Note from Alice: I wrote this piece a year and a half ago on a whim for my writer’s group. The response was overwhelmingly positive and included the push to turn the short story into a full length novel. I love the premise and I love the characters so I dove in, not realizing just was I was signing myself up for. Nazi Germany has long held my fascination and I liked the idea of telling a story from a strong female lead. The research that has gone into what has become ‘Small Victory’ is mind boggling. For every minute I spend writing, there are five minutes spent on research, most of which never appears in the story. I have 50,000 words (most of them good) with another 50,000 to go. I’m reposting this piece because it was originally written in present tense and the novel is in past tense. My hope is that this scene has not lost its impact in translation from present to past. I would very much appreciate your thoughts as a reader on whether it still works. Leave comments here or email me if you’d like to chime in. Thanks so much! ~Alice
My heart raced the moment I set foot inside the room. My mission was to infiltrate the hostile place where my duty lay, to suck its secrets from between the fanatic lips of its mercenaries. And the penalty for failure was death. I was afraid; there is always fear. But I would have been a liar if I didn’t admit that I was also terribly excited.
The sweet pungent smell of burning opium and Turkish tobacco filled the dim room. The men were all wolfish grins and glittering eyes, predatory. It was what I expected and it wasn’t. I wanted the false security of a secret nightclub. Instead, I found myself in a ransacked apartment that rang with the vibrations of Judah. A place stolen from its peaceful inhabitants for the pleasure of Aryans.
And pleasure was the main course of the night. A break from the horrors these men bestowed on their fellow humans in the name of nationalism. It was altered reality, a place where sex and violence collided to produce some alien form of nirvana for those who believed that the two extremes could coexist, mesh, and cancel each other out.
I had my work cut out for me. My target, Erich Kleist, sat on the far side of the living room, a woman draped seductively across his lap. But she was no match for me. Her black curls and dark flashing eyes spoke of her Gypsy heritage.
An officer tried for my attention as I strode across the room. Ignoring him, I moved to stand before my duty.
“A drink perhaps to rinse the dirt from your throat, Herr Kleist, dirt left there by this one,” I said, the rising gorge of my betrayal to my murdered lover’s heritage shoved aside.
I watched him release the Gypsy woman’s nipple from his mouth to meet my gaze. She lay across his lap, the ribbons of her blouse stretched open to reveal the dark beauty of her naked breasts.
“And what if dirt was my preference tonight?” His hand moved like a mass of serpents beneath the Gypsy’s glittering skirts.
“Than I shall think you are a traitor to our Führer,” I answered, holding the exquisite crystal glass out to him.
The woman’s skirts lay still when he removed his hand from under them to accept the vodka I’d offered. I smelled the earthen scent of the Gypsy’s cunt on his fingers.
“Traitor? Traitor you call me? I could have you exterminated for words such as those.” His eyes were hot and cold, uncurling the worm of fear at the base of my spine.
Herr Kleist was one of the few targets I’d engaged who truly scared me. I looked away from his handsome face, finding instead the Gypsy woman’s whose hatred for me shone in her glazed obsidian eyes. They were no better than the eyes mine had sought refuge from.
“If dirt is where your passion lies than I am no one to tell you different, Herr Kleist. I am only offering a bit of salvation.” The sip of vodka from my own glass was a sip of courage, smooth and warm within my throat.
“Salvation comes in many forms and no two are the same.” He set his glass aside untouched, unwilling to trust me.
I watched him draw the Gypsy’s skirts up over her hips, revealing the black curly thatch between her thighs. Her moans of pleasure sent shivers down my spine to clash with the fear. I couldn’t take my eyes from the sight of his pale slender fingers sliding through the dark forest of her pubic hair.
“Mon Dieu… voir les anges,” the Gypsy woman cried.
“Dirty or clean, there is more than one road to salvation, Herr Kleist. Good evening to you.” My glass found my lips, the sting of the vodka echoing the fire he’d ignited between my thighs.
I left him to his Gypsy, searching for a secondary target. For though he did not take the bait so quickly, there were other men who had a measure of what I sought and I was free to engage them at will. There would be other opportunities to lure Herr Kleist and his secrets to my bed.
In Stefan, a young officer of lower rank than Herr Kleist, I found a suitable substitute. He sat apart casting occasional glances down the hallway.
