Charlotte Cavendish hurried through the chill November air, head down and shoulders hunched as she hugged the laundry bag tight to her body. It was unseasonably cold and she couldn't get to her small apartment on the Ku'damm quickly enough. Besides, at this time of night the streets of Berlin were no place for a woman to be out alone. As she rounded a corner the wind picked up, slicing through her thick overcoat and blowing a trail of brittle leaves into her path. Instinctively, Charlotte stepped over them and moved into the shadows of the walls. In this day and age, it was impossible to be too careful. But being attacked was the least of Charlotte's worries. What no one would guess from her long dark hair and perfect figure was that at 28, Charlotte Cavendish was trained to kill.
To those who knew her in the city she was Frau Schlussmeyer, the widow of a high-ranking German officer who'd won the Iron Cross. She kept herself to herself, but played the part well enough to secure a waitressing job at a nearby bar. The fact it happened to be a favourite among Nazi officials was certainly no accident. While Charlotte had an awareness of danger, she knew no fear of it and throwing herself into the jaws of the beast was her second nature. She'd been that way all her life, despite private schooling, a Cambridge degree and the very best of her parents' efforts.
At the beginning of the war she'd leapt to join the Wrens, but soon became bored and frustrated with the menial tasks she was given. As far as her conduct around men was concerned, Charlotte more than lived up to the organisation's ideal of the `perfect lady' -- but only because she had no interest in the opposite sex at all. Instead, she embarked on a series of passionate affairs with her female co-workers. Ratings, senior officers, typists, and even an admiral's daughter -- when it came to beautiful women, Charlotte always got what she wanted without fail.
For the most part, her Sapphic inclinations went by undetected, but it was always too good to last forever. When the moment of her discovery came, she went out in a blaze of glory with her tongue buried deep inside a pretty young Wren's cunt -- all while her commanding officer looked on in horror. It was agreed that both women should leave immediately. And as abruptly as it began, so Charlotte's career ended.
Although the episode was kept quiet out of respect for the two families, Charlotte knew that she needed to get away for a while. Without employment, she was stuck on her father's Hertfordshire estate with nothing other than her wild imagination to keep her occupied. She craved female company, but more than anything else, she craved excitement and her independence. When Churchill formed his taskforce of Special Operations Executives, Charlotte was among the first to sign up.
It was dangerous work and her father objected strongly, but with her flair for the German language and all its regional variations, she was a natural candidate. After several months of intensive training, she was air-dropped deep into the German countryside, completely alone for the first time in her life. It wasn't her first time in the country. As a student she'd spent almost every summer in Berlin, enjoying the progressive cultural scene and frequenting almost every lesbian bar and club within the city boundaries. But that was then, and this was now. One by one, all of her old flames and acquaintances had stopped writing. Some had simply disappeared overnight, others had emigrated and many more had just decided to conform, leaving the past behind them and marrying men who'd never make them happy. The chances of her being recognised were slim, but it still played heavily on her mind that in this stifling atmosphere, she was as much the hunted as the huntress.
She rounded a corner and heard gunshots echoing in the distance. It was a familiar sound. She fumbled clumsily with the keys in the lock, cursing the cold that had number her hands. A sharp click and she was in. No light shone under the doors of the other tenants. It was only ten o'clock, but everyone seemed to have given up on the day. Hardly surprising considering the steadily decreasing rations. She crept up the stairs, avoiding the creaky floorboard at the top, and let herself into her apartment.
Charlotte shot quick glance around the shadowy room. It was as she'd left it. She crossed to the window and peered into the street below. Also deserted. It was as well to be careful. During the spring of that year, an SOE wireless operator had been captured in the Netherlands and within a week, almost the entire network of Dutch agents had been ensnared. Losing their military grip, the Nazis were compensating by tightening their hold on the domestic front. How Charlotte had survived this long was a combination of luck and her own awesome willpower.
She drew the blackout curtains and clicked on a dim bedside reading lamp. Without even stopping to remove her coat, she tipped the contents of the bag out onto the bed, sifting through them in search of anything unusual. It had been weeks since she'd received any world from London. The last communication had been just an acknowledgement of the work she'd already done. One car bomb, four railway detonations and the theft of some vital documents from a high ranking Nazi officer. It was a case of `Well done, Charlotte,' -- then nothing further by way of guidance. She lived in the hope that no news was good news, but couldn't quite shake the feeling that somehow the transmissions were going astray. What she needed to know was when to leave. According to city rumours, the Allies were planning a massive bombing campaign. Hamburg had been bad enough, but if reports were to be believed, it was nothing compared to the pounding that Germany's capital was about to receive. Surely her bosses wouldn't leave her in a city that was about to be razed to the ground?
Her fingers suddenly fell upon some papers and a rush of excitement went through her. They seemed to be lots of them - glossy and unless Charlotte was mistaken, bound firmly along one side. A magazine. Charlotte lifted it up and smiled. Still nothing from England, but as far as continental contraband was concerned, Ilka, her German wireless operator had excelled. It was an explicit Dutch lesbian magazine filled from start to finish with pictures of naked women -- twisted legs, smooth skin, rouged lips and pussies that were filled with fingers and tongues.
