and it was close to seven when I stopped my car in the driveway.

I could smell the charcoal right away and my mouth watered. I did not bother with the entrance and went into the garden right away. Thomas and Alicia were sitting in recliners on the terrace while Ralf busied himself at the masonry barbecue. They heard the gate close, and Thomas jumped from his chair and opened his arms for me. I guess this was another advantage I had over the other students. I was - am - secure in my marriage with Thomas. I don't have to spend time on weekends, trying to find the ever elusive Prince Charming, or fretting over why soandso does not call me back. I'm married, period. I come home to good food and a loving embrace. Basically, I'm a happy person now.

You already know that things were quite different up to ten months ago. But the wounds had healed quickly, and all I felt these days was some background noise of mourning for my poor mother. Senhor Morales had promised us to contact us in case anything turned up with regard to the murder, but so far, there had been no real leads.

We had barbecued pork chops for dinner, with a tomato salad and baguette bread. Alicia and I had kicked our Coke habit (Coca Cola, of course), we had mineral water, and the men had beer. Well, Thomas did not have his beer to himself, because I took sips from it, too, and Ralf was suffering the same fate.

After dinner and cleaning up, Ralf and Alicia did a little disappearing act. Thankfully, Alicia was on the pill now, and I did not have to worry that much. They even used condoms on top of the pill during those extra dangerous days if Alicia was to be believed. Thomas and I sat on the sofa, cuddled up, and he was nibbling away on my ear. He was in an amorous mood, and I knew I was in to some serious lovemaking later. No complaints from this girl! He could read me so well, he always seemed to sense my moods and change his approach accordingly. For instance, he knew when I was keyed up because of some assignment the next day, and he would just hold me in his arms and let me sleep. But tomorrow was a Saturday, and there was nothing to do but a bit of shopping for groceries. We were invited at Stephanie's for dinner, and Ralf and Alicia would go to his mother's, I knew. No duties.

When we relocated to our bedroom, I could hear my dear sister in the throes of passion through the closed door, and I decided I wanted some of the same. And Thomas obliged. We had long since discovered the joys of mutual oral lovemaking, and Thomas had become a diligent practitioner of that art, as well as an appreciative recipient of my own efforts. But we always ended up with him inside me. I just love it when his thick penis begins to jerk inside my pussy. I know it's imagination, but I always feel his semen splash into me, and that gives me the really big thrill. Tonight was no exception, except that Thomas tongue and finger had already brought me over the edge once, before he entered me from behind, doggy style.

Steph and I, we sometimes compare notes, sort of, and we discovered that we both love penetration from behind. Well, you already know that Steph puts an even more radical interpretation on the behind thing; we tried that, too, but it's not really our thing. The feeling is intense, but the necessary preparations make it so un-spontaneous. So anyway, we had ourselves a nice doggy-style, rocking, leisurely pussy fuck, and I ended up rearing up against him, and he held my breasts and rubbed them. This was very intense, because his penis rubbed against my sensitive spot inside, and when he shot his load, I howled.

Afterwards, we settled into our usual, post-coital position, with me lying on top of my man, my head on his chest, and my legs straddling one of his thighs, coating it with our combined juices. He even shaves his thighs now, because the caked in juices were so hard to wash out of his hairs the next morning. It doesn't matter, because he has taken up cycling to keep in shape, and bicyclists apparently shave their legs for health reasons. Sometime, during the night, I scooted off his chest, but we were still in a tight embrace when we woke up.

Breakfast was ready when we woke up, courtesy of my little sister. It was really nice to have Alicia with us, and I almost dread the day when she and Ralf will shack up permanently. I know I should not take things for granted, but I cannot imagine them to fall out. Alicia knows a good thing when she sees it, and as for Ralf, I mean, my sister is one good looking girl, and she treats him well. He's not stupid either.

After breakfast, I went to the study and woke up my laptop to check my e-mail. I sighed because there was another message from Morales. Probably his usual monthly "Nothing new" message. But there were several attachments, and my interest became piqued. I quickly scanned the rest of the inbox and then opened Morales' mail.



"Dear Senhora Bergmann,

I have news for your, but I am afraid some of it will cause you great distress. Let me state first that nothing of the facts as I will relate them to you will have any effect on my esteem for you.

The murderers of your dear mother and our good Senhor Morenho have been apprehended. That is the good news, and not only that, but the instigator of the murders was also discovered. Yes, it was a planned murder, ordered by a businessman from Sao Paulo by the name of Sergio Palos. You probably do not know that name, but the murder was committed out of revenge against your mother, and our poor Senhor Morenho was merely in harms way.

The investigation began in earnest when the DNA samples taken from your mother's body matched up with a new case of rape committed on a prostitute in Sao Paulo. The prostitute knew the name of her attacker, and the police took him into custody. After two days, he confessed and implicated another man and the instigator, the aforementioned Senhor Palos. Palos has actually admitted to the crime, and his explanation sheds some light on your and your mother's past that you may not be aware of.

You were born the daughter of Philippe Cuzmao, an accountant in the company owned by Senhor Palos. Your mother was pregnant with your sister when your father was fired for some reason, and he apparently teamed up with two criminals to exact a revenge on his former boss. They kidnapped the sixteen year old daughter of Senhor Palos for ransom, and while your father conducted the ransom negotiations, the two thugs obviously raped the girl repeatedly. When your father returned to the hideout, he discovered this, and in the course of the following argument and fight, he shot both men dead. The problem was that one of the men had torn off his mask, and the girl knew him. In his panic, he shot her dead, too. The police were already on his trail, since they checked all disgruntled employees, and he was discovered. He confessed and was sentenced to prison for life, two months before your sister was born.

Your mother was also investigated, but found innocent. Nevertheless, the father of the dead girl threatened her, and she moved to Ubatuba where she found employment in our firm. Unfortunately, the business of Senhor Morenho brought them in contact with Senhor Palos, and he recognised your mother. He ordered them held up and killed on their way home from Sao Paulo.

As for your father, he was murdered by another inmate five years ago, and after several attempts on his life failed; and we suspect the hand of Palos in this as well.

The trial against Senhor Palos will be held in three months, and I ask you to tell us whether you want to file for monetary damages and distress against the man. He is rather wealthy, and I know that Senhora Morenho will start a litigation soon.

I am aware that these news must cause you great distress. Nevertheless, I thought it necessary to inform you on all the aspects since they will inevitably come to light in the trial. In the attachments, you can find old newspaper articles and the court documents that exonerate your mother.

Yours very sincerely

Raoul Morales.



I sat for a while, my eyes burning. My mother had been raped and killed as revenge for the crime committed by my own father. He had not left us; he was sent to prison and was killed there. That's why she never spoke about the circumstances of my father's disappearance. I am the daughter of a kidnapper and murderer, and she wanted to keep that load off my mind.

I don't know why I thought of this in this moment, but suddenly another incident in my younger life became explainable. Apart from my friends, Simone and Gabrielle, I had briefly had another girlfriend in high school. She was a certified prinçesa, but other than the rest of them, she was always friendly to me.

It happened when we were facing a tough calculus test. I saw her in the common room, bent over the books, and she was near tears. I asked her what was wrong and she told me that she just did not understand the assignments. She was not stupid, not by any standard, but calculus had always been her weak spot, I knew, and she was about to fail. I am no math genius either, but with hard work, I always got by. I offered to help her, and I remember her grateful look. She really passed the test, although barely, and we became friends. She invited me to their house, a big one on the beach, and we talked and played in her room. We also used their pool because she was not allowed to go to the beach for fear of kidnappings. All the rich girls, the prinçesas, were not allowed on the beach unless accompanied by security guys.

Stella Riveiro and I became very close in a few weeks. She was terribly lonely, as an only child, and there was no chance for her to meet girls outside the social circles of her parents, and she was afraid of the other prinçesas. Stella was the first person I ever kissed. I adored her. She was taller than me, with long legs and a natural blonde. I ascertained that fact when our experimental lovemaking went beyond kissing. For a few weeks, I spent almost every afternoon in her house. I never saw her parents, but there were always one or more bodyguards around.

One day, I was sunning at the pool with Stella, one of the security guys came down and asked me for my name and address, claiming he wanted to call my mother to get instructions on how to get me home, or some such. In my innocence I gave him all the information. Three days later, Stella dragged me in the school bathroom in the first break. She was in tears and hardly made any sense.

Apparently, her parents had called her to the living room the evening before and they forbade her any further contact with me. No explanations, just "Don't ever meet that girl again.".

A day later, my mother came home from work and she was very upset, I could tell. Her hands were unsteady and her dark eyes burned.

"Gisele, I am sorry. You are not allowed to visit the Riveiro's house anymore. And you must not approach their daughter. There is a restraining order in place against you. Do you know what that is?"

I nodded, still trying to digest what my mother said.

"Don't get near the girl, or we will be in big trouble. Understand? They even involved the school; you will be seated away from her."

"But why, we are friends?" I whined, but my mother claimed ignorance.

All this became clear to me now. The security firm had found out that my father had been a kidnapper and murderer, and the parents obviously believed that being a kidnapper is hereditary. We never spoke again, although she always looked at me from across the classroom with a friendly, apologetic smile. When I went to college, she was sent to Switzerland for her further education, and I never met her again.

What a mess! This was something I had to come to grips with. I also needed to tell Alicia, something that I dreaded. This would not be easy. I had to tell Thomas, too. He would have to re-evaluate his feelings for me. A terrible fear gripped me. What if he wanted me to leave? I was the offspring of a murderer. Perhaps he would be afraid of having me around?

You think I was crazy? Try to imagine that yourfather turns out to be a killer. Believe me, this will not work wonders for your self esteem.

I heard Thomas' voice on the terrace, and I decided to face the music. He'd find out some day anyway. At least, I did not want to be dishonest with him.

He knew immediately that something was seriously wrong when I asked him to come in and sit down opposite me. He just ignored my request and sat on my left side, putting his arm around my shoulder.

"What's up, darling?" he asked. And I told him. About the e-mail, about the attachments with the newspaper articles, about who my father had been. I searched his face for clues while I told him, and I could see nothing but sympathy. When I finished, he simply pulled my head to his chest and kissed my head.

"My poor darling! This must have been quite a shock for you. Should we call off the dinner with Stephanie and just cuddle?"

I could not answer, my emotions were just too strong. I just buried my face in his chest and let my tear ducts flush out my hurt. I cried over my poor mother. Brutally abused and killed over something that had happened almost twenty years ago, and in which she had no part at all. What a senseless suffering and death!

"What happened? Gisele, what is the matter?"

Alicia was standing in the doorway, a concerned look on her face. I looked up, but I needed to blow my nose before I could answer. I led her over to the computer and showed her the e-mail. She read the mail and the attachments, and I stood behind her, holding her shoulder while Thomas held mine. But Alicia's reaction surprised me.

"The rotten swine!" she fumed in Portuguese. Then she turned, with a rage in her eyes that I had never seen. "I thought I could not hate him any more, but I was wrong. He's dead, right? For if he's not, I swear to God, I'll kill the bastard myself. He fucked up our entire lives, mama's, yours, mine. All those years of living as outcasts. Think of how mama must have felt! I can't believe how he could kill a girl! How could he do that, the low down, murderous swine? Madonna! I am bearing his name! The thought makes me sick."