“Why do you sit here alone, Stefan? Is there no one who catches your eye tonight?”
“I have no interest in dark women.”
“I’m hardly a dark woman.”
His eyes appraised me before he spoke. “No, you are certainly not a dark woman.”
He cast another glance down the hallway before turning back to me. Stefan reached out, running his fingertips along the outside of my thigh.
“Does this mean I’ve caught your eye?” The way he touched me told me his answer even before he spoke.
“You are very beautiful, Katrin.” His fingers fell away when he rose from his chair.
He rested his hands on my hips. Suspicion lay heavy behind his eyes when he looked into mine.
“Am I your second choice tonight?” he asked glancing in Herr Kleist’s direction.
“Hardly. If you are referring to Herr Kleist you are mistaken about my interest in him. I have no love for the Gypsies either and was merely telling him so.” The lie rolled off my lips almost as easy as the kiss I offered him.
Stefan’s hesitation to return my kiss made me want him all the more. My hand found the hard ridge of his cock between us, drawing a quiet groan from him. A few strokes through his uniform trousers were all it took to convince him of my sincerity. His mouth turned fevered against mine.
“Come to the bedroom with me, Katrin.”
I offered him a smile and my hand in his. Just before we turned and made our way down the hallway, I caught Herr Kleist watching us and the fear he inspired in me returned with a vengeance.
The closing of the bedroom door behind us shielded me from Herr Kleist’s stare but did nothing to shut out the apprehension I felt. It was Stefan’s hands on my breasts and his mouth at my throat that distracted me from my other feelings, leaving only desire for the young man.
“Take off your dress.” Stefan stepped away to watch me do as he pleased.
The black silk slithered deliciously down my body to puddle around my shoes.
He began undressing himself. “Your stockings and shoes, take them off as well.”
The shoes I quickly kicked off but I took my time undoing the clips of my garters, letting my fingers trail along the straps and across my thighs. Hunger burned in his eyes watching me perform for him. When the clips were undone, I sank into the softness of the bed to ease the stockings off my legs. The garter belt followed closely behind.
“Leave them on,” Stefan said when I hooked my fingers into my panties.
“And my bra?” I asked, taking in his beautiful nakedness.
“On.”
Stefan’s approach to the bed where I lay had me trembling with anticipation. Watching Herr Kleist bring the Gypsy to orgasm ignited my lust and I meant to have Stefan finish the job.
I expected Stefan to climb into the bed with me but he had something else in mind first. He groaned when I reached out to stroke his cock but didn’t stop me.
“Here,” he said, holding out a long slim pipe to me.
Releasing his cock, I took what he offered, watching while he finished setting things up. When everything was ready, I turned on my side so that I could angle the bowl of the pipe into the flame. Stefan crawled into the bed, curling himself against my back while I smoked.
The door of the bedroom opened to admit Herr Kleist. My fear returned when his eyes found me sprawled upon the luxurious goose feather mattress once owned by a prominent banker and his stoic wife.
Stefan continued thrusting his cock against my back although I felt him tense at the sight of his superior officer. In the silk of my lingerie, Stefan was finding deliverance from his daily duties while I found the courage to face Herr Kleist in the sweet smoke of the opium pipe.
“Is this the salvation you spoke of earlier, das Verfolgen dem Drachen?” Herr Kleist asked, taking a seat on the edge of the bed where I lay with Stefan.
A thick stream of viscous smoke issued from my lips before I answered. “And what do you know of salvation?” I asked, feeling the opiate-induced tingle begin in my legs.
His eyes watched Stefan fondle my breasts through the silk of my bra. The sharp claws of the Dragon found purchase in my cunt, tearing me open to pour forth the rising tide of my arousal. The opium whispered seductively in my mind: perhaps I could have them both.
“Enough,” Herr Kleist answered, brushing his fingers along my face. “I know enough.” He took the pipe from my grasp and placed it on the tray of implements before moving everything to the table by the bed.
“Show me then,” I challenged him, the worm of fear burned away in a sweet-smelling cloud. “Show me what you know of salvation.”
Herr Kleist’s lips were hard and cruel. The vodka had purged away the taste of him.
I broke away first.
