Date: Sat, 12 May 2007 15:50:31 +0100
From: jason argo <jacklloyd22@hotmail.com>
Subject: War: A Love Story  M/M  hist

"Will there be a war, Herr Strasser?"

The room was in shadow, the electric lights had been dowsed and heavy
drapes had been drawn across the windows to block out the early evening
sunshine of midsummer. On one side of the room atop a small dais stood a
slender young woman, her beautiful face framed by a long fall of blond
hair. She was completely naked, her breasts swollen, her nipples tight with
arousal. Facing forward, she supported her breasts with her hands and
lifted them a fraction for appreciation. They had deep pink aureoles,
wanton and thrusting.

The room was wide and square with a high ceiling, and paintings decorated
the walls while flowers brimming from vases scented the air. Opposite to
the podium, seated in chairs of morocco leather, two men and a woman
watched as the girl's naked figure slowly began to gyrate, hips rolling,
torso undulating.

One of the men was young and wore a shooting-suit which included baggy Plus
Fours and thick woollen socks; the other man, older, wore an all-over black
uniform with silver decoration on the shoulders and collar. It was the man
in the uniform who responded to the inquiry.

"The official communique from the German Foreign Office takes the view that
war can be avoided, Fraulein Dietz. Despite the problem of Poland, the
commonsense of European statesmen can prevail."

The woman, thin and reedy, dressed in the best of 1930s couture, promoted a
cynical smile. "That's the official claptrap. What do YOU think?"

Strasser was a big, beefy man, heavily jowled, with a pugnacious
inquisitive look in his eyes, and the eyes never flinched away from the
contortions of the girl on the dais when he replied. "I believe the Fuehrer
will decide the best course of action for Germany. His judgement in the
past as consistently proved infallible."

The girl in front of them was swaying rhythmically as if to music, although
there was none. She was dancing in slow sensuous movements, her breasts
moving in time with her hips. And she was excited, her rapid breathing
clearly audible to everyone, then, aware of the lack of true astonishment
it would produce she threw back her head as she thrust her pelvis forward
to display testicles and a half erect penis.

The woman in the chair broadened her smile slightly. "Quite a girl, Herr
Strasser, wouldn't you agree?"

"Indeed, Fraulein Dietz. Quite exceptional." answered the man in uniform.

"What is your opinion, Eduard?" the woman asked.

This time the question was intended for the man in the shooting-suit. He
was a generation younger than the first one and he looked at her with an
element of disapproval. "Your talent for depravity never ceases to amaze
me, Celina." he remarked.

Herman Strasser grinned. He had a dark face with big lips, and one side of
his mouth curled up like a sneer when he smiled. "You should try to visit
Berlin more often, Eduard. Such decadent creatures are not uncommon in the
cabarets along the Kurfurstendamm these days, and they add a little spice
to the usual fare on offer."

"What may be acceptable in Berlin often appals the rest of Germany, Herr
Bier." Eduard answered dryly.

The girlish thing before them turned slowly, rolling its hips and smoothing
two hands down over bare skin, offering a pair of trim buttocks for their
inspection.

Getting to her feet Fraulein Dietz stepped across to the dais, her mouth
still conveying the hint of a smile as she observed the serpentine
undulations of the man-girl creature.

"You're a shameless hussy, Rosalyn. You enjoy showing yourself off, don't
you?"

Above her the models eyes held the sheen of sunshine faraway and the heat
of sex. A breathless, "Mmm, mmm" was the only response she received.

"Naughty girl. Wanting to please a man. Wanting to give pleasure to a
cock." the woman simpered while delighting in the control she had over such
people. She turned the girly body slightly, angling it so that the two men
across the room would have the best possible view of the up risen penis and
its bulbous watering tip. As her hands circled the effeminates ankles and
began to slide upwards Rosalyn ceased moving and seemed to be waiting for
something, then as the rising fingers brought an insidiously arousing
caress to his smooth thighs, he shivered.

Brushing aside the raunchy thrust of a penis with the back of her hand
Fraulein Dietz slotted her fingertips behind a hang of well formed
testicles and stroked lightly.

"Oh, ooh, oooh!" gasped Rosalyn.

"A good pair at both top and bottom!" the woman grinned demonically. "And
ah, yes, I do believe you are ready, my Leibling. Herr Strasser will wish
you to amuse him for a while, so go up the stairs and prepare yourself."

The transvestite immediately stepped down from his perch and skipped out
through the door, while the man in the black uniform stood up, straightened
the front of his trousers and followed without a word. When he'd
disappeared Eduard Dietz openly sneered. "I don't know why you invite that
man here. He's an animal."

His sister answered with as much diplomacy as she could muster. "Herman is
an influential officer in the Sicherheitsdienst, the security branch of the
SS. It's useful for me to maintain a cordial relationship with such
people."

"Thank goodness I never have to spend more than a few hours in his
company. I must get changed and be off. I'm expected to report back in
uniform in the morning."

"You could at least pretend some friendliness towards him." complained the
woman, "And why must you hurry, Eduard darling? You should relax and enjoy
some of the pleasures that are free for the taking here. I could have Loti
ready for you in five minutes."

"I'll forgo what you have on offer, Celina. My passion at the moment is for
flying, and when I do come down to earth I prefer a more conventional kind
of female company. I only attended your questionable little show this
afternoon out of curiosity, and now having seen it I won't be tempted
again."

"You've done your compulsory military service. I don't understand why you
haven't left the airforce and entered into commerce. This house needs
someone earning a decent salary to help it along."

"I've told you before Celina, I enjoy flying. I'd die of boredom if I were
confined to an office. If you would only agree to sell this place we could
find you a fine little house in Breslau, and in such a place you would have
no worries about money."

Celina Dietz stepped back in horror and looked affronted. "Sell up! Abandon
Ravenskopf? Never. I am not a common hausfrau who would be content to live
in a city street. I am a lady, and this is where I live."

***

Willy Froehlich climbed from the train and found himself standing in
Glerwitz, a poky little town on the eastern fringe of Germany, a place
whose isolation was emphasised by the thickly wooded hills that surround
it. Using the last of the money given to him by his mother he hired a taxi
cab and asked the driver if he knew the whereabouts of Ravenskopf.

"Get in. Everyone knows where that place is." the man said.

The journey was short but the going was difficult and Willy became
increasingly depressed by the surroundings. A glance at a map had told him
that the Polish frontier lay not far away, and having passed through the
town of Frankenstein on the train earlier he didn't need to wonder what had
inspired Mary Shelley in writing her famous novel – the steaming pinewoods
that stank of punk and resin, the muddy hollows, the bestial looking
peasants he passed along the way, the barbaric place names and wayside
religious shrines, all must have been much the same when she had visited
the region.

He couldn't imagine what Ravenskopf would look like, but he caught a
glimpse of the house through the trees shortly before he arrived. From a
distance the high walls and turrets and the small dome that wouldn't have
been out of place on a cathedral looked decorative and gave it a
picture-book charm.

Shortly afterwards, where the road began to curve uphill to the right, he
was confronted by an obelisk etched with Egyptian hieroglyphs which
signified the entrance to a small park copiously adorned with ancient
statuary. Most of the pieces depicting maidens writhing in the grasp of
bearded, muscular demi-gods, and only when he was beyond them did the walls
of Ravenskopf loom above him like the ramparts of a medieval fortress.

"This is the door I'm told to deliver people to whenever I bring `em here."
the taxi driver told him as he drew up to the side of the building. "The
front of the house is prettier, but we ordinary folk have to do what we're
told around here."

A maid answered his knock to a side entrance; a young woman, dressed in
black, wearing a small white organdie apron and a faint smile. As their
footsteps echoed in the vaulted hall inside the building his gaze followed
the wide sweep of a staircase as it climbed beyond an imposing chandelier,
then while the maid went away to find someone to greet him he studied the
rest of the room. On the walls inset paintings alternated most effectively
with mirrors and panelling, and the ceiling was decorated with tendrils of
vines spreading over a gilded pergola.

He turned to see a tall woman enter the room. He had expected someone
older, but she was much younger than his mother, very striking, with
luminous blue eyes and straight blond hair cropped just below her ears. Her
lush figure was set off by a clinging, deep purple skirt and blouse, and
above the pronounced dip of decolletage arose a marble-white neck and a
face that mingled soft curves and angles to striking effect. Imposing
rather than beautiful her deep set eyes ringed with mascara seemed to
penetrate right through him.

"I am Celina Dietz. You must be Wilhelm Froehlich."

"Yes, Frau Dietz."

"Do not call me Frau. I'm 28 and you may think I should be married, but I'm
not. I've yet to meet a man worthy of me."

"I apologise. I'll try to remember."

"What do you think of the house?"

"It's a very fine house. Much larger than I imagined it to be."

"Yes, it is large. My family had it built two hundred years ago when
Silesia was first ceded to Prussia. We were important then, but
unfortunately we are important no longer. My brother Eduard is a Luftwaffe
officer and thinks more of dive-bombers than houses, so I live here alone
most of the time. For that reason a great portion of it is not in use."

Her eyes flashed, hinting at a sharp temper that could erupt at any moment.

"Do you know why you're here?"

He nodded. He could see those eyes scrutinising him closely, absorbing the
hank of blond hair that hung down the side of his face which he constantly
needed to brush back, and observing his narrow shoulders and the spindly
wrists that poked down beyond the cuffs of his jacket.

"It's to do with conscription." he said, "I'm at the age for compulsory
military service, and my mother doesn't think I'd do well in the army."

The mouth of Fraulein Dietz curled slightly in the semblance of a
condescending smile. She was as thin as he was, but taller, and she clearly
looked down on him in more ways than one.

"She's probably right." Her tone was derisory, "You certainly don't fit in
with my idea of a Panzer Grenadier."

"Mother wants to say she doesn't know where I am when the papers
arrive. She says I can't even remain in Heidelberg because they'd find me
there."

The woman arched her eyebrows. "You have no brothers or sisters?"

"No."

"And your father is dead?"

"Yes."

Wilhelm resented the interrogation, but there was no way he could refuse to
answer. For the near future at least he was going to be reliant on her
goodwill.

"Are you a National Socialist?"

"No, but mother is. She joined the Nazi Party six years ago."

"I know that, it's the main reason I agreed to help her. It's wrong to
cheat the system by hiding you away, but I don't think we're depriving the
Wehrmacht of a particularly great asset.

"What were you studying at Heidelberg?"

"I was reading Classics and Fine Arts. I hope circumstances change soon
because I want to go back to it."

The woman nodded, unimpressed. "Well, at least you should be able to string
a sentence together when you write, and that I may find a use for. One
other thing. While you remain at Ravenskopf you will adopt the guise of a
female.

Willy blinked hard and his slender fingers reached down, nervously twisting
the bottom of his jacket. "A – a female, Fraulein Dietz?"

"Yes. It's important. It's the only way. You must look like a girl and try
to behave like a girl. You may be secure from the mainstream of German life
in this obscure corner of Upper Silesia, but people in small communities
can be inquisitive. I have some insulation against such busybodies but it's
not limitless, and if a young man like you is seen not to be in military
uniform they will become curious and begin asking awkward questions. The
transformation shouldn't be too difficult for you. I imagine you've put on
stockings in the past to amuse your university friends."

Willy hung his head, quite incapable of offering a quick response.

"I expect most of them called you Willy."

"Yes, Fraulein Dietz."

"The name can remain. Willy is an acceptable abbreviation for Wilhelmina as
well as Wilhelm."

She turned away, as far as she was concerned, the interview
over. "Rosalyn." she called, and the maid who had first admitted him
returned and dipped a small curtsy.

"This is Willy. He will be joining us here. Feed him and find him a place
to sleep."

A minute later he was sat at a kitchen table eating sauerkraut and cold
sausage while the maid who had escorted him stood silently in the corner of
the room.

A second maid, dressed identically to the first one came through the door,
and only then did the one called Rosalyn speak.

"Hi Loti, look what we have here. Fraulein Dietz as found another one."

Loti walked over to him and bent down to study his face closely. "You're
cute. You'll do well at Ravenskopf." she purred silkily.

"His name is Willy." said the first maid.

"A good name." grinned the second one.

Willy gazed up at the features examining him and he knew at once that the
maid wasn't what she appeared to be at a distance. He could identify a
cross-dresser when he saw one, and female clothes and lavish makeup
couldn't hide reality. He looked again at the one called Rosalyn. The maids
were the same in more ways than just the clothes they wore. They were both
young men. Two brunettes, brazen and bra-less.

"Are you two in hiding here disguised as women?" he asked.

"Better that than being in the army." said Loti, abruptly moving away. "All
that marching around and shooting guns. Ugh!"

"Does anyone else live here?"

"No, it's just Fraulein Dietz and us." replied Rosalyn. "A fat old woman
comes in every day to cook a midday meal, but the rest of the time Loti and
I are expected to do everything in return for our keep."

"The Fraulein's brother comes here for the weekend sometimes, but mostly
he's away serving with the Luftwaffe." put in Loti. "Fraulein Dietz likes
to entertain though, especially if her guests have some influence with the
Nazi Party. I don't mind that. Some of the old buffers she invites can be
quite entertaining themselves."

He turned and stuck out his backside until it strained against the seat of
the black skirt he was wearing, and then he slapped it, pitter-pat, with
the flats of his hands and grinned over his shoulder. "Do you know what I
mean?"

"Take no notice of Loti. She's always been a slut." remarked Rosalyn with
lofty disapproval.

The other maid snorted, fluttering his false eyelashes as he examined his
lipstick in a small hand mirror. "I'm no worse slut than you,
Rosalyn. You'll drop your pants at the first sign of a man getting hard."

Rosalyn ignored the retort and came over to where Willy was
sitting. "You've finished eating. Leave the plate. Loti can wash it while I
take you upstairs and show you where you sleep."

The stairs were decorated with small statues cast in bronze set into narrow
niches in the walls. Most people wouldn't have studied them closely, rating
them as just part of the decor, but Willy had an interest in art and paused
to inspect one or two. To the casual eye they depicted Greek goddesses,
partially clothed, demure of expression but provocatively posed. Willy
noted that they were all different figures in different poses, and a number
of them displayed a set of male genitals. There were paintings too, equally
explicit, and he realised that the sensuous works of art were a stage
setting, there only to induce a pleasing mood. A backdrop to coax
depravity.

The room he was given was not impressive and was smaller than the one he'd
had in the Hall of Residence in Heidelberg. The contents consisted of just
a bed, a dresser and two hard-back chairs with some walk-in storage set
into one wall. The furniture was old and so well worn that the varnish had
been rubbed from its edges and corners, while the cracked linoleum on the
floor was only cushioned by a couple of threadbare rugs.

"Hardly luxurious, is it?" remarked Rosalyn with a sympathetic
sigh. "Unfortunately the lady of the house doesn't spend money on servant's
quarters. Frau Klausen, the woman that comes to cook lunch, says the Dietz
family were quite well off once, but they lost most of their money during
the hyperinflation that followed the last war. Fraulein Dietz still likes
to put on airs like an old-time aristocrat though, even when her big house
is falling down around her ears."

"Is the house falling down?"

"Take a look at the unused part when you have a chance. The roof leaks like
a sieve."

The male maid went to the cupboard in the wall and rummaged around
inside. "She'll expect you to wear a dress tomorrow. I think this will
fit." he said, pulling out a white item and holding it up to gauge the
width of Willy's shoulders. "There's more in the cupboard with shoes and
things."

