These Eyes So Green - Chapter 10
Rated NC-17 for adult themes and strong sexual content. The character of Hans Landa is the sole property of Quentin Tarantino. All other characters are of my own creation.
NOTE: Chapters 11 and 12 are also posted for your reading pleasure.
My profuse apologies for making the wait so long!! I was a little overwhelmed by the wonderful response to Chapter 9, and I didn’t want to rush right into Chapter 10. Plus there were other events taking place that kept me from writing. Then when I finally started writing, I kept writing and writing, and when I was done I discovered I had written three chapters of text! I hope you find the wait worth it. To reward you for your patience, I am posting Chapters 10, 11 & 12 all at the same time. These chapters convey a critical juncture in the relationship between Desiree & Hans, and yes; there will be hot sex. ;-) Again, thank you to everyone who takes the time to leave a comment or review. I find your thoughtful insights and suggestions very rewarding both creatively and intellectually, and as I’ve said before, reading them is one of the best parts of writing this story. So keep those comments or reviews coming!
Now that he was back in Angoulême, Hans found himself once again face to face with his dilemma. The Gruppenführer was getting anxious. He wasn’t happy with the fact that Hans had let the matter of the American dollars “slip” through his fingers.
What the Gruppenführer didn’t know was that Hans hadn’t exactly let the matter slip. He knew exactly where the dollars had gone, what they had purchased, and where the purchased goods had been delivered. He was simply biding his time before moving in, before giving the order for the arrests.
It had all been ridiculously easy, and he hadn’t even needed to involve Desiree. He simply followed the logical trail he knew existed once he determined that she indeed held the American dollars. After all, he had tracked her movements steadily for well over a month. It hadn’t been difficult at all.
Hans had not spoken with Desiree since that afternoon in his office. He had Hermann call her to verify the menus for his soirée and her arrival time, the tools and help she would need in the kitchen. Everything had been arranged without him, and that was exactly how Hans wanted it. He would have no contact with Desiree until she arrived at his townhouse that Saturday afternoon.
There was a reason for this. There was a reason for all of it.
* * * * * * *
Desiree had been working with Hermann regarding all the plans for Hans’ soirée. She had tried calling Hans several times, but he hadn’t taken her calls. She imagined he was still hurt by the way she had treated him; she hadn’t forgotten the pain in his eyes. But if he refused to speak with her, she had no choice but to wait until she saw him the day of his soirée. At least that was only a day away now.
In the meantime, Desiree had deliveries to make for all the produce she’d picked up. She saw Rene waiting for her outside his restaurant, his usually smiling face dark with concern; his features relaxed once he caught sight of her, but while anxiety was replaced with relief, there was still no smile.
“Thank God you are safe,” he whispered to her when she got out of her truck. She gave him a tight smile in return. Rene turned to his assistant: “Nicholas, unload our order. You know what it is. I need to speak with Mme. Mendelsohn.”
He took Desiree by the arm and steered her into the alley beside the restaurant. When they were at a distance from the street, he turned to her, his face very serious.
“Mon Dieu,” he said, as his expression turned to one of surprise, “you don’t know, do you?”
“What is it, Rene? Is it Mathieu? Mariette? One of the children?”
“No,” he replied. “It’s Guy. He’s been arrested.”
“When?”
“They picked him up this morning. We assume he’s being interrogated now, as we speak.”
“Anyone else?”
“No.”
Desiree drew in a deep breath. “Guy won’t talk,” she finally said.
“You’re probably right. But that doesn’t make you any safer. You should leave town, immediately.”
“And go where, Rene? Where in occupied France could I hide? How would I survive?”
“They say there are Jews hidden all over.”
“They say a great deal, don’t they? And I suppose ‘they’ haven’t seen the same trains heading east that we have. Besides, if I were to leave suddenly, wouldn’t that make me appear even more suspicious?”
“I could help you…I and others.”
“And risk your lives for what?”
“What on earth do you mean? For you, of course.”
“Don’t even think of it. I’m not worth it, Rene.”
She turned as if to walk away, but Rene grabbed her, whirled her back around to face him once more.
“Don’t give me that rubbish,” he said. “I know you hate yourself, but there are many people who care about you. Stop treating us as though we’re nothing to you.”