"We can't escape who we are, Alicia,"

"Easy for you so say, you are Mrs. Bergmann now. I'm the one stuck with a murderer's name." She breathed deeply. "I need to tell Ralf."

And she did. Ralf was a bit more awkward than his father in his response, but he ended up holding Alicia in his arms just the same. And then he said something incredibly sweet to her.

"If you hate your name that much, and you want to change to Mrs. Bergmann, too, just let me know. I'm still a few years away from earning money, but somehow we'll work things out."

Alicia was stunned first, but then she kissed him.

"Anytime, Ralf. Just let me know a few hours ahead so I can change into a nice dress."

This is how my sister and Ralf became engaged. Three days later I noticed a ring on her finger. It wasn't the largest diamond, but Ralf had obviously broken his piggy bank to buy it. I also noticed that Alicia walked gingerly for a day or two, and my guess is that they had celebrated their engagement with a lot of commitment.

Over the next days we discussed whether we should sue Palos for damages. Senhor Morales sent us some information on what we could expect, but in the end, Thomas prevailed with his assessment that it would not be worth the aggravation. The trial would attract a lot of public interest, and as soon as my name would appear as plaintiff, then my video would resurface. We agreed however, that we would watch the trial incognito.

That was another thing, the video, the VIDEO. I owned it now. Using a part of the settlement money from the newspaper in Ubatuba, I had purchased the rights to the movie from the producer. For 15,000 dollars. The producer had removed the movie from his web site and notified all referring web sites that further showing of the short clips from it would be a copyright violation. He also hinted that they should not be shown anymore for "legal reasons". I guess most sites interpreted that as a hint that I was underage. Thomas and I googled for the clips, and after a month the links turned up broken, mostly. After two months, the searches led nowhere. No, I did not want to spur any renewed interest in my person.

In spite of the wonderful support Alicia and I had from our men, we both went to a few therapy sessions. The therapist Thomas recommended was the same one he had gone to when he had gone crazy over me. When I told her about Thomas and me, she just shook her head in amazement over the fact that he not only found me but that we were happily married. I was amazed how much it helped me to speak about the ghosts of my past with a trained listener. The most amazing thing was how she turned my attitude. Instead of feeling ashamed of my past, she hammered into me, I should be proud to have made it anyway. She was good. With her help, I came to the comforting conclusion that for me to make my way against the odds was an achievement I could be proud of.

Alicia also profited from the sessions in that her anger against our father was directed against him and him only. "Think of him as a sperm donor," she told Alicia. "He never was part of your life, he never was your father. You must see him detached from your own personality. You are a different person, he is not part of you."

Over all this, my first year drew to an end. I did manage to end up in the top 25 percentile of my class, and my scholarship was renewed for the next year. Although Thomas could have easily afforded the tuition, I was very happy about this, like I was really contributing. And I relished the pride on my husband's face when I told him.

The trial would start in July, and we had booked a flight for four, but at the last moment, Thomas had to bow out. He had to fill in in his capacity as Vice-Chairman of some software developer association at a big IT show, the Chairman having suffered a coronary. He would join us ten days later, he promised. In his stead, Stephanie offered to come and lend me moral support and legal advice. She professed that she was interested in the legal proceedings herself, and offered to act on our behalf should the need arise. I was happy, because with Alicia and Ralf, I would be a fifth wheel.

Steph and I had really become close, sometimes very close. When I had told her about my father, I had been worried about her response. But she surprised me. Not that I expected anything bad from her anymore. But she asked me to stand up, we were lying in the recliners in her basement spa after a thorough sweating, and she hugged me and for the first time kissed me on the mouth. A real, long, steaming kiss. Before that, I had always been the one to grab the initiative, and she had been passive. But that evening, she made me lie down, and then she kissed me and caressed me all over my body. She even kissed my pussy. I was so surprised that it took me a few minutes to enjoy it. But it was incredibly sweet, the way she assured me of her affection for me.

Not that I consider myself a lesbian. But I have this thing about tall, leggy blondes. I cannot help it, her slender body has me going. And I am always impressed by the unselfconscious way she carries herself when she is naked. And we really are into each other personally. We even joked about what we would do to our men afterwards. I really ended up fucking Thomas' brains out that night.

Anyway, the four of us flew to Sao Paulo where the trial would be held. Ralf had booked hotel rooms over the internet, and we booked into our two rooms. Of course, Ralf and Alicia were sleeping together, while Steph and I had the second room. After calling Thomas, we went to sleep.

The next day, we met with Senhor Morales, and he warned us up front that the trial would be brief and with the lowest profile possible. Palos has two brothers who are prominent politicians, he had admitted to the crime of solicitation of murder, and he would accept the life sentence. It was very clear that big money was involved. The two men who had committed the rape and the murders had already been tried and sentenced to imprisonment for life, plus 15 years, for the rape. They were serving their time already, but they would not appear before the court because the defendant would plead guilty to the charges.

I was both disappointed and relieved at this news. Disappointed, because the killing of my mother was dealt with in this efficient, bureaucratic way. No impassioned arguments, no catharsis. On the other hand, I would profit immensely from the low profile of the trial.

Then Morales dropped the bomb. The Palos family wished to settle the whole affair quietly, and they offered an out of court settlement for Senhor Morenho's family and for us. Knowing that we had been reluctant to sue mostly for fear of publicity, Senhor Morales had negotiated on our behalf anyway, and he could offer us a settlement of 500,000 Real, to be split two ways between Senhora Morenho and us. He explained to us that this was a package deal. All parties had to agree, meaning that if we refused the money, then the Morenhos would also have to wait for a trial. Morales then intimidated that the Morenhos needed the money. Well, I added privately, and the good Senhor Morales wants his cut, too. But he had really helped us a lot over the last year, and I decided to let him have his cut. I was not sure what to do with the money, though. It was blood money, as far as I was concerned. I told him that I would not commit myself on a moment's notice, but that I would give him the answer by the end of the trial.

Over lunch, I filled in Stephanie and Ralf, and we discussed what to do. Stephanie surprised me.

"You are reluctant to take his money, because you don't want to profit from your mother's death. I can understand that, it's blood money, after all. But if they offer money, it is an admission of guilt, and it says that your mother was an innocent victim. I would say, take the money and give it to charity. Or set up a scholarship for poor students in your mother's name."

What I did next, startled both Alicia and Ralf. I jumped up from my chair, toppling it over, and leaned over to kiss Steph full on the mouth. Everybody stared at us, but I did not care.

"Steph, you are the best! The Eva Cuzmao Scholarship Programme!"

Stephanie was wrenched from my grip, and Alicia kissed her too.

"That is the most fantastic idea, Stephanie. I could never take their money. But this will be in Mama's spirit. Let's do it!"

We looked at Ralf.

"What do you say, Ralf?" Alicia asked. "We could also set ourselves up with that money."

He really thought about it for a moment, so long that I saw a shadow creep over Alicia's features. Then he shook his head emphatically.

"I just tried to see us in a house purchased with this money, and it looked wrong. Let them bleed money, but show them that your pride is not for sale. I'm all for it."

He was rewarded by Alicia with a scorching kiss.

"It's settled then. I'll tell Morales tomorrow. He can handle the trust fund. After the trial, we'll set it up. And then, Stephanie and Ralf, we will show you the correct meaning of 'beach'."

Two days later, the trial started. On the first day, the State Attorney delivered the charge. It took him over an hour to establish the sequence of events and the people involved. The charge was "murder out of ulterior motives".

After the lunch break, the judge asked the defence for the plea. For the first time, I could see Palos. He was a wreck of a man, emaciated, bent, and clearly sick. There was a priest at the defence table who quickly spoke to him as he stood to answer.

"Guilty as charged, Excellency."

His voice was weak but clear.

"May I read a statement, to clarify things and save time and suffering for those involved?"

"You may," the judge answered. Obviously, this had been agreed upon.

"Eighteen years ago, my daughter Theresa was abducted, violated and killed. She was my only child and my life ended then. The man responsible for this deed was apprehended and duly sentenced to prison for life. To me, it was unfair that he should live while my innocent daughter was dead. For years I paid men to have the murderer killed in prison. They tried, time and again, and he suffered greatly from his wounds, but somehow survived each attempt. My revenge was not complete until five years ago, when he was finally stabbed to death. I thought I would feel relief at his death, but the memory of my dead daughter still haunted me. I know now that I had been in the clutch of evil, I was obsessed with the thought of revenge. Then, one day, this lawyer shows up with a secretary. She introduced herself to me, a good looking woman, and a mother of two daughters, she told me. She was proud of her daughters, but when she told me her name, it was the name of the man who had murdered my Theresa. She had been his wife, and her daughters were the daughters of this man. All I could think of was that she should suffer like my daughter. I called two men I knew, criminals, and I told them in which car and when they would drive back to Ubatuba. I told them to do the same on her as what had happened to my Theresa."

He paused briefly.

"I also told them to take the car and drive to Ubatuba, to find the daughters and do the same to them."

My mouth became dry, and I looked at Alicia.

"My men did what I told them, and then they went to look for the daughters. But when they arrived, there was a police car in front of the building where they lived, and my men decided to try it again the next day. But the next evening, there was a security guard in front of the building, and I called them off for the time being. There would be another opportunity later, I reasoned. But when we tried for them again, they were gone. A man had come and taken them away, I was told. We tried again at the funeral, but there was security again. Instead, I stayed to watch from a distance. And the young priest described her as a devoted mother, who had led an honest life, and when he condemned the murder, I suddenly realised what I had become."

His voice was a mere whisper now, but the court room was so silent that every word could be heard.

"I paid and dismissed the two assassins, and told them to leave the state, and to leave the two daughters alone. Then I drove home where I remained until the police came for me six months later."

He ended and sat. The judge scribbled a few things, and looked up.

"Does the accused understand that he admitted to the conspiracy to commit murder in three cases, and to the crime of rape in two cases?"

Palos stood again.

"I fully understand this."

"Then this court is adjourned until tomorrow, nine o'clock."

The gavel banged, and the spectators filed out of the room. We still sat rooted to the chairs. Had we not called the police when Mama did not return, or had these thugs been faster, they would have raped and killed both Alicia and me. And but for the hordes of curious people, Morales would have never posted that security guard who unwittingly saved our lives yet again. Thomas whisking us away was a direct result of Senhora Morenho's indiscretion, saving us a third time. I could not believe how lucky we had been.

Alicia was pale as a ghost and leaning on Ralf, while I felt the reassuring pressure of Stephanie's hand on my own. They had not understood Palos, of course, and while we left the court house, I quickly translated his statement.

We had a very subdued dinner, after which I called Thomas. He wanted to come right away, and to hell with the trade show, but I convinced him that the trial would be over before he could find a flight. When we went upstairs to our rooms in the hotel, Alicia spoke the first real sentence of the whole evening.

"Ralf, Stephanie, I would ask a favour of you. Could we switch arrangements for just this night? I need to be with Gisele. Please?"

They nodded solemnly, and Alicia came to my room that night, and we slept in each other's arms for the first time in almost ten years. And before any of you dirty men get any funny ideas, sex was really not on our minds.

We woke up early the next morning. Alicia was still in my arms, but before I could disengage myself, she held my hand.

"Gisele, you are the best sister I could wish for. I love you with all my heart. I wanted to tell you that for quite some time."

"And you are the apple of my eye. I may want to choke you sometimes, but I love you too."

Alicia nodded.

"Let us go and see this madman sentenced."