Being measured up to fit a frock made Willy blush slightly. Although
Fraulein Dietz had guessed correctly when she'd said he'd probably worn
stockings on occasion to please people, he'd never gone all the way to
dressing as a girl.

He removed his jacket and remained stock still while he was being fitted
out, which allowed Rosalyn's hand to brush against his bare arm with the
intimacy of an established relationship.

"You're a pretty thing." he remarked playfully while the tip of his tongue
circled his lips. "Would you like to do something nice before bedtime?"

The invitation to indulge in carnality was plain, and Willy's reaction was
po-faced.

"I may like men, but I don't just go with anyone."

Rosalyn shrugged without showing dismay. "Don't you? How sad. Never mind,
everyone who comes to this house is a freak in their own way."

***

Willy Froehlich had no illusions about himself. He was attractive enough,
with a good figure, and his long blond hair gave him a sweet little-girl
look of innocence, but he wasn't sophisticated and a lack of
self-confidence became evident the following morning. It was then he
discovered that the white dress didn't really fit well at all, and he
replaced it with a simple round-necked, ankle-length thing in lilac floral
print. Lacking any guidance he compounded that mistake by putting on white
ankle socks and flat shoes.

Fraulein greeted him at the bottom of the stairs with a grimace that made
her dissatisfaction plain. "What on earth do you think you look like? You
have a figure with such great possibilities, but you dress it up like a
frump."

Willy's mind struggled for an excuse. He looked bewildered, brown eyes
blinking back at her, and she noticed he still had the habit of flicking a
fall of hair out of his eyes. "I put on some of the things I found in the
wardrobe. I wasn't sure what to choose." he explained.

"Never mind about that for the moment." the woman snapped, "Come with
me. Other people such as yourself I utilise as domestic servants while
they're here, but for you I have a different task."

He followed her through into what was clearly an innermost sanctum in a
small circular library on the ground floor. Inside a table lamp cast a soft
glow on decorations of bronze sitting agreeably on the warm brown of cedar
panelling that squeezed between a number of ceiling high sets of shelves
crammed with books. It was a comfortable den of a man's room without any
softening frills. A solid mahogany door gave it an air of seclusion and an
elegant Louis XIV desk piled high with pieces of paper and envelope files
stood in front of a casement window.

"My father was Professor Dietz. He was an outstanding anthropologist." the
woman announced briskly. "This was his work station when he was at home,
and what you see around you are the last five years of his
research. Unfortunately he was unable to compile his notes into manuscript
before his death, and that is something I wish you to rectify. Everything
is scattered about and in a jumble, so something more than a secretary is
required."

A lugubrious head on the end of a long neck peered up at her. "Goodness! It
sounds like an awesome task, I – I'm only an undergraduate and I don't know
if I'm capable of doing anything as grand as putting together the notes of
a learned professor of anthropology."

The woman's features became set with determination. "What nonsense, of
course you're capable. Since you've attended university you will be
practised in making dissertations, and the youthful, vibrant blood of
enthusiasm still flows through your veins. The subject is no concern of
yours. All the information you require is here and only needs putting into
sequence. I'll allow you the rest of the week to read things through, then
we'll discuss the matter again."

Having settled things to her own contentment she stood back and looked
Willy up and down once more.

"Now then, we shall go back up the stairs and I shall choose the clothes
you should wear, then I shall have Rosalyn and Loti pin back your hair and
teach you about makeup. Don't expect this treatment every day. I expect you
to be self sufficient in being a girl, and if you don't learn quickly
you'll make me angry."

The two male-maids were summoned to his room, but she didn't spare him a
great deal of time herself. Having selected some items of clothing from the
cupboard she threw them across the bed and left Willy in their care.

"Nice fingernails," Rosalyn said, looking at his hands, "You grow them long
and look after them. That's always a bonus for someone making a
transformation."

Under the watchful eyes of Rosalyn and Loti he slipped into a suspender
belt and silk stockings.

"Suspender straps are far better than garters," Loti assured him, "Nothing
looks worse on a girl than sagging stockings with baggy knees, so I advise
you to always choose suspenders when you can."

When other feminine apparel was offered in his direction, he gave out a
meek gasp.

"A brassier! I can't wear one of those. I don't have a bosom, hardly a very
big one anyway."

"We can stuff it with cotton wool." Rosalyn told him. "It will help you
look the part, and showing a bosom will help you feel the part."

His hair usually hung thick and straight, sometimes framing his face and
sometimes half obscuring it, but Loti skilfully fastened it back to reveal
features of haunting Madonna-like purity.

"You must wear more makeup." Loti said as he pinned back some rogue
tresses. "If you emphasise your eyes you'll become quite beautiful."

Rosalyn agreed. "Yes, you have wonderful lashes, and a good lathering of
mascara will make sure they're noticed. And a cherry-red for your lips, I
think. You'll look gorgeous."

It had transpired that both the male-maids had been involved with show
business in the past and knew everything about applying powder and paint,
but Willy was taken aback by their enthusiasm. "I don't want to look like a
painted doll."

Loti tutted. "Of course you don't. The whole point of makeup is to enhance
natural beauty with a beguiling radiance. It's what the lady of the house
will expect."

"Not Garbo," said Rosalyn, "More Rogers."

Willy looked at him. "What do you mean?"

Loti beamed. "Rosalyn thinks you look like the film-star, Rogers."

"Ginger Rogers, the American. Do you? Do you really think that?" he asked
Rosalyn.

Rosalyn said he did, but Willy was hardly placated. "Is he teasing me?" he
asked Loti.

"I think he meant it."

"Do you think I look like a film-star?"

"Yes, of course."

"I don't feel glamorous. I must look a sight. I don't think I'd be
comfortable going into the town dressed like this."

His two companions glanced at each other and then at him. "Don't worry
about that." said Rosalyn, "The lady doesn't allow her house staff to go
into the town. She keeps us at a distance from other people in case they
guess the truth about us. From now until you leave you'll be expected to
stay within sight of the house at all times."

"We're practically prisoner's here." added Loti, "The only compensation is
the chance to dress nice."

"Fraulein Dietz isn't a very pleasant person, is she?" grumbled Willy.

Rosalyn responded with a brief, cynical laugh. "You haven't seen the worst
of her yet, my little treasure. Most people wouldn't treat a Cocker Spaniel
the way she treats us when she's in a bad mood. The trouble is we're stuck,
aren't we? You and us alike. We have nowhere else to go."

Eventually Willy became established as fully dressed and he was able to
shoo the others from the room. It took him a while after they had gone to
adjust to the strange feelings that now enveloped him. The odd shoes that
deformed his feet took some getting used to, as did the tight hose that
clung to his legs and a skirt that swirled around his knees. His face was
masked with sweet-smelling substances, and most alarming of all, he had a
bosom.

He wanted to look at the finished result but the mirror in his room was
only ten inches square, and he had to go out onto the bedroom landing to
find a full length reflection.

Fraulein Dietz had selected a crisp white blouse to accentuate the creamy
texture of his skin, and to accompany it a black skirt, narrow waisted,
hip-hugging and tight in a Chinese cheongsam style, knee-length with daring
slashes half way up his thighs.

The shoes she had chosen for him had incredibly clunky high heels, but when
he examined himself in the mirror he noticed that they did promote a rather
nice stance of elegance, and with the stockings they did emphasise the
smooth slender curve of his legs in an attractive way. Enthralled with his
reflection he swivelled left and right to examine his appearance from every
possible angle, grinning, pouting and pulling funny faces. Although he
lacked the vanity to consider himself perfection he was small and slim and
he did feel like a film-star.

The colour scheme, starkly black on white, also emphasised the sooty black
of his eyes, and with his hair freshly brushed and feeling silky and
lustrous he felt better able to cope with the demands being made of him.

By the time he was ready to descend the stairs again it was time for
lunch. At lunchtime Rosalyn and Loti catered for the needs of Fraulein
Dietz who ate alone in a rather grand dining room. It was salad and a
poached tranche of fresh salmon for her; boiled salted codfish and potatoes
for everyone else, to be consumed at the kitchen table. Frau Klausen, the
cook, was a large blousy woman and fervent National Socialist who listened
to music on the wireless the whole time she was there. Willy was partial to
American swing, or even a good rendition of The Blue Danube, but the
woman's taste was limited to martial music of the German kind that never
veered from venerating the Fatherland and its Aryan stock. To its
accompaniment she would constantly march back and forth, gyrating her
spoons and ladles in the manner of a drum-major.

When he had eaten he went to the library and began the mighty task that had
been bestowed on him. At once his interest was captured and within minutes
he was absorbed.

It soon became apparent that although Fraulein Dietz's father may have been
a highly intelligent man, he wasn't an organised one. The professor was in
the habit of writing down his thoughts on whatever piece of paper came to
hand and in no specific order. There were a number of hard-back journals
and leather bound notebooks, but most of his work had been recorded onto
lose-leaf sheets of paper that were now stacked in untidy heaps on every
flat surface in the room.

Initially Willy had intended to read everything chronologically in date
sequence, but then he found that very few of the documents had any date on
them. Instead he started to read things randomly and that seemed to work in
an odd kind of way, because when he'd become accustomed to the content he
found he could compile separate piles for notations that commented upon
relevant issues. From the start he knew it was not going to be an easy
task. It would require endurance and pain-staking observation, but given
the week promised to him he was confident that eventually he would find a
common factor to link them all together.

He closed his eyes, and suddenly his head was back in Heidelberg, the place
where he really belonged and where he could submerge himself in real
study. The time he was compelled to spend at Ravenskopf was merely an
interlude, he reassured himself. It wouldn't last long. Soon things would
return to how they had been previously.

***

Willy was a little bit wary of Rosalyn and Loti to begin with. Their
attitude to sexual matters was to say the least, loose, and they openly
admitted they sometimes slept together. He himself was more
reserved. Although no angel, he preferred relationships to have some mutual
rapport and not to simply serve as an excuse for gratification, but after
he had declined their invitation to make up a threesome a few times they
got the idea, and left him alone.

The thing that made living with them easier was their good nature, not to
mention their actual skill. As housemaids their efficiency was as far above
reproach as their morals were beneath it. This was a fact that Fraulein
Dietz must have recognised but seldom rewarded. Although she spared them
military service she ran the house like a military camp, directing things,
throwing out orders and demanding obedience. Her harsh words seemed to
accompany everything they did, and it was not an uncommon sight to find
them on the verge of tears after she had smacked their hands with a wooden
spoon as punishment for some perceived stupidity.

When he went to eat his lunch one day he heard conversation in the room
where Fraulein Dietz ate her meals.

"Does she have a guest today?" he asked Rosalyn.

"Her brother is here for the weekend."

"Her brother?"

"Eduard. He's stationed at an aerodrome near Grottkau but he seems to get
way quite often at weekends." Rosalyn told him.

Willy then remembered an earlier mention of Fraulein Dietz's
brother. "What's he like?

Rosalyn purred like a cat. "Good looking. Big and strong. Loti caught a
glimpse of him in the bathroom once - said he was hung like a
cart-horse. But I've never known him show any interest in us kind of
girls."

He never saw much of Eduard during his brief visit. Eduard dined with his
sister at meal times but spent most of his time out of doors with a twelve
gauge shotgun, a fact verified by the amount of game brought back to hang
in the kitchen larder. Willy's only close encounter came when the man was
on the point of departing and made an unannounced visit to the library.

 "You must excuse me for interrupting you, but I'm off back to my unit this
morning and there is a book I want to take with me." His words were polite
but abrupt, spoken as employer to staff, to someone he considered somewhat
inferior to himself. He stared at the bookshelves on one side of the room
and then the other. "I know my father had a copy of Voltaire in his
collection, but where to find it is the problem."

Being only 5'6'' Willy had to tilt up his face to study the man closely,
and he gazed up beyond a broad sun-tanned face and straight into the eyes
of... a god. Not that he was like one of the statuettes of Greek deities
that filled the niches on the stairs. Instead he took after the kind of
dark warrior who appeared in late Renaissance paintings. Quite easy to look
at, Willy decided. He was smart and upright in his perfectly tailored
airforce uniform, and as tall as his sister with thick wavy blond hair
clipped short, and with blue eyes shaded by spiky gold lashes. He was not
handsome in the conventional sense, his appeal was much more subtle than
that, and the faintly mocking twist to his mouth was an enigma. His
prominent cheekbones, firm jaw and slightly crooked nose gave him a rugged
appearance, but it was the startling blue eyes and high-voltage
melt-your-bones smile that made his pulse jump.

"Voltaire is on the second shelf from the bottom." he said without even
thinking hard. "It's on the right hand side, next to the book by Alfred
Rosenburg."

The visitor gave him a quizzical look that was tinged with amusement, then
his eyes stalked visually along the shelf indicated until he snatched a
volume up in his hand.

"Quite right. Exactly as you said. It hasn't taken you long to get to know
the lay-out of this place."

Eduard was the first attractive man Willy had met since arriving and he
suddenly felt very aware of the bra thrusting out the front of his blouse,
and of the two buttons unfastened at the top that exposed the hollow of his
throat.

 "I have an interest in books, Herr Dietz, that's all one needs really. I
love books, and I love art too."

"Art!" The man's eyebrows lifted as he paused to consider the word. "Yes,
of course. Appreciation of art is said to be a measure of
civilisation. Good art can be a joy."

"Examples of bad art are rare, Herr Dietz. Misunderstanding art is far more
common."

Such a settled opinion caused the visitor to chuckle. "Holding firm views
on things is worthy of respect. You must be the new – erm - person my
sister informed me about. The one she as elected to write-up my fathers
notes."

Willy nodded, suddenly becoming quite breathless. Eduard dominated the
room. He had tremendous natural charisma and would have dominated a room
anywhere.

The man cast around with his eyes. "Settled in, have you? You'll find this
a very pleasant place to work, I'm sure.

"Sadly the library is in a terrible mess and my father left behind such a
lot of correspondence to be dealt with. It'll take you six months to read
everything."

Willy peeped up sweetly from under his lashes. "Fraulein Dietz requires me
to read everything in a week."

Eduard raised his eyebrows. "A week! It you can do it in a week I'll give
you credit for being a top scholar."

"Oh, a week is long enough I think if I start early each day and finish
late. The professor's writing is quite legible and I'm a quick reader."

The man grinned at that, an outright humorous grin that unexpectedly struck
Willy like a blow to the solar plexus and made his nipples stir inside the
cosy confines of his bra. The man was attractive of course, but he had no
idea how irresistible his smile might be. Willy had regarded him
speculatively at first, wondering if his sister's heartlessness was a
family trait that he needed to be wary of, but the cheerful smile dispelled
such fear. Now, with the lighter creases beside his eyes deepening to
reveal laughter lines and his lips parted to reveal even white teeth, he
was devastating.

"You are somehow different to the others I meet here." the man conceded,
his eyes warming appreciatively as they rested on Willy's delicate-hewn
features. "Not as tall. A little shrimp really. Refined. Not as sexually
brash as they, and yet somehow more striking, and more - erm – more
feminine."

