She lay completely dressed under her covers, delicately running her fingertip across one side of her new photograph that sat tucked beneath her pillow. Every two minutes she brought her wrist up in front of her eyes, focusing through the darkness onto the two tiny hands that never seemed to move around the watch face.
The last time she had checked it had given her 23:07. At least five minutes had to have gone by since then. She brought her wrist to her face again but the time she was given was only 23:10.
She tapped at the face with her fingernail. She didn’t know what else to do. Part of her hoped that maybe her watch was slow and that time wasn’t passing as sluggishly as it seemed to be; but if her watch was slow, she would no doubt be late and he might leave without her.
She felt like she was going to vomit again. The sensation had been coming and going all night though that hadn’t necessarily been a bad thing. She hadn’t been able to eat much at supper because of it which had caused her mother to look at her with concern.
“Eva, you’ve hardly even touched your food,” her mother had said, nodding at her plate which in all honestly had hardly been touched. “Aren’t you hungry?”
“Not overly,” she’d responded, briefly meeting her mother’s gaze. Her father had continued to work at his food, uninterested.
“Is there something wrong? Are you feeling ill?”
She had seen the opportunity and had taken it. “Yes,” she’d answered, hamming it up a bit by placing a hint of strain into her voice. “I fear I may have gotten some kind of stomach bug.”
“Perhaps you should lie down for the rest of the night, then,” her mother had offered, focusing back on her own plate.
“I think I will,” she’d said; and, after having given her good-nights, had made her way to her room. She had grabbed an over-the-shoulder bag from inside her closet and had hastily thrown in a clean dress. She’d pulled opened the first drawer in her dresser and had hesitated when her collection of intimates had come into view. She’d selected a pair of nylons and had quickly shoved a fresh pair of undergarments into the bag without taking the time to inspect her choice.
She’d tossed the bag beneath the bed and had been patiently waiting beneath the blankets since.
She brought her wrist up again.
She silently removed herself from the room she shared with her younger sister and crept out into the hall, moving past the closed door to her parents’ bedroom before quickly reaching the front door to the modest apartment. She slid a pair of flats onto her feet and slipped her arms through her thick wool coat. Her fingers were trembling as she did up the buttons.
The knob to the door turned quietly enough and she had found herself out in an empty dark hallway, the door to the apartment closed tightly behind her, faster than she’d expected. She proceeded down the hall in a trance, descending the stairs and making her way out the door to the complex with tunnel-like vision. She kept her eyes focused before her, her feet moving mechanically. All that mattered was that she get to his car.
The streets were ensconced in snow, the orange light of the streetlamps mutely reflecting off the white canvases of powder. She kicked it up into the air like dust fluttering around her thinly protected ankles as she made her way down the street at a brisk pace, her fingers wrapped tightly around the strap to the bag.
She turned the corner and instantly spotted the black Mercedes settled beneath a patch of shadow across the street at the curb. She hurried across the snow cushioned pavement, hopping up onto the opposite sidewalk. She all but ran up to the side of the car.
Just before she reached the backdoor it was pushed open from the inside. She darted around it and stepped into the lavish vehicle, immediately falling onto the expensive leather seating. She pulled the door shut and released a heavy breath of air, laying her head back against the seat.
“Are you all right?” he asked, his low voice instantly filling the warm darkness.
“Yes,” she answered quietly and looked over to him. She lifted her head back up. “Where is your coat?” she inquired with genuine concern.
“Didn’t need it,” he said, dressed only in a dark suit. “I like the cold.”
“You’re going to make yourself sick.”
“Let me worry about that,” he said, and she shrugged. “I trust you have everything you need?”
She patted her bag and nodded. “It’s all here.”
His brow creased in disapproval. “Where are your gloves?”
She hadn’t even realized she hadn’t any on. “Oh. I must have forgotten them,” she said easily, apathetic.
“Do you realize how easy it is to contract frostbite in weather like this?”
“I could be asking you the same thing!” she countered in disbelief.
“My body isn’t as fragile as yours,” he explained simply. “A woman’s skin is sensitive and highly susceptible to harsh elements.”
She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, shoving her hands beneath her armpits. “Happy?”
“Not in the least. You mustn’t be so reckless in the future.”
“I was nervous, okay? It just slipped my mind,” she said, feeling defensive.
His expression softened. “Your trepidation isn’t necessary.”
She sighed, picking at a loose thread that kept a button attached to her coat. “Yes, well… that doesn’t make it simply disappear, hearing you say that.”
“I wish it did.”
His gaze lingered on her a moment longer before he gave a terse nod, letting the subject drop, and turned toward the driver. “You can take us back to the apartment, Schreck.”
“Certainly, mein Führer.” After making the briefest of glances at the rear-view mirror—at the reflection of the young woman now sitting comfortably beside his boss—he shifted the car into drive; and they quietly departed into the February night.
Originally, he hadn’t intended on accompanying Schreck to retrieve her that night. There was no way around having him remain a part the equation—unless he drove himself which he wasn’t going to do so that option had immediately been tossed aside—but his own presence in the transportation of her hadn’t been required.
He hadn’t wanted to go along, honestly. Not because he didn’t want to see her—that was ridiculous considering the reason she was sneaking out was to spend the night with him. He simply hadn’t wanted to endure the fifteen minute drive during which he’d been painfully aware that Schreck had been painfully aware of what his plans for the night were to consist of.