We went early to get seats in the court room. We sat in the back row, but when Palos was led into the room, his eye caught us. I stared back at him with all the accusation I could convey. He blushed and looked away. Then he tried again, but he did not look at me. He must have sought Alicia's eyes, but what he saw made him cover his face with his manacled hands. I looked sideways and I could see the intense, blazing hatred in Alicia's eyes. She really scared me in this moment, and I took her hand, fearing that she might disrupt the order or the court room. She looked at me, and the hatred left her eyes.

"Don't ever allow me to get near this man," she whispered.

"He is not worth it, Alicia. You have a wonderful life ahead of you, and he has been dead for over 18 years already. You would do him a favour, killing him."

Alicia nodded and gripped Ralf's hand, taking a few controlled breaths

"You're right, big sister. I must not let him drag me down, too."

Then the judge came in, and we all stood until he sat down. He shuffled with his papers and put on reading glasses. Then he cleared his throat.

"This is the Tribunal of Justice of the State of Sao Paulo in session. In the matter of the State vs. Sergio Palos, we find the accused guilty of three counts of conspiracy to commit murder, two counts of rape, and two counts of attempted murder. The mental health of the accused has been verified and is not contested by the defence.

For the murder on Phillipe Cuzmao, we have taken into account the suffering the murder victim inflicted on the accused. On this count, we sentence you, Sergio Palos, to five years of imprisonment.

In the other two counts of murder, and in the count of rape, we cannot find any grounds for clemency. Enrico Morenho's murder cannot be justified even by the thirst for revenge that the accused claimed. Eva Cuzmao, the widow of Philippe Cuzmao, had nothing to do with the abduction and murder of your daughter. She was a victim of that crime herself, forced to rear her two daughters all by herself, forced to bear the shame of what her husband had done. It was known to the accused that Eva Cuzmao was innocent, yet he had her subjected to brutal abuse before she was killed without mercy. The sufferings of these innocent victims must reflect in the punishment. For each of the murders of Enrico Morenho and Eva Cuzmao, you are sentenced to life in prison. For the rape you instigated, you are sentenced to 15 years imprisonment. For the conspiracy to murder the daughters of Eva Cuzmao, we sentence you to five years imprisonment. The sentences will be served consecutively.

In the Name of the People of Sao Paulo."

The gavel banged, and the judge rose. Palos was led from the court room in handcuffs, and the press people tumbled over each other in their haste to get statements from the parties. Felicia Morenho stood outside, a microphone stuck in her face, and gave a brief statement.

"I am glad that this ordeal is over. Justice has been served, and I hope that my family and Eva Cuzmao's family can find peace now."

We tried to make our way out of the building, but Stephanie's hair almost blew our cover. She stuck out like a sore thumb and one of the reporters asked her what her business was. She pushed me away and have me a wink, and we deserted her to hail a cab. A minute later, she ran down the stairs of the building, and Ralf gave her a sign. She jumped into the taxi, and we drove off.

"That was close," she grinned.

"What did you say?" I asked curiously.

"I put on my best British English and informed the reporter that I watched the trial as representative for the family of one of the victims who live abroad. They asked me whether you lived in the UK and I said I was not authorised to answer that. I hope they bought it."

I called Thomas right away. He asked me how I felt, but I did not know that myself. This was something I had to sleep over at least one night. I also told him to meet us in Ubatuba and he said he was looking forward to go to Itamambuca with me.

Then I called Joao to ask whether he could pick us up. Of course, he could. Three hours later, we had checked out of the hotel, and we were on our way. The coastal road is really very nice, something I had never realised. It's only when you have left your home that you realise its beauty. Ralf and Steph gushed over the scenery all the time, and Joao told us what had happened in Ubatuba the last year.

We checked into the Agua Doce in the late afternoon, and we went to swim before dinner. As I had expected, Stephanie caused a riot. You'd think she was a movie star, the way the beach filled with men. I grinned at her, and she grinned back knowingly. Even Ralf caught some looks from my countrywomen who received venomous stares from Alicia for their troubles.

"Wow," Steph laughed when we were back in our room. "I know you told me, but this was crazy."

I looked at her modest bikini and grinned.

"Just wait until we get you a real bikini."

That evening, Ralf and Alicia were reunited. Their room was next to ours, and from what we heard Alicia tried her best to make up for the night before. It's definitely weird to hear your little sister getting fucked. Steph and I looked at each other and laughed, Being away from Sao Paulo had also lifted the cloud I had been under for the last days. This was my home, these were my beaches, and for the next three weeks I wanted to enjoy them. And for the next three days, until Thomas arrived, I also wanted to enjoy my long-legged companion.

By mutual agreement, we had switched off the AC and opened the windows. We were up on the fourth floor, in a room without balcony. A balcony is a standing invitation for hotel burglars. The cool evening breeze filled our room, and we just shed our dresses and panties and lay on the cool sheets. Our hands touched, and we smiled at each other.

"Care for a little spooning?" Steph asked, turning her back to me.

I scooted over to her and hugged her from behind. Her nipples were hard to my touch when I let my hands roam over her body. We had never done this in a bed, but it felt good. Her skin was cool, and I felt my own nipples rising in response to the sensuous touch. She snuggled her cute butt against me and sighed contentedly. This was good. I let my thoughts wander, while I enjoyed the contact of Stephanie. I think it was natural that I would think about the other blonde girl in my life, Stella Riveiro, my high school flame. Whatever had happened to her, I asked myself, and suddenly, I felt the need to see her again. I realised how much I still hurt from being banned from seeing her. I was in town anyway, maybe she still lived here.

The next morning, I took Stephanie shopping. The way she blushed when she saw the tiny bikini I picked for her was endearing. I had to put some pressure on her to put on the little nothing and go to the beach with me. We met Alicia and Ralf, and boy, did his eyes bug! The tiny triangles of cloth that constituted Steph's top highlighted her small, pointy breasts, and her well-toned buttocks looked marvellous. I gave her a liberal coating of sunscreen on those newly exposed parts, but she had a basic tan all over from the sun benches in the spa.

We had been soaking up the sun for a half hour when a shadow fell over us. I squinted in the sunlight, but my heart beat a little faster when I recognised the face. It was Rick, the video producer, with his lapdog cameraman.

"Gisele, is that you? I thought I knew you. How are you? Are you satisfied with everything?"

"Yes," I said cautiously. "You have kept your end of the bargain. I appreciate that."

He was referring to the fact that he had seen to it that my video disappeared from the web. Come to think of it, in his way, he had been a decent guy. When I had been expelled from school, I had been so desperate that I contacted him. I wanted to do more work, figuring that my reputation was ruined anyway, and that I could at least earn money for Alicia's education. He had not only turned me down, he had dressed me down, telling me I would not survive in this business for more than a year or two. He had shown me some other, more advanced video productions, and what I saw in those movies, what was done to the women, really cured me of any aspirations to make a career in the adult movie industry. That and coming to my senses.

"Won't you introduce me to your beautiful companions?"

"Okay, I guess. This is Ralf, my stepson."

Rick made a face. "Very funny!"

"These are my sister Alicia and my stepdaughter, Stephanie. She's a lawyer."

He was unfazed, smiling at us.

"Miss, you can represent me anytime."

"Oh, everyone, this is Rick. He was the producer of "that" video." Of course, I had long since confided my lapse of judgement to my friends. Stephanie's look at him was not too friendly, and Rick noticed.

"I had better be going, folks. Nice to see you are doing fine, Gisele."

He was leaving none too soon for the hotel security man arrived on the beach and steered the good Rick off the premises.

"Does the guy have a conscience at all?" Steph asked, shaking her head.

"From what I heard, there are much worse people in that business. In his way, he cares for the girls he discovers."

"Yeah, right," Alicia snorted, and I let it be.

-------

The next morning, I received my daily call from Thomas. He was upbeat, his keynote had gone well, and he told me that he could leave earlier, that he in fact was at the airport boarding the plane in Paris as we spoke. I had a warm feeling, thinking that I would be with him in less than 15 hours. He had also been able to pry Lennart away from his newsroom to join us.

After the phone call I went to the reception to book another room, but I had no luck. The only thing they could offer was a swap of our double room for a suite, and that is what I had to take. They promised to give us the next free double room. I went back up to our room and woke Stephanie with a kiss on her belly. Obviously, she liked waking up that way, and she squealed with delight when I moved lower. She must have had a nice dream, I decided, for she was slick already, and I gave her a leisurely finger-fucking and tongue-lashing. I had her going in no time, and soon, her long legs tried to squash my head to pulp as she climaxed noisily.

Of course, she reciprocated with enthusiasm, and she had me squirming on my back, with my hands buried in her long, blonde mane. When I was close, she did some extra poking with her pinky finger in my arse, and I was surprised that I enjoyed even that. I wasn't as noisy as Stephanie, but I certainly came to a good appreciation of her linguistic abilities!

After a quick shower together, we went down for breakfast. In the elevator, while we were alone, I told her that Thomas and Lennart would arrive that evening.

"Was this a little farewell thing, this morning?" she asked, her head tilted.

"Sort of," I grinned and kissed her quickly before the elevator doors opened into the lobby.

Alicia was at breakfast, and she told us that Ralf would come later.

"He is, how shall I put it, tired?" she grinned.

My kid sister, the nymphomaniac! But I had to admit that ever since she and Ralf had taken their relationship to that higher level, Alicia had blossomed. And her self-confidence, never one of her weak points, had soared even higher.

"You two been at it again?" she suddenly asked, and Stephanie shot orange juice through her nose.

"What?" she croaked.

"Come on, I'm not that stupid!" Alicia huffed. "Gisele's always had this little itch for women, and you're exactly her type."

I gaped at my sister.

"Close your mouth, Gisele. Or you'll catch flies," she grinned smugly. "Don't worry, nobody else knows. But maybe you'll let me come to one of your sauna evenings?"

I exchanged a desperate look with Stephanie, but she had regained her composure.

"Sure, but don't expect us to put on a show for you," she grinned. "But I would love to see a sister act."

That had, inexplicably, Alicia blush furiously. Did my kid sister have such feelings for me? I patted her hand.

"Steph is a wicked girl, don't mess with her," I advised her.

We hit the beach, just us three girls, after breakfast, and the absence of Ralf proved to be a decided disadvantage. Suddenly, we were constantly pestered by would-be Rubirosa's. The first ones were fun to shoot down, but after a while, it became a nuisance. In the end, Stephanie stood up, stretched her slender body, and then pulled me up and into a thorough kiss. After that, we were left pretty much alone, that is, until a well-groomed woman came and asked whether we needed a fourth. She was nice about it, somewhat shy, and I gathered she lived in the closet back home. We told her that we kissed to scare off the men, and she excused herself.

"Now, I've seen it all," Steph gasped, desperately trying to stifle a laugh.

"Maybe, I should have invited her to stay," Alicia suggested.

"Alicia, you have your boyfriend upstairs," I admonished her.

"Spoilsport," she grumped, turning her back to me.

-------

Joao drove us to Sao Paulo and to the airport that evening, and we picked up our men as they came through customs. They were both beat, after being awake for close to 24 hours, and they slept in the taxi during the drive north. Alicia and Ralf were already asleep, or at least in bed, when we arrived, and our men dropped onto the beds as soon as they had a shower. Thomas and I had the bedroom of the suite, while Steph and Lennart slept in the anteroom. I felt good to cuddle up to my man again, to hear the soft snoring sounds he always made when he was exhausted. He was not too exhausted to develop a stiffy during the night, and I looked forward to the next morning.