Willy felt a blush on his face rising up like a fiery dawn and he smiled
awkwardly, unsure how to take the compliment, but he thought about him when
he'd gone, remembering his smile. Eduard Dietz was everything he disliked
about people in general of course; too self-assured and far too opinionated
and over-confident, convinced he knew best about everything and infinitely
superior to someone dressed as a girl. Even so, he had been utterly
captivated by him, and his eyes glowed against the disturbing paleness of
his face at the mere idea that the gorgeous man had noticed him.

It was important to stop such unsettling thoughts, he decided. He had to
sweep them from his mind.  A man such as Eduard Dietz was sure to have a
girlfriend. He had the kind of looks that probably left broken hearts
everywhere. He probably had lots of girlfriends. Real girls.

He slumped down in his chair. Oh, Heidelberg, where are you? he
thought. Gone were all those sunny, carefree weekends along the Neckar,
laughing and joking with the lean bodied young men who sought to court
him. Gone, all those days of being chased along the river bank until they
had their arms around him. Naughty boys, kissing him like they did,
undressing him like they did, doing the other things that they did.

Eventually his face began to resume its delicate porcelain colour, but then
he was startled by a tapping on the casement window. Looking round he saw a
man outside gesticulating to speak to him.

Getting to his feet he went across and opened the window as if it were a
door. "Who are you? What do you want?"

The stranger offered a broad grin. "I'm Gunter. I'm Frau Klausen's nephew
and I too work for the lady of the house. Three days each week in the
flower garden then two in the park. I heard she'd taken on a pretty thing
to do some office work, so I thought I'd take a look."

Willy gazed up into a tanned outdoor face under a mop of windblown auburn
hair. How handsome he looked. How tall and muscular. His lean aggressively
masculine body was wrapped in a white linen shirt with the sleeves rolled
up, and his very masculine arms were matted with a delicate fleece of fine
hair. He watched in fascination as the muscles in his arms bunched with
each movement they made. He made all the boys he'd known at university seem
insignificant, and he was a good substitute for the unattainable airforce
officer who had so recently captured his thoughts.

Still in some awe Willy watched the visitor push his hands into the pockets
of his trousers, and became aware of the strong muscles of his thighs.

"You are very cheeky, Gunter. Do you want to come in?"

The young man grinned. "No, can't do that. The snooty Fraulein doesn't
allow outside workers into the house. But I bet you haven't seen anything
outside yet, have you? Would you like me to show you the garden?"

"The garden! But I'm busy."

"You must be allowed a breather. The Fraulein can't expect you to work the
whole day without taking a short break now and then."

Willy brought a hand to his mouth and bit a nail, then caught himself and
stopped. He found himself acknowledging Gunter's undoubted physical
attraction. He suited the casual attire of a gardener. His long muscular
legs looked good in close fitting trousers, and the tightness of his shirt
exploited the flatness of his stomach and the strength of his hips.

Why not? he thought. Why not take a break? He'd worked pretty well none
stop for the past few days and never been thanked for doing it, and was it
not reasonable to take the opportunity of viewing other aspects of the
place where he now lived.

He opened the window to its full extent. The sill was very low so he was
able to step over it quite easily.

Outside the garden was scented with the perfume of late summer and Gunter
rejoiced in being his guide. Although the hawthorn hedges had lost their
blossom other things were in riotous colour; there was broom providing its
own splash of golden brilliance, pink and purple pansies, and in the park
further on there were acres of buttercups.

The view to the front of the house extended over a formal garden to the
nearby town, but each side of it was terminated by hedges and little grass
plots where the family in the past had erected tombstones to their pet
animals. At the back of the house orange trees in large tubs were ranged
along the terrace.

"It's lovely." Willy said, very conscious of Gunter behind him, looking at
the close fit of his skirt and the curve of his legs: overtly assessing
things that had nothing to do with horticulture.

He turned and Gunter turned his chiselled features up to the sky. "No rain
today. A good day for being out of doors." he said.

"Yes," Willy agreed, "But unfortunately I must return to my work."

"Shame you can't stay out longer. There are so many things a girl and boy
could do together on a day such as this."

Willy's cheeks suffused with hectic colour. The handsome gardener was
making a pass at him, and he rather enjoyed it. But he wasn't prepared to
give in on a first meeting. "I'm afraid you will have to do them alone
today." he panted.

Gunter leaned forward. "What I have in mind takes two." he growled against
the shell-like cavity of Willy's ear.

As they walked back he slipped an arm around Willy's waist and rested his
hand on the shelf of his hips, achingly aware of the slender, shapely body
he enfolded.

"It must be awkward for you here. I expect you're a townie who's used to
being around boys a lot."

Willy nodded. "It is different here to what I've been used to in the past."

On reaching the window Willy made to lift himself through, but before he
could do it he felt strong, masculine fingers close over his wrist. With no
warning Gunter touched a finger to unresisting lips that promised the sweet
taste of a mountain spring.

"Shame you can't linger awhile longer. Perhaps I should offer a sample of
what you'll been missing."

The look in the man's eyes became one Willy could easily fathom and he
shifted unsteadily under his gaze.

"Gunter, don't you dare kiss me." he spluttered in a gush of air. He
swallowed, feeling his throat constrict, and he couldn't prevent his face
from showing a blush.  He knew he should have said more – he should have
protested more fiercely, but further words became stifled at the source
when the man's mouth descended onto his own.

Heat. At the touch of his lips, a volcanic shock seemed to flood along
Willy's veins, searing him with the intensity of molten fire. His knees
buckled beneath the man's probing caress and he clutched at him
helplessly. Words were quickly forgotten and his good intentions fled the
moment the burly man's arms closed around him, pulling him forward and
drawing him in until he was curled into his embrace.

Fingers slid over his skin and tremors rock him, and he was lost, and all
the time Gunter's mouth writhed against his own in a kiss that demanded
everything, and gave everything.

When the kiss broke for a moment Willy whimpered softly. "Please – please
let me go."

Slowly they drew apart, and the man stood smiling, making no attempt to
hide the arousal in his trousers. "That's a good start. We must try it
again sometime." he said.

***

Celina Dietz was in love. She loved Ravenskopf. Or at least she loved the
status that living in such a fine house gave her. As she walked
disconsolately to the window, she stared with fierce possessiveness over
the lawns and flowerbeds that bordered the house. This was her home, it was
the place she had been born, and she knew every each of it with the
familiarity of long use. How could her brother even suggest that she leave
it all to live in a grubby town suburb?

As a small child she had known a time when famous people had enjoyed
hospitality beneath its roof; it had been a time when her family had owned
estates that stretched back almost to the Oder. There had been picnics and
hunts and wonderful parties in those days, but then had come the bleak time
of the 1920s when the value of the Deutschmark became virtually worthless,
and practically overnight the family fortune had dwindled to nothing. They
had to sell most of the land around them simply to maintain a decent
standard of living, and keeping such a large building in good repair soon
became impossible.

With her father always so detached from everyday life and engrossed in his
work it should have been Eduard's responsibility to put things right, but
her brother was a boyish devil-may-care adventurer even in maturity and he
had no idea how to do it. Instead she had taken upon herself the task of
saving everything from falling into ruin. On coming of age she had
encouraged a wealthy industrialist to court her, and his promise of
marriage seemed to be the answer to everything.

Damn the man, for he had deserted her well before any wedding, and from
that time on she had sought to take out her spite on all men in whatever
way she could. Having a handful of emasculated males around her was a sop
to her vindictiveness. She took pleasure in their humiliation, delighted in
bullying them, and revelled in controlling everything they did.

In the library Willy was composed when she entered. The room was a cool
place, having the benefit of the northern light, but seldom direct
sunshine. Nevertheless the book-lined walls were warming.

It was the seventh day since his arrival, and fully expecting her visit he
leapt to his feet and did a little curtsy as he'd leant was expected when
she entered a room. Before him covering the whole tool leathered surface of
the desk lay batches of papers; the professor's notes, divided and
subdivided into relevant divisions, each neatly clipped together and
fronted by a tag for his own guidance. The notes were so profuse that a
score of other piles had been laid out on the floor.

The woman waved him back into his seat. "Have you read everything?"

"Yes, Fraulein Dietz."

"What do you think?"

He drew in a deep breath. "It's an extraordinary study. Your father was
truly a diligent and dedicated man."

The woman nodded and without saying another word she walked across the room
and opened a cupboard to reveal a typewriter. "Did you learn how to use one
of these whilst in Heidelberg?"

He nodded. "Yes, but my speed isn't very good."

"I'm sure it will improve as you go along. There is plenty of paper in the
cupboard underneath, so I want you to begin writing-up the notes at once."

Willy slowly sank back into his chair, a slight expression of trepidation
on his face.

"There is something I've been meaning to speak to you about, Fraulein
Dietz."

"About the notes?"

"Yes, Fraulein Dietz."

"Well, go ahead. Spit it out."

"Your father, the professor, from what he's written I believe he was
seeking evidence to confirm the existence of a past master-race."

"Yes, I glad you understand that much. He took it upon himself to establish
the truth about the racially superior Aryan people of antiquity from whom
all true Germans are descended. It is a subject Herr Hitler himself is most
passionate about and I believe my father's work will answer all the
outstanding questions."

Willy only half-smiled, in fact he almost winced. "Oh, um...er, perhaps you
shouldn't expect too much. It would probably be unwise to claim that all
the questions have been answered. The Herr Professor clearly worked long
and hard on the subject, but I don't think he has provided any real proof
that a master-race ever existed."

The woman responded with blank look of dissatisfaction and dismay as pride
and indignation warred within her.

"You must be mistaken, Willy dear. My father's health was not at its best
towards the end of his life, but he was a very learned man who was revered
by his peers. He wouldn't have spent his last five years researching
something that couldn't be proven." She gave a dismissive wave of her
hand. "No, no. Clearly you have skimmed too quickly through his work and
missed something important. You'd better read everything again."

Willy was certain that he'd missed nothing. So often bewildered by everyday
life a change came over him when placed in front of any kind of text. His
brain cleared at once, it came naturally to him. It always had. It was no
lucky chance or favour that had won him a place at a university in
Heidelberg. He could analyse the written word with such clarity that
discrepancies glared out like the headlights on a car. Modest and still
lacking self-belief he regarded such a gift as mere common-sense, but it
was a kind of common-sense that few others possessed.

He had quickly observed that contradictions abounded in Professor Dietz's
notations, and they were also full of theories, assumptions and biased
opinions that lacked any evidence. Taken as a whole the notes comprised a
mass of wishful-thinking, and he had decided early on that the learned
professor must have been descending into dementia when he compiled them.

"I assure you I've already read everything very thoroughly, Fraulein
Dietz." he insisted bravely.

For a moment the woman's facial features froze and only her eyes glared
menace. But then a storm broke, her cheeks reddened, her lips twitched and
words poured out in an enraged torrent.

"Have you indeed? Well perhaps I should remind you, little Willy, that my
father held professorships in anthropology and eugenics before you were
even a gleam in your father's eye."

Without warning she grasped the top of his head, wrapped her fingers in his
hair and pulled viciously. Willy squawked, but his anguish was ignored.

"I will accept no truck from effeminate upstarts such as you who think they
know better than him." she continued. "The Aryan people did exist. My
father proved it and you will record that fact."

Completely dismissive of Willy's discomfort she bounced his head up and
down then rocked it cruelly from side to side. "You will do as I wish and
make a good job of it, or I'll inform the police of whom you really are and
tell them how you tricked me into employing you. And I'll tell you now, if
you don't already know, that wretches who purposely try to avoid military
conscription are thrown into a Konzentrationslager where conditions are not
pleasant."

At last she released him, and gradually her look of hostility faded. A
softness, even a glint of amusement came into her eyes as she smiled her
careful tight-lipped smile at him. "Being a conscript-dodger is a crime and
being homosexual is illegal. Do look at everything again, dear, I'm sure
you will find the inspiration you need. After all, breaking rocks to make
roads and being marched out every day to lay railway lines in the middle of
winter would ruin your fingernails. You'd hate that, wouldn't you?"

Expelling an audible grunt, she strode purposefully toward the door but
swung about sharply before departing. "I wish to have my father's work in
book form, so by Friday I want to see the outline of an introductory
chapter."

When she'd gone Willy collapsed in misery behind the desk. Doing has she
demanded was impossible, but the consequences of not doing it were
terrifying. How on earth was he to get out of this fix?

He toyed with the idea of going home, but that wouldn't do either. His
mother was a solid Party Member whose main pastime was denigrating those
who weren't. If he went home she would despair of him and ensure he
enlisted in the army at once, when the only thing he really wanted to do
was appreciate art and read well written books, and perhaps one day write a
book of his own.

He glanced scornfully at the piles of yellowing papers in front of him. His
mother would say that here was his chance to write a book, but how could he
make a book from a mass of such inconsistencies and faulty ideas?

It then occurred to him that perhaps he could do something. If he bent the
professor's research and twisted the facts a little he may even come up
with something that would satisfy his obsessive host.

He carried the typewriter to the desk and stared at it for a while, then
with a single first finger and his heart heavy with misgiving, he typed the
first line.

***

Breakfast was never a thing to look forward to. Slices of bread, scraped
over with beef dripping, when dripping was available, was all that was
provided. It was a rule impossible to thwart since the lady of the house
kept the kitchen larder locked until Frau Klausen arrived, and when the
cook had gone she made a personal check of things inside before locking it
again. Loti said, only half joking, that she knew every egg inside by
number and every potato by name.

Lunch was little better since Frau Klausen always provided house staff with
food that was the cheapest in the town market. Hunger drove Willy Froehlich
to eat as it drove everyone, but at Ravenskopf eating was rarely a pleasant
experience.

Frauline Dietz herself lunched with people every alternate day, but few of
her guests had any allure. Most in fact reminded Willy Froehlich of the
villains that inhabited Grimm's fairytales; a miscellany of witches, ogres
and knaves.

One lunchtime he looked on enviously as a silver flat loaded with succulent
looking breasts of poultry masked with rich red wine sauce was taken into
the dining room,

accompanied by a plate of obazdabrot oozing cream cheese and onions.

"Is she entertaining someone today." he asked.

"Yes, Otto Hahn." Rosalyn said. "Otto is her solicitor, and from the
snatches of conversation I hear at times like these I have the impression
he's a shifty character who's helping her to hang on at Ravenskopf,
probably by using the kind of tricks and shady deals only legal minds can
understand."

Mildly taken aback Willy expressed his surprise. "But he's a professional
man, and professional men should have scruples. Do solicitors do shady
deals?"

His innocence caused Rosalyn's mouth to crease with mirth. "Do dentists
pull teeth? He gives the Fraulein's difficulties a great deal of attention,
and in return she allows him some freedom with people here, if you know
what I mean. He fancies himself as some sort of Don Juan with Loti and me."

Willy wrinkled his nose. "That's disgusting."

"No, that's life." Rosalyn replied fatalistically.

By that time Willy was beginning to understand that such arrangements were
not unusual at Ravenskopf. As a reward for favours Fraulein Dietz often
entered into a conspiracy, and following lunch she would allow her guests
freedom to roam about the house and gardens and amuse themselves in
whatever way they wished. And what they usually wished for was some time
alone with one of the maids. Just two days previously he had noticed a
fierce looking old man disappear into the disused part of the house with
Rosalyn, reappearing sometime later smiling with contentment, with his
white moustache plastered with red lipstick and the front of his trousers
unbuttoned.