“Perhaps you are nothing to me.”
“Oh, stop it. You don’t even believe that yourself.”
To her great horror, Desiree began to cry. Rene didn’t hesitate-he pulled her into his arms and held her close.
“Hush,” he whispered. “It’s all right.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered in reply.
He planted an affectionate kiss on her forehead.
“I know you are. Why the devil to you hate yourself so? I’ll never understand.”
“You don’t know what I’ve done in my life since…my son’s death.”
It still pained her to mention that horrific event, one that she’d long since learned to bury deep within her. She’d learned not to say his name. He was gone, after all, she could never bring him back, never reverse things as she would have liked, so that he was alive and she was dead. Just to say his name would unleash all that pain and more, and she couldn’t bear that. So she tried not to think about him. She had stopped dreaming about him, and she’d forgotten the sound of his voice, but she kept her many photos of him on the walls of her cottage as a constant reminder, to keep the pain from completely slipping away.
Rene laughed. “So, what have you done? Murdered someone? Nothing can be that bad.” He rocked her a bit as he held her, the way a father would comfort a weeping child.
“I’ve hurt people, Rene.”
“We all have. What of it?”
“But I’ve hurt so many…”
He took her face in his hands and looked deep into her tear-filled eyes. His familiar, comforting grin had returned.
“Listen to me,” he said. “Are you Hitler?”
Finally Desiree laughed.
“That’s a girl. You see? Believe me, nothing you’ve done in your lifetime could possibly be any worse.”
He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. “Now dry your tears. We need to talk about what to do to keep you safe.”
“There’s nothing to be done. I’m sure I would have been arrested by now if I were in any real danger.”
“Still, we need to plan ahead. There are ways to get you out of France-through Spain and then Portugal-and onto a ship to the Americas. I’ll look into it right away.”
Desiree looked at him in astonishment.
“What? You weren’t expecting someone like me to have such connections?”
“To be honest…no.”
Rene laughed. “Just a cheerful restaurateur, right? Nice, but not very bright; in other words, harmless.”
“That’s not fair, Rene.”
“It isn’t? How do you think of me, then?” The smile was still on his face, the voice still full of good cheer, but there was an edge to it now.
“The way I’ve always thought of you-as my friend.” Desiree reached out then, touched him on the shoulder, lightly, not wanting him to read too much into the gesture. Rene placed his hand over hers, patted it gently.
“I know. And for that I’m glad.”
Rene knew he couldn’t possibly tell Desiree how he really felt about her, as much as he’d like to. But perhaps it was better this way, for both of them. The less invested he was in her personally, the less it would hurt him to be parted from her, and the more he could actually help her. And helping Desiree was what mattered most to him. Perhaps, if there hadn’t been a war, things might have been different. But there was a war-with no end to it in sight.
* * * * * * *
Arresting Guy Benneuex had been a wise move, Hans reflected. The Gestapo were interrogating him now. He knew Benneuex was unlikely to talk, but what of it? Let the Gestapo do their job. Hans had never believed in the methods of torture so often employed by that branch of the SS. He knew they weren’t effective; that the unique style of understated psychological pressure he had developed over years of detective work was far more potent and devastating.
If Hans really wanted Benneuex to talk, he could have him talking within an hour. At some point he would indeed interrogate Benneuex himself. Right now his priorities lay elsewhere. Something fundamental had changed inside him since that last night with Jürgen. Just thinking of his name brought a sharp twinge of pain, but it was a welcome pain. It was more proof that he could indeed truly feel, that he was alive, that he wasn’t simply an automaton.
There had been a letter from Jürgen. The words were veiled to protect them both, since mail was routinely opened throughout the military postal system. But the message was clear:
I think often of the last time we saw each other, of how much we enjoyed each other’s company. You are my oldest and dearest friend, and I meant everything I said to you. I want you to know that, although I know how reluctant you are to speak of such matters like friendship, I know you feel the same way.
Hold on to that feeling, and I’ll do the same. I expect my work to be quite challenging over the next few months, and I’m not sure when I’ll be able to write to you again. I know that you’ll write me back, as you always have, but I can’t promise that I’ll receive it. So if you don’t hear from me, don’t worry. I’ll continue to think of you, as I know you’ll continue to think of me.