I should have gone to the bathroom before I went to bed that night. I woke up around six o'clock, and my bladder was killing me. Carefully, such as not to disturb Thomas, I eased out of the bed and tiptoed to the door. I opened the door quietly, knowing that Steph and Lennart were sleeping in the main room. I should not have worried, though, about them sleeping. When I eased through the door, I saw them in mid-action, Stephanie on all fours, and Lennart behind her, hammering away happily. I took a sharp breath, and they looked up. I winced.

"Sorry, you two, but I need to go to the loo."

I averted my eyes and rushed to the bathroom. I did my thing and washed my hands. I decided, I should brush my teeth as well, hoping to give the two lovebirds time to finish. When I had done everything I could think of, including a short shower of my midsection, I opened the door.

"I'm coming now," I warned them in a low voice.

"Me too," I heard Stephanie pant, and they both laughed, while I could still hear the slap-slap of Lennart pounding Steph's pussy. I decided that enough was enough. I walked out into the main room and past the bed. Lennart stopped his motions when he saw me, and Steph moaned in frustration. Served her right, I thought. I bent down over Steph and pulled up her face. Then I gave her a full kiss. I felt naughty when I released her lips.

"Don't let me interrupt you guys," I grinned and slipped through the door into our bedroom. I heard a strangled cry from Lennart shortly after and another one from Stephanie. My little performance had obviously triggered something.

"They are at it already?"

Thomas' voice startled me, and I looked at him. He blinked his eyes, trying to get fully awake. I was over him in a second, pulling away the sheets and his pyjama pants. He was not erect yet, so I swallowed him whole, and I felt his penis expand in my mouth, filling it with solid, blood engorged meat. I had to back down eventually, deep throat is not my thing. Instead, I concentrated on the tip and the sensitive underside. I had my husband squirming under me in just a few minutes. For a few moments I contemplated to finish him in my mouth, but decided against it. I wanted to feel that massive first eruption inside my core. I straddled him and positioned the tip of his nice fat cock between my pussy lips. I was soaking wet already, and I simply sank down on his shaft in one swift motion. I always love that first penetration. It is a shock to my senses, being filled up completely, feeling stretched to the limit. His hands were up on my cheeks and he pulled my face down for a long, drawn out kiss. He had this awed look on his face like he cannot believe his luck. This is one of my greatest kicks when I am with Thomas: he appreciates me. Unconditionally. It's not that he is submissive, don't get me wrong. He just exudes happiness and bliss when he looks at me, and this is good for my ego. I smiled down at him, and I saw the laughter start in his eyes. Seconds later, we were laughing happily, while he matched my movements with little strokes of his own.

"I missed you," I whispered. "Did you miss me, too?"

He grinned at me.

"Definitely. But at least, I had your video."

I made like throttling him.

"You are so mean! I don't know why I put up with a mean old man."

He pulled my face down for another kiss; I fought him for show, but he kissed me anyway.

"That is something I am asking myself all the time. But I decided not to question my luck. You have made me complete, Gisele."

The emotions were thick between us, and I felt tears welling up in my eyes. I pounded down on him with more force, trying to match my movements with the strong feelings I had. I saw him, as he looked up into my face, urging me on with silent words formed by his lips. He held out until I reached my peak. With a sob, I huddled down over him, trying to get as much of his prick into me as I could, and I heard him draw a shuddering breath. Then I felt his penis jerk inside me.

After a few moments spent on cloud nine, he suddenly toppled me over, his penis still inside me. I felt his weight on me, as he devoured my mouth with hungry kisses. I felt the urgency of his embrace, and I locked my arms legs behind his back, pressing him into me. We remained like that for minutes, enjoying the intimacy, while he whispered his love into my ear. This was one of the most intense moments we had shared so far, and I really felt my heart swell.

"I love you, Thomas," I told him, unnecessarily, really, after this open display of our affection.

He smiled apologetically. "You know I love you, too. But I need to go to the bathroom."

He put on a robe and walked to the connecting door. He knocked once.

"This is me, I'm coming out."

I heard Steph's laughter.

"We're decent, you can come out!"

While Thomas was in the bathroom, Steph came in and closed the door behind her. I was still naked, and I did not bother to cover myself. She bent over me.

"You are so naughty! I thought Lennart would explode into me! Next time you and Papa are at it, I will come in and kiss you. How will you like that?"

"Why don't you kiss me now?" I challenged her. "You can still taste your father on me."

She blushed crimson. "You are so bad, Gisele!"

I pulled her down and kissed her.

"I'm just happy," I told her. "I have your father, and sometimes I have you, too. I really, really like you a lot."

She kissed me back.

"You drive me crazy," she whispered.

I looked up to see Thomas in the door. His eyebrows were arched in a silent question. I gave him a happy smile, and Stephanie spun around guiltily.

"I really like your daughter," I smiled at Thomas. "Do you think I can adopt her?"

"You brat!" Stephanie laughed. "I am older than you!" She turned to Thomas. "You have one very wicked wife, Papa! You better watch out for her."

Then she bent over me and kissed me. This time, I felt a blush on my face. Then she leapt up and, giving Thomas a chaste kiss on the cheek, sashayed out of our bedroom.

"Is this something Lennart and I should know?" Thomas asked, smiling.

"Don't worry, Thomas," I assured him. "I will not leave you for anyone, not even for your sexy daughter."

"That's a relief," he grinned. "For a moment, I thought I had competition."

"No, Thomas, never competition. Stephanie's and my friendship goes deeper than your usual friendship, but it's mostly that she is something like a female version of you. The same unexplainable insecurities, the sober outlook on the world, and the same eyes."

"Wow," he said. "Does Lennart know?"

I shook my head.

"I don't know. He has seen us kiss once or twice, though. But Lennart is not part of our friendship. You are the only man in my life. And you will always come first."

"Speaking of which," he grinned, "this morning was wonderful."

I could not help it, I hopped into his arms and wrapped myself around him. When he set me down after a few minutes, his midsection and his legs were smeared with the cum that had leaked from my pussy. We both laughed at that, and I wrapped myself in a robe and went for a sorely needed shower.



-------

Chapter 6A


We spent the day on the beach. There was no hurry, no pressing issues. And it was so relaxing. With our men around us, nobody pestered us. We decided to have Joao drive us to Itamambuca the next day. The afternoon, Thomas and Lennart spent sleeping to get rid of the jet lag. We had dinner on the hotel terrace, telling our men in detail about the trial and the other things that had happened. It was after eleven o'clock before we turned in. We had lucked out on separate rooms again, and we teased Steph and Lennart about having to go to the bathroom early in the morning.

Well, we slept long the next morning, and if Steph and Lennart had been busy, they were done when we left the bedroom. After a quick breakfast, we piled into the van Joao had obtained for us. The beach at Itamambuca was every bit as beautiful as I remembered it. The surf was nice, too, and we spent the entire day in the sun, jumping in the surf and having a blast. In spite of the strong sun block they applied, Thomas and Lennart were showing signs of sun burn when we were picked up again. Thankfully, two standard rooms were available for us now, and we moved out of the suite. Dinner was at Bailey's, and Thomas and I told the others about our first rendezvous there, two years ago.

That night, after we returned from dinner, we enjoyed a nice, drawn-out, love making. It was a good thing that Steph and Lennart were not next door anymore because things became sort of noisy. I was super sensitive and emotionally charged that night, and the sun barely made its appearance in the morning when I rode my man again. It was during breakfast when I made the connection. I was in the receptive days of my cycle. I felt the flush of excitement, thinking that maybe, just maybe, we had conceived a child.

Two days later, the phone in our hotel room rang. Thomas was in the bathroom, and I picked it up.

"Gisele Bergmann," I spoke into the receiver.

"Gisele, is that you? This is Stella. Stella Riveiro!"

I had a big smile on my face.

"Stella! How are you? I could not find your name in the phone directory. Are you still living here in Ubatuba?"

"Yes, of course! Oh, I'm not listed in the directory. But I live by myself now. No bodyguards, no interference. I would really love to see you again. You are married, right?"

"Yes, I'm married. My husband is with me here. But I would love to see you again and talk about old times. Should we meet somewhere for lunch or dinner?"

"How about you visit me?"

"Sounds good to me. Where do you live, and when should I come?"

"How about tomorrow at three? I have the afternoon off. I live on Rua Perreira, Nº 5. Ring for Santos, my name is not on the door."

"Should I bring my husband?"

"Just us girls, please. Maybe I can meet your husband later."

"O.K., I'll be there at three tomorrow."

We spent the rest of the day on Itamambuca beach. Thomas and I were alone, and we enjoyed the time together. We were in a secluded spot, half hidden behind an old fishing boat. After a while and after the heat of the day went to our heads, I rolled into a ball with my head in Thomas' lap. I could feel his arousal through the fabric of his swim shorts, and my own excitement grew. Nobody was near us, and I scooted up and turned my back to Thomas. He began to kiss my nape and my neck from behind, and I could feel his dick pressed against my rear. Reaching behind me with my left hand, I untied the drawstring of his shorts and pushed the front of the shorts downward until his cock was freed. I was only wearing a thong, and it was the easiest thing in the world to push it aside. Thomas entered me from behind, and for the next ten to fifteen minutes, he pumped gently in and out of me from behind. A family of five settled down on the sand perhaps 20 yards away from us, but on the other side of the boat. I felt naughty, fucking in broad daylight on a public beach with those kids only a stone's throw away. I lost track of time when my arousal grew higher and higher. Soon, there was no gentleness anymore in his thrusts, and I pushed back at him with equal force. We climbed the peak together, pressing against each other and moaning under our breath. Finally, Thomas was there, and I felt the pulsing of his cock in my narrow confines. I did not experience an orgasm, but I felt strangely satisfied nevertheless.

After a few minutes, we corrected our swim wear, and Thomas kissed me tenderly. Then we ran hand in hand to the water to cool and wash off. It was only then that I remembered that I was in the receptive phase of my cycle. The thought of conceiving a child on this beach, near my home town, where Thomas and I had kissed for the first time, made me all giddy. When I told him, Thomas just hugged me tightly and whispered his love into my ear.

The next morning, we stayed at the hotel, using the small beach together with the rest of the family. Stephanie walked a little funny. I glanced at her from time to time, and she grinned self-consciously when she noticed. Uh-oh, that kind of night!

A little while after lunch, I dressed and left. I hired Joao to bring me to Stella's home and wait for me. Joao was almost family, and we trusted him completely. The house I entered was nothing like the huge estate Stella's parents owned. It was better than the place where we had lived, but in no way was it representative. I was slightly apprehensive when I rang the bell, not having seen her in six years.

Stella opened in person. I was surprised. I had assumed that a maid would open. That's the way it had been in her parents' house. But there she stood and looked at me.

"Gisele! It is so nice to see you again!"

She opened her arms, and I stepped forward, hugging her. It felt good. The years in between melted away, and we were teenagers again. She led me into her living room, and I was surprised that nobody else was there. Stella must have noticed my look, and she smiled ruefully.

"I'm so glad that we could meet, Stella," I said softly. "I know now why we were not allowed to meet anymore."