Willy was wary about being drawn into such cold affairs and always
retreated to the library as quickly as he could. But following lunch that
day he almost collided outside the kitchen door with Otto Hahn. He was
about fifty years old with a fat face and black hair slicked back and
plastered down with brilliantine. For several moments he was aware of the
man's undressing stare, and his face wasn't a pleasant face. Somehow it
seemed all mouth – mouth and lips – a big wet mouth and flabby lips, until
he smiled, when it became predatory.

Otto Hahn at once became predatory. "Ah! You must be the new one called
Willy. Fraulein Dietz mentioned she had fresh meat in her larder. I must
make a point of taking lunch here more often in the future."

Blushing with indignity Willy stared at him. "I doubt we are ever likely to
dine together, Herr Hahn."

He leered, his teeth showing in a white line, like those of a rabid
animal. To judge by the fixed, uncaring expression in his eyes he was
incapable of warm affection and thrived on lust. "You miss my point, sweet
poppet," he teased, "Not inexperienced, are you? Not exactly untouched by
human hand, I vouch. The buttocks of a sweet tart such as you I would
expect to find on the menu."

Willy shuddered with revulsion. Appalled at hearing his tittering laughter
he could hardly bear to look at him. He felt intimidated, and to avoid
further conversation he stepped back into the kitchen and then went through
to the garden at the back. There he almost collided with Gunter.

"Willy, my love, I haven't seen you for a couple of days. Have you been in
hiding?"

"No, I've just been busy. I only hide from people I dislike, and you aren't
one of them."

The man swung a broad arm around his slender waist. "I've shown you the
garden, now allow me to show you the rest of the house."

"I've been told it's in bad repair."

"Sadly, it's almost a ruin." Gunter said.

When they walked along the rear elevation it was clear that Ravenskopf had
once been a grand house, but impressive as it was Willy could see as they
made their way along its exterior that there had never been any attempt to
stun the visitor with an expansive stony courtyard as was the case at
Versailles and Schonbrunn, instead a simple colonnade faced onto a small
stream which framed a view across water to a great zone of resin-scented
pinewoods on the far side.

Gunter swung him about and walked him up a ramp. The unused part of the
house was entered by a neoclassical portico, and a person with time to
spare could enjoy taking the air beneath the eyes of long-suffering
caryatids that supported its heavy entablature.

Beyond a rococo decorated vestibule lay the magnificence of a central
hall. The vast oval chamber, now devoid of furniture, was floored and
walled with Carrara and green Prato marble of the most delicate vein and
hue and Corinthian columns stretched up high into a central cupola.

This area had obviously been commissioned by a person of exquisite taste
long ago and was a room that would have been incredibly impressive in its
prime. But now could be whiffed the smell of damp and decay. Grime laden
watermarks on the walls spoke of rain seeping in from the roof over a
number of years. The longer he stood in that vast hollow space the more it
fitted with the idea of a forsaken cathedral or gigantic elaborately carved
cave.

It was dingy inside, and nervous of encountering spiders amid the gloomy
shadows Willy felt along the wall for a light switch, found one, and found
it didn't work.

"There are no electrics in this part of the house." said the man with him,
gazing down at the youthful girlish form in his arms and pressed her
against the wall. She was so fragile he feared he may bruise her. And yet
even while that thought flitted through his mind, he drew her even closer,
until he could feel the thundering of her heartbeat on his own chest. His
hands were all over her, she was letting him touch and feel freely. He was
licking her ears and biting her neck, and she was loving it.

Gunter's dark, heavy lidded eyes glittered with excitement. He had waited
long enough and he could wait no more. He was a man and he had to take
her. He would give too, but then he would take her again. He would take her
until she was full to the top with him. His fingers encountered the swell
of her breast beneath the soft fabric of his blouse and he heard her quick
little intake of breath. Instantly his touch gentled, and he moved to the
small of her back, stroking, arousing, until he felt her begin to
surrender. He was experienced. He could tell when a girl was ready for a
good fucking, and this one was as ripe as any he'd ever known.

Willy felt Gunter's hot, hard length rub his stomach and he wriggled
against it seductively, a feminine ploy that seemed to have developed
naturally of its own accord. It was shocking and primitive and exciting,
but it made him long for more.

"The central hall must have been a lovely place in the past." he murmured.

"Ja," Gunter said cynically, "But now it doesn't even make a good
potting-shed." He tugged his arm. "Come with me."

Willy followed him without a murmur. He was curious to discover what this
man, who was capable of unsettling him with a mere glance, had yet to show
him.

They went towards a battered wooden door with an iron ring for a
handle. But it provided no exit; instead it led into a smaller,
high-ceilinged salon with a frieze of an old-time hunting scene
incorporating bears and deer. A little milky light seeped into the room
through small windows high on the wall, and in a dim haze the armoire, some
overstuffed worn chairs and a chaise lounge bulked like enormous dozing
animals themselves.

Willy turned to him wide-eyed. "Why are we here? What are you going to do?"

Gunter chuckled. "Fraulein Dietz allows her guests to use this place as a
play-room. It's a good place for a girl to stretch her legs wide and there
is no reason why we can't use it too." He winked. "Do you understand what I
mean?"

Willy did understand, but before either of them could make any move to play
they heard footsteps approaching on the outside.

"Just our bad luck," bemoaned Gunter, "That gruesome lawyer as decided to
use the same room today. Get down the other end, screened behind the
cupboards and other junk there we'll be able to see everything without
being seen ourselves."

Mystified, Willy again followed his man friend. They scuttled to the far
end of the room where a motley of disused things had been stored, and there
they secreted themselves in the darkness between old cupboards, coils of
rope and piles of worn out carpets.

Within seconds there was a noise at the door, and they both shrank back
into the shadows as two people appeared. Otto Hahn was followed by Loti,
and Loti was the star of his own show that day; hair pulled softly back,
begonia lipstick perfectly in place, still wearing his housemaid dress but
looking... just lovely.

Willy gave Gunter an urgent glance. "Why are we staying here?" he hissed
softly.

The man put a finger to his lips. "Keep quiet and you'll see." he whispered
back, "I told you it's a play-room."

"I don't want to watch other people."

"It's only a bit of fun. Crouch down or Otto may see us, and if he sees us
he'll throw us out."

At the other end of the room Loti had swung about and was now pressing
himself against his own man's obese figure.  "You've been keeping me
waiting, Herr Hahn." he said, his voice husky and believably feminine.

"You know I always wait until I've had my lunch." the man replied.

"Why is that?"

"It is important to show civility to one's host before pursuing ones own
diversions, and anyway, I can never spank a girl on an empty stomach. Not
even a girl such as you."

Loti tilted his chin. With the lines of his throat ironed out by that
attitude, it was one of his best poses. "You really are cruel and
heartless." he said with a weary sigh.

Loti stepped forward in his perilously high heels and did a deliberate
pirouette in front of the man, fawning before him for his pleasure. Willy
felt the tightness of revulsion in his stomach at such a shameless come-on.

"How would you like my bottom?" asked Loti.

"Bare, of course."

"I know that," Loti told him, wiggling a pair of lace panties down over his
legs, "but do I bend over or do you want me across your knee?"

"You are so forgetful." Otto Hahn retorted as he reached out and took hold
of a neat little ear and led Loti over to the armchair. "I smacked you over
the chair arm last time I was here, so today it's across my lap."

Placing himself firmly on a seat a mildly protesting Loti was helped to
bend over his lap. Immediately he grasped Loti's skirt at the back and
pulled it up over a pair of tense and slightly quivering buttocks. The
black fabric complimented the exposed white skin perfectly, and its uplift
allowed him to contemplate the smooth white curves at leisure.

Loti's was at his disposal, poised gracefully over his lap with his bare
bottom sticking up beautifully. Suddenly Otto seemed to remember that
touching was better than looking and he reached out and stroked the warm,
satiny skin. Having enjoyed a prolonged and intimate feel, he rested his
hand in the small of the maids back, patted the nearest cheek to get the
aim right, then raised his hand and delivered two resounding smacks, one to
each buttock.

Loti squeaked and kicked a little, and with an expression of relish the man
watched the springy quiver of flesh settle and a pair of pink patches
blossom.

"Oh yes. So nice and colourful. And so quickly too."

Willy drew back against an old cupboard, wishing he could melt into its
panelling. Feeling a sense of irritation he arched his brows and glanced
once more at Gunter. What was he trying to do? Was watching other people a
way Gunter found stimulation? Maybe he believed the person with him would
be stimulated by it too.

"Aren't you going to put on some lights?" asked Loti.

Otto Hahn tutted. "You know very well the electrics in here have been cut
off, but there is enough light for what we need. I wish to keep you in
shadow today. Today I wish to concentrate on the sensation of touching you,
feeling you, penetrating you. I find a little darkness quite exciting."

Loti writhed slightly in an alluring manner. "It's not because I'm ugly, is
it?"

Otto tutted. "I don't smack ugly girls, you know that. My hand is reserved
for the most outstanding and vivacious anatomy. You look like a film-star."

Loti giggled. "I've heard that line before. Am I Garbo or Rogers?

"Neither of those," the man replied. "You're more compelling than Garbo,
and your body is far more voluptuous than Ginger Roger's boyish
looks. You're Marlene Dietrich by no stretch of the imagination, a German
beauty to the tips of your effeminate tits."

As he spoke he landed two more brisk smacks on Loti's bare rump before
beginning to undress him, unbuttoning his dress at the back and peeling it
down.

Loti was wearing a girdle beneath with suspender straps to hold up his
stockings, and Otto was quite content to leave them in place.

"I wish we could have a light on." Loti said.

"Don't be silly, Loti." Otto said calmly, "You've been in this room
before. There's nothing to hurt you here."

"Only you." Loti replied, reaching behind to stroke his red blotched
bottom.

"That! Oh, that. I do that for you as well as myself. It's not punishment,
its sex play. I know you respond to a little bit of smacking. It warms you
up and makes you frisky."

Loti climbed from the man's lap and lounged back of the bulky sofa until
its softness enveloped him in its cushioned embrace. His head was resting
against the dark green velvet upholstery. Half crushed into a corner his
long legs splayed indolently, which allowed his excited penis to swing up
and flop onto the girdle that covered his belly. "Like this?" he asked.

Without speaking another word the man peeled off his jacket and unfastened
the front of his trousers. Even at the other end of the room Willy could
hear his breathing, heavy and hoarse, as he levered out his penis and
leaned over Loti.

He stole a sideways look at Gunter again. His face was turned a little away
from him, offering a perfect view of his profile, with his eyes staring
fixedly at the other people in the room, and it was clear that the
gardener's imagination was running riot. He was a voyeur who found
enjoyment in watching others perform.

Willy at least had the grace to flush, the colour deepening beneath the
blush of rouge on his cheeks, but with regret he found he was excited by
what was happening.

If what had gone before had painted a picture of Loti being some kind of
victim what transpired next altered everything. Loti's smile seemed lazily
indulgent but he was no less harmless than a sleeping tiger. Quite unshaken
by what had gone before the she-male arched his back to show his tiny waist
to perfection, but more than anything else it was his face drew the
solicitor on. Loti put his hands on the small of the man's back and the man
fondling Loti's breasts. Loti's tongue appeared to moisten his lips, then
he turned his lips upwards and their mouths fused together.

Slithering like a snake Loti turned over and raised himself up on his
knees, then he slumped forward on his elbows and raised his bottom, waiting
in that pose until strong hands parted his sexy-smooth mounds.

"Come on, lover-boy." he urged, "You know I like it strong and hard."

"You minx!" Otto groaned as he shunted his thighs against willing buttocks
and strived to go deep.

The man and Loti were soon locked together in a ferocious coupling of a
kind that made Willy's senses swim. Otto was driving his thighs forward
with all his strength, and Loti was responding with undulating and
curvaceous movements as fluid and fast as his partner. His head was thrown
back; tresses of hair falling away from the nape of his neck, and with his
mouth open in a cry of wonderment, his facial expressions were that of
unashamed primitive lust.

Willy listened to the sounds of animal rutting as a mixture of pleasure and
need engulfing himself. Otto's strangled exultant grunts, Loti's strident
girlish sobs, the urgent thumping of bodies on the furniture, they all
combined to create a soundtrack of utter debauchery.

By the time Otto Hahn and Loti had finished and departed through the door
Willy was as ripe as a plum for what must follow. He wanted the gardener to
take him at once, masterfully and fulsomely, just as Loti had been taken.

Gunter seemed to know that. He gave him a roguish smile that started his
heart tumbling, and then slowly, lazily, he kissed his nose before
following the slope of his cheek to his lips. Willy's mouth moved beneath
his, opening for him as their tongues met and tangled.

Gunter's fingers were strong and sure as he reached for the buttons on the
front of his blouse, undoing them and drawing the garment wide, before
slipping his hands around behind to unfasten the bra.

"I want you. I want to taste every inch of you." he muttered with his voice
thickening.

He fumbled and struggled with the clasp of the bra, and Willy had to undo
it for him. Gunter then pressed his fingers into the tender flesh of his
breasts. In the gloom of their private hideaway he wasn't put off by their
small size and began lifting and kneading and drawing them out, while his
mouth clamped to Willy's throat and Willy moaned and arched his neck,
inviting his touch. The man's mouth dropped lower to close over a nipple,
first one then the other. They were already erect and he delighted in
kissing them in turn, rolling his tongue lazily around the aureoles and
suckling each tight little peak, making them swell and extend even more.

Eventually, as was inevitable, a hand slipped up Willy's skirt to caress
his thighs and make him burn with desire.

A low moan shuddered from between his lips. He could tell Gunter was
rampant and ready, and he was ready too, ready to accept the firmness of
his adoration, ready to enjoy his muscular thighs and his bliss giving
thrusts.

But then the gardener suddenly pulled back his hand in horror.

"Gott und Himmel! You've got a prick."

Willy glanced up at him with a stricken look. "But, I thought you knew."

"I know about Rosalyn and Loti, but that aunt of mine as had a good laugh
at my expense with you. She told me that the Fraulein had brought in a real
girl to do her office work. You don't for a moment think I go around
chasing faggots, do you?"

Willy's lips became a thin line. He meditated in silence for a moment, then
said: "I thought you liked me for myself, whatever I was."

Gunter gave him a jaundiced look as he backed away. "That's out of the
question now. I could get into trouble by associating with a pervert
cross-dresser, and I'm not going to risk ruining my reputation with the
real girls in this world by being friendly with a hung hen, either."

As he spoke he was already on his feet, buttoning up his trousers and
brushing past on his way to the door.

***

"This won't do." Fraulein Dietz remarked frostily. The woman cut an elegant
figure that day. Her pleated skirt of soft blue wool emphasised the slim
lines of her figure and the pearls that circled her throat were a family
heirloom, and consequently valuable. She looked at ease in her
surroundings, fashionable, but not flashy, refined, but not understated.

She was standing by the window to benefit from good daylight whilst reading
one of the pages Willy had typed up, and her finger tapped the paper
disparagingly. "The statistics of head-measurements and facial features for
blacks and Asians seem right enough but the conclusions you've drawn from
them are too vague. People are not interested in reading about likelihoods
these days, they demand certainties."

With shoulders hunched and chin on his chest Willy began a meek
protest. "But Professor Dietz seemed to think..."

"There was nothing uncertain about my father," she snapped coldly, quickly
bullying him to a standstill, while simultaneously skimming the paper
towards him, "Do it again, and this time be more positive."