“Perhaps you should go wash to rid yourself of Gypsy filth before touching Aryan purity,” I said.
His slap was as hard and cruel as his mouth but the opium rendered his violence useless.
Stefan remained silent, the urgent heat of his cock the only reminder that he was still a player in this game.
“A visit from the angels for Gypsy filth and a slap for Aryan perfection? You are no brother of Deutschland. Go find yourself another mud hole to play in,” I said.
I gave him my back, focusing my attention on the young man in bed with me. Stefan’s cock was hot and salty in my mouth and the scent of the Dragon’s lair filled my head.
“Katrin…Katrin…” Young Stefan moaned, his fingers tangling in my hair.
“I see your silver tongue extends to other uses, Fräulein, besides berating my choice in women.” Herr Kleist’s words were hollow and far away, muffled by the strangling embrace of the Dragon roiling through my bloodstream. He became wholly unimportant.
Reality faded away to the two points that were my mouth and my cunt. Stefan’s cock was gorgeous, sweet and alive against my tongue, the last tether holding me there in a dead man’s bed. Cold fingers slid themselves inside the back of my panties seeking my heat. Stefan’s moan echoing mine when the cold fingers invaded me sent the room spinning.
“You are so wet, Fräulein Katrin,” Herr Kleist whispered into my ear. His words put a halt to the circling room.
I realized that the fingers moving through the slick mess of my cunt were his and not Stefan’s. The stubble of his beard scratched the place on my cheek where he struck me earlier. Herr Kleist pressed his face so close to mine that if he were to flick his tongue out we could have enjoyed Stefan’s cock together.
Not willing to share, my throat opened to accept all of Stefan, keeping him to myself.
The warming fingers circling my clit sent their heated pleasure trembling across my body. I moaned again around Stefan’s cock.
“Katrin, my God, your mouth.” Stefan shuddered.
“Do you like her mouth?” Herr Kleist asked.
“God, yes! She’s an excellent cocksucker.”
Stefan groaned and came hard, ejaculating thick streams down my throat that did nothing to put out the flames rippling up my spine. He continued thrusting his cock between my lips, perhaps hoping that he would stay hard enough so he could fuck me as well.
Herr Kleist had other ideas. “Abhanden kommen, Stefan! It is my turn to enjoy the woman now.”
The fingers slid out of my panties when Herr Kleist rose from the bed, dampening the blaze in my belly.
Stefan’s uniform trousers landed in his lap. “Get dressed and get lost, Stefan,” Herr Kleist said with real menace in his voice.
Hatred flashed across Stefan’s young face. “Yes, Oberführer,” he answered with proper respect. Stefan sat up to pull on his trousers.
“I beg your pardon, Herr Kleist, but you have no business telling Stefan that he must leave before I have finished with him. Your chance came and went. Stefan was not so hasty to turn me down and I am not finished fucking him yet,” I said, not caring that I had revealed my earlier lie to Stefan about him being my second choice.
The frightened look on Stefan’s face and the fact that he was still getting dressed told me that he was leaving me to Herr Kleist whether I wanted him to or not. That gorgeous cock of his that filled my mouth moments ago had practically shriveled up into his body with fear.
“It looks as though Stefan still knows his place,” Herr Kleist said.
We watched Stefan run from the bedroom the moment his trousers cleared his hips and slam the door behind him.
When Herr Kleist’s attention turned back to me, I rose from the bed to retrieve my dress from the floor.
“Then I suppose this is the end of my night as well since you have scared Stefan away,” I said and began to thread my arms through my gown.
His timing was perfect. A quick lunge toward me with his hand earned him my wrists, tangled within the tight grip of my black silk dress. He twisted the material in his fist for leverage, drawing me toward him.
“Not so fast, Katrin,” he said in a quiet voice.
The heat of his fingers sliding between my thighs made my knees give a little. The Dragon’s breath clouded my mind leaving me weak. I couldn’t help myself, I leaned against him for support. The warmth of his body made me realize how cold the air in the room was. Like everything about him, he seemed in complete control of himself. He pressed his lips to my face.
“You have not come yet tonight, Fräulein,” he whispered against my cheek, his fingers sliding the silk of my panties across my cunt.