"It was Raul who told my parents. He was jealous of our friendship. He was always after me, and it grew worse when I was of age. He wanted me to love him, so he could marry me and be my father's son in law." Stella shook her head. "When the security company finally saw his motives, they sent him to an assignment far in the North. I'm sorry that our friendship had to end that way."

I looked at her.

"Who says it ended?" I demanded.

"You're right, Gisele," she smiled. "But look at you! You are stunning."

I had dressed up a little. Nothing too fancy, but the dress was by Wolfgang Joop, a birthday present from Thomas. I did not know that it was just Stella and me.

"You look wonderful yourself, Stella," I answered truthfully. She did. But then again, there was no spark. She was beautiful like a doll, without life or passion. Her eyes were sad. On impulse, I kissed her, and her lips smiled under the kiss. Now there was some life in her eyes.

"Let me show you in," she smiled.

The apartment was nothing to write home about. The furniture was functional, used, and outdated. Something was wrong. I sat on a small upholstered chair, and Stella sat on the small sofa.

"So what do you do these days?" I asked lightly.

The pain was back in her eyes.

"I am an escort," she said under her breath.

The realisation of what she said washed over me like an icy rain.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me right the first time, Gisele. I'm an escort. That does not mean that I sleep with the customers, I mostly don't. It's a way to pay my rent. I did not learn anything useful in those schools apart from conversation and good behaviour. So I accompany men to business dinners, or I play hostess for them. It's mostly gay men who need my services to cover for their lack of a spouse, so there is no sexual angle, mostly."

"But why? Did you and your parents fall out with each other?"

"You don't know? My father invested heavily in internet companies in the late 90s, he even borrowed money to buy more stock. When the sky came falling down in 2000, he went bankrupt. He shot himself in his office. My mother kept me in school for a while, even sent me off to Switzerland, but three years ago, I had to come home. The money was gone. My mother lives with her parents again, but I never got along with them, so I work as escort."

She looked at me, gauging my reaction. I thought quickly. She was vulnerable, and I had to be supportive. I stood up and walked to the sofa. Bending down, I held her face and kissed her again.

"I guess you can use a friend?" I asked.

Her eyes were brimming and she nodded.

"Stella, I'm probably the one person who will never judge you. Not with the mess I made. You heard about me excursion into the world of adult entertainment?"

She nodded again, and when she spoke, she sounded apologetic.

"I saw that video. We all did. You have to know that it was shown at every party in town. We're both outcasts."

That was something to digest. The meaning was quite clear. I would never be able to live that blasted video down in my hometown. Any idea of maybe living here part time with Thomas in the future was futile. With an effort, I shrugged.

"Well, fuck them!" I said as lightly as I could manage. "Let them go to hell with their fenced-in houses and and their bodyguards and gardeners and chauffeurs. They don't know it, but they are the prisoners who dare not even go to the beach. We, Stella, are at least free to do what we want. Speaking of which, wouldn't you like to go to school again? Not in Switzerland, but to finish college in Sao Paulo."

She sighed. "I'd love to, but I'm not making that much money."

"Now that's a problem easily solved," I told her, suddenly inspired. "We received a settlement from the family of the man who had our mother murdered. We don't want that money, and we set up a scholarship programme to help needy students through college. Would you like to be the first recipient of the Eva Cuzmao Scholarship?"

"Are you joking?" she asked, staring at me.

"No, really not. I would hate for you to waste your life. You were a good student back then, you can still make something of your life."

"You are not joking," she stated. "But why would you want to do that?"

"That money, Stella, is blood money. I could never see myself using it for my own purposes. Neither can Alicia. So we want to use it to do some good. Getting you back on track is good. I have to run it by Alicia, but I don't doubt that she will agree. Besides, we only use the interest on the money for the scholarships. And she can pick the other recipient."

We then sat and had coffee, sitting on the cheap chairs in her living room, talking about old times. By tacit agreement, we did not talk about my offer. When it was time for me to leave, I invited Stella to come and meet my family. She was hesitant first, looking for excuses, but I was relentless. In the end she accepted, and we woke Joao, so he would drive us to the hotel.

At the hotel, I took Stella to our room first so she could meet Thomas. He was his usual charming self, complimenting her and mentioning how he knew that she had been a true friend to me. She looked at me for direction, and I gave her what I thought was an assuring smile.

"I made a clean slate with Thomas. He knows our friendship was special. And it's not a big deal. With that video, I could never claim to be a virgin in the first place."

Thomas laughed easily with me, and Stella thawed somewhat. I asked Thomas about the dinner plans, and he suggested Bailey's. Stella became apprehensive.

"They know me there," she started. "They'll think I'm there on business."

Thomas looked his question, but I gave him a "later" look.

"Don't worry, Stella, they know us, too. In fact, I spent my first date with Thomas there, when he was still in the "Sex Tourist" mode."

Thomas grinned, somewhat self-consciously.

"Stella," he offered, "we all have our skeletons in the closet. Don't worry about yours."

We met the others in the lobby, and I introduced Stella around. From her time in Switzerland, Stella spoke German, but with a charming Schwitzerduetsch tinge. I saw Steph and her sizing each other up for a second, but Steph's friendly disposition prevailed, and Stella gave her a friendly smile in return.

There was no way we could fit into a single taxi, so we took two to get to the restaurant. The Maitre d' showed us to a nice table in the back, and he only gave the tiniest sign of recognition upon seeing Stella. I had a chance to talk to Alicia when we both went to the bathroom.

"Alicia, could we make Stella the first recipient of a fellowship? She has fallen on hard times, and she could not finish her education."

"She's a good friend, isn't she?" Alicia asked, and I nodded.

"It would mean a lot to me. I'd say we can give two scholarships this year. You can pick the second recipient. Perhaps a girl from your old class?"

Alicia's eyes lit up. "You know, there is Maria's little sister, Vera. She was only a year behind me. She should have finished school this year. I know the Andrades cannot afford college for Vera. Could I try and contact them? They have been through so much."

I thought it was poetic justice to take the settlement money and help out a family who had suffered from a terrible crime. Maria Andrade, you know, was Alicia's classmate when she was abducted and murdered at age ten, a horrible crime that had shaken our community. I stepped forward and hugged Alicia.

"I think that's a wonderful idea. You make me proud, Alicia."

"It's a deal then?" she asked, and I nodded.

"Deal!"

We came out of the restroom holding hands. I nodded to Stella, and she started to say something. I made a quick motion for her to keep mum about this. Tonight, she was a friend and a guest. Tomorrow, I would have to give her the conditions for the fellowship.

It was long after midnight when we finally left the restaurant. We dropped Stella off at her apartment building, but I asked her to come to our hotel the next afternoon. Thomas knew something was up, but he was patient until we were back in our room. I told him a little of Stella's story and that she would be the first recipient of a college fellowship. He just shrugged, saying that it was our decision. He seemed a bit more enthusiastic when I told him about Alicia's candidate.

It was late, and we went to bed. I knew somehow that Thomas did not approve of my decision, and I wanted to know what bothered him about it.

"Thomas, do you have anything against Stella?" I asked in a low voice.

"Not personally, darling. She is friendly, she is funny, but she does not strike me as the most deserving recipient."

"Why is that? She was a good student, and it's not her fault that her father screwed up."

"Yes, but she was nowhere near the top, as you said yourself. But now you come and want to send her back to college. Do you do that for her, or rather for yourself? Think about it. She was a friend to you when all other girls looked down on you. And then her parents forbade her to see you, and you were hurt. Now the table is turned, and you can be the one to help Stella through college. I can understand that this has appeal to you."

"So you think it is a mistake to let her finish her education?"

"No, but I think you are betraying your principles. You set up the scholarship to help gifted but poor girls to get an education. And now you are using it to help out a friend who screwed up. It just feels wrong."

I felt a little cornered. Most of what he said had merit, but I was irritated that he would criticise me.

"Okay, maybe I made a mistake, but it's our money, isn't it?"

"Sure it is. But you asked me for my opinion, and I was just being honest."

"Honest!" I snorted. I don't know what possessed me to say the next sentence. "This is just because she works as escort. What is your problem? Two years ago, you would have happily hired her yourself. You would have hired me if I had let you. And now you look down on Stella because you married me and you don't have to pay for sex anymore!"

I felt Thomas go stiff behind me. His hand left my shoulder as if burned, and he moved away from me.

"So that's what you think of me?" he asked, and I could hear the hurt in his voice

I realised what I had said.

"Thomas, I..."

"Sleep," he interrupted me, his voice thick. "We'll talk tomorrow. Right now, I don't want to talk."

He rolled on his side, turning away from me. The gesture cut through me with an almost physical pain. The tears were just running from my eyes, wetting the pillow. Why the hell did I say that? And what could I do to repair the damage? I racked my brain, lying awake until, finally, I fell asleep. I did not sleep well, though. I missed his touch, his embrace. I missed the calming effect of his even breathing.

His breathing! I could not hear it! I was wide awake in a second. The room was dimly lit with light filtering through the curtains. I looked around and Thomas was gone. He left me, was my first thought. But his suitcase was still there, and so were the clothes he had worn the day before. I jumped from the bed and ran to the window. I could see the hotel beach from our room, and I saw Thomas immediately. He was sitting on the sand, close to the surf, and he was staring ahead.

With shaking hands, I tore off my pyjama and put on some random t-shirt and pants. I almost forgot the card key when I ran from the room and to the stairwell. I did not bother with the elevator, but ran down the stairs on my bare feet. In the lobby, there were only the cleaning staff and a sleepy concierge, and I quickly dashed out of the rear door, past a gawking cleaning woman, and onto the beach. I ran the two hundred meters through the loose sand, and I was fairly out of breath when I reached Thomas. I fell down on my knees before him, and he looked up surprised.

"Thomas, please hear me out," I gasped. "Last night, I said something mean and stupid. I don't know why I did it, but I do know that I hate myself for it. When I woke up and you were gone, I was terribly scared. Thomas, I don't want to lose you. Please, forgive me."

I was holding his hands, or rather pressing them. Thomas looked at me long. There was doubt in his eyes, I could see, and hurt. My words must have stung him badly. I tried to convey a silent plea for forgiveness while I looked back at him. Finally, after an eternity, he nodded.

"Okay, let's talk," he said. "Why were you so mad at me? Is it because I criticised your decision? Or was it something deeper?"

I thought about it. I had thought about it all night already, but I did not have a perfect answer.

"For one, I felt cornered. I felt so good about helping out a friend, and then you dissected my motives, and I realised that what I had done was wrong. I don't like feeling stupid. But I know it is wrong what Stella does, that's why I want to help her. She had nobody to advise her, nobody to set her straight, her parents never let her make decisions. She made a mistake, but it was not worse than what I did. And you judge her, and that makes me question if you don't judge me either. That's why I lashed out at you. But it came out terribly wrong."

Thomas shook his head.

"I guess I did not make myself clear either. It's not that she works as escort, it's that she does not qualify as gifted but poor. That's all. You said you don't want to use the money yourself, but you do just that if you use it to help out a friend."

"But I have to help her. She has to get out of this town. In Sao Paulo, she can finish her education and start fresh."

"If you want to help her, why don't we loan her the money ourselves?"

"You would do that for her?"

He shook his head.

"No, I would do it for you. If it makes you happy, we'll do it. And it wouldn't leave the scholarship in your mother's name compromised."

"In that case, would you talk to her this evening and tell her the conditions? You would be spending your money."

Thomas shook his head.