She pushed the laundry off the bed and settled down with a cigarette, her eyes losing focus as she gazed at the shots through the blue haze. The only action Charlotte had seen since arriving in Berlin had been with Ilka. It had filled the void but was far from satisfying - firstly, Ilka was a curious, but reluctant married woman; secondly, she just didn't have the temperament to be able to handle a livewire like Charlotte, and it wasn't long before the passive and unimaginative housewife began to grate on her nerves. She would never have admitted it in a million years, but Charlotte craved women who gave her a run for her money. She was strong, but had a deep-rooted desire to be tamed and swept off her feet. As Ilka showed no potential for either, Charlotte soon dissolved their liaison on the grounds that work and sex are never a good combination.
Charlotte turned through the pages slowly, totally absorbed by the images in front of her. Judging by the dog ears, Ilka had taken a very good look before passing it on. She smiled. There were women eating pussy in every conceivable angle, even groups of them clustered around an individual, spreading her open and examining her from all sides. Charlotte slid a hand inside her panties and instantly found her throbbing clit. It was larger than most she'd seen and easily aroused. A quick stroke and her finger travelled down towards her entrance. She was already soaked.
On an impulse, she began tearing off her clothes, tugging at them hard and scattering them on the floor around her. Her bed became a frenzy of movement. First came her coat, then her shoes. Her blouse was next and then her skirt -- until all that stood between her and total nudity was a red bra and matching pair of satin French knickers. In her hurry to remove them, Charlotte's elbow accidentally caught the small table lamp. There was a loud crash and then darkness.
"Shit!" she whispered, annoyed with herself for not having more self-control.
A faint cough came from the apartment next to her. Charlotte froze. Evidently someone was still awake. Another cough followed by the sound of a chair being dragged across the tiles. It was Fraulein Westerfeld -- about whom Charlotte knew almost nothing. Since arriving, Charlotte had made a point of getting to know absolutely everyone who lived in the block. It wasn't out of friendliness -- although Charlotte had a natural charm that was hard to resist. To her, the people all around her -- the railway workers, war wives, shopkeepers, factory staff -- were all cogs in a bigger machine. Knowing them and using them to the best of her means was Charlotte's job. Gabriele Westerfeld, however, remained a total enigma. She was a blonde thirty-something with piercing blue eyes, who lived directly next to Charlotte, but kept herself to herself. She didn't work; neither did she have any visitors. There were some who swore she was a writer, and others who claimed she was a disinherited duchess gone mad. But in the spirit of the age, no one dared question her directly. Besides, there was something about Fraulein Westerfeld that almost defied snooping. It was ironic. Of all the people Charlotte knew in Berlin, it was the girl next door whom she knew least of all.
Cutting her losses, Charlotte spread her legs out across the bed and ran her fingers over her bare breasts. Her nipples were hard, and grew harder by the second under her touch. She was beginning to squirm, the firm muscles of her ass grinding hard against the sheets. She needed release, she needed to --
Charlotte leapt out of her skin as she heard a sharp rap on her door. "Who is it?"
"Fraulein Westerfeld. May I come in, Frau Schlussmeyer?" Charlotte hesitated. Now that her eyes had grown accustomed to the gloom, she spotted several things among her laundry pile that shouldn't be seen - among them a Walther P38 and a small cache of bullets.
"I'm in bed!"
"Oh... I just wanted a small word." The disappointment in her voice sounded genuine, and eventually Charlotte's curiosity got the better of her.
"Hold on," she muttered, leaping to her feet and throwing on a silk robe. A small word? At this time of night? The woman was probably just crazy. A recluse who only decided to talk when people had gone to bed. She really needed to watch her step if that was the case. The Nazis had eliminated her kind from the Aryan race a long time ago.
She wrapped up the items in her clean bed linen, and kicked them under the bed. Flooding the room with light from the overhead, Charlotte opened the door slowly and peered into the hallway.
"May I come in?" Despite the lateness of the hour, Gabriele Westerfeld was fully dressed to kill in a red evening dress and heels that added at least another two inches to her towering figure. Her blonde hair was swept back off her face into an immaculate French plait and her make-up seemed fresh.
"Yes -- sorry, I forgot myself. Please come in. Is there a problem?" Charlotte felt herself being looked up and down by her neighbour. Brazen at the best of times she coloured up immediately under the cold stare, becoming acutely aware of her untidy hair, the telltale flush across her cheeks, and the haphazard way in which she'd draped the robe around her. As a gust blew in from the hallway, Charlotte realised that the top of her left breast was exposed. She moved away quickly, turning to the wall as she adjusted the material. It may have been her imagination, but even with her back turned, Charlotte could feel Fraulein Westerfeld's blue eyes burning into her.
"I heard a noise," she began coldly, "I also know that you came in very late tonight and on several other nights." Charlotte strengthened her resolve. It was the moment she'd been both dreading and preparing for since she'd arrived in Berlin.
"I am a trained nurse, Fraulein Westerfeld. There are men out there dying. Were it not for my husband's express wishes, I'd be out there on the battlefield a long time ago. I do what I can. The wounded are being brought home in their hundreds. Our boys. So I break the curfew. I work nights at a field hospital at Charlottenburg, and to hell with anyone who tries telling me I shouldn't!" Inwardly, Charlotte smiled. She had almost convinced herself. Gabriele Westerfeld took a step back and gazed at a distant point in the room. After an awkward silence, she cleared her throat.