I meant to tell him that his words were true and that he should order Stefan back into the room to finish what he started with me but the feel of Herr Kleist’s silk covered fingertips pushing into me burned away the words from my lips.
“No…” My answer drew out into a helpless moan but the word no longer held any meaning.
The opium had reduced me to a burning ember of lust that Herr Kleist mercilessly fanned into a raging inferno. My bound hands throbbed in time with my clit and I willingly accepted his vicious tongue into my mouth.
His fingers hooked under the edge of my panties and drew them aside.
“You are so eager, so ready, Katrin.”
I knew he spoke the truth because his fingers slipped into me with ease.
He held them there, curling them against the fluttering walls of my cunt.
The specter of my mission floated across the scorched landscape of my mind only to be torn to shreds by his fingers withdrawing.
“Again…” I said, my body in control of my mind.
“Are you ready to see the angels?”
“Yes…again, your fingers…” The room ceased to exist, vaporized by my singular need to come.
“You are not the only one with a silver-tipped tongue, Fräulein,” he said, drawing his fingers away so he could push me onto the bed. He untangled my dress from my wrists, freeing my hands.
The softness of the mattress enfolded me in its downy embrace, the warmth of Stefan’s body still trapped within its depths. The simple act of lying down pulled me back from the edge, clearing the haze for a brief moment. It was enough for me to realize that my chance at Herr Kleist might not come again so easily. I fought against my desire, my need to come.
“Did you enjoy watching me suck Stefan’s cock?” I asked, stalling for time to regain control of my emotions. I would not have smoked the opium if I had thought he might come to me tonight.
He climbed onto the bed on all fours while he answered. “Not as much as I will enjoy watching you suck mine.” He loomed over me, dark and threatening, but the opium had its benefits, boldness being one.
“And what makes you so sure that you will see such a thing?” I asked, playing my fingertips down the row of buttons on his shirt.
Bending his elbows so he could lean in, he placed a kiss along my collarbone. “Because I am going to make you beg for my cock,” he answered, his mouth moving down my body. His absolute confidence in his words angered me.
Even so, I couldn’t keep my stomach from trembling under his lips when he kissed the shadow beneath my hip. I wanted nothing more than the promise he was offering but I held myself back, using my anger as a lever.
“Does this mean I can address you by your first name then?” I asked.
“By all means, please do,” he whispered, his breath hot against the front of my panties.
“Don’t fool yourself into believing that you are the only one who knows how to make beggars out of others, Erich,” I said, moving my hips to the side so that my cunt angled away from his mouth. I was afraid that if he touched me, I’d lose control and I couldn’t afford to give him that advantage.
He shifted his weight, gripping my hips in his hands to maneuver me back where he wanted me. His eyes found mine. “Let’s stop playing games.”
“Who’s playing?” I asked in all honesty. In the world of spies, every game is for keeps.
Maybe it was the opium but I saw something flash across his face and it looked like vulnerability. I must have been mistaken. This was a man who ordered to death women and children without a second thought but I felt a moment of triumph. He’d given me an edge to work with.
“There are only games when it comes to sex,” he said, resting his chin next to my navel.
His palm pressing against the front of my panties sent a shock wave across my body, untethering my tenuous grip on the reins of my self-control.
“Then let’s play,” I whispered, tracing the line of his cheek with the pad of my thumb. A small breath of air escaped his mouth when I drew my fingers over the fullness of his lips.
He sucked one of my fingers into his mouth for a moment before releasing it.
“What are the rules of the game?” he asked before kissing his way along the edge of my panties.
“No rules, not now.” I reached for him. “Right now I want you to kiss me again.”
There was no hesitation in him. He was up on me, his mouth softer this time but more urgent.
“You taste of Stefan.”
“And soon I will taste of you,” I answered, my fingers finding the buttons of his trousers.
Erich groaned against my throat when I gripped his cock.
“Katrin-”
I pressed my lips to his. “Shh…we can talk later,” I whispered.
He groaned again when I sucked his bottom lip into my mouth and began stroking him. He was still dressed and his clothing frustrated me. A gentle push had him on his back. Straddling his hips, I sat low across his taut stomach feeling his cock through my panties.