"You could use some of your own. I have deposited the money we saved on your tuition in an account under your name. That should easily cover her costs. And it would be money that you saved with your own performance. You can loan it to her, and I'll keep out of it."

I took a deep breath. "May I hug you, just once?"

Thomas nodded, but his face was still guarded. I straddled him then and put my head on his shoulder. The tears came again, and I could feel silent sobs that shook Thomas' chest. This is how we sat for a while until our breathing returned to normal. I had something to get off my chest still, and I sat up, looking into his eyes.

"Can you forgive me, Thomas?" I asked in as calm a voice as I could muster. "What I said last night was not how I think of you and me. I want to be your wife, I'm happy being your wife. And you are a wonderful husband to me."

He gave me an assuring nod, and I threw myself back at his shoulder.

"Let's go back to our room and dress for breakfast, shall we?" I whispered into his ear, and he nodded again. We rose from the sand and trudged back to the hotel entrance. We took the elevator to our floor and went into our room, holding hands. Inside, I thought of something. I pushed Thomas to the bathroom.

"You shower first, okay?"

He looked at me, surprise in his eyes. We usually shower together.

"Not today, Thomas. Please understand, it would feel wrong for me to use my body to get your forgiveness. When we are comfortable again, I'll make it up to you. Promise!"

He nodded, understanding my motives. I felt deep gratitude at that moment, and I gave him a deep kiss. I felt his lips form a smile, and, as corny as it sounds, my heart felt light again.

"Go shower now," I whispered and swatted his butt lightly.

He went in, and a few minutes later, I heard the shower start. I was still rooted to the spot in front of the bathroom, while I tried to contain my desire to go in after him. It was a losing battle.

Thomas nearly jumped out his skin when I pressed myself against his back. Over the noise of the shower, he had not heard me enter. He turned and tilted his head to indicate his wish for an explanation. I shrugged.

"This is not to make you forgive me. This is because I need to be close to you, especially after last night. I will not leave you alone for one minute today."

Now his smile was honest and open, and he lifted me up. With a happy squeal, I wrapped my legs around his hips while our lips found and our tongues duelled. I could feel his erection against my pussy, and with my right hand, I helped it find the target. The water had lubricated Thomas' penis, and it entered easily. God, it felt so good! Our lips glued together, our wet bodies rubbing each other, Thomas fucked me, standing in the shower stall, my back against the tiles, while the warm water ran over us. We did not last long. Inside five minutes, Thomas came into me, and I held on to him for my dear life while a blinding wave of lust crashed over me.

When I came to, we were sitting on the floor of the stall, the spray of the shower still pouring down on us, and Thomas gently rubbed shampoo into my hair. I just sat there and let it happen. Next he used shower gel on my chest and back and I leaned back into him, submitting myself to the exquisite feel of his hands on my chest. I positively melted against him. We sat for another few minutes while the spray washed away the soap.

"I don't want to leave this stall, ever," I murmured lazily.

"We have to. We are using precious drinking water," Thomas voice rumbled through the steam.

With a sigh, I pulled myself up. I was still slightly bent over when I screamed. Thomas swiped his tongue all the way from my clitoris to my anus and up along the crease between my buttocks, and my nerve endings were firing broadsides into my brain. Then he slapped my butt and stood up. The shower stopped, and we stepped out. Navigating through the dense fog in the bathroom, we found the towels and dried ourselves. I had to use the blow dryer to clear a small part of the mirror, so we could comb. When we left the bathroom the balmy air in the room felt almost chilly, and we quickly dressed in t-shirts and shorts and went down for breakfast.

The rest of the family was already sitting there, and Steph watched us intently. When Thomas went to fetch ham and eggs from the buffet, she quickly bent over and whispered into my ear.

"Are you guys okay? I saw you on the beach this morning."

"We had a fight last night. My fault mostly, but we made up. We're good again," I whispered back, not wanting to give more information.

"That's a relief," Steph whispered.

After that, breakfast went it's usual way. When we had finished, Alicia urged me to get dressed to visit the Andrades. She was a bit surprised that I insisted on Thomas accompanying us, but I had meant what I had said about not leaving him alone. We piled into a taxi, and twenty minutes later we stopped in front of an apartment building not unlike the one we had grown up in. Alicia had called ahead to make sure the Andrades were expecting us, and indeed the door opened immediately after Alicia had knocked.

The elder Andrades were clearly puzzled as to what this visit meant, as was their daughter Vera, and Alicia quickly explained how and why we had founded the scholarship. Senhor Andrade was a bit confused, I could tell. When Alicia mentioned that she had been a classmate and friend of their little Maria, the elder Andrades pressed their lips tight to hide their hurt. Then Alicia asked for Vera's plans. Vera spoke up herself.

"I will start as sales girl at the radio store on Rua Pirinho."

"But your grades were always excellent, I remember," Alicia probed. "You could go to college."

The elder Andrades were slightly embarrassed, but Vera held her head high.

"That is something we cannot afford," she answered calmly. Nobody could have called her beautiful, but she had a dignity to her.

Alicia smiled smugly. "But what if the Eva Cuzmoa scholarship program selected Vera Andrade this year? The scholarship pays for tuition and board at the State College."

"Why would you do that?" Senhor Andrade asked.

I decided to jump in.

"We know that you spent a lot of your money to try and find the murderers of Maria. If that senseless tragedy had not struck, both Maria and Vera could go to college. We want to help that Vera can at least get the education she deserves."

Senhor Andrade looked down. He cleared his throat, and looked up again.

"The murderers of our child were found at last."

"Really?" I was astounded. From what I remembered, the police had no clue back then.

"Yes, the police arrested them, and they found proof. A year ago, an American was arrested in France. He had pictures and movies that showed little boys and girls, Brazilian boy and girls. The French extradited him, and he confessed and named his accomplices under interrogation. It was three men from Rio de Janeiro who killed our Maria. They found pictures and movies with them. The police will not show them to us, though. Perhaps it is better."

I could hardly believe that. "That American, do you know his name?"

"It was a Richard Dickerson. He will be allowed to stand trial in the Estados Unidos in exchange for his testimony."

I quickly translated everything to Thomas, and I could see how he closed his fists involuntarily. Then I told the Andrades the story of how we had met Richard Dickerson. They were floored. Senhor Andrade shot up from his chair and pulled Thomas into a tight hug, promising his eternal gratitude for Thomas' role in the identification of the murderers. After that, it was easy. Of course, Vera would be allowed to attend college. Of course, she would accept the scholarship. Senhora Andrade then asked whether we would allow her to take care of our mother's grave, as a small compensation, and in place of the hired gardening service. I realised it was important to her and we thanked her for the fine gesture.

We had to stay for lunch, in their dingy living room, but the food was home made fare, and it was simply delicious. Over lunch, we agreed on the procedure. The Andrades would clear everything with our lawyer, and Vera could start college with the fall semester. When we finally left in the late afternoon we were immensely satisfied with ourselves.

Over dinner, we told Steph and Lennart about the amazing things we had learned. Lennart developed a gleam in his eyes and asked Steph whether she would mind if he did a little investigating about this affair. He wanted to write an article for his magazine about the child porn mafia, and he asked Alicia to ask the Andrades for an interview. He wanted to show the faces of those left behind. And he grilled Thomas and us about the incident on that Air France flight a year ago. Steph looked at her father with pride, something Thomas noticed and relished.



-------

Chapter 6B


That night, I slept peacefully in my husband's arms, his heartbeat in my left ear, his breathing lifting and lowering me gently, while his hand was holding my shoulders. Heaven!

We drove to Itamambuca the next day and lazed in the sun. Thomas and I were completely reconciled and I drove him crazy, wearing just a tiny top and matching butt floss. Well, I guess, all three of our men were constantly hard that day. Alicia looked stunning (she gets it from me, I suppose <grin>). And Steph, now in the tiny bikini we had bought, could stop traffic.

We had less than a week before our departure now, and surprisingly, I began to look forward to returning to Germany. Things were less complicated there, and people saw me for what I was, not for what I had done or been once. And I looked forward to returning to law school. The beaches were heavenly, granted, but I wanted to become a lawyer and make a difference. My musing was interrupted by a deluge of sea water. I jumped and screamed in shock. A grinning Thomas still held the empty shopping bag.

"Gotcha!" he laughed and ran off to the surf line. Without thinking, I ran after him and pounced on him when he was waist deep in the water. He caught me and held me in his embrace, and I realised that he had really completely forgiven me. You only play such pranks when you are at ease. I kissed him thoroughly while the waves splashed over us. A few people nearby were gawking at us, and I realised that I had jumped up without my top. Oops!

"You need to carry me back," I told Thomas. "It's your fault I forgot my top."

"Piggyback?" he asked, and set me down.

I nodded and climbed up his back, holding on to his neck while he took hold of my legs. He splashed through the water and, once out of the water, jogged up the beach and to our towels. The jogging did wonderful things to my nipples which rubbed against his back with each step, and I swear they stood out like bullets when I put on my wet top. Lennart and Ralf both stared and received their deserved swats from Steph and Alicia.

"Not fair," Lennart protested. "You've been staring, too."

"But I was admiring her, and you were lusting. That's a difference," Steph answered with dignity.

I giggled, Alicia giggled, and Steph looked daggers at us. Unfazed, I got up and knelt before Steph, my chest just before her eyes.

"Want to admire a little more?" I teased and Steph blushed.

"You are the worst tease, Gisele!" she exhaled. "Papa, can't you put her on a leash?"

"I'm not into such kinky stuff," Thomas answered with equanimity from behind the magazine he had picked up, causing us to crack up.

"Men!" Steph huffed and rolled over to lie on her stomach.

Later, we played volleyball in the sand, and here, Stephanie put us in our places. The girl is athletic! We only stopped when the ring of admirers became too embarrassing. We retired to the terrace of the restaurant, and while we showered in turn, we also enjoyed coffee and ice cream. When the taxis brought us back to town, we had to acknowledge that this was our best day so far.

There was a message for me at the reception.



Dear Gisele,

from Stella I learned that you are in town. It has been five years since we graduated from high school, and I talked to the girls and we all want to meet you before you fly back to Germany. Would you please call me? I will be at home all evening.

Victoria Giuliani



There was a phone number at the bottom. I took a deep breath. Victoria had been one of the prinçesas, in fact, the ultimate prinçesa. Her parents owned the tenement we lived in, along with another twenty buildings in town, and they were filthy rich, or so I thought. And she had this beautiful Italian face with no trace of South America in her features. A Roman goddess, no less. The few times we spoke, she was always polite, but she intimidated the hell out of me. My mother repeated at least once a week that I should not quarrel with her or her father would terminate our lease. I admit, I felt inferior in her presence. And now she wanted to talk with me, invite me to a reunion? I was doubtful and a little paranoid. What if they wanted to make fun of me, for instance asking me how my movie career was going along. All my insecurities came to the front.

Thomas looked at me with a big question mark in his eyes.

"My old high school classmates want to see me again," I said, somewhat shaky. "I guess, I am scared. I'm sure they have all seen or heard of my video. And Victoria is the ultimate princess. That she even remembers me does not bode well."

"Why don't you call her and find out, Gisele. This will be your last chance to see them for a while."

The voice of reason. I sighed and pulled the cell phone from my bag, and we sat on the hotel veranda.

Victoria answered after the third ring.

