Separation from Gerd - meeting with Heino
God, how long it had been! It had been almost a whole year since her divorce from Gerd. Britta sighed softly and poured herself another cup of coffee. Then she leafed through the magazine again, bored. Maybe she would find an article she hadn't seen before. But the lonely Sundays were really gruelingly monotonous. What could the other single women be doing on these endless afternoons? Britta lit a cigarette and put her slender legs up. Did Gerd have a new girlfriend? I'm sure he did. Or was he even married again? At least he certainly wasn't lacking in opportunities. It was that darned seventh year, thought Britta. We probably got married far too early. Very few girls are ready for marriage at 19.
She remembered Gerd without resentment. The ugly scenes had long since faded from her mind because the pleasant memories outweighed them. Today, Britta knew that she shouldn't have taken Gerd's misstep so seriously. After all, it had been his first slip-up and Gerd had certainly not just been playing the repentant sinner. As a woman, you have to be able to forgive once in a while. Never mind. Away with the wistful thoughts! Just don't look back! The future still belonged to her. At half past six, Heino, the head of the Cancellation and Statistics department, was waiting for her at Café Wagenknecht. Heavens, she had only made a vague, non-binding promise. But why shouldn't she go? It was still more entertaining than staring at the screen at home.
Britta got up and went into the bathroom. She took a critical look at her even face in the mirror. No, she couldn't find anything wrong with herself. She searched in vain for the first wrinkles or a disappointed expression that was beginning to set in. No, she still looked prettier than average. And actually, it was no wonder. Sighing softly, she began to apply her make-up. It didn't take long. Eye shadow, eyebrows, a touch of rouge on her cheeks, that was all she needed, but this procedure would also have been superfluous. But a woman at least wants to feel well-groomed. A little make-up had never done a girl any harm, by the way. Certainly not. Britta entered the elegant Café Wagenknecht at half past six on the dot. She was wearing high-heeled pumps, which showed off her slender legs twice as well, and an almost indecently low-cut dress.
Heino was already waiting. He stood up from behind his tiny marble table, waved politely to her and came towards her, proud of his ownership. Men like to adorn themselves with pretty women. "You look dazzling again," he breathed as he adjusted her chair. "The