Let’s pray that this war ends soon, and that it won’t be as long before we’re able to visit again.
With all best wishes,
your very good friend,
Jürgen
Hans had fought back tears while reading the letter. He had received it at the office, after all, as he did all his mail. In reading it he could hear Jürgen’s voice, feel his touch, smell his scent. He took a very deep breath, then neatly folded up the letter. He tucked it carefully inside his wallet, to keep it safe.
Tomorrow was the night of his soirée. He still had not seen or spoken to Desiree. Hermann had made a last call to her today to confirm that she had everything she needed. Now Hans had just one more call to make to put the next step of his plan into action. He took another deep breath, then reached for the telephone.
* * * * * * *
Mathieu helped Desiree bring in the supplies for Guidon’s dinner party the next day. He was wishing now that he had never referred that SS colonel to her. He had heard about the arrest of Guy Benneuex, and he knew that Desiree would be catering the colonel’s soirée tomorrow afternoon, before he and his guests proceeded to dinner here.
Of course Mathieu couldn’t be sure that Desiree was working with the Resistance. He had never asked her and never would. He was well aware that it was always better not to know-that simply by knowing he would put not only his own life but also the lives of his wife and children at risk. And he would not endanger his beloved family for anyone; not even Desiree. So rather than ask what he most wanted to know, he asked about her plans for the soirée.
“Do you have everything you need? Are there any pots or utensils you’d like to borrow?”
“No, that won’t be necessary,” Desiree replied. “I’m fixing a simple selection of hors d’oeuvres. I won’t need any special utensils or large pots or pans.”
“This colonel…by all accounts, he’s a very clever man.”
Unable to avoid doing so, Desiree felt herself begin to blush. She tried to keep her face turned away from Mathieu, but he caught her under the chin and turned her to face him.
“Please,” he said, looking straight into her eyes, “be very, very careful around this man. Finish the soirée and be done with him.”
Desiree felt the hot flush creep across her face. She couldn’t hide it; all she could do was wait for Mathieu’s response. He looked at her closely, as though he were analyzing her features, trying to read the truth in them. And then it suddenly dawned on him. He’d seen her blush like this before-she had always blushed whenever he teased her about her lovers.
“Mon Dieu-have you been intimate with this Nazi?”
Desiree tried to turn away from him, but he grabbed her by the shoulders and held her fast.
“Have you gone mad? Do you really have no self control?”
“It’s not like that, Mathieu.”
“Then what is it like? What ever possessed you to get involved with an SS officer?”
Mathieu’s grip on her shoulders tightened, and he saw her wince in pain. He let go of her then, and leaned back against the butcher block in the expansive kitchen.
“I’ve always worried about you,” he said. “I know just how self-destructive you are and always have been. It’s something that haunts me and likely always will. Perhaps if things had gone differently between us…”
This time she met his eyes, and her own were fiery and defiant.
“Mathieu, we haven’t been lovers for some time. You have no idea what happened to me in the camp.”
“I’ve always wondered.”
“I had a lover there.”
“I thought as much. Sometimes I think sex is a kind of sustenance to you. It’s as though it’s something you need to live, that you’d die without it,” he said sadly.
“It wasn’t like that-well, perhaps at first. But it changed very quickly.”
“You fell in love, didn’t you?”
Desiree couldn’t believe that she had started crying again. Where were all these tears coming from? Why wasn’t she able to stop them, the way she always had been in the past? She couldn’t possibly go on in this way.
“There’s nothing wrong with that. I know you’ve never had that particular feeling for another woman, even though you’ve slept with them. But it’s common for two prisoners to find comfort in each other. It happens between men, as well.”
“You don’t understand-my lover wasn’t a woman.”
“So you found a man to love there,” Mathieu said. And then his eyes lit with realization. He looked at her thoughtfully.
“You fell in love with a guard,” he finally said. “A Nazi.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
They stood in silence for several minutes while Mathieu pondered this new revelation. Finally he looked back up and into her eyes again.
“He was kind to you, wasn’t he?”