Willy couldn't hide his anxiety, his long lashes drooped over eyes that
revealed uncertainty and his shoulders slumped. She read through his work
every day and threw pieces of paper and the same kind of remarks at him
constantly. What had begun for him as a crafty exercise in rounding things
up and tidying the ragged ends of the professors various assumptions had
been forced to develop beyond reason.

"Fraulein Dietz, perhaps I'm not the best person for doing what you
want. Perhaps you should find someone else to finish this work."

The woman's face took on a look of thunder. "Stand up! Stand up straight,
you stupid fairy."

Willy pushed himself up at once, and there was no doubt from his hang-dog
look that the serious nature of things had struck home.

"It is not your place to offer suggestions to me." The woman glared at him
and a certain trace of waspishness entered her tones. "If I didn't think
you could do it I would have employed you as a scullery-maid from the
start. I find nothing wrong with most of what you do, in fact you are quite
competent and have a rather nice way of putting words together in pleasing
phraseology. It's just your dedication I question. You really must stir up
some enthusiasm for what I demand. If you don't I shall have to begin
rapping your knuckles with a wooden spoon as I do with the other lazy,
effeminate wretches here. And if that as no effect I'll start smacking your
balls."

She paused and then added caustically. "Am I making myself clear, Wilhelm
Froehlich?"

She was using his proper name, rolling it out slowly and conspicuously to
emphasis the power she had over him, reminding him that his safe sanctuary
at Ravenskopf could only be had on her terms.

"Yes, Fraulein Dietz." he replied, nodding.

The woman strode towards the door, then almost as an afterthought she
paused and turned. "I'm holding a small dinner-party at the week-end and I
shall want you to attend."

Willy looked up, astounded. "Me – attend your dinner-party?"

"Yes. Professor Pohl from Berlin will be one of the guests. He's an old
acquaintance of my father's and may ask about his latest work. Since you
are the only person who as read it in its entirety it makes sense for you
to be there. Make certain you look sweet and feminine on the occasion. I
don't want anyone referring to you as the bearded she-male."

When she'd gone he sat down again and tried to sort things out in his
head. He was being compelled to surrender his own integrity and
independence of judgement, that was certain; Fraulein Dietz was demanding
that quite consciously and inexorably. So determined was she to have her
father's work accepted as a success he had found it necessary to add entire
tracts of make-believe to it out of his own head. But even that wasn't
considered enough for her. He had been prepared to cheat a good deal to
remain in her favour, but the whole thing was getting out of hand.

Like a worm contemplating an apple he paused until the worm began to
burrow.

The solution was blindingly obvious in the end. He had the skill to make
even the heap of rubbish in front of him sound plausible, so he would do
that.

He would extend doubtful concepts into logical argument and even invent
substantiating evidence if it were needed. There were whole rows of books
in the library that could help him, everything from Darwin's `Origin of
Species' to an Everyman's `Guide to the Artificial Insemination of
Cows'. With their help he would convert foolish ideas into the kind of
irrefutable certainties that were sure to please Fraulein Dietz.

Sitting up straight, his confidence began to blossom. Yes. He would produce
a suit made to measure. A fairy story designed to please.

***

He worked tirelessly for the following two days, the library completely
silent but for the incessant clatter of the typewriter. There was only one
notable incident. On a rainy Friday afternoon his attention was drawn to a
tapping at the casement window, and he peered round to see Gunter standing
outside owning a smile that was speculative and subtly ingratiating.

Disenchantment showed on Willy's face as he opened the window.

"What do you want?"

Gunter hesitated for a moment, his mouth taking on a vaguely sardonic
twist. "I can tell you're still annoyed with me for what happened the other
day, and you've every right to be. I was pretty much a disappointment to
you."

Willy scowled. "So?" he said scornfully.

"So, I'd like to make up with you. You know, make a new start."

"What about your reputation with real girls?"

The gardener shrugged. "Girls are pretty scarce in my life at the moment,
and I'm feeling horny enough to want to try out a hot-arsed queen. It's a
bit of a step back for me, but I know you'll be grateful. O'course we'd
have to keep it a secret. I wouldn't want anyone else to know I go with
faggots."

Momentarily stunned by surprise Willy stood back. The audacity of the
brute, attempting to seduce him with such clumsy words after what had
happened earlier, and to satisfy nothing but his own selfish needs.

He'd been told as a child that when in danger of losing his temper he
should count to ten, so he counted in his head, then said flatly: "Fuck
off." and closed the window.

As the weekend approached he began to have apprehensive feelings about
sitting down to dinner with Fraulein Dietz and her friends. She seemed to
associate with some of the most ugly and uninteresting people in the world
and he could predict that none of them would care a dot about reading good
books or be interested in art. It seemed doomed to be a dismal affair until
he heard laughter outside in the hall.

On the Saturday morning there was some noise outside in the hall. It was
the first Willy knew of Fraulein Dietz's brother spending the weekend at
home, and when he opened the library door a crack to have a peep at the new
arrival a spider tickle crawled down the back of his neck.

Eduard had bustled through the door of the house without any prior warning
even to his sister, and his laugh was infectious, it was a laugh that was
rich and warm and brought a grin to the face of everyone in hearing. In his
Luftwaffe uniform with his visor-cap tipped jauntily to the side of his
head he exuded vitality.

Fraulein Dietz greeted him with gentle annoyance for not giving her notice
of his intention, but her reprimands fell away from him like water off a
ducks back.

Now the prospect of dinner didn't seem so daunting. Eduard would be there,
so at least there would be someone nice to look at. And at least Eduard
knew what he was, so there would be no mistakes and no misunderstandings as
there had been with Gunter.

Excitement bubbled inside him. While he bathed and dressed that evening he
hummed a little tune. Eagerness to share the same dinner table as Eduard
made him feel flushed all over. He looked at himself in the mirror; too
much lipstick he thought, and wiped it off with a handkerchief. Five
minutes later it was the way he wanted.

He applied blush and mascara lightly, stepping back to study himself as he
pinned up his hair the way Loti had taught him, and fixed it with a black
velvet band. Everyone said it suited him that way.

From the wardrobe he selected a plain, black silk dress, backless,
figure-hugging and sleeveless with a deep V in the front. The skirt draped
below his knees in sinuous folds and stretched over the rounded contours of
his body to make him feel like a rather sexy vamp. The style precluded the
wearing of a brassier, and his breasts were nowhere near as pronounced as
Rosalyn's or Loti's, but he fancied they did have a nice girlish jut to
them. The boys in Heidelberg had always said they did, anyway.

Rummaging around for accessories he found a pair of gaudy gold-coloured
earrings and a dinky black velvet choker that complimented his dress and
the hair band, and which also added a beguiling facet to his slender white
neck.

When all was done he leaned on the dressing table and studied his face
again in the small mirror. He pushed back a stray strand of hair that had
fallen over his forehead, turned his head on one side and smiled at himself
as he stuck out a vampish tongue.

Move over Ginger Rogers, he thought.

Downstairs in the dining area the scene was one of intimacy and
richness. It was an elegant place, its beige walls hung with panels of
moire silk, the carpets with their distinctive design, brought many years
ago from the Caucasus. Candles flickered on an immaculately set table,
lanterns illuminated the terrace outside and the balmy summer air wafting
through the open windows was scented with jasmine.

The ambiance was almost that of a family gathering in which he felt oddly
out of place. There were five people taking drinks on the terrace. Otto
Hahn the solicitor, Eduard and Herman Strasser in their uniforms, and the
academic from Berlin, Professor Pohl. And Celina Dietz of course, who was
magnificently sheathed in a glittering emerald evening gown of metallic
lame which was probably a Madeleine Vionnet creation.

Even when aware of his arrival there was a tendency for most of them there
to ignore him. Only Eduard made any effort. He gave a friendly wave as if
greeting an old school friend and Willy's heart gave a little flutter as he
then walked over to him.

"You look enchanting this evening Willy. What would you like to drink?"

Willy wasn't very good with drink and had rarely ventured beyond an
occasional glass of beer. Unfortunately he sensed that beer was out of the
question in that place on that night.

"Um, er. Perhaps a sherry."

"Dry or sweet?"

"Oh, um. Sweet I think."

"Of course. And in a big glass with ice. It makes an excellent aperitif
with ice."

"Lovely." Willy agreed, not knowing if it would be lovely or not.

Eduard went to the side of the room and returned baring a goblet of dark
liquid that tinkled with ice cubes.

"Thank you." said Willy accepting the drink, "You're being very kind, but I
don't wish you to neglect your sister's other guests."

The man's mouth curled up in cynical amusement and he replied in a soft,
low voice. "Look at the choice Celina has given me. The professor, Herr
Strasser and Otto Hahn. An egghead, a thug and a solicitor with the moral
values of a second-hand car dealer. You are the only nice person here
tonight. How are you doing with all that reading?"

Willy peeped up at his elegant features, feeling as giddy as the young girl
he had never been. "I've done with the reading. I've made a start on typing
it up."

When they sat down at the table he thought Eduard looked the dashing hero
in his airforce uniform. Professor Pohl should have been resplendent in his
white tuxedo, but he seemed to care little about his appearance. He was
thin and wiry and wore heavy framed glasses, in his late fifties and didn't
seem to care that his dinner jacket was unbuttoned and flapped open, and
how his bow tie was tied inelegantly loose. During the meal that followed
he sat with his chin cupped in his hands, elbows on the table, between each
course of food.

For the first part of dinner the conversation centred on trivia. The food
was delicious. Fraulein Dietz had persuaded Frau Klausen to provide an
evening meal instead of a midday lunch that day, and she had excelled
herself. A delicious home-made soup to start followed by veal escallops,
and with a mouth-watering fruit sponge to finish. Otto Hahn glanced
sideways with some amusement as he observed Willy tucking into the
schnitzel on his plate with obvious relish.

"Your cook should be complimented, Celina. The food is clearly much
appreciated. Few other people in Germany will have dined as well as we do
this evening."

Celina Dietz reciprocated with a dignified smile. "Other people – oh, I'm
in my let-them-eat-cake mood tonight." she replied lightly.

"Veal is one of my sister's favoured dishes." Eduard put in. "I prefer well
hung fowl myself."

"Pheasant hunting," Otto said, "Is it still good around here?"

"Never better. All kind of game. The woods about here are a great joy."

Eduard's sister smiled dreamily. "Not like the shoots in the old days
though – all the people that used to come here when I was a girl – the
parties, the picnics, the good times. Ravenskopf was always full of guests
then, often fifteen, twenty all at once."

Rosalyn and Loti were waiting-on-table, and from the slightly startled
expression that erupted on Rosalyn's face each time he cleared crockery
from before Herman Strasser it was clear the man was relishing the
opportunity to caress the seat of his skirt with his broad hand whenever he
could.

Willy found himself sipping wine nervously, his throat a little dry; it had
something to do with the way Herr Hahn kept looking at him. It was
disconcerting. It was as if he were devouring him with his eyes. Every now
and again Otto smiled at him and for a brief moment touched his silk-clad
knee.

When the meal was over the men lit cigars and sat back in their chairs.

"I've noticed you decorate this fine old house in a traditional Teutonic
style, Fraulein Dietz," remarked the professor, "You haven't yet been
seduced by the trend for Art Deco."

Celina hesitated, loathed to admit she couldn't afford to buy modern works
of art even if she wished to.

Herman Strasser saved her the trouble of a reply. "Art Deco!" He spat the
words out. "Art Decadent more like." he snarled.

Stirred by a subject close to his heart Willy spoke for the first time at
the table. "Don't you think some of it is quite adventurous and rather
exciting?"

The SS man gave him a disenchanted stare. "The Fuehrer despises all that
distorted, modern abstract rubbish, and if he despises it so should we
all." He turned to his host. "You spoke earlier of the good times, Fraulein
Dietz, and I believe the good times are about to return. We have in Adolph
Hitler a guide of the first magnitude in everything. I think everyone here
will agree with that."

Celina smiled. "You speak of the Fuehrer as if he were a holy man."

"Perhaps he'd not holy, but there are many who label him as the `New
Messiah' and worship him without reservation. After the dismal years of the
1920s – the crippling war reparations imposed on us, the stripping away of
our overseas colonies, the destruction of our economy – it is he more than
anyone else who as given Germany back its self-respect. His decision to
reintroduce compulsory military service for young men in defiance of the
Great Powers I consider a master-stroke. It at once took the sharp edge off
unemployment figures, while the need to equip an enlarged army as given
German industry exactly the kind of fillip it required to rise up from its
own ashes. "

"He as given us an airforce too," Otto Hahn said pointedly to Eduard. "The
Luftwaffe now has the most formidable air fleet in the world. Other
nation's sit-up and take notice of us now. Being militarily strong
accommodated the Anschluss with Austria and won us back the Rhineland. I
don't doubt it will also solve the Polish problem."

Celina sighed. "I don't think most people wish for another war. They still
remember the terrible cost of the last one."

Herman Strasser offered a severe look. "Such people are selfish and are not
good Germans. The Fuehrer thinks only of the welfare and betterment of the
nation, and if necessary he will drag such faint-hearted fairies kicking
and screaming into the glorious future he plans by the scruff of their
miserable necks."

Testing for a diverse point of view Celina looked to the other side of the
table. "You circulate in Berlin society, Professor Pohl. What is everyone
saying? Will there be a war?"

The professor shrugged. "Speculation is rife. Herr Hitler as resolved to
reunite all German speaking peoples in a Greater Reich. Everyone as their
own theory and mine is that the Fuehrer must go further than that and move
against Poland. It is the only way to provide Lebensraum – space for the
German nation to expand. Poland can provide a great deal of
space. Afterwards other places may also be useful, but first and foremost
we must have Poland.

Herman nodded agreement. "The security and standing of any country is
determined by the size of territory it possesses."

"Very true." Otto said, taking another swig of brandy.

"But Poland as a population of its own." put in Willy rather timorously.

Herman's dark heavy-lidded eyes glittered with passion as he looked around
the table. His expression was one of stone, his face an effigy that
wouldn't have looked out of place on Easter Island. "Only beast-like Slavs
live there, and Herr Hitler has a profound hatred for them. The Slavs are
remnants of the pagan Huns that pillaged Europe centuries ago and most of
them will be removed. Those that are left we can use much like the ancient
Spartans used the Helots. In the new Reich we shall probably need slaves to
till the soil and provide labour for industry whilst the legions of our own
vigorous Aryan warriors protect the state."

Professor Pohl sparkled with interest and resting both elbows on the table
linked his fingers together. "Ah yes, the Aryan's. A fascinating subject
and one that follows the line set down in Mein Kampf. Man is a fighting
animal and the fighting capacity of a race is determined by its purity."

Otto Hahn drained his brandy glass and pouted thoughtfully. "I take it you
support the theory that the Aryan or Nordic high-browed people are destined
to rule over the more primitive low-browed races."

"Yes, it's a much debated, but widely held belief that all true German's
originate from that mysterious and superior species of people, and any
governing race would of course be under German leadership. Vacher de
Lapouge made a very good case for it in his `L'Aryen'. In some mythologies
they are believed to have founded the ancient civilisation of Atlantis. But
of course that society was destroyed by a great cataclysm long ago and now
no one knows where it lay."

Willy hiccupped and wobbled slightly in his chair. He had consumed a large
sherry and two glasses of sparkling Sec when even a small glass of beer
usually made him feel whoosey, but that night the fortification loosened
his inhibitions and encouraged him to speak out.