He didn’t like being reminded that some people still had insight into his personal life. He didn’t like being reminded that some people knew who she was and that he put aside time to be with her. He didn’t like knowing that some people assumed they were without a doubt sexually involved; and that after tonight there would be truth behind that assumption.
While he knew this relationship would essentially be impossible without the minor involvement of a few others, it didn’t mean he enjoyed having to acknowledge all that.
But in the end, he’d figured since Schreck was already very much aware of who she was and her position within his life, he could afford to bare those fifteen minutes of discomfort if it meant he would be there when she opened that door. He knew just how happy it would make her and he wanted to do that for her.
And it had been worth it. After they had taken off for the apartment, her hand had slid across the seat and had easily found his within the darkness. Like always, there was the instant desire to pull away—a reflex he couldn’t disable if they were in the company of others—but he’d forced himself to ignore it. It was dark inside of the vehicle, he’d reminded himself; and Schreck wouldn’t be taking his eyes off the road, both because the roads were covered in ice and snow and because he was always extremely diligent in respecting his boss’s private matters.
It was a trait he never failed to take advantage of, especially when it came to the outings and rendezvous that centered on her.
But now they were alone in his apartment and he could relax in earnest—well, as much as was possible while maintaining an awareness of what was to come within the next few hours. He had his own feelings of trepidation, certainly. Not to the degree she did, but they were there.
However, he knew she was going to relinquish all control over to him—meaning she was going to let him direct all the events of the night—because she was a virgin and while she had the basic idea of what she was to expect she did not have the confidence to lead in the act. This he was more than okay with it; he preferred it this way. Control was something he was always more than willing to take possession of.
He also knew he was more experienced than her. Naturally, considering their age difference. And this gave him a firm amount of confidence, a measure of amenity. He had fairly dependable footing on this ground whereas she had none. They had done their fair amount of fooling around, of course; but she had never walked on this terrain and he could sense she was already stumbling a bit. He could undoubtedly see there was eagerness behind her stumbling, but stumbling she still was.
And that was all right. He had no hesitations about steadying her. He was rather keen on familiarizing her with this level of intimacy she had yet to explore with anyone.
She was undoing the buttons to her coat as she looked around what she could see of the extravagant albeit dimly lit multi-room apartment. Truth be told she had already been here on a few occasions but she had to do something in an attempt to ignore the tension.
He took her coat as she was slipping her arms out and left her in the foyer to discard it in the cloak room. She was waiting patiently, her hands folded in front of her abdomen when he returned, now looking to him for further instruction.
“Come with me,” he said and continued on down the hall, her silently trailing behind him. When they arrived at a closed door on the right, he turned the knob and easily pushed it open. He stepped back, indicating that she should step into the room which she did. “You can put your things in here,” he said, gesturing to a dresser pushed up against a wall from the threshold.
The room was comfortably small, containing a full sized bed accompanied by a nightstand, a dresser, an armoire and a small, comfy looking armchair pushed diagonally into the opposite corner of the room. The room was tastefully decorated with nothing appearing overly lavish or ostentatious in nature.
After she had finished with her assessment, she looked back toward the door and realized he had disappeared. She peeked out around the corner of the threshold and saw him walking further down the hall, noticing there was a door in the wall at the end of the hall. She mutely watched him open the door only to then shut it close behind him as he vanished into the room. His bedroom, she supposed.
As she wondered about what he might be doing in there, she thought about what she should be doing in here. It wasn’t going to take long for her to take out the few garments she had stashed away in her bag and place them into a drawer. And as she got closer to emptying it, she began to slowly reveal a glossy pink material lying beneath everything else.
She realized she had forgotten about the lingerie she had hidden in the bottom of the bag a week ago, right after having bought it; lingerie she had bought with money she had secretly been hoarding for the last four months. She had sensed this night was soon coming and had wanted to be prepared; and she had known she couldn’t have hidden it in her dresser where either Gretl or her mother would have undoubtedly discovered it.
The outfit wasn’t anything too fancy, but it certainly hadn’t been the cheapest thing on the racks either: a thin-strapped bralette and a matching pair of tap shorts, both made of pale pink silk and trimmed with a darker shade of floral lace panel.
This would give her an edge. Wearing it made her feel pretty and sexy and, most importantly, confident. The silk draped elegantly and seductively over the body she had worked so rigorously to tone to flawlessness, accentuating a pair of fully blossomed breasts above a flat stomach that flared into a full set of pure womanly hips.
The outfit gave her the figure often lost beneath her everyday clothing, much of which had been handed down to her from her older sister Ilse. Those garments weren’t perfectly tailored to her figure, they hadn’t been made to seduce and to tempt; but these, these made her look beautiful, the rose color radiant against her pale skin. She was the spitting image of a gift waiting to be unwrapped, revealing such intimate and delicious feminine secrets that had so far remained hidden from everyone.
She was virgin fruit but she was more than ready to be bitten into.
This isn’t going to be continued. I know of its errors so I humbly request that you don’t criticize it. I’m fully aware. And don’t get too attached. It’s coming down once I get around to actually rewriting this story–since I won’t be using any (or most) of this material–when I get over worrying about achieving absolute perfection and making absolutely no mistakes.
But for now, since I know people have been curious and I have not delivered on this, here ya go. The shitty rewritten draft to what was once known as “Cynefin.”
© Elizabeth Klarke