Desiree hesitated, and he looked at her curiously once more. Again, light dawned for him.
“He was kind to you-but he also hurt you.”
Desiree cried even harder then: “yes.”
“And you enjoyed it.”
“Yes.”
Again, the two lapsed into silence. Mathieu grabbed a kitchen towel, stepped forward and gently wiped at the tears on Desiree’s face, catching them as they cascaded down her cheeks.
He had always wondered if Desiree had pursued her fantasies with another. There were times, when he was making love to her, that she wanted him to be much rougher, to slap and bite her. But Mathieu had never been able to bring himself to do so. Had it been a game of sorts, he might have considered it, but he had always felt that it was much more than a game to her. It seemed to be a form of punishment, and he did not want to be the one to punish her. This wasn’t the primary reason for their breakup, but it had been an important part of it.
Mathieu didn’t tell Desiree to stop, or try to comfort her; he simply let her cry as he carefully mopped up her tears. Somehow he had sensed that this was something she needed to do, and it went on for several minutes before he spoke again.
“Have you had contact with him since then?”
“He’s dead now. He was killed on the Eastern Front. But…before he was transferred…he was the one who had me freed.”
Mathieu tilted Desiree’s chin up once again so he could look deep into her eyes, and she found his steady gaze somehow comforting.
“Listen to me,” he said. “Listen very carefully. None of us can ever really predict how we might react in an extreme situation.”
He paused for a moment to mop up a few more of her tears.
“All we can really do is learn from our reactions to such situations. You fell in love with a Nazi. He hurt you, but he also saved your life. Perhaps you have feelings for this SS colonel because of him.”
“Yes,” she breathed.
“But he’s a different person, Desiree. He’s not the man you loved, and he never can be. And that’s why you must be careful. We still don’t know this man’s motives.”
* * * * * * *
It had been a difficult and unsettling day for Desiree, full of revelations she had never expected to make. She had a long day ahead of her, so she went to bed early that night to get as much rest as possible. She tossed and turned for quite a while before she finally fell asleep.
She dreamed again. Of Uwe, and it was so vivid she could smell his beautiful pink-gold skin, taste the sweetness of his sweat, the flavor of his tongue. He was making love to her; his large, muscular body engulfed her completely, one hand cradling her head, the other gripping her behind, holding her up to meet his thrusts. His golden hair was in disarray, a few locks over his forehead, obscuring his sharp, blue eyes. His long, thick cock was deep inside her, and they were both trembling and moaning with pleasure.
“Bite me,” he suddenly breathed, “please, please bite me, bite me…” She cut him off when she sunk her teeth into first one pec, then the other.
“Gott, Ja,” he growled as he increased the speed of his thrusts. “More, bitte.”
She nipped him all over his chest and up one shoulder to his throat, and sunk her teeth into the tender flesh there. He whimpered then, let her head fall back to the bed, both hands now gripping her behind tightly as he ground himself inside her.
And then it started, the whispering: Ich liebe Dich. Ich liebe Dich. Ich liebe Dich, Ich liebe Dich, Ich liebe Dich, it seemed to go on and on and on, and then suddenly it stopped, and he was different somehow, he felt different around her and inside her, and she opened her eyes-Hans was above her now, holding her up, his hips were meeting hers, and his beautiful hazel eyes gazed deep into her dark brown ones. There was so much need and desire in those eyes, and something else as well; she couldn’t tell what it was, only that it was something she both wanted and didn’t want to see there.
“Ich liebe Dich,” he whispered, his voice silken and sweet, and his eyes never left hers; then he groaned heavily and she could feel him filling her, and she came, too-
And woke up, and began shaking all over. For when she found herself alone in her bed, she was once again awash with a passionate hunger for a man she knew she shouldn’t want at all-and yet she did, more than she had ever wanted anyone.
* * * * * * *
Hans had made his move. Tomorrow morning the arrests would be made. It would all be over and done with well in advance of his soirée. His plan had been set into motion.
He would see Desiree again tomorrow. His heart beat like a trip hammer just at the thought of it, and the hunger he’d been repressing over the last two weeks rose up again, powerfully and irrepressibly. But in spite of that desire-or perhaps because of it-it was a reunion he anticipated with far more dread than pleasure.