The look of desire in Erich’s eyes was a mirror of my own feelings. His breath came faster with each button I teased open on his shirt. When the last button came free, I pushed the material aside. He was beautiful, perfect, the skin of his chest pale and smooth. His nipples shrunk to hard peaks against my lips and teeth. He shifted under me, pushing his trousers down his hips.
It was Erich’s turn to tremble when I kissed the hard muscles of his stomach. I couldn’t resist nuzzling my cheek in the small patch of golden hair below his navel. I wanted his cock in my mouth but he stopped me when I tried, pulling me up into another kiss instead.
“No,” he whispered against my mouth. “I don’t want what you have already given to another man tonight.”
He striped me of my bra before rolling us over so that he was on top. His tongue played over my nipples, trailing down the curve of my waist so that he could pull my panties off. The kiss of Erich’s lips against my bared flesh was a flash of heaven but a single kiss was all he offered.
It took him only a moment to finish undressing himself. God, but he was beautiful, perfect in every way. He stood at the end of the bed for just a moment, his eyes moving across my naked body. When he had his fill, he knelt and buried his face in my cunt inhaling the scent of me.
His tongue flashing across my clit set off a string of firecrackers along my spine making me cry out. Erich was telling the truth when he spoke of his silver tongue. My orgasm thundered toward me like a runaway freight train.
Erich backed off just before the locomotive hit.
“Please…don’t stop. I’m so close.” I pushed my hips up in search of his mouth.
His hand found my belly, pushing me back down into the bed so he could move back on top of me.
“Good, Katrin. You’re begging.” He kissed the spot just below my ear before continuing. “I want to hear you beg for my cock.”
What he asked from me was not hard to give. He was teasing me, sliding his cock along my tormented cunt.
My fingernails raked parallel groves across the smooth skin of his back, drawing a hiss of pain from him.
“Please, Erich…please.”
“Open your eyes.”
I hadn’t realized I had closed them. With my eyes open, I saw him searching for something. I wanted to know if he saw in my eyes what I saw in his but the words were lost when he pushed into me.
“Open…eyes open.”
I saw him but he shimmered as though I was underwater. My whole existence centered on the feel him filling me. Somewhere far away, one of us was mewling. My body rocked once, twice.
“You’re coming, Katrin.”
The words echoed from somewhere faraway.
“Yes…oh…” My orgasm threatened to rip me in two with the violence of my release. It went on and on until I was sure I was about to die.
When I was reduced to quiet shaking, Erich began fucking me with a tenderness I hadn’t expected. It reminded me of the vulnerability I was sure flashed across his face earlier in the evening.
He took his time, finding all the places within me where pleasure resided. I wasn’t done with him, only just beginning. My orgasm had loosened the grip of the Dragon enough to allow me to refocus on the reason I lay there while he fucked me.
“Salvation,” Erich whispered to me. “You are all the salvation a man like me could ask for.”
There were no more words between us while we worked toward his climax. As cold as the air in the room was, the sheen of sweat between our bodies eased the friction of skin on skin.
A second orgasm blinked alive on the horizon, different from the first, slower, easier. The hard muscles of his ass clenched under my hands when I pulled him deeper into me. His body shuddered on the edge of release.
We both gasped when he withdrew almost fully from me. He was trembling, holding himself on the edge. My kiss pushed him over.
“Oh, Katrin, Katrin…” Erich buried his face in my neck and his shuddering cock in my cunt.
I held him tight until the last spasm passed and his body relaxed into mine.
Erich lay spent against me for a long time, the sweat of our efforts cooling in the cold air. Only when his cock had gone soft and slipped from me did he roll away.
I retrieved the package of cigarettes off the bedside table. Lighting two, I offered him one. He took it without a word and we smoked in silence for a while.
“Why?” he asked in the quiet stillness.
I didn’t need to ask him what he meant. “Because I believe,” I said, knowing full well that he was asking why I allowed men like him to fuck me.
“Salvation,” he said to the ceiling before finishing his cigarette.
My mother spent a lot of time amusing herself. When I was younger, I had no idea what she meant. All I knew was that when she needed time to amuse herself, she’d retreat to the quiet confines of her bedroom and lock the door behind her.
As a parent, there is nothing more thrilling than seeing the fantastic world of written words come to life for your child. My oldest son learned to read four years ago and it has been a constant challenge to find reading material that is not only at or above his level, but that also captures his imagination.