"I beg your pardon, Frau Schlussmeyer. I just was just concerned..." Charlotte held her indignation well, but could hardly have been prepared for what the woman suggested next. "... There are so many war widows in Berlin these days. A woman has to get by any way she can -- and with so many soldiers in the vicinity..." Gabi's voice trailed off again, allowing what was left unsaid to echo around the apartment
"Fraulein Westerfeld, if you're suggesting what I think you're suggesting, then I'd like you to leave immediately," said Charlotte, suddenly fighting the urge to laugh. Her neighbour's face, on the other hand, was expressionless.
"No shame in it at all. We all get lonely from time to time, but evidently I jumped to the wrong conclusion and I'd like you to accept my apology."
"Quite."
"Please -- call me Gabi." Gabriele extended her hand and Charlotte reached out to take it. It was ice cold, but as their fingers touched, small bolts of electricity rushed through Charlotte's spine.
"Charlotte," she blustered by way of introduction, taking care to pronounce the e at the end in the German way. Ilka usually abbreviated it to Lotta.
Gabi's grip was firm and unless Charlotte's imagination was playing tricks on her, lasted quite a while longer than was necessary. The blonde's eyes were again locked on her, and for the first time in the presence of another woman, Charlotte felt distinctly uncomfortable.
"Well, I should probably sleep..." she began with an unusual shyness, "It's late, and I have work tomorrow..." Gabi raised her eyebrows in mock annoyance.
"I've been chatting with my neighbour for less than two minutes and already she wants to go to bed?" Charlotte had no idea whether the pun was intentional or not, but it filled her mind with a series of erotic images that made her want to go back to what she'd been doing before the interruption. Gabriele Westerfeld was a striking woman. She rivalled Charlotte in height, but possessed a frame that was altogether more solid. She was in peak physical condition and carried herself more with the grace of an athlete than a single woman in a war torn city.
This time it was Charlotte's turn to stare. She took in the high cheekbones and firm jaw line of her neighbour. Gabriele Westerfeld was the definitive Aryan beauty, strong, elegant, but cold to the point of being unobtainable. Charlotte struggled with herself and failed. Within a couple of seconds, her eyes descended lower -- over the woman's neck, over her collar bones, over her chest... until they were fixed on a pair of firm breasts... so enticing, so touchable, so kissable... What in hell was she thinking?!
"Maybe we could meet tomorrow?" suggested Charlotte, snapping out of her trance and running her tongue across her dry lips. Despite her attempts to conceal it, there was a slightly breathless quality to her voice. Gabi nodded, a knowing smile playing at the corner of her lips.
"Then I invite you over for afternoon tea at my place tomorrow -- three o'clock sharp." Charlotte nodded. It was all she could do without giving the game away entirely. Once her neighbour had departed, she closed the door behind her feeling slightly shaken -- as though Gabriele Westerfeld had intruded upon a lot more than her homestead.
The following morning came all too quickly. Charlotte was woken by the sound of bells ringing from the nearby Kaiser Wilhelm church and a steady stream of people on the street outside. Sunday - and for Charlotte especially, it was a time to pray. As she packed her bag and pulled on some clothes, the events of the previous night seemed a world away. Realising the importance of being on the ball the next day, Charlotte had sacrificed her urges and turned in for the night almost straight after Gabi left. It was only now that she noticed her prized magazine lying out in full few in the middle of the floor. There was no way that her neighbour could have missed it. It was unfortunate, but at this moment in time Charlotte was far too busy to care.
She must have checked the contents of her bag at least a dozen times before leaving her apartment. Charlotte was never normally like this and it bothered her. What she had in store for today was just a walk in the park, courtesy of a loose lipped Nazi officer who'd become enamoured with her in the bar. Her sources were reliable and her planning, as always, had been meticulous. But Charlotte still felt nervous. She had no idea why, but it was almost as though Gabi Westerfeld's visit had unsettled her very core.
As Charlotte stepped out into the street, the relief in the air was noticeable. Berlin had survived yet another night unscathed, and through the exhaustion shone a quiet defiance in the faces of those around her. She waited in the swirling mist for a while, stamping her feet from the cold and impatience. She had a long distance to cover in the space of three hours - several changes of tram until she reached the north-westernmost tip of the city boundary, and then at least an hour's walk into the surrounding countryside. She'd be cutting it fine to get back to Gabi Westerfeld's by three... She cursed herself silently. That woman again.
Charlotte battled to regain her focus, and luckily it wasn't long before a tram rattled around the corner. She boarded it and stared blankly out of the window as the streets blurred past her and the minutes ticked by. There were plenty of other people on board, but no one was talking or even looking in her direction. A wave of loneliness suddenly engulfed Charlotte. She had no one in the city she could call a friend, much less a lover. She bit her lip to stop the emotion from pouring out. It had to be over soon. Even the Germans were beginning to admit it behind closed doors. The Reich simply had too many enemies on too many fronts. It was just a matter of time. Within a year she'd probably be back at home, making love to some wild English beauty in the meadows, drinking champagne and living in luxury. This was the one time of her life when she could make a difference, and she wasn't about to turn her back on it just yet.
By the time Charlotte stepped off the final tram, everything seemed possessed a slightly surreal edge. The mist was finally beginning to lift, leaving behind a damp and stagnant landscape. She was in a run-down residential area with neat lawns and windows as far as the eye could see. It was a ripe hunting ground for curtain-twitchers, and Charlotte's pace quickened. The less time she spent out in the open, the better -- and just to make sure, she intended to get home via a completely different tram stop.