"Professor Dietz believed that Atlantis was a large island in the Baltic."

Pohl gasped in amazement. Eduard chuckled.

"Willy is collating my father's notes with the aim of putting together a
book for me." explained Fraulein Dietz. She had planned to introduce
Willy's involvement with her father's work at a time of her own choosing,
and a look of severity crossed her face now showing her concern in case her
guests should feel embarrassed at the interruption.

Herman Strasser just looked puzzled. "It would seem incredible. Can it be
proven? I mean, that the site of that fabled lost continent is in the
chilly Baltic?"

Most of what circulated in Willy's head was a mixture of an effete man's
demented ramblings and his own thoughts, linked together by what other
people had written in their own books. That was exactly the kind of things
he was typing out to please Frauline Dietz, and it would probably have been
best not to say too much about it. But the ability for conversation, almost
dormant since he had sat down, was now revived, and once started he was
unable to prevent himself continuing with gusto.

"There is evidence that antelope, elephants and crocodiles once lived in
Europe, so the entire region must have been sub-tropical at one
time. Ancient Greek tradition as it that Atlantis lay beyond the Pillars of
Hercules – a reference to the Straits of Gibraltar - but that only means it
wasn't in the Mediterranean. It could be anywhere else. Professor Dietz
studied everything very carefully, and he was sure that a large stretch of
land existed once in the waters to the north of Pomerania. He was certain
that a magnificent civilisation once thrived there, and he was convinced it
could only have been Atlantis."

At the foot of the table Eduard cradled a brandy balloon with both hands
and offered his warmest smile. For him the conversation had taken an opaque
turn, and had now become incoherent. "Is any of this credible to the
scientific mind, Herr Pohl?" he asked.

Pohl paused to examine the glowing end of his cigar, pale blue eyes myopic
behind thick spectacles. "It makes perfect sense and I'm sure the Fuehrer
would agree. He is convinced that every manifestation of human culture,
every product of art, science and technical skill that we benefit from
today is the product of Aryan creative power."

His gaze suddenly rose up and settled keenly on Willy.

"My friend, the eminent Professor Rosenburg as long maintained that the
Nordic people evolved in a now-lost land mass in north-western Europe, and
if Atlantis produced the Aryan race it would obviously be close to
Germany. If dear Professor Dietz can present proof to qualify such a theory
his work will be precisely the kind of academic study so many important
people are yearning for. Can he do that? Can he provide proof?"

Willy sensed Fraulein Dietz's eyes glaring hard in his direction, almost
demanding an affirmative answer. She was smiling but it was the kind of
smile that cautioned him against smiling in return. He hid his anxiety, his
long lashes drooping over eyes that might have revealed uncertainty. "Erm,
oh yes. I'm sure he can." he said.

Throughout the entire evening Otto Hahn had been acutely aware of the smart
little morsel seated next to him. He'd admired Willy's girlish profile in
the flickering candlelight, noting how elegantly his hair was pinned back
except for a few corkscrew tresses that had prised themselves loose to
drift about his face and neck.

"You're a saucy madam and no mistake. You spoke up very bravely just now."
he murmured.

When the little porcelain princess gave him a watery smile he decided it
was time to try for something else, and Willy's attention was suddenly
diverted once more by the man's straying hand, which this time moved from
his knee to grope beneath his skirt in an attempt to run lecherous fingers
along his inner thigh.

Willy dug his nails dig into the palms of his hands as he swivelled
sideways to shake off the lecherous intrusion, but suspected the man
wouldn't desist until he made a scene that was certain to bring on Fraulein
Dietz's displeasure, which was certain to be displeasure at his own
behaviour rather than that of the debauched solicitor.

The tortured expression of discomfort on his face was soon noticed by
Eduard, who pushed himself to his feet. "Excuse me everyone, but I need to
get outside and take a breath of fresh air." Turning his eyes sideways he
added. "Perhaps Willy would like to join me."

"Oh yes. I'd like that." Willy exclaimed pushing back his chair.

Eduard's boots scraped on the paving as he strode onto the terrace. "I hope
you don't think I'm taking advantage of you by requesting your company."

 "Not at all. I'm only grateful to get away from the table. I was beginning
to feel trapped."

"I understand. Some of my sister's acquaintances are not gentlemen."

He received back a trusting look that made his insides tighten.

"You're a gentleman, Eduard. I think you probably lark around a lot with
your friends, but I sense you are very right and proper about things that
really matter."

Eduard nodded solemnly. "I'd feel upset if we beat the Poles in a war and
didn't treat them right afterwards. In the past the Reichwehr as always
been honourable in its fights, and I resent the likes of Herr Strasser
wishing to poison that tradition."

The evening air was warm and sweetly perfumed by the garden and he at once
invited Willy to descend from the terrace and take a stroll among the
shrubs and stands of flowers. They walked side by side for a while, careful
not to touch.

"At the moment my airgruppe is converting from Stuka dive-bombers to the
new Messerschmitt fighters. Superb machines. The best in the world. If
trouble does come they will prove a real war winner."

"`War is sweet – to them that know it not.'" replied Willy solemnly. "The
philosopher Erasmus wrote those words five hundred years ago, and they are
as true today as they were then. I wish everyone would stop talking about
war."

Eduard treated him to a slow smile. "I dare say you do. You are a gentle
creature, Willy, but unfortunately we are living through times that require
forceful measures. The Great Powers suffered from political blindness
following their success in 1918. In a move to punish our country and keep
it weak they granted Poland access to the port of Danzig on the Baltic
coast by way of a wide strip of land that cuts through German territory."

"I've heard of it. It's referred to as the Polish Corridor."

"Yes. It separates East Prussia from the rest of Germany; a nonsense, you
will agree, to split a country into two pieces like that. And it's not just
the Corridor either. The Poles have never ceased in their claims to the
greater part of Silesia, a province that as been German since the time of
Frederick the Great.

"This book my sister insists you write – my fathers concepts – it's all
silliness of course."

Willy gave him a sheepish look. "Herr Professor Pohl was enthusiastic. He
seemed to accept it immediately."

Eduard scuffed the toe of his boot against the gravel path. "My father was
ill prior to his death and probably deranged, moreover he was consumed by a
fanatical desire to please Hitler, just like so many others these days. The
eminent professor from Berlin is a perfect example. He is willing to
sacrifice his professional commonsense and believe anything that fits in
with the notion of a master race, no matter how absurd it may be, while the
Fuehrer himself is influenced by Himmler's fascination with mumbo-jumbo."
He sighed. "The fault dear Brutus, is not in our stars but in ourselves."

Willy grinned. "You surprise me. You're quoting William Shakespeare."

Eduard smiled. "I'm not a complete warmonger. I have been educated,
Willy. And just for the record, I rather like Art Deco."

They passed through the small formal garden and followed the curve of a
gravel path into open parkland. "I used to take an interest in weeding and
pruning when I was young." Eduard said. And he proceeded to confound Willy
by explaining to him the various problems encountered in growing greenhouse
tomatoes with all the smoothness of an expert.

It was not yet fully dark and the open ground smelled heavily, deliciously
of sweet grass. The distance from the house incited a relaxed mood and an
atmosphere that was erotic embraced the airforce officer. It was
persuasive, seducing all his senses. The good food and wine he had consumed
and now the flower-perfumed air and the soft lantern light had combined to
give the illusion of a wonderland where he found himself lost in admiration
of Willy's unsettling appearance.

He drew to a halt and raised a broad finger to stroke beneath Willy's chin
and lift his face. "Are you familiar with Shakespeare's Sonnet 18?"

Willy's pulse galloped. "Um, er. Yes, I think so."

Eduard placed a hand on each side of his face and looked deep into his
eyes. "Doesn't it begin with something like, `Shall I compare thee to a
summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate...'?" he murmured.

He was looking intensely at Willy as he said it, heated eyes lingering on
his face, and Willy immediately turned to mush. "Yes, it does... Herr
Dietz, I – I ..."

"Let slip the formality. You must call me Eduard. In the past I have never
approved of my sister's interests and I've certainly never indulged in what
she offers. But you are different to the others she keeps here. More
delicate. More feminine. More beautiful."

Eduard inhaled deeply, chest expanding as he tried to retain control of his
emotions and his body. It was one thing to have a soft spot for this
winsome youth dressed in women's clothing, but quite another to feel sexual
longing for him. It was forbidden, immoral, and it was unnatural to be
attracted to someone such as Willy, he tried to remind himself. It was
perverted. It mustn't escalate further.

It did no good; his thoughts remained syrupy and dim from a heady rush of
sensation.

Willy watched keenly as his handsome face hovered in front of his own, and
their eyes locked. He watched fascinated as his mouth came closer. Eduard
was going to kiss him, he just knew it. His small breasts ached and the
teats of his nipples stood out. And then his eyes somehow closed all by
themselves and their mouths were linked, and he was dying of love.

Leaning over, Eduard's mouth went down on Willy's, and in response Willy
readily opened his lips. The moment Eduard's tongue touched his own he
trembled and his knees turned to jelly, his heart lurched and every
molecule of his body reacted to mould against the fabric of his uniform. He
clung to him, softness against hardness, a perfect fit, a fit to heighten
desire. His arms looped around Eduard's neck, his fingers coiled in his
silky hair. He smelled so good, he thought, a mingling of shaving cream,
body heat and musky male odour.

It made him weak with longings he didn't know how to avoid. He only knew
his breasts were hard where they crushed against his muscular manly chest
and he could feel an aching sensation lower down.

Indulging, savouring, Eduard's hands became clamped behind Willy's back,
but after just a few moments they began shifting, moving, running over his
bottom and around his waist. Willy felt a thumb stroke over his hipbone and
then across his stomach, then the hand cruised higher, over his ribcage and
up to his chest to push aside the flimsiness of his dress at the front and
unfurl the ribbon of sensation that linked his upper body with his groin.

"Mmm." The hands continued moving. Eduard's palms pressed forward and big,
manly hands were on his bare skin, pumping, caressing and lifting his
miniscule breasts.

Willy felt like he was melting, but despite that he was all too aware of
the man's mouth and hands, his broad shoulders, his hard body – and his
hard...

Abruptly Eduard's shoulders flexed as the weight of the situation settled
in his mind and with a muffled oath he eased himself away. "I don't think
we can go any further with this." he murmured with a wry grimace.

Willy caught his lower lip between his teeth. "Really?" he murmured
chokily, "So, what happens now?"

"You're sweet both in mind and body, so we can be friends. But friends are
all we can ever be."

Willy's hands fell to his sides and his eyes mirrored his disappointment,
but he simply shrugged and adopted a casual manner he was far from
feeling. He had surrendered to the handsome Luftwaffe officer; he had put
aside his shyness and reserve and had been prepared to be ravished by him,
only to be cast aside at the final moment. Another mistake, exactly as it
had been with Gunter.

Eduard's apology had been sincere, he knew that. But that didn't compensate
for what may have been. Chastened by his rejection they walked back to the
house in silence, and just before they arrived on the terrace the anger
that comes with rejection overcame him and he stormed off ahead.

When he entered the dining-room Celina, Herr Strasser and Professor Pohl
were standing up taking coffee and talking while Loti and Rosalyn scurried
back and forth clearing the table.

Almost at once he felt an arm slip possessively around his waist. "Nice,"
said a voice that accompanied a hand appreciatively running up and down the
skimpy fabric of his dress. "I can't imagine what Celina is thinking of,
letting you off the leash to roam around with Eduard. That boy doesn't
appreciate people like you the way I do."

Willy's gold-coloured earrings clinked as he swung round with a start. Otto
Hahn was standing beside him and at once he noticed the forward drop of the
man's head, the eyes, bloodshot from the amount of alcohol he had consumed,
and the large salivating mouth with its leering grin.

"He's clearly finished with you, so perhaps you would take a turn in the
garden with me next." the man remarked, "Sexy little fruitcakes such as you
will be well used to spreading their buns for more than one man in an
evening I would think."

Willy tried to move away but the man's arm held him firmly in place. "I'm
not a slut, Herr Hahn" he protested.

Unimpressed the solicitor's hand moved up from the small of his back,
sliding against bare skin to probe the line of his spine.

"Someone like you can't afford to be choosey, sweetheart." he replied
thickly, burying his face in the hollow of his neck. "In this place you
will be reasonably safe as long as you behave yourself, but if you're
compelled to join the army you'll be the regimental bike – everybody will
ride you."

Distraught and feeling vulnerable Willy felt his lower belly tighten, a
tightness borne out of knowing the man's expectations. He hated the man for
what he was doing, hated his voice, hated his greasy hair and his fingers
probing up and down his back.

Just at that moment Eduard came through the French windows, his mouth
taking on a vaguely sardonic twist at the sight of his distress. At once
his voice cut through the tension.

"Otto, may I have a word with you in confidence outside on the terrace?"

The solicitor was obviously displeased at being interrupted and didn't hide
the fact. "For goodness sake, what is it now?" he grumbled irritably as he
released his grip on Willy and followed Eduard out through the French
doors.

After no more than a few seconds Otto staggered back into the room,
groaning sorrowfully and clutching both hands to his face.

Eduard came in behind him and beckoned to one of the maids. "Loti, would
you look after Herr Hahn? He took a tumble just now and banged his nose on
the masonry outside. I think he's bleeding."

Willy sidled up to him as Otto was led away. "Eduard, did you hit Herr
Hahn?"

The man shook his head. "No, no. Truly he banged his nose on the wall,
although I will admit my hand assisted in propelling his face towards it."
He smiled grimly. "A relationship between you and I may be impossible, but
I couldn't stand back and allow him to maul you in such a ghastly way. One
thing is certain. The odious creature will not bother you again. That much
I have established."

Willy felt slightly ashamed of the way he had indignantly strutted off and
left him earlier. "You are indeed a friend, Eduard. I'm lucky to have you
as a friend."

Celina Dietz was astute enough to guess what had just happened and was
infuriated that one of her most useful allies had been subject to such
treatment. While Eduard was replenishing his drink she deftly slid up
beside Willy and whispered in his ear. "The party is over for you, you
little trouble-maker. Get up the stairs."

***

The evening ended soon after Willy had departed, Otto Hahn consoled his
discomfort by taking Loti up to bed and after a brief pause Herman Strasser
made a similar arrangement with Rosalyn.

Celina and the professor chatted for a while longer then went to separate
rooms.

"If you are to return to Grottkau tomorrow it would be unwise to stay up
too long." the woman advised her brother.

Eduard watched the door close behind her then slowly walked to the window,
his dispassionate gaze tracing the paved path that he had so recently
walked with Willy.

He had never invested much time or effort in relationships with the
opposite sex. Men and women were different. Men did things one-two-three,
and when it came to practical stuff a man had to take into account that the
heads of females were on upside down. Throughout his adult life he had
found women unpredictable and illogical, but although he gave them no
encouragement they seemed strangely attracted to him.

He switched on the wireless and listened to the end of the late night
news. There was an item about brutish Polish vagrants raping virtuous young
German maidens in the land corridor to Danzig. He'd heard similar things
before and recognised them as scurrilous propaganda-babble designed to stir
up loathing and hatred of the Poles.

He turned the wireless off and prowled the room, pacing in circles,
achingly aware of the person he most wished to be with. Unbuttoning his
tunic he removed it and threw it across a chair.