End Chapter 10
Please proceed to Chapters 11 & 12!
NOTE: Chapters 11 and 12 are also posted for your reading pleasure.
My profuse apologies for making the wait so long!! I was a little overwhelmed by the wonderful response to Chapter 9, and I didn’t want to rush right into Chapter 10. Plus there were other events taking place that kept me from writing. Then when I finally started writing, I kept writing and writing, and when I was done I discovered I had written three chapters of text! I hope you find the wait worth it. To reward you for your patience, I am posting Chapters 10, 11 & 12 all at the same time. These chapters convey a critical juncture in the relationship between Desiree & Hans, and yes; there will be hot sex. ;-) Again, thank you to everyone who takes the time to leave a comment or review. I find your thoughtful insights and suggestions very rewarding both creatively and intellectually, and as I’ve said before, reading them is one of the best parts of writing this story. So keep those comments or reviews coming!
Now that he was back in Angoulême, Hans found himself once again face to face with his dilemma. The Gruppenführer was getting anxious. He wasn’t happy with the fact that Hans had let the matter of the American dollars “slip” through his fingers.
What the Gruppenführer didn’t know was that Hans hadn’t exactly let the matter slip. He knew exactly where the dollars had gone, what they had purchased, and where the purchased goods had been delivered. He was simply biding his time before moving in, before giving the order for the arrests.
It had all been ridiculously easy, and he hadn’t even needed to involve Desiree. He simply followed the logical trail he knew existed once he determined that she indeed held the American dollars. After all, he had tracked her movements steadily for well over a month. It hadn’t been difficult at all.
Hans had not spoken with Desiree since that afternoon in his office. He had Hermann call her to verify the menus for his soirée and her arrival time, the tools and help she would need in the kitchen. Everything had been arranged without him, and that was exactly how Hans wanted it. He would have no contact with Desiree until she arrived at his townhouse that Saturday afternoon.
There was a reason for this. There was a reason for all of it.
* * * * * * *
Desiree had been working with Hermann regarding all the plans for Hans’ soirée. She had tried calling Hans several times, but he hadn’t taken her calls. She imagined he was still hurt by the way she had treated him; she hadn’t forgotten the pain in his eyes. But if he refused to speak with her, she had no choice but to wait until she saw him the day of his soirée. At least that was only a day away now.
In the meantime, Desiree had deliveries to make for all the produce she’d picked up. She saw Rene waiting for her outside his restaurant, his usually smiling face dark with concern; his features relaxed once he caught sight of her, but while anxiety was replaced with relief, there was still no smile.
“Thank God you are safe,” he whispered to her when she got out of her truck. She gave him a tight smile in return. Rene turned to his assistant: “Nicholas, unload our order. You know what it is. I need to speak with Mme. Mendelsohn.”
He took Desiree by the arm and steered her into the alley beside the restaurant. When they were at a distance from the street, he turned to her, his face very serious.
“Mon Dieu,” he said, as his expression turned to one of surprise, “you don’t know, do you?”
“What is it, Rene? Is it Mathieu? Mariette? One of the children?”
“No,” he replied. “It’s Guy. He’s been arrested.”
“When?”
“They picked him up this morning. We assume he’s being interrogated now, as we speak.”
“Anyone else?”
“No.”
Desiree drew in a deep breath. “Guy won’t talk,” she finally said.
“You’re probably right. But that doesn’t make you any safer. You should leave town, immediately.”
“And go where, Rene? Where in occupied France could I hide? How would I survive?”
“They say there are Jews hidden all over.”
“They say a great deal, don’t they? And I suppose ‘they’ haven’t seen the same trains heading east that we have. Besides, if I were to leave suddenly, wouldn’t that make me appear even more suspicious?”
“I could help you…I and others.”
“And risk your lives for what?”
“What on earth do you mean? For you, of course.”
“Don’t even think of it. I’m not worth it, Rene.”
She turned as if to walk away, but Rene grabbed her, whirled her back around to face him once more.
“Don’t give me that rubbish,” he said. “I know you hate yourself, but there are many people who care about you. Stop treating us as though we’re nothing to you.”
“Perhaps you are nothing to me.”