She headed for an expanse of green at the end of the street. It was the end of Berlin and, because no established road lead from it, one of the few city exits where a checkpoint hadn't been set up. Just as well, because a baggage search was the last thing Charlotte needed right now. Considering the contents of her bag, she'd be lucky if she ever made it as far as the concentration camp. It was a long hike before she reached the railway tracks, and by the time they were in sight she had broken into a sweat. She glanced at her watch -- ten minutes before the freight train laden with supplies for the Eastern Front would come rumbling through. Plenty of time.
She knelt beside her bag, adrenaline pumping through her veins as she took out what she needed. Shooting quick glances in every direction, she worked quickly, assembling the bomb with the precision of an artist. Charlotte had done it so many times before that she could afford to be vigilant, which was as well in this heavily wooded area.
A final twist of the dial, and she was ready to go. She pressed a cool hand against the steel tracks. There it was - the distant rumble of the approaching train. It seemed to be on time, and so far everything was going according to plan. The trick now was to get as far away as possible from the scene of her crime. She walked briskly, synchronising her seconds with those on the timer. Four minutes... She was doing well. She ducked into a grove of trees and continued her passage southbound. Three minutes... There was the low hum of a train engine in the distance, and her heartbeat quickened. Two minutes... With an empty bag, even the most rigorous SS inspection would have a hard time coming up with incriminating evidence. She was on the verge of feeling invincible. One minute... There was a sharp crack behind her, and Charlotte span round. Nothing. It was definitely the sound of a dry branch snapping, but there was no one else around. It was probably a squirrel, or a fox, or even a stray dog from the suburbs. It still sounded uncomfortably close. Thirty seconds... The train was approaching and the suspense building. Fifteen seconds... Time for her to turn around and continue with her route. Ten seconds... Five seconds - each one seeming to last an age. Three... Two... One...
The sky suddenly lit up in a blaze of light, and there was an explosion that that shattered the peace of the countryside. The ground shook and brakes screeched. Several smaller blasts followed, sending smoke billowing over the hillside. Without warning, Charlotte felt a heavy weight against her back. It caught her off-balance and sent her reeling forwards. She hit the ground head first and saw stars. Strong hands were now pinning her down in the mud, wrestling her wrists from under her. She had to do something!
Using the last ounce of strength that she had, Charlotte lashed back at her attacker. Her knuckles slammed against a smooth jaw and, making the most of her attacker's surprise, she stumbled to her feet and began to run. Brambles tore at her bare legs as she hurtled through the fields and back towards the city. It was over an hour before she even dared to slow down and look back. When she did, she realised that she'd made it. Not another soul was in sight.
Leaving Berlin was now her only option. It had been interesting, it had been exciting, but now the adventure was over. There were plenty of other places she could go -- France, the Netherlands, or even a low-risk desk job back in England should the mood take her. Charlotte wiped the mud from her face with the back of her hand, but felt far from satisfied. Apart from anything else, she had no idea where she was -- only that it was far from the neighbourhood through which she'd passed earlier.
As she made her way to a lonely tram stop, Charlotte tried to reason her way through the events. There was no way she'd been followed. If that were the case she would have been stopped and arrested before she'd even set the timer. No, Charlotte had been caught by chance - probably an off-duty SS officer who just happened to be taking a walk in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was unlucky, but far stranger things had happened. For the time being, however, she was reasonably safe. Eventually she'd need to get out, but it was pointless trying for at least another night or two. When news of this reached the authorities there was bound to be heightened security at all the main routes leading out of the city. Whichever way Charlotte looked at it, it made sense to stay -- not least because of her sudden interest in her neighbour.
By the time she got back, it was already beginning to get dark. Charlotte glanced at her watch. It was nearly five and the day had all but evaporated. She felt a pang of guilt as she passed her neighbour's door, but had no intention of knocking on it until she'd tidied herself up. As soon as she was in her apartment Charlotte headed straight for the bathroom. She needed a long hot soak to wash away her stressful day and lay in the steaming tub for well over an hour. Her entire body ached. Her shoulders were tense, her back sore and her head pounding with a dull ache. Suddenly remembering her fall, she put a hand to her forehead and swore as a drop of blood appeared on her fingertips.
"Shit!" She pulled the plug, rose to her feet and leaned forward to wipe condensation from the mirror. Slowly, her face came into focus and she caught sight of a small gash that ran for about an inch above her eyebrow. The whole area around it was bruised and swollen to the point where it couldn't be concealed by her hair. She dabbed a little foundation around the edges, but no matter how hard she tried there could be no hiding the fact that she'd met with some kind of mishap. She leapt, startled as there was a sudden knock at the door.
"Charlotte? Hello? It's Gabriele." Shit again. She heard the front door open and close. Her neighbour had let herself in and was now advancing towards the bathroom. "Are you in there?"
"Yes..." muttered Charlotte, throwing a small towel around her and racking her brains for a way out of the situation.
"Had you forgotten about our date?" It was an odd way to describe their afternoon meeting, but Charlotte was too flustered to even notice.
"No, Gabi. I've just been at the hospital all day. Need to get a change of clothes, then I promise I'll be with you." Silence.
"You sound stressed, Charlotte. Is everything ok?" Charlotte hesitated. She was bound to notice sooner or later.
"Well, not really. I slipped while I was in the shower and hit my head. I think I'll be ok, but..." she opened the bathroom door and poked her head outside, "As you can see, it's left quite a mark." Gabi's eyes widened. She'd never been one to show her emotions openly, but on this occasion she had no control of the matter.