A shiver ran through him, but it was not caused by the lack of a coat or by
a ghost walking over his grave. It was Willy, fragile and radiant,
projecting both childlike and feminine qualities. His mind was suddenly
full of him; his scent, the way his skin had felt under his hands, the
little lift at the corner of his mouth. A smiling mouth, he remembered,
smiling himself.

That strangely naive, rather scatter-brained young transvestite brought out
a streak of tenderness in him he had not known he possessed. He had a
wonderful instinctive sexuality that he'd never needed to learn. He enjoyed
himself, enjoyed his body. No guilt. No play-acting.

He raked through his hair with unsteady fingers, remembering the forbidden
joy he had known with Willy in the garden, his lust made him
hard. Sometimes a woman may be not quite a female, he thought.

It was a dangerous thought, he warned himself sternly. There was no room in
his life for someone like Willy.

In his room Willy Froehlich slipped off the black dress and heels and the
lacy underwear and left them in a little heap on the floor while he slipped
into a pale yellow silk nightdress that felt like flowing water against his
bare skin. Maybe it wasn't silk, he thought, maybe it was that cheaper
rayon-stuff that looked like silk, but it didn't matter, it felt like silk.

He lay in his little bed and drew the sheet up to his chin, but sleep
didn't come. There were too many thoughts in his head, too many memories
that were almost painful. What was it about Eduard Dietz that teased him so
much? It wasn't just his fine looks, which he had in plenty. Perhaps it was
the way he carried himself so easily, as if nothing could shake his quiet
strength. And yet he was not arrogant. His confidence was born of
honour. Eduard had defended him so stoutly earlier in the evening, but
unfortunately nothing could come of it, that was certain. A man like him
could never give himself over to a close relationship with a cross-dresser,
and a cross-dresser Willy Froehlich was, there was no doubt about it. He
had found his place in life by being feminine.

His reverie was disturbed by a tapping on the door of his room, and he
climbed out from under his sheet. Barefoot and slender in silk that drifted
around bare legs he stood at the closed portal. "Who is it?"

"It's me. Eduard," came a reply, "Can I speak to you for a moment."

Willy fussed with his appearance, draped in clinging yellow and with a halo
of golden hair, he felt like a Botticelli angel. But an angel of course he
was not. He certainly wasn't feeling like an angel that night. Far from it.

When he opened the door the tall Luftwaffe officer was in his shirt sleeves
looking slightly confused and apprehensive.

"Can I come in?" he said.

Willy allowed him into the room then leaned back against the door as he
closed it.

"Willy," the man whispered, his vice disturbingly low and gentle. "I
erm... I have to apologise. I'm not used to women, and much less used to
beautiful boys dressed up as women." Then suddenly he faltered. Eduard
Dietz was a man rarely stuck for words, but this occasion had caught him
out.

Willy shook his head and recklessly raised himself up on his toes in order
to touch his mouth against his. "That's okay. It's alright."

Few words were spoken because few were needed. Instinctively they both knew
why he was there, and neither regretted it. Their thoughts were as in tune
as any two peoples thoughts could be. It was something Willy had hoped for
but hadn't dare think possible.

The man stepped closer, put his hand on his shoulders. He could feel
delicate bones beneath his fingers, could see the flickering of a pulse in
the transvestite's throat. Willy's anxious eyes sought his, and what he saw
in them melted any resistance he may have had left. Almost hypnotically he
allowed himself to be drawn into the man's arms.

Eduard pressed his chin against his temple and enveloped him with his
embrace, putting a hand on the nape of the girl-things neck he eased his
fingers into his soft blond hair, felt the moist heat there. He pulled him
close and saw Willy's mouth open in a soft oh of surprise as he kissed the
corner of his mouth, his eyelashes, his brows and the line of his jaw.

Willy wasn't sure how he ended up in his arms or whether Eduard said
anything more. All he was aware of was that he had thrown his arms around
the man's waist and anchored himself to his strength, and things he knew he
should have said dissolved in his throat, demolished by the man's touch and
taste and by his incredibly heady scent.

It all seemed like a dream as he pressed against Eduard's long, lean body,
a hazy cloud of romance, a fantasy come true. His skin tingled beneath the
silk of his negligee, the garment drawing in the heat from two manly
hands. Now he understood the appeal of silk. Such fabric seemed to
intensify every touch.

Eduard leaned into him, outlining the shape of his mouth with his tongue,
biting his lower lip, running his tongue along the smooth ridge of his
teeth or order to sample the taste of his mouth. In return Willy wrapped
his arms around him and threw himself into the kiss, his mouth pressing
hungrily upwards, parting his lips, drinking him in until he was breathless
and dizzy.

He could feel the tautness of strong biceps as arms pulled him forward. The
man's breath caressed the side of his face and there was the sweetness of
his lips against his own. Mmm, he thought, Mmm, as he tasted tongue, sweet,
smooth, slippery. Just how it should be.

The kiss went on and on and passion rose between them. As tension began to
build Willy pulled him closer, wanting more, and suddenly a fantasy wasn't
good enough for him. He wanted a real flesh and blood man with hard muscle
and smooth skin. He wanted a man driven by lust and desire to take him.

He drew back and looked into Eduard's eyes, and for a moment he was
surprised by the vulnerability he saw there. It was as if he were looking
at a different man to the carefree one he had come to know.

With a low laugh Willy swung forward and playfully bit him on the earlobe,
then traced the contours of his ear with his tongue. "I'm yours to do what
you want with." he whispered.

He heard Eduard's breath quicken and a moan rumble in his chest as he
gripped Willy with both hands, his fingers as elegant and forceful as the
rest of him. "Let me look at you," he insisted, pushing the straps of the
negligee from his shoulders.

As the garment slipped to the floor hands exploring his body and Willy
gasped out his name low and urgent as spasms of pleasure began to engulf
him.

He turned towards him and unfastened the top button of his shirt, then
working systematically down as far as his belt, unbuckled it, unzipped his
fly and pressed his hand against him, arousing him with the warmth of his
palm. Loti had once said Eduard Dietz was hung like a cart horse, but at
that moment Willy thought he was massaging the shaft of the cart itself.

Nibble fingers quickly exposed everything and Eduard's penis was then
standing out, raised up from the horizontal in a flattering Hitler salute.

Slowly Willy sank to his knees and his mouth and wet tongue briefly
caressed the fleshy sacs of the man's testicles before paying full
attention to the main event. His hand flirted with it, appreciative fingers
wrapping around its impressive contours to feel its strength, then after
lapping at the juices flowing from its broad tip he took it in his mouth to
adore it.

Just a few hours ago, Eduard would have been horrified by the kind of scene
he was now a party to, but his blood was running too fiercely to hesitate
now. Willy wanted more than sweet kisses and tender caresses, and he did
too.

In a rush of commitment he swept Willy up in his arms as if he were a new
bride and carried him across to the bed.

Lying on his back Willy yielded immediately, looking up at the man who
dominated him, eyes wide, pupils dilated. Consumed by desire, his body
began to twitch with impatience.

Eduard watched for a moment and then slid between his thighs. The fires of
love were all ignited and aching longing to please swept over both of them.

There was no restrictions, no coyness, no haggling. Willy raised his legs,
and

grasping the man's penis like the handle of a tennis racket he tugged it
forward to the place of his desire.

Eduard lined himself up and screwed forward, and seizing Willy by the hips
he drove forward in a act of wondrous carnal delight, deep into his pulsing
centre.

The two of them groaned in unison, establishing a rapport of pleasure given
and pleasure received which transcended everything else. Suddenly Willy's
insides felt full, and his whole body blazed in reaction. When he felt his
flesh compelled to stretch his head snapped up and he gasped.

"Oh, Eduard, you're such a big... man."

"Am I hurting you?"

 "No, it's alright. Don't stop. I want you to finish properly.

Eduard collapsed between his thighs and the transvestite's long legs parted
and wrapped around his muscular trunk, the calves becoming ever shapelier.

As Eduard began to move Willy expelled a tightly held sigh as his grip on
reality slackened and they copulated in a man and woman fashion. Eduard bit
his neck, pulled his breasts and possessed him, moving slowly at first and
stroking inside against places that made him groan with joy. Willy became
transported into a neverworld of pure sensation has he twisted sensuously
beneath him, loving every movement of the powerful body against and inside
his own, absorbing every thrust, feeling the room spiralling around until
at last the man's body tensed.

Eduard froze for a moment, his muscles taut his eyes squeezed tightly shut,
and then he moved once more, rapidly and ferociously this time, moaning out
loud, his thighs convulsing several times to indicate that his orgasm was
intense and probably very copious.

At last they lay together, their bodies damp and tangled, still joined as
one, neither of them willing to break their fragile bond.

Eventually Eduard whispered softly in Willy's ear. "I have to return to
Grottkau in the morning. Something is brewing that may entail active
service, and I don't know how soon I'll be able to visit again. Can I stay
here for a while tonight?"

"It's only a single bed."

"You mean it's too big?" Eduard murmured huskily. And he smiled his beaming
smile.

***

Herman Strasser found Berlin sweltering beneath a hot summer sun. The cafes
on the Kurfurstendamm were crowded, girls wore gaily flowers dresses and
businessmen took off their ties, while the beaches along the Havel See and
the Spree were packed with bathers.

Alfred Helmut Naujock, Head of the Sicherheitsdienst (SD) stood behind his
desk in his office on the Wilhelmstrasse wearing an immaculately tailored
black uniform. Behind him the wall was hung with red, white and black
banners and a giant portrait of Hitler. Herman stood in the centre of the
room.

"I was summoned before Heydrich yesterday directly after his meeting with
Reichsfuhrer SS Himmler." Naujock began. "It seems the Fuhrer wishes to be
furnished with a palpable reason for crossing the Polish frontier in force,
and we have to provide it."

Herman was suitably shocked, but the shock quickly settled into dour
satisfaction and he glowed. "An invasion? At last! I was beginning to think
it would never happen."

"Well, it is to happen. We have been given the task of creating an incident
– an acte provocateur, as the French would say, that will enrage the German
people and illicit sympathy from other nations. It must be a good enough
reason to warrant an all out attack. The Fuehrer as always maintained that
Poland should not exist as a country, and a small war should settle the
matter to his satisfaction."

Naujock moved from behind his desk. "In the past we have manufactured a
number of incidents along the German-Polish border at the behest of the
Party, all minor trifling affairs designed to stir up anti-Polish
feelings. This time it must be something more substantial. Something that
will provide a good headline. To restore our nation to its rightful status
everyone must be convinced that freedom by force of arms is possible, and
the German population must be more frightened of the Poles than of going to
war with them."

He walked to a wall map, and with a red pencil he circled a place name at
the tip of the finger-like salient of Silesia that jabbed like a dagger
into the belly of Poland.

Strasser blinked. "Gleiwitz! I know that place. It's in my Wehrkreise – my
military district. I was there recently. American cowboys would call it a
one horse town, but I know people who live in the vicinity."

"Good. Then you will know that it's close to the Polish border. It is of no
importance but for the fact it has a radio transmitter linked to the
Deutchlandfunk."

Naujocks turned slowly and tapped his knuckles thoughtfully with his
pencil. "Now let us suppose that a party of Polish troops stormed the radio
station one evening in an act of misplaced bravado, and let us suppose they
broadcast a message insulting and threatening both the Fuehrer and the
German people. We would have to consider that a serious provocation and
deal out a stern reply."

For all his usual warlike bluster Herman looked slightly
shocked. "Yes... but invasion? It would mean a big war; the Poles are in
alliance with the French and British."

"Mere pieces of paper, dear Herman." Naujock assured him with a wave of his
hand. "They are paper treaties that will dissolve with the first real hint
of hostilities."

Crossing to a table he poured out a shot of schnapps but neglected to offer
any to Herman. "And if the allies of the Poles do put up their fists, what
can they do? France hides behind its Maginot Line of fortresses which a
simple thrust through Belgium can outflank, while the British government –
so long the advocates of world disarmament - maintain an army that is small
and weak and have an airforce that is still under reconstruction after
twenty years of neglect." He paused only to throw the shot of corn liquor
down his throat. "They are both bluffers, those two. They will stand back
in regard to Poland just as they did with Czechoslovakia last year, and
since Herr Ribbentrop as provided us with a friendship pact with Russia we
can expect co-operation rather than interference from the Soviets."

"There is still the Americans to take into account. What about America?"

Naujock smiled complacently. "The Americans pursue a policy of isolation
and are turned inward on themselves. The rest of the planet can fry in hell
for all they care. No. No need to fret about them. And anyway, when all is
said and done, we are not threatening Western Europe. Hitler has his eyes
focused on the east. He wants land, large stretches of it, and it's to the
east where the land is."

"Everything seems to have been studied very rigorously, but then the
Fuehrer always calculates every move he makes extremely well."

The other man smiled. "Yes, and it's advisable to leave the creation of
ideas to those who know best. We do not make policy; we merely carry
through the orders given to us. Come now my friend, this is serious
business and we are serious-minded men. Anti-Polish feelings gives the
German nation something to bind them together, and eventually Hitler can
use that adhesion to dominate all of Western Europe while he completes what
he has decided to do in the east. The Gestapo are committed to helping us
in this business. The army as been warned and the generals are ready to
move next week, so we must not let them down."

Moving forward he placed a hand on Herman's shoulder in a comradely
gesture. "I shouldn't need to draw pictures for you. The culprits – the
Polish troops involved in this little escapade - will a SD Sonderkommando
of our own men."

***

Bratwurst and boiled potatoes was lunch. Just about every other meal
provided for the house staff at Ravenskopf consisted of sausage of some
kind, but Frau Klausen remained unimpressed by any complaint.

She switched off the sound of a German marching band that was playing on
the wireless. "Don't moan about the food, at least you usually get
meat. There's plenty of people in Germany these days who still exist on
eating cabbage."

Pulling on the lambswool coat she wore constantly, winter and summer, she
added vindictively. "There's a special police detachment visiting the town
today. They're checking identity papers, looking for army deserters and
shirkers trying to avoid military service."

No one at the table made a reply. She had finished her lunch duty and they
watched her leave. They all knew she had been amusing herself by trying to
sow a seed of alarm.

When she'd gone Loti gave Willy a nudge. "Don't worry about those
policemen. Glerwitz is such a small place they'll be gone in a few hours,
and they'll never come to Ravenskopf while Fraulein Dietz keeps in thick
with Herr Strasser. He protects her from them."

"I'm fed-up with sausage and I'm fed-up with hiding. I wish I could go back
to my studies." Willy said glumly.

The cook always left the kitchen pots to be cleaned by Loti and Rosalyn,
which allowed Loti to scoop up some gravy from the dish served to Fraulein
Dietz to put over his potatoes.

"Where do you come from, Willy?"

"Leipzig is where my mother lives, but I'm much more at home in
Heidelberg."

Loti slumped down at the table with his plate in front of him and expelled
breath in a long sigh. "I'm a Berliner myself. I miss the hustle and bustle
of that dirty, smelly old place and I wish I could go back there and sit in
front of a big dish of kasespatzle. Have you ever been to Berlin?"

"Once when I was little I was taken there to visit a relative. I remember
the Friedrichstrasse station and the tramways around the Potsdamer Platz,
and of course the famous traffic tower."