“Oh, stop it. You don’t even believe that yourself.”
To her great horror, Desiree began to cry. Rene didn’t hesitate-he pulled her into his arms and held her close.
“Hush,” he whispered. “It’s all right.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered in reply.
He planted an affectionate kiss on her forehead.
“I know you are. Why the devil to you hate yourself so? I’ll never understand.”
“You don’t know what I’ve done in my life since…my son’s death.”
It still pained her to mention that horrific event, one that she’d long since learned to bury deep within her. She’d learned not to say his name. He was gone, after all, she could never bring him back, never reverse things as she would have liked, so that he was alive and she was dead. Just to say his name would unleash all that pain and more, and she couldn’t bear that. So she tried not to think about him. She had stopped dreaming about him, and she’d forgotten the sound of his voice, but she kept her many photos of him on the walls of her cottage as a constant reminder, to keep the pain from completely slipping away.
Rene laughed. “So, what have you done? Murdered someone? Nothing can be that bad.” He rocked her a bit as he held her, the way a father would comfort a weeping child.
“I’ve hurt people, Rene.”
“We all have. What of it?”
“But I’ve hurt so many…”
He took her face in his hands and looked deep into her tear-filled eyes. His familiar, comforting grin had returned.
“Listen to me,” he said. “Are you Hitler?”
Finally Desiree laughed.
“That’s a girl. You see? Believe me, nothing you’ve done in your lifetime could possibly be any worse.”
He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. “Now dry your tears. We need to talk about what to do to keep you safe.”
“There’s nothing to be done. I’m sure I would have been arrested by now if I were in any real danger.”
“Still, we need to plan ahead. There are ways to get you out of France-through Spain and then Portugal-and onto a ship to the Americas. I’ll look into it right away.”
Desiree looked at him in astonishment.
“What? You weren’t expecting someone like me to have such connections?”
“To be honest…no.”
Rene laughed. “Just a cheerful restaurateur, right? Nice, but not very bright; in other words, harmless.”
“That’s not fair, Rene.”
“It isn’t? How do you think of me, then?” The smile was still on his face, the voice still full of good cheer, but there was an edge to it now.
“The way I’ve always thought of you-as my friend.” Desiree reached out then, touched him on the shoulder, lightly, not wanting him to read too much into the gesture. Rene placed his hand over hers, patted it gently.
“I know. And for that I’m glad.”
Rene knew he couldn’t possibly tell Desiree how he really felt about her, as much as he’d like to. But perhaps it was better this way, for both of them. The less invested he was in her personally, the less it would hurt him to be parted from her, and the more he could actually help her. And helping Desiree was what mattered most to him. Perhaps, if there hadn’t been a war, things might have been different. But there was a war-with no end to it in sight.
* * * * * * *
Arresting Guy Benneuex had been a wise move, Hans reflected. The Gestapo were interrogating him now. He knew Benneuex was unlikely to talk, but what of it? Let the Gestapo do their job. Hans had never believed in the methods of torture so often employed by that branch of the SS. He knew they weren’t effective; that the unique style of understated psychological pressure he had developed over years of detective work was far more potent and devastating.
If Hans really wanted Benneuex to talk, he could have him talking within an hour. At some point he would indeed interrogate Benneuex himself. Right now his priorities lay elsewhere. Something fundamental had changed inside him since that last night with Jürgen. Just thinking of his name brought a sharp twinge of pain, but it was a welcome pain. It was more proof that he could indeed truly feel, that he was alive, that he wasn’t simply an automaton.
There had been a letter from Jürgen. The words were veiled to protect them both, since mail was routinely opened throughout the military postal system. But the message was clear:
I think often of the last time we saw each other, of how much we enjoyed each other’s company. You are my oldest and dearest friend, and I meant everything I said to you. I want you to know that, although I know how reluctant you are to speak of such matters like friendship, I know you feel the same way.
Hold on to that feeling, and I’ll do the same. I expect my work to be quite challenging over the next few months, and I’m not sure when I’ll be able to write to you again. I know that you’ll write me back, as you always have, but I can’t promise that I’ll receive it. So if you don’t hear from me, don’t worry. I’ll continue to think of you, as I know you’ll continue to think of me.