"Gisele!" she squealed after I identified myself. "That's wonderful! I was afraid we'd miss you. Could you find the time to meet us? Maybe Saturday afternoon? Gabriella wants to come from Sao Paulo, and Simone promised to drop by, too. Almost all the others want to come, too. You probably don't realise it, but we all felt for you last year, when your poor mother was killed and they dragged you through the dirt. We tried to do something, but you were gone."

I did not know what to say.

"Gisele, you're still there?"

"Yes, sorry, I guess I am surprised. I did not know you even remembered me."

"Why wouldn't I. You were a classmate, and you were our best."

"Victoria, I know I'm a little paranoid, but this is not some plot to make fun of me? I know how I screwed up with that video."

She sounded hurt.

"Gisele, why do you always suspect the worst? You were like that in school, too. You never talked to me. Was it because my father owned the house you lived in? You always kept to yourself and to your books. I would have liked to be your friend. I always looked up to you because you were so smart, but you wouldn't speak more than two words with me."

I really took a deep breath.

"Oh my god, Victoria, I had no idea. I was always, not afraid, but apprehensive around you. Yes, because of your father. But also because you had everything, and I was a nobody. To think that I rejected you is confusing."

"Will you come over a little earlier then? Maybe we can talk and bury the ghosts of the past?" she offered, and I exhaled deeply.

"I would love that."

She gave me directions and we ended the call. I dropped the phone back in my bag. Thomas looked at me speculatively.

"I'm invited on Saturday afternoon. My schoolmates want to see me. Is that okay?"

"Sure, darling. You need to meet them. They're a part of how you grew up."

We spent the evening on the beach. We had bought a few bottles of home grown red wine, some bread and cheese, and we ate ripping off bread with our hands and slicing the cheese with Thomas's lock back knife. We washed the bread and the cheese down with the cheap wine and it tasted great. Simple pleasures!

By the time we went up to our respective rooms, my motor was running, and for the next half hour, Thomas did his best to pile drive into me from behind while I stood at the open window, wearing only a tank top. Again, simple pleasures!

It was now time for the others to go and buy the souvenirs, the sea shell mosaics, the preserved starfish, in short, all the cheesy stuff tourists buy in a vain effort to keep the memory of the vacation alive over the dreary Northern German winter. Alicia and I helped them and showed them around in town, translated for them and haggled for them.

On Friday, Thomas, Alicia and I drove to Sao Paulo to buy another white iBook, this time for Vera Andrade. Back in Ubatuba, Alicia, now a proficient computer user (she had become an internet junkie), gave Vera a crash course on how to use it. She promised to come back Saturday for another tutoring and left the baffled Andrades.

They had live music on the beach that evening, and Alicia, Steph and I danced up a storm, dragging along our unwilling partners. After a while, Alicia and I stopped dancing and we watched Stephanie who was caught up in the music, whirling around with her open blonde hair flying. She had everyone's attention. After a while, Alicia joined her again, and for a while, they danced together. My little sister had rhythm, too! When the music switched to a slow number, they even danced close, sensually moving against each other. When the music stopped, they took a moment to become aware of the time and place they were in. Smiling self-consciously, they joined us at our table. Alicia was flushed and she needed to talk to me, I could tell. So we went for the bathrooms in the foyer. Once inside, Alicia pressed my arm.

"God, that was hot, Gisele. Now I know why you fool around with Steph. She is incredible."

"I'm glad you approve of my companion," I deadpanned and we both broke out in giggles.

"Honestly, Gisele, I want to join you when you use her spa. That's where you fool around, don't you?"

"Let's leave this for Steph to decide. It's her house."

"Oh, I bet she's fine with it. She stuck her tongue in my ear while we danced. I almost came on the spot."

My, oh my! Steph was a wild one tonight.

"We'll talk about it when we're back home. Now go and pee or do whatever you came here to do!"

We left soon after. Steph was rather pumped out, but the way she dragged Lennart into the elevator, he was in for a good time. Thomas and I had a little night cap in the bar before we went up to our room and to bed.

I woke up to the sun shining into our room. Thomas was lying beside me, on his side, and propped up on his right elbow.

"You are beautiful," he smiled. "Sometimes, I still have problems believing that we are together."

"You better believe it," I smiled back. "Make love to me, Thomas."

"Please?" he grinned.

"Please," I confirmed.

His smile became even broader. With his left hand, he opened my pyjama top, button by button, taking his time. I knew then I was in for one of his special treats. He opened the front of my pyjama and bent over my chest, blowing lightly on my nipples but never touching them. His left hand lay on my hip while he blew on my exposed skin. His first touch came when his tongue ran up the side of my left breast and then higher to my neck and my ear. I shivered when he bit gently into the skin under my ear, sucking on the skin, but not strong enough to cause a hickey. He spent minutes nibbling on my neck and my ear; it was a sweet torture, but I knew better than to ask him to move on. Finally, his mouth left my neck and moved down. Or not. His lips pressed against mine, his tongue wormed into my mouth, and I eagerly sucked on it.

After a few minutes of kissing, Thomas gently turned me onto my stomach. Moving aside my hair, he began a kissing journey, starting at the nape of my neck, down my spine, diving into the small of my back, and then all over my butt cheeks. I was getting hot and bothered when he pulled my thighs apart and dove between them, spearing my pussy with his tongue. I angled my hips to raise my butt as high as possible, and Thomas rewarded me, licking my pussy with gusto. Then he began to lick his way up my spine again. When his mouth reached my nape, I felt the tip of his penis between my legs and my hips started to rotate on their own account. He chuckled softly and aligned his rod at my wet entrance.

Ooof! With just one forceful thrust Thomas penetrated me deeply, forcing the air from my lungs. Once he was seated deeply, he remained motionless on top of me to give me time to adjust. I don't know what happened, but suddenly I felt my pussy flutter around the invader and my overcharged system vented itself in a first, delicate climax. The earth did not move, no bells sounded, but I felt gentle waves of lust washing over me.

"Hmm, nice," I purred into the pillow, when the waves subsided. I clenched my butt to encourage Thomas to do something. He didn't. But clenching my butt, I caused his dick to slide out of my pussy by a few centimetres. Relaxing it brought him back to full penetration. It was a very subtle movement, but is felt delicious. I started clenching and relaxing my butt, and I was rewarded with my first ever gravity-powered fuck. It was nice while I lasted, but my butt quickly tired.

"Aren't you going to do something?" I asked him.

"No, I think this is a wonderful workout for your delicious butt. We'll do this on a daily basis."

"Daily my ass," I answered without thinking.

"Exactly," Thomas confirmed, and we both started to laugh.

In the middle of our laughter, he withdrew almost completely and pushed in again. Ooof! Inexplicably, my pussy fluttered again, and another, slightly stronger climax gripped me.

"Meu Deus, what are you doing to me?" I asked, somewhat baffled.

"I have no idea. We just seem to click together this morning," Thomas replied. "Once more?"

Again, he withdrew. He twitched, and I expected him to plunge into me again, but he stayed up. The anticipation worked on me though, and I felt the flutter start again. Right in the middle of it, he speared me again. This time I screamed as I came. He was fucking my mind as well as my pussy. When I came down again, I felt his lips at my cheek.

"You are so hot," he whispered.

"Stop tormenting me," I begged. "Fuck me now!"

He kissed me again. "Okay," he whispered. And then he started with slow, measured strokes, gliding in and out of me. The slowness of his motions, the steady push and pull, almost drove me crazy. I wanted him to pound me, to devour me, but he wouldn't. Instead, he drove me up the wall. Finally, I bucked and rolled on my side, throwing him off my back. He had barely landed on his back when I jumped him. Sitting astride his hips, I aimed his penis at my opening and impaled myself on him.

"Get ready for the ride," I growled. And I rode him. I slammed down on him, feeling his prick penetrate me, filling me to my core. Quicker and quicker my hips worked, and from the look on his face I knew that he would come soon. I increased my pace, tilting my hips so that my pleasure knob rubbed his pubic bone every time I hit bottom. I was getting close to a major climax, I knew, and Thomas was almost there as well. He began to match my movements, thrusting upwards with his hips, gripped in the throes of his imminent release. Thomas cried first, his prick starting to pulse inside me, but I was only a few heartbeats behind him. I shuddered when the waves flooded over me one last time, and I sank down on his chest.

I remained like that for a while, savouring the aftershocks. I was brought back to reality when Thomas held my face in his hands and kissed me long and hard.

"You are incredible," he assured me when our lips parted.

"Well, yes, that wasn't too bad, now was it?" I replied smugly.

"Full of yourself today, aren't you?" he grinned in response.

Then he toppled me over on my back and dove down to my waist, biting my soft flesh and driving me up the wall. I am ticklish like hell around my waist, and Thomas knew that. I screamed the house down until Thomas relented.

"You are going to pay for that," I promised, still out of breath, and he bit me once more, causing another shriek.

The shower was nice again. It's so much more fun when you share it. When Thomas shampooed my hair and massaged my scalp, I felt a renewed tingle, but I suppressed it. We dried and dressed casually before sauntering down to the breakfast room. The rest of the family was there already, and they grinned at us. I realised we were holding hands and grinning like the love-sick idiots we were. Amid the teasing, we had a hearty breakfast. It was close to eleven already, and I figured I'd skip lunch altogether. I did not want to look like a stuffed duvet when I met my old class mates.

After breakfast, we all took a stroll on the beach, chatting along. Alicia and Steph were walking together, talking, and I guessed they were discussing the implications from their close encounter last night. The way they held hands convinced me that our steam bath sessions would soon include my little sister. I had mixed feelings about it. For one, I did not begrudge Alicia the fun and companionship. On the other hand, I could not see myself being intimate with Steph with my sister watching. I would have to wait and see how things went.

Time went much too fast, and I soon had to go up to our room to change. It was my cocktail dress again. On impulse, I put on my engagement ring and the necklace, but I covered my neck with a thin silk scarf. Joao came at a quarter to two, right on time. He was almost like our private driver, but I suppose he made a much better business with us than with his regular customers. He dropped me off at Victoria's home shortly after two. She lived in a bungalow in a secured neighbourhood, and the guy at the entrance asked for my name and double checked with a list in his hands before he let us pass.

Victoria answered herself, though, and I realised she was living alone and without servant. She had changed. The trim, vivacious girl was a business woman now, not fat but filling the cream coloured costume she wore. Her hair was done immaculately, and the two-inch heels added to the impression of a working girl in her late twenties. Her eyes twinkled.

"Camouflage," she grinned. Then she hugged me briefly and led me into her living room. The interior was the seeming opposite of the severe business woman, with strong colours and hip furniture. I looked at her, the question obvious in my eyes.

"I am too well-known in town," she smiled. "There is always the kidnapping risk. This is how the town knows me when I go to work. I have protection then. When I want to go out on my own, I take off that wig and wear cotton beach dresses, like any other girl. Just don't tell the other girls. I don't want that information all over town."

I shook my head in wonder and dismay. There she was, the daughter of a wealthy man, and she had to go to these lengths to enjoy a little freedom.

"You look stately," was what I said, and she laughed brightly.

"And you look ravishing, Gisele. I made coffee; would you care for a cup?"

I accepted and we sat on her veranda, sipping coffee.

"So what do you do these days when you are in Germany," she finally started the interrogation.

"I study law at a university in Hamburg. And you?"

"Oh, I went to college at a business school in New York. Now I run the real estate part of my father's company while my brother handles the construction business. My father lets us run the show. He and my mother enjoy their life in Rome."