"I lived not far from there." Loti told him, "I had lodgings on the
Saarlandstrasse when I was in cabaret. Those were the good times. The
adoring audiences, the applause, the Stage-Door Johnnies queuing for kisses
and begging for a date. I knew Ernst Roehm, you know. I was one of his
favourites. Do you know who I'm talking about?"

Willy moved his shoulders in an offhand gesture. "I think I do."

"Herr Roehm was the leader of the Sturm Abteilung, the Brownshirt storm
troops. He was very high-up, very important. But then he fell out with the
Fuehrer, and Hitler had him shot. The Night of the Long Knives, they called
it. Hitler had hundreds of people shot that night, although some of them
were allowed to drink poison if they preferred." He gave a small dismal
shrug. "And then my conscription papers arrived and I had to come and hide
here."

Rosalyn joined them having just completed serving Fraulein Dietz her
coffee. "How is the Professor's book coming along, Willy?"

"I've completed a good portion of it. Fraulein Dietz is very pleased with
what she's seen so far."

"She was very pleased with the impression it created with that professor
from Berlin when he was here, and Herr Strasser reckons that if it is
everything it promises to be it will stand shoulder to shoulder with Mein
Kampf on every good German's bookshelf. I have the idea that Fraulein Dietz
is relying on the sale of it to finance the refurbishment of this old
house."

"Having put together such a fine thing will probably make you famous,
Willy."

Willy chewed his sausage absently. "I didn't do much. I just wrote up
Professor Dietz's notes and added a few bits."

Rosalyn put down his knife and fork and his face suddenly screwed up with
alarm. "You added bits? What bits?"

"Well, the professor's notes are all rather fuddled and cranky, so I've had
to put in a few bits of my own to make things sound more reasonable."

Loti's face clouded in concern. "Just how many bits of your own have you
put in?"

Willy shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. "Quite a lot actually. Some basic
information and some conclusions that were needed. It would have been
impossible to make everything fit together and make sense otherwise."

"You're a silly bitch, Willy. Fraulein Dietz will be sending copies of her
father's work to all kinds of important people. Perhaps even to the
Fuehrer. If just one of them becomes curious and demands to see the
original notes, then where will you be? Those lofty self-important kinds of
people don't like being hoodwinked."

"No, they've got no sense of humour at all, so you'd better do something to
delay finishing that book or Fraulein Dietz could find herself chucked into
a Konzentrationslager, and you poor Willy, you will be sliced up and put
through a meat-mincing machine."

Suddenly he didn't feel like eating any more. He put down his knife and
fork and pushed away his plate, a worried frown coming and going on his
smooth cheeks. Placing a coffee cup between his bare elbows he crouched
over it. When he looked into the sympathetic blue-shadowed eyes of his
companions and knew they were right. In trying so hard to please Fraulein
Dietz he was probably digging his own grave.

***

Late on a summer evening, Sonderkommando Naujock - six men dressed in
civilian clothes and travelling in two black Opal saloon cars - arrived in
the town of Gleiwitz. They stayed overnight in the Hotel Oberschlesischer
Hof and the next morning in the guise of a geological research team they
spent time digging around ostensibly collecting earth samples from various
places in the town.

No one found it odd that they hovered most of the time in the vicinity of
the soot-stained building of the radio station, so during this
reconnaissance it was quickly established that the easiest way into the
building was at the front. At the top of a short flight of stone steps the
double doors of the front entrance seemed to be perpetually pinned back to
allow access.

While the others made their observations Herman Strasser visited Fraulein
Dietz to enlist her co-operation – for the good of the German nation and
the glory of the National Socialist Party, he told her - and later that
afternoon the entire team drove to Ravenskopf where they changed into brown
Polish army uniforms.

The air was thick with cigarette smoke in the small, long disused salon
where Naujock assembled his team. He noticed that their clothes fitted
badly, but that didn't matter for a one-off, one-act play.

His team were joking about with a pair of lace panties they'd found under
one of the cushions, and he smiled with them.

"No flirting with the skirts in this place while we are here." he told
them. "Stay anonymous and keep focused on the job we have to do."

He checked his watch. "We'll return to the town at nineteen-thirty and go
into the radio station by the front entrance, slick and quick. The daytime
office staff there will have gone by then, so there will be fewer people to
worry about. Remember that the Gestapo are in this with us, but the local
police aren't, so if any of them get in the way play out the role of a
Polish terrorist and shoot them."

He half-turned and then turned back, and with a grim smile added. "I'll
remind you now that this is top-secret business and if you're disabled and
get left behind you'll have to shoot yourself. If you don't kill yourself
the Gestapo clean-up squad will certainly do it for you. Verstanden?"

There was a unified chorus of "Jawohl" from everyone present, after which
he drew Herman Strasser to one side.

"Herman, make sure you know the text you have to read, there won't be time
for rehearsals later. And I hope you know your stuff. This country-bumpkin
Radiohaus we're attacking will be operating on a local waveband and we must
broadcast on a national one, and there is always a possibility that the
people there will refuse to co-operate with us."

"I don't have a problem with that. Whilst I was in Berlin I spent some time
at the radio studio's to familiarise myself with the switch-over
procedure."

"That's good. Now, one last thing. The girl's from this place never go into
the town, do they?"

"No. Fraulein Dietz keeps them tied to the house and watches over them like
they were prize brood mares."

"Which is ideal for our plans. It means they won't be recognised, so choose
one of them to accompany us. I want her to go in first."

"A girl?"

"Yes. We need to provide a distraction. When we were in the town earlier I
noticed a security guard sits inside the door at the Radio Station, and if
he's alert and sees Polish soldiers running up the steps this evening he
may well slam the doors in our face and lock them. That would be an
inauspicious start to our adventure, wouldn't it?"

Herman Strasser's eyes opened wide. "It would be a disaster. That place is
built like a blockhouse; we'd need a tank to get in."

The other man nodded. "That would be hardly slick and quick, would it?
That's why we need a girl to engage the guard in conversation and get him
to turn his back to the street if possible, until we're all inside. Choose
one. No, tell that beguiling little thing that acts as the Fraulein's
secretary to come with us. She's got good legs and an arse to make eyeballs
explode."

***

They had timed it precisely. The dark building of the radio station loomed
before them as the two Opal saloons pulled into the kerb at the roadside no
more than a hundred yards from their destination. It was only early evening
but there was no one about. The street was empty. Gleiwitz was a small
market town and at that time in the evening everyone would be having a
meal. The whole place was dreaming in evening sunshine and not even a stray
dog was moving within their vision.

"I don't like this. I don't like being here." bemoaned Willy from the back
seat of the first car.

Herman Strasser swung round from his place beside the driver. "Shut up for
goodness sake. All you have to do is talk to the man on the door. You won't
be in any danger. Just hold his attention until we all get inside."

Willy climbed from the car and walked unhappily towards the front of the
radio station. He'd been told nothing about the reason he was there; just
talk nicely to the man on the door was all he'd been told. The men in the
cars could have been a gang of robbers, except that he knew the ugly
building in front of him wasn't a bank.

Life had become so terribly complicated lately. The wretched book he had
been compelled to write had put him in a dilemma. His original idea was
simply to do something to please Fraulein Dietz, but the silly woman had
become ambitious for what he'd made of it. The snag was that although the
preposterous make-believe he'd created was good enough to fool her it was
unlikely to fool everyone, and if he did completed it – a book almost
wholly strung together by imaginative fabrication - they would both
probably end up in a prison camp.

He was trapped by it. How was he to get out of the hole into which he had
dug himself? Maybe if he had explained the problem to Eduard he would have
been able to bring his sister to her senses. He felt strong when Eduard was
near and such a weak little girl when he wasn't. But it was too late for
that now. Eduard had returned to his unit and he had no idea when he would
see him again.

The building loomed before him, a square, soot-encrusted place with rows of
small unwashed windows and a heavy entrance door standing wide to admit the
maximum amount of air on a sultry evening. When he saw the set of steps
leading up to the door he had a strong urge to turn and run, but in the end
he was more fearful of the men in the cars than the steps.

He hung back for a moment like a lion-tamers apprentice, then taking a deep
breath he trip-trapped lightly up to the entrance.

Sat to the left, just inside the open door in a sort of foyer area sat an
elderly blue-suited guard who was just about to bite into a sandwich. Willy
gave him a winning smile. "Oh, hello. I'm new around here, just visiting
the town. This is a nice building. Is it... erm...is it the Town Hall?"

Swamped by the attention of a pretty girl, the guard put his sandwich back
into the tin he'd taken it from and stood up smiling. "This place is more
important than the average Rathaus, little Fraulein."

Willy stepped further into the building, wiggling his bottom alluringly,
and the man's eyes followed his every move. At last he turned towards
him. Distract the man, had been his instructions. Hold his attention.

He wet his lips with the tip of his tongue and conjured up a vampish
smile. "I'm intrigued. Tell me more..."

"She's done it." muttered Herr Strasser, squinting through a car windscreen
along the street. "The little bitch has the guard's attention and he's
turning his back to us. Signal the others that we're going in."

There was a hand signal through the rear window of the first car, and the
two black Opal's moved off and skidded to an abrupt stop in front of the
Radio Station. Six figures leapt out and raced up the steps towards the
entrance. Herman Beir had no compunction about hitting the guard on the
back of the head with the muzzle of his Luger pistol and the old fellow
went down hard like a felled tree, but without making a sound.

Willy shrieked and stepped back. He definitely didn't want to be there. The
silent majority inside him wanted to be treated like a weak and defenceless
woman and sent somewhere pink and cuddly to sniff Sal Volatile. But just at
that moment Naujock entered to take command.

"Bring that silly cow upstairs with us; we can't leave her wailing at the
door like an air-raid siren."

Leaving three men to round-up any staff still on the ground floor he led
the others up the stairs to where he knew the radio studio was
situated. Herman and another man followed at his heels sweeping a near
hyperventilating Willy along between them.

The surprise was total. In an upstairs room a man was found sitting behind
a desk, and Herman pistol-whipped him just as he had done with the
guard. The man pitched forward, splashing blood onto the papers he had been
studying.

Willy shrieked again but there was no pause in the momentum
now. Immediately they dashed into the radio studio where a pale-faced young
man pushed his hands in the air at the point of Naujock's gun.

"Switch over to a national transmitter." Naujock told him.

The man swallowed hard, his eyes nearly popping. "I don't know how to do
that. I'm only the newsreader. You're friend's just brained the technician
who does that kind of thing."

Naujock grunted with ill temper and pushed him against a wall. "Herman, you
do it." he snapped out briskly.

Herman Strasser quickly found his way behind the thick glass panel of the
transmitting room, confusion showing on his face as he stared at rows of
switches. He was clearly unsure of which one would link into the wavelength
of the Deutschlandfunk transmitter of Radio Breslau.

"Everything as a different lay-out to what I expected. I can't find it. I
can't find the right connection for Breslau." he lamented.

Naujock felt his face drain. After all his careful planning he was going to
be let down by an incompetent fool. Failure would bring an end to his
career, maybe even an end to his life if certain people were in a nasty
enough mood.

"Damn it man, I thought you knew your job. Can we use a local channel?"

"Yes, but on one will hear it beyond the immediate area."

"Do it. A local broadcast is better than no broadcast at all."

"No, I think it's alright. I think I've found Breslau." Herman said, and he
immediately began to scream into the microphone. "The city of Danzig is
Polish forever. The city of Breslau belongs to the Polish nation. Hitler is
an evil gangster..."

Naujock fired a couple of shots from his pistol into the ceiling for
effect, which made Willy scream in high-pitched hysterics. That wasn't a
problem now. It fitted in exactly with the sound of on-air mayhem Naujock
wanted to create at that moment for the listening public.

Herman, already at a high pitch of excitement himself, lost track of his
script and began repeating what he'd already said while adding new elements
of his own.

"To Hell with the German Reich. The German people are sluts and thieves and
we Poles are going to teach you how to behave."

The young radio newsreader had ducked under a table when the shooting
started and Naujock told him to stay there.

"That's enough," he shouted to the rest of his group, "Let's get out of
here before the local yokels wake up to what's happening."

Together everyone bundled back down the stairs and hurried to the entrance.

Inside the front foyer they needed to step over a figure dressed as a
Polish soldier who was sprawled out beside the stunned security
guard. Whilst they had been busy elsewhere the Gestapo had delivered their
own contribution to the evening – the `Konserve', a callous codename that
referred to tinned meat – but which was really an unfortunate man selected
from an internment camp for political dissidents who would remain as
evidence of a Polish intrusion. He had been shot through the neck and lay
dying.

***

Comparatively few people in Germany heard that brief hate-filled broadcast
from the little town of Gleiwitz that night, but the fact it had happened
was enough to satisfy Hitler. Within an hour of the raid he had been
informed of the encroachment of armed Polish terrorists across the border
and of their vicious assault on innocent German civilians. Blandly he had
remarked that it was his first good news of the day.

At 10-o-clock the following morning he addressed the German people on the
radio from the Kroll Opera House in Berlin, ensuring that what he said
could be relayed around the world by overseas transmitters. Using the
impassioned, crowd-stirring eloquence for which he was noted, he magnified
what was essentially a minor incident of self-inflicted thuggery into a
drama of nation-threatening proportions.

Ending his speech on a fiery note he declared... "I have now decided to
speak with Poland in the same language they have been using with us. For
the first time they have used regular soldiers to shoot at us in our own
territory, so since 5.45 this morning we are shooting back."

Things were already in motion. Without any declaration of intent and
several hours before his speech on 1 September 1939, German Panzer units
had smashed through the Polish frontier posts and the second great war of
the twentieth century had begun.

"It will be a quick war." Fraulein Dietz assured everyone at the house
later. "Herr Strasser refers to it as a Blitzkrieg – a lightening war. If
it continues for more than a few weeks I'll be tempted to suggest to him
that Ravenskopf should serve the Reich as a Recuperation Centre for senior
military officers. By doing that I'm sure I'd get some help in restoring
parts of the building."

"If Fraulein Dietz turns this place into a kind of hotel we're going to be
kept very busy." said Rosalyn, when the woman had gone.

"Hope she brings in some more help," responded Loti, ruefully stroking his
bum, "There's a limit as to how much a girl should be expected to take."

Willy stood well back from the others, arms clamped across his chest while
he thought of Eduard, who would be in the thick of things. There was no
stopping love and, having known it he would hold Eduard in his heart
forever, no matter what else happened. He thought about how much he himself
had changed recently, despite Fraulein Dietz's constant harassment. He had
arrived at Ravenskopf as a slightly introvert student and become a rather
happy girl. He still looked mostly the same, and he was still a bit of a
disaster area when it came to organising himself. But he had changed
inside. No regrets about that. No sadness. He had made the decision to take
happiness where he found it and hold it for as long as it lasted.

The trauma of the previous evening had shaken him badly, but surviving it
had brought on a curious effect. Rather than cowing him it had proved to be
a rite of passage that had shocked him into mental maturity, and on a new
day he felt strangely confident in his own ability to look after himself.

He believed that entering into any war, however brief, was a tragedy, and
the tragedies were not yet over. In the middle of the coming night there
would be an inexplicable misfortune when Fraulein Dietz's library together
with all her father's irreplaceable notes and the manuscript he had
unwillingly laboured over for so long, would all be destroyed by fire.

It was an awful thing to predict, but there was no doubt it would
happen. Willy was sure of it, because he'd already taken a box of matches
from the kitchen cupboard.