"Charlotte!" she gasped, "You must sit down immediately! That is really terrible!" Weakening from the sympathy, Charlotte allowed herself to be guided to one of the armchairs. "You look as white as a ghost. Please, let me fetch you some brandy. I insist." Gabriele Westerfeld left and then returned, brandishing a bottle of vintage Armagnac. It was hardly something that an average Berliner would have in her kitchen, but Charlotte was too overwhelmed by the occasion to ask questions. She accepted a generous measure and sipped at it slowly, the fiery liquid setting her throat ablaze as it slipped down.
"Better?" Gabi asked with an expression of real concern.
"It's been a tiring day," replied Charlotte after a lengthy pause.
"I can imagine," observed the blonde with the faintest hint of irony, "You really should do something to get the swelling down, though... Here, allow me..." She disappeared into the bathroom and returned seconds later with a face cloth soaked with cold water. Charlotte reached out to accept it, but Gabi made no move to hand it over, instead positioning herself on the arm of the chair and taking on the task herself. She was surprisingly gentle. Charlotte had never seen her as the nurturing type, but as Gabi dabbed lightly at the corners of the wound, she felt her breathing becoming deeper and the tension draining from her muscles.
"You should really make more time for yourself, schatz..." whispered Gabi, noticing the thin lines of exhaustion around Charlotte's eyes "You work all day, work all night. When do you get time to relax?" Charlotte stared at the floor. Having lived on the edge for so long, sympathy was the last thing she needed. Any more of it and she knew she'd crumble. "Just sit quietly for a second." The damp cloth was placed on a nearby table, and Gabriele's hands suddenly slid onto her shoulders. Charlotte shivered. They felt good -- firm and completely in control of the proceedings.
Soon she began a deep massage, stroking and squeezing Charlotte's shoulder muscles until her entire body became limp. "There... That's better. Just breathe deeply and enjoy the feeling... Good..." Charlotte could feel Gabi's breath on her cheek and closed her eyes as the words washed around her. The more she relaxed the looser the towel became around her chest. It was beginning to slide down, bit by bit exposing the dark crease of her cleavage. She reached up to pull it back into place, but Gabriele caught her hand. "Shhhh... Just relax and go with it." Charlotte's hand fell back onto her lap while Gabi resumed her massage, her long, expert fingers reaching lower over Charlotte's chest.
After what seemed like an age of gentle stroking, Charlotte suddenly found her neighbour's face just millimetres from her own.
"Would you let me give you a proper massage?" Charlotte could hardly believe her ears, but found herself nodding her head, powerless under her neighbour's touch. "Good... then why don't we move somewhere a little more comfortable. The bedroom perhaps?" Charlotte rose to her feet and as she did so, noticed a dark bruise along Gabi's jaw line. She wanted to ask and show the same degree of concern and compassion that her neighbour had shown her, but was too deep in her trance to find the words. Her legs felt weak from the miles of running, but there was something else that was making them weaker still. It was the same something else that was causing her pussy muscles to tighten and clit to throb in inexplicable desire.
When they reached the darkened bedroom, Charlotte stood uncertainly by the bed, not knowing quite what to do. It was a complete and utter reversal of roles. Usually she was the seductress -- the strong, sexual woman enjoying her lover melt before her. She was always the instigator. She called the shots and let the events unfold at her pace. Never the other way round -- until now.
Gabi appeared in the doorway, blocking out the light in the hallway as she looked Charlotte up and down.
"Well, well, well, Frau Schlussmeyer," she began, a faint smile on her face, "I never had you down as being shy." Charlotte blushed a deep pink.
"I could work around the towel if you really wanted..." But it wasn't what Charlotte wanted. Never one to be beaten or to lose a dare, she untangled the top of the towel and let it drop to her feet. Gabi didn't as much as blink.
Giving up on any kind of reaction, Charlotte got onto the bed and settled onto her stomach. She waited for her visitor to make her way over, but Gabi simply stood there watching intently. The silence seemed to stretch out for an eternity until she heard slow footsteps and felt a weight on the bed next to her. Gabriele began slowly, brushing Charlotte's hair to one side until the back of her neck was exposed. She placed her hands along it gently and began a slow massage that had Charlotte in quiet ecstasy.
"Does that feel good?" she whispered.
"Wonderful... absolutely wonderful..." And it did. Charlotte was losing herself by the second to this strong German woman. When Gabi's hands slid once more onto her shoulders, Charlotte began to drift off.
"Do you know, there's something I've been meaning to say since last night --" Charlotte came back down to earth slowly.
"What?"
"Just that maybe you should take a little more care when it comes to the storage of your reading material. You never know who might turn up on your doorstep." Charlotte became tense, but the deep rhythmic massage continued. So Gabriele Westerfeld had noticed the magazine that had fallen onto the floor. Paranoia soon began to gnaw at her. What else had this woman noticed? She'd already commented on the late nights.
"It's OK. I have no problem with it," she continued, "No problem at all. But I know of many people who would..." Charlotte braced herself for what was going to come next. "To be honest with you, the fact that you had it at all suggests that you're probably mixing with the wrong kind of people -- and I'm not even an expert in these matters, just the girl next door." The girl next door -- what a misnomer. Gabriele Westerfeld was anything but ordinary and an inner turmoil raged inside Charlotte, desire and caution pulling her in opposite directions. As Gabi searched out the tense muscles of her lower back, Charlotte found herself surrendering to the situation. So her neighbour had discovered she was a lesbian -- so what? If it had bothered her, she would have tipped off the SS a long time ago. She was home, but not exactly dry as Gabriele's hands slid further down her back.