Let’s pray that this war ends soon, and that it won’t be as long before we’re able to visit again.
With all best wishes,
your very good friend,
Jürgen
Hans had fought back tears while reading the letter. He had received it at the office, after all, as he did all his mail. In reading it he could hear Jürgen’s voice, feel his touch, smell his scent. He took a very deep breath, then neatly folded up the letter. He tucked it carefully inside his wallet, to keep it safe.
Tomorrow was the night of his soirée. He still had not seen or spoken to Desiree. Hermann had made a last call to her today to confirm that she had everything she needed. Now Hans had just one more call to make to put the next step of his plan into action. He took another deep breath, then reached for the telephone.
* * * * * * *
Mathieu helped Desiree bring in the supplies for Guidon’s dinner party the next day. He was wishing now that he had never referred that SS colonel to her. He had heard about the arrest of Guy Benneuex, and he knew that Desiree would be catering the colonel’s soirée tomorrow afternoon, before he and his guests proceeded to dinner here.
Of course Mathieu couldn’t be sure that Desiree was working with the Resistance. He had never asked her and never would. He was well aware that it was always better not to know-that simply by knowing he would put not only his own life but also the lives of his wife and children at risk. And he would not endanger his beloved family for anyone; not even Desiree. So rather than ask what he most wanted to know, he asked about her plans for the soirée.
“Do you have everything you need? Are there any pots or utensils you’d like to borrow?”
“No, that won’t be necessary,” Desiree replied. “I’m fixing a simple selection of hors d’oeuvres. I won’t need any special utensils or large pots or pans.”
“This colonel…by all accounts, he’s a very clever man.”
Unable to avoid doing so, Desiree felt herself begin to blush. She tried to keep her face turned away from Mathieu, but he caught her under the chin and turned her to face him.
“Please,” he said, looking straight into her eyes, “be very, very careful around this man. Finish the soirée and be done with him.”
Desiree felt the hot flush creep across her face. She couldn’t hide it; all she could do was wait for Mathieu’s response. He looked at her closely, as though he were analyzing her features, trying to read the truth in them. And then it suddenly dawned on him. He’d seen her blush like this before-she had always blushed whenever he teased her about her lovers.
“Mon Dieu-have you been intimate with this Nazi?”
Desiree tried to turn away from him, but he grabbed her by the shoulders and held her fast.
“Have you gone mad? Do you really have no self control?”
“It’s not like that, Mathieu.”
“Then what is it like? What ever possessed you to get involved with an SS officer?”
Mathieu’s grip on her shoulders tightened, and he saw her wince in pain. He let go of her then, and leaned back against the butcher block in the expansive kitchen.
“I’ve always worried about you,” he said. “I know just how self-destructive you are and always have been. It’s something that haunts me and likely always will. Perhaps if things had gone differently between us…”
This time she met his eyes, and her own were fiery and defiant.
“Mathieu, we haven’t been lovers for some time. You have no idea what happened to me in the camp.”
“I’ve always wondered.”
“I had a lover there.”
“I thought as much. Sometimes I think sex is a kind of sustenance to you. It’s as though it’s something you need to live, that you’d die without it,” he said sadly.
“It wasn’t like that-well, perhaps at first. But it changed very quickly.”
“You fell in love, didn’t you?”
Desiree couldn’t believe that she had started crying again. Where were all these tears coming from? Why wasn’t she able to stop them, the way she always had been in the past? She couldn’t possibly go on in this way.
“There’s nothing wrong with that. I know you’ve never had that particular feeling for another woman, even though you’ve slept with them. But it’s common for two prisoners to find comfort in each other. It happens between men, as well.”
“You don’t understand-my lover wasn’t a woman.”
“So you found a man to love there,” Mathieu said. And then his eyes lit with realization. He looked at her thoughtfully.
“You fell in love with a guard,” he finally said. “A Nazi.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
They stood in silence for several minutes while Mathieu pondered this new revelation. Finally he looked back up and into her eyes again.
“He was kind to you, wasn’t he?”
Desiree hesitated, and he looked at her curiously once more. Again, light dawned for him.
“He was kind to you-but he also hurt you.”