"That's wonderful," I said and I meant it. I had always thought that the likes of Victoria would just marry a rich heir and spend their time doing nothing.

"Yes, it has its rewards. So you are the one who married a rich guy?"

"Yes, you could say that. He used to own a software company. But he sold out seven years ago to a larger outfit. He sits on their board, though, and he is involved in lobbying and such."

"But he's not just a meal ticket, is he?" she asked, her eyebrows raised.

At first, I was put off, but I decided she just wanted to know who she was dealing with.

"No, he's my rock in the surf. He's everything I always wanted. He's older, yes, but he's young at heart. He makes me laugh, he cares for me, and he is not embarrassed to show his love for me."

There was relief in Victoria's eyes.

"I'm happy for you. With all you went through, you earned your happiness. Do you plan to work when you finish university?"

"Of course. Thomas will stay at home when we'll have children. But I want to work as lawyer."

"You do that, Gisele. It would be a shame if that brain of yours was wasted. I always envied you."

I looked at her, not quite believing her.

"You envied me?"

"But of course! You were always on top of the class although we knew that you worked on the side and did the cleaning duties at school. I had all the help and tutoring, I could travel to Europe with my parents, but I still could not hold a candle to you. And then my father! 'Why don't you take an example on Senhora Cuzmao's daughter?' he'd say. 'Her mother works hard, and she helps her, and she is still ahead of you.' That's what I always had to hear. I almost hated you! I was so happy to go to New York. At least, I wouldn't have to compete with you there."

"And I was afraid of you," I answered, deciding to be honest. "My mother reminded me at least twice a month never to start a fight with you. She was mortally afraid that your father would terminate our lease if I quarrelled with you."

"You must be kidding, yes?" Now Victoria was shocked. "My father adored your mother! The way she managed her life, her dedication to you and your sister, her hard work at the law firm. He talked of her so often, my mother became upset. No doubt, he had a serious crush on her. No way he would have done anything to hurt her. But of course, he would never let her know."

Life is weird sometimes. My mother was afraid of him, and he adored her secretly.

"I had no idea. I really tried to avoid you and your friends because I was afraid I'd say something wrong."

"And I thought you were snotty," Victoria marvelled.

"Me snotty?" I snorted. "With my background? I would have killed for a few more friends. Maybe, with some friends to support me, I wouldn't have screwed up so badly."

"That still hurt's?" she asked, and I nodded. "I never knew about it until I returned from New York, and some guy, I think it was Giorgio, made a snide remark. He even offered to make a copy of the video for me, the pig!"

That figured. I really would have to do something about him.

"Well, Giorgio is a wimp without a will of his own. Did his mother pick a wife for him yet?"

"Oh yes, she did!" Victoria laughed. "You remember Isabella?"

I managed to suppress a laugh. It would not have been nice. But Isabella was the maximum penalty for a husband. A shrew if ever there was one. And her father was filthy rich. Old money, too. Obviously, Giorgio's ownership had passed from his mother to Isabella.

"Does Isabella know that Giorgio and I were an item?" I inquired cautiously.

"Oh yes, and she's not happy about it. She never liked you."

"Likewise," I grinned. Well, well, this opened up some opportunities should I ever wish to revenge myself for his cowardice. But for now, I felt a certain glee that Isabella owned his sorry arse.

"Did you bring your husband along for the trip?" she broke through my musing.

"Oh yes, not only him, but my sister, her boyfriend - he's my husband's son - and my husband's daughter with her husband. It's a real family outing. Would you like to meet them? You could join us for lunch or dinner tomorrow," I offered.

"I'd love to!" she answered with a smile. "It's so rare to meet somebody from outside this little town. Can you imagine how I feel after four years in New York? The gossip, the church meddling in everything, the corruption at all levels, all this is driving me up the wall. That, and the need to dress up like this."

We both laughed.

"Would you come undisguised? I'd love to see the real you."

"I can do that," she promised, just as the doorbell rang. The rest of the girls were arriving in small groups, but it was another half hour before we were halfway complete. I spent that half hour greeting and hugging my old friends and some I never considered friends. I was surprised at the fact that they were all happy to see me. Greeting Simone and Gabriella was a special treat. Simone looked happy and she was like in the eleventh month. Gabriella was the surprise, though. She was tall, easily six feet, and she looked like a body builder. She had joined the state police, and she was training to join a special unit (she refused to go into details). She looked the part. But her joy seeing me was there for me to see, and she almost crushed my chest when she hugged me.

"How are your parents?" I asked when I could breath again.

"Healthy and well. My father's retired, of course, but he is keeping himself busy with various charity projects."

"Please, give them my regards, will you. I remember them so well."

"Will do. But how about you? I heard you left the country after what happened to your mother?"

I nodded. "It was just too much. First the murder, then the mud slinging in the papers. Besides, I get a very good education, and I live with the best man I could ever wish for."

"Happily married? Good for you, girl, you earned it."

"And you?"

She shook her head. "Not yet. In my job, you don't meet the nicest people, you know. And a colleague? No thank you!"

Then we were interrupted by a new arrival, and I had to shake more hands and kiss more cheeks. At one point, we sat on the veranda, drinking coffee and eating pastries, but I remained the focus of attention. Around six, people began to leave, and again I had to hug and kiss. I was thoroughly exhausted by the time Victoria and I were left alone. I called Joao to pick me up, and while we waited, Victoria and I continued our conversation. I was really impressed. I had, all through high school, perceived her as a air-headed princess, aloof and arrogant. The woman I talked to, though, was warm-hearted, intelligent and a true go-getter. She wanted to build up a business of her own while running her father's real estate, and she already had a string of internet cafes in Sao Paulo and along the coast. She concentrated on tourist hotels, knowing how desperate Europeans and Americans were to keep up their digital life. When Joao was announced from the main gate, Victoria promised to join us the next evening.

I almost fell asleep in the taxi on the way to the hotel. The afternoon had been exhausting. But I felt good, too. I had misjudged my class mates. Everybody had gone out of their ways to be nice to me, and the feeling of acceptance warmed my heart. I realised how keyed up I had been, how worried about fitting in, about being accepted.

We had dinner in the hotel restaurant that evening, but I did not feel like eating. I was wiped out, and as soon as Thomas had finished eating, he called for the check. He also ordered another bottle of red wine to our room, and I sipped some wine while I told him about the day. After the first glass, I was barely able to listen to Thomas' suggestions about our last evening in Ubatuba. I must have fallen asleep in his arms on the sofa, because the next thing I remember is waking up in our bed.

I looked at the alarm clock, and it was almost ten o'clock. I heard the shower running and dragged myself out of the bed and into the bathroom. I could see Thomas behind the frosted glass of the shower stall, and I quickly dropped my pyjama to join him. He greeted me with a kiss, and I thanked him for tucking me in while we washed each other.

When we went down for breakfast, there was a note from the others to be ready at eleven for one last trip to Itamambuca beach. We had a hurried breakfast, and I quickly phoned Victoria to tell her about our dinner reservation at Bailey's. The place had grown on us.

In short, we had a wonderful last day on the beach. There was a sad undertone, though, because we all knew we would leave the next day. For Alicia and Ralf, this also meant a split. Alicia would go to Hannover to study veterinary medicine, and Ralf would continue to pursue his informatics diploma in Hamburg. They would probably only see each other on the weekends. Luckily, there is a fast ICE train connection between Hannover and Hamburg. I would miss my sister, too, but I was happy that her wish to become a vet would come true.

When we came back to the hotel, we showered and dressed for dinner. Thomas had also invited Joao and his wife, to thank him for the care he had given us. For a change, Elisa, Joao's wife, was not pregnant, and I could tell that she was impressed by Bailey's, just as I had been impressed on my first date with Thomas, two years back. When Victoria arrived, I took a deep breath. Gone was the slightly overweight woman with the severe hairdo and the matronly costume. Victoria is a stunner! She is not thin, by any means, but every ounce is distributed perfectly on her body. Her natural hair, short and ruffled looking, added to the pixyish impression, and she wore casual low cut jeans and a white polo shirt. Nobody would think of her as rich business woman in that outfit. How she managed to remain unattached, looking like that, was a mystery to me.

I noticed that Thomas' eyes rested on her with appreciation, too, and I nudged him under the table to give him a grin. I swear, he blushed! I introduced her to everyone as my friend Vicky, trying not to blow her cover, and she gave me a sweet smile for my trouble. English was the language at the table, of course. I had feared that this would exclude Elisa, but she proved me wrong, speaking good colloquial English. We had a very good time on our last evening in Ubatuba, and we were all slightly tipsy when we called it a night at around two in the morning. Thomas and I had invited Victoria to visit us whenever she came to Europe, and she promised to give it a thought. We split in front of the restaurant, and when we hugged and kissed, I felt that Victoria rubbed her chest against mine. She looked deep into my eyes when she told me how much she had enjoyed seeing me again. Being tipsy, as I already mentioned, I hugged her right back, and after two customary kisses on her cheeks, I placed the third plumb on her mouth. I could tell she was surprised, but her lips smiled under my kiss.

Then she was gone, and the next thing I remember is Thomas helping me out of my dress and dragging me into the bathroom. He also forced me to brush my teeth before he allowed me into the bed, but I did not bother with a pyjama. In our slightly drunk state, we sure enough began to fool around, and it wasn't long before I pointed my legs skywards while Thomas did his best to unclog my plumbing. It was a real fucking I got, and after we reached a noisy climax, we fell asleep in each other's arms.

All too soon we had to get up on the next morning to pack our luggage. Joao came around twelve with a Toyota minibus and drove us to Sao Paulo and to the airport. The plane left with minimal delay, and I was looking forward to nap through the flight. But as you know, Stephanie nosed in her neighbour's writing, and the result is that we talked to the writer all through the flight. I also had to write down this story, which is good for me, because it allowed me to face my ghosts again. Here you go! This is my story. Can you conclude something from it? Perhaps. Always be ready to grab one of the rare opportunities to find happiness, and don't let prejudice interfere. And another thing: give people a chance! They may be nicer than you think.

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Epilogue

I have posted the complete story as told by three of the main characters. But nine months have passed since our chance encounter. Before I posted the story, I once again contacted "Stephanie" to check whether they were still okay with posting their life's story. Stephanie gave me an update.

Gisele has given birth to a boy two weeks ago, and apparently, neither she nor Thomas are in the least interested in any old stories. Mother and child are doing fine, and Thomas has given up his various posts to take care of his son while his wife will continue her education.

Stephanie and Lennart live comfortably together. He has finished writing the big investigative book on child trafficking, and he is waiting for the go ahead from the legal people of the publishing house to see it in print. Stephanie is doing well in her job, finding a lot of clients by herself, and she tells me that the rumour mill at her firm says she will be made permanent member soon.

Alicia has switched from the vet school in Hannover to the medical school in Hamburg. Apparently, the prospect of the mandatory stint in a slaughterhouse nipped her love for veterinary medicine in the bud. Besides, she and Ralf can share his apartment now, and it seems she gets along famously with Ralf's mother.

All is well that ends well, I am tempted to write, and indeed I wish all these people who opened up their hearts to me all the happiness for their future. But right now, I look at a still photograph of Gisele, taken from her video, and I cannot help to think that Thomas is one lucky bastard!


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The End
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Posted:  2006-05-22
Last Modified: 2006-06-05 / 05:28:34 pm
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