When she reached Charlotte's waist, Gabi moved to the end of the bed and took hold of one of her feet. She took her time in massaging each toe, kneading deep into the sole of Charlotte's foot and then higher up her leg. When Charlotte's calf muscles became putty in her hands, she moved up higher still. Charlotte closed her eyes and allowed her neighbour to do as she pleased.
The fingers snaked their way upwards with agonising slowness, brushing softly against the sensitive inside of Charlotte's thigh. Gabi knew exactly what she was doing -- of that, there could be no mistake. When she reached the top, however, less than an inch from Charlotte's burning pussy, she stopped.
"Of course, I noticed there was something unusual about you from the day you moved in..." Charlotte was given barely any time to respond to this as Gabi's hand descended to her other foot. It was relaxing, for sure -- but from the beginning there had been something about this woman's touch and her behaviour in general that suggested she had been planning the moment for quite some time.
"You're a very beautiful woman," she continued, her hands sliding up over Charlotte's calf, "And you make friends easily. But no boyfriends... no gentleman-callers. If it weren't for the moans I hear late into the night, I'd think that you had no sexual urges at all."
Gabi was working faster, almost as though her fingers couldn't wait to reach the place they'd been just a couple of minutes ago. A thin trickle of moisture escaped from Charlotte's pussy, glistening as it ran down the top of her thigh. Gabi's fingers were close behind it. She separated her hands so that one was on each of Charlotte's thighs, then inched them up slowly until they were nestled under the firm cheeks of her buttocks. She pressed her thumbs in and then pulled them apart so that Charlotte's pussy stretched open. Charlotte gave a low moan.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you, you filthy whore!" Gabriele kept her fingers in place, squeezing in with her nails so that the pain forced the woman in front of her to spread her legs wider. "A horny lesbian bitch," she continued, the malice growing in her voice, "Living right on my doorstep. Right next door to me! Right under my nose! How brazen can you be? But I forget -- brazen is your style, isn't it, Charlotte Cavendish?" Charlotte leapt, but the grip on her legs was unrelenting. The more she struggled the less she found herself able to as the thumbs suddenly found her soft outer lips and began stroking her into submission. Charlotte felt another wave of wetness escape from her pussy. There was no way that Gabi could fail to notice it. It was probably flowing over her thumbs, inviting them to slide deep inside her and give her the hard fucking that she needed.
The teasing might have gone on a lot longer had it not been for the wail that suddenly shattered the Sunday peace. The air raid siren. Both women froze. It could have been a false alarm, but in light of the rumours that had been circulating for the past few weeks, it seemed highly unlikely. This was it. Berlin was about to be blitzed and Charlotte had no way of escape.
On the street below, there was chaos. Mothers running with screaming babies, pensioners being ushered out of their homes with little ceremony, cars honking their way through the bedlam, and a lone blackout warden fighting a losing battle. Soon the drone of aircraft became audible. There must have been hundreds swooping down towards the Reich capital with their deadly cargo. Lights flashed in the distance and the staccato rattle of anti-aircraft fire pierced the sky.
"We need to get out!" began Charlotte, taking advantage of her captor's astonishment to escape from the bed. She pulled on a pair of slacks and snatched at a nearby blouse. Gabi was unfazed.
"And where do you propose to run, English slut? Do you really think I've kept this information to myself? There are photos of you circulating every shelter and every check point in Berlin." Charlotte's body was still reeling from her neighbour's touch, but her head was issuing different orders. All this time, she'd been living next door to a Gestapo officer, and a highly trained one at that. Her cover had been blown and if the bombs didn't kill her then the authorities certainly would. Charlotte had nothing to lose because she'd lost it already. She felt beaten and as always the feeling was accompanied by a flash of recklessness.
She looked over at Gabi and advanced slowly. Gabi didn't move. Neither did she move when Charlotte's face was almost touching hers. They looked into each other's eyes and a million words passed unspoken between them. Gently their lips touched. What came of it was a kiss that shook both of their foundations. It was slow, it was seductive and while it took place time stood still.
Both women were brought back down to earth by a loud rumble that caused the floor to shake and a shower of plaster to pour down from the ceiling.
"You're right," said Gabi, clutching at the bed frame to keep her balance, "We need to leave!" They left the apartment and hared down the stairwell. Through small tears in the blackout curtains they could see the fires raging in the city, and still the bombs rained down. There was a deafening boom in the street outside, which threw both women off their feet. Another shower of dust as large cracks appeared in the walls. The building began to groan.
"Come on! The basement!" Charlotte dragged Gabi up by the hand and they made their way down the final flight of stairs, hurling themselves through the small door at the bottom. Suddenly everything was pitch-black, and it was several seconds before their eyes grew accustomed to the light. Although the bombing hadn't stopped, it seemed to be taking place further away now towards the Lichtenburg district. The seconds ticked by as their breathing slowed down. After a while, Gabi broke the silence.
"Why did you stop to help me back there? I'm your enemy, if you haven't forgotten."
"For the same reason I kissed you -- and the same reason you gave me that massage," replied Charlotte, looked the woman directly in the eye,
"Which is?" Gabi's voice had become husky. She knew exactly what it was, but she needed to hear it.
"Because we're just two women caught on opposite sides of the fence. If things were different..." Charlotte's voice trailed off. She didn't want to say the words.