Desiree cried even harder then: “yes.”
“And you enjoyed it.”
“Yes.”
Again, the two lapsed into silence. Mathieu grabbed a kitchen towel, stepped forward and gently wiped at the tears on Desiree’s face, catching them as they cascaded down her cheeks.
He had always wondered if Desiree had pursued her fantasies with another. There were times, when he was making love to her, that she wanted him to be much rougher, to slap and bite her. But Mathieu had never been able to bring himself to do so. Had it been a game of sorts, he might have considered it, but he had always felt that it was much more than a game to her. It seemed to be a form of punishment, and he did not want to be the one to punish her. This wasn’t the primary reason for their breakup, but it had been an important part of it.
Mathieu didn’t tell Desiree to stop, or try to comfort her; he simply let her cry as he carefully mopped up her tears. Somehow he had sensed that this was something she needed to do, and it went on for several minutes before he spoke again.
“Have you had contact with him since then?”
“He’s dead now. He was killed on the Eastern Front. But…before he was transferred…he was the one who had me freed.”
Mathieu tilted Desiree’s chin up once again so he could look deep into her eyes, and she found his steady gaze somehow comforting.
“Listen to me,” he said. “Listen very carefully. None of us can ever really predict how we might react in an extreme situation.”
He paused for a moment to mop up a few more of her tears.
“All we can really do is learn from our reactions to such situations. You fell in love with a Nazi. He hurt you, but he also saved your life. Perhaps you have feelings for this SS colonel because of him.”
“Yes,” she breathed.
“But he’s a different person, Desiree. He’s not the man you loved, and he never can be. And that’s why you must be careful. We still don’t know this man’s motives.”
* * * * * * *
It had been a difficult and unsettling day for Desiree, full of revelations she had never expected to make. She had a long day ahead of her, so she went to bed early that night to get as much rest as possible. She tossed and turned for quite a while before she finally fell asleep.
She dreamed again. Of Uwe, and it was so vivid she could smell his beautiful pink-gold skin, taste the sweetness of his sweat, the flavor of his tongue. He was making love to her; his large, muscular body engulfed her completely, one hand cradling her head, the other gripping her behind, holding her up to meet his thrusts. His golden hair was in disarray, a few locks over his forehead, obscuring his sharp, blue eyes. His long, thick cock was deep inside her, and they were both trembling and moaning with pleasure.
“Bite me,” he suddenly breathed, “please, please bite me, bite me…” She cut him off when she sunk her teeth into first one pec, then the other.
“Gott, Ja,” he growled as he increased the speed of his thrusts. “More, bitte.”
She nipped him all over his chest and up one shoulder to his throat, and sunk her teeth into the tender flesh there. He whimpered then, let her head fall back to the bed, both hands now gripping her behind tightly as he ground himself inside her.
And then it started, the whispering: Ich liebe Dich. Ich liebe Dich. Ich liebe Dich, Ich liebe Dich, Ich liebe Dich, it seemed to go on and on and on, and then suddenly it stopped, and he was different somehow, he felt different around her and inside her, and she opened her eyes-Hans was above her now, holding her up, his hips were meeting hers, and his beautiful hazel eyes gazed deep into her dark brown ones. There was so much need and desire in those eyes, and something else as well; she couldn’t tell what it was, only that it was something she both wanted and didn’t want to see there.
“Ich liebe Dich,” he whispered, his voice silken and sweet, and his eyes never left hers; then he groaned heavily and she could feel him filling her, and she came, too-
And woke up, and began shaking all over. For when she found herself alone in her bed, she was once again awash with a passionate hunger for a man she knew she shouldn’t want at all-and yet she did, more than she had ever wanted anyone.
* * * * * * *
Hans had made his move. Tomorrow morning the arrests would be made. It would all be over and done with well in advance of his soirée. His plan had been set into motion.
He would see Desiree again tomorrow. His heart beat like a trip hammer just at the thought of it, and the hunger he’d been repressing over the last two weeks rose up again, powerfully and irrepressibly. But in spite of that desire-or perhaps because of it-it was a reunion he anticipated with far more dread than pleasure.
End Chapter 10
Please proceed to Chapters 11 & 12!