"I want them to be different -- here, in this room right now." Gabi suddenly threw her arms around Charlotte, finding her lips in an instant. There was hunger in the kiss as their tongues collided and twisted against each other over and over again until the two women became lost in each other.
It wasn't long before Charlotte's hands descended on her neighbour's breasts. It was hard to feel all that much through the restrictive corselet, but the growing firmness of Gabi's nipples was unmistakable. Now taking the weight of both breasts in her hands, Charlotte began squeezing gently, grazing her thumbs across Gabi's nipples and enjoying the forbidden sensation.
Suddenly having enough of the restrictions of clothing, Charlotte reached down to the hemline of the blonde's dress and began pulling it up slowly, marveling at each new millimeter of skin that was revealed. Gabriele Westerfeld had a body to die for. When the dress had been rolled to an obscene position somewhere around her waist, Gabi took over, lifting it over her head and throwing it to one side.
"Now you..." she whispered, her breathing slightly ragged, "I want you as you were before." Charlotte began unbuttoning her blouse, but was simply too slow for her neighbour. Pushing Charlotte's hands out of the way, Gabi caught hold of the garment and ripped it down the centre, sending buttons flying like confetti to the ground. Her lips were upon Charlotte's nipples in an instant, kissing, sucking, licking and devouring until the reckless British agent felt that she'd pass out from pleasure.
For a few moments, she simply held Gabi's head to her breasts, willing the blonde to keep working her spell and drive her into a slow deep orgasm with her tongue. But Charlotte wasn't one to be submissive for long. Gabi's corselet was beginning to annoy her. She wanted to be touching that beautiful body before her and enjoying it with no restriction. Daunted but far from beaten, Charlotte reached behind Gabi's back and began untying the stubborn fastenings.
As though prompted by her neighbour's boldness, Gabi caught hold of the waistband of Charlotte's trousers and pulled them down. Now naked, both women stopped and admired one another. Without saying a word, Charlotte reached forwards once again to take one of Gabi's breasts. Her lips wrapped themselves around the dusky nipples breathing another sigh as she did so. This was what she'd wanted to do from the moment she set eyes on her neighbour's ample chest, and the sensation was more than living up to her expectations.
After a short while Gabi's fingers came to rest on Charlotte's head, but instead of drawing her in closer, they started to force her head down. Slowly but surely, Charlotte sank to her knees, allowing her tongue to trail its way down over the blonde's creamy skin. She paused for a moment on Gabi's navel, allowing her tongue to sink into the small groove. It was blindingly obvious where this one was going, and both women knew it would only be a matter of time before Charlotte's tongue was buried in a much sweeter place.
Charlotte had eaten out women before. In fact, she liked to think of it as her pastime. But never in her life had she eaten pussy with this degree of intensity or lust. What made it all the more pleasurable was that Gabriele Westerfeld shaved her pussy bald. As Charlotte glanced down she was able to see the outline of her engorged lips, slightly larger than average and more tempting than any she'd ever seen. She dipped her tongue between them and withdrew it just as quickly. It was a tease. She knew her neighbour was on the edge and wanted to make the moment last as long as possible. She slid her tongue in again, and this time Gabi moaned loudly. Charlotte was amazed at how wet the woman had become. Hungry for more of the sensuous juices, she began to lick along the centre of Gabi's slit, allowing her tongue to go everywhere apart from the one place her lover desired it most.
"Please... Charlotte..." Gabi's voice was beginning to falter. Charlotte drew back again and then plunged her tongue deep inside. The force of it caused Gabi to take a step back and Charlotte delighted in the fact that her neighbour's pussy was now open even wider. She thrust her tongue in again, this time allowing to linger inside the softness of Gabi's pussy, drinking in her wetness and the musky smell of arousal that was all around her. As she glanced up, she saw Gabi looking down at her, watching in shock as her cunt was being invaded by an expert tongue.
Slowly, Charlotte withdrew, allowing only the tip of her tongue to stay in contact. She couldn't get enough of the sweetness that was coating her lips. She needed more and that was precisely what she was going to get. Moving her hands between Gabi's legs, Charlotte caught hold of her lips and spread them apart. She held them in that position for a while, teasing her neighbour by blowing lightly against her clit and watching it throb.
Until this point Gabi's hands had been resting limply on Charlotte's head, but as her desire grew she began drawing the girl in to her, desperate to find her release. She found it the second Charlotte's lips clamped around her clit. True to form, Charlotte sucked her to one orgasm after another, her tongue moving wildly over the swollen nub until it felt like the woman would collapse. Repositioning her hands to stabilise her partner, Charlotte then drove her tongue with force deep into the entrance of her neighbour's pussy. Gabi's back arched as her body was wracked by a final earth-shattering orgasm. Her juices flowed past Charlotte tongue directly into her mouth. Charlotte was in seventh heaven.
"Enough!" Gabi's entire body was trembling as she pushed Charlotte's head away. Charlotte rose unsteadily to her feet, expecting to see her lover burst into tears or at least fall into her arms, but although ruffled Gabriele Westerfeld was composed as always, weighing up the situation and plotting her next move. "Lean over the table," she ordered, wiping the sweat from her brow. Charlotte was about to question her. Everything down here was filthy and covered in decades of dust and grime. But one stern look from the blonde was all that was necessary to make her comply.
The table was old and littered with unwanted furnishings -- a mouldy lamp cover, some old newspapers, a bicycle wheel and even a couple of mottled feather boas left over from the roaring twenties. Charlotte swept them off the table and leaned over it, feeling more than a little apprehensive of what was to come. It was perfectly justified. No sooner had Gabi noticed the boas, they were tied firmly around Charlotte's wrists and secure to the furthest legs of the table. In this position, Charlotte was completely sprawled out over the wooden trestles, her feet barely touching the floor on the opposite side. Gabriele moved close to her again.
"You eat pussy superbly," she commented, running her tongue down the side of Charlotte's neck, "But now it's your turn." She vanished from Charlotte's line of vision, leaving the Brit with a stomach full of butterflies. No one had ever just taken her like this before and as the seconds ticked by, Charlotte's heart began to pound. She felt a sharp kick to her ankle and instinctively moved her leg out further. Another kick to the other ankle, and she was left with her legs spread wide. A cool hand suddenly made contact with her butt, stroking it gently, but when Charlotte made an effort to look behind her, it cracked down hard on her tender skin. Charlotte gave a cry of alarm.
"Please don't struggle, schatz," said Gabi in a dangerously measured tone, "I tied you up for a reason and I want you to keep looking forwards." Charlotte bit her lip and stuck out her jaw in determination. It was an obscene position. Her cunt was completely on display for this woman, but in a perverse way she found herself actually enjoying the humiliation.
Soon Charlotte felt warm skin and flesh pressing up against her. Gabi had moved so close that her pussy was resting up against the moaning brunette's ass. Charlotte could feel everything from the slick juices rubbing against her skin to the pulsating clit that was still hungry for more. Gabi shifted her position a little, placing her hands around Charlotte's hips for extra support and then grinding hard against her astonished lover. Charlotte almost stopped breathing. What Gabi was doing broke all her beliefs about lesbian love. Until now, it had been synonymous with consensual giving and receiving and the warmth that two women got from it. At this moment in time, however, Gabriele Westerfeld seemed to be using Charlotte's body for her own personal pleasure. What made it all the more surprising was that Charlotte was enjoying every second of it.
As Gabi found her rhythm, Charlotte became aware that the hands were moving lower down her stomach. Soon, one outstretched finger had worked its way between her swollen lips and found her clit. She gasped as the finger began a slow circling motion. After a while, the finger was joined by two more -- this time at the entrance of her pussy. They lingered for a split second before plunging deep inside her all the way up to the knuckle. Charlotte's cries were answered only the insertion of a third finger, then a fourth. She felt stretched to her limits, but could do nothing but submit to the feelings of bliss coming from between her legs. Gabriele's cunt was still jammed against her ass and beginning to release a slow stream of wetness that was now trickling down Charlotte's thighs. With the fingers pumping inside her and steady massaging of her clit, she was approaching an orgasm far deeper and stronger than she had ever experienced before.
"Cum for me!" ordered Gabriele, her voice tight from the strain of holding in her own orgasm, "I want you to cum all over my fingers so that I can taste you when I lick them." Charlotte's pussy began to spasm. "Oh yes! I want to feel your orgasm exploding inside you, and I'm not going to stop fucking that horny little cunt of yours until you're spent. I want every last drop of your cum..." Charlotte didn't hear the rest. As wave after wave of orgasm swept through her body, vivid colours began to flash in front of her eyes. Her body rose and fell, and rose and fell so many times that she lost count. Her cries of ecstasy were joined by Gabi's as another flood of wetness came gushing over her ass.
When there are opened her eyes, her wrists had been untied and she was lying peacefully across the table. A few more seconds as her eyes became accustomed to the light once more. The room seemed to be empty -- at least at first glance.
"The bombing is over." Charlotte turned around and saw Gabi sitting on the floor behind her, her dress pulled loosely over her head once more, but the corselet abandoned. Charlotte moved stiffly off the table and faced her. "That was magnificent, schatz..." whispered Gabi in a voice that sounded as though it wanted to say a lot more.
"Yes... it was." Charlotte was usually good with words, but for the first time in her life could think of nothing to say. It would have been the relationship made in heaven under any other circumstances, but for now both the time and setting were wrong, "What now?"
"There is no photo," stated Gabi after an awkward silence, "There never was a photo or a warrant. You'd given me the slip once when you punched me in the jaw -- I wanted to make sure that you wouldn't do it again." Charlotte stared at the ground. "Your best bet is to leave now while the city's infrastructure is in chaos. Now is your best chance, Charlotte. Leave while you still can."
Feeling unusually emotional, Charlotte put on her clothes quickly and avoided all eye-contact with the German. Gabriele was right -- staying in a city under siege would have been madness, but it still didn't make her decision any the easier.
"So that's that..." began Charlotte as soon as she was dressed. Gabi stared directly back at her, a sudden softness to her eyes. Further words unnecessary, the women found themselves kissing once again. It was gentle and had a loving quality that deserved so much more of an opportunity than it had been given. It was over quickly, but when Gabi drew back, Charlotte kept her eyes closed for several seconds.
"If you ever come to Berlin again," came a whisper in her ear, "Make sure you find me."
And with that, she was gone.
Charlotte surfaced to a scene of utter destruction. Most of the Kurfurstendamm had been flattened and was surrounded by a halo of firelight and smoke. Like most of the other buildings in the street, her apartment was uninhabitable. If ever there was a good time to be leaving the city it was now. She took one last look back before starting her journey -- enough for her to salvage some hope from the rubble and pray that someday soon she'd relive her adventures with the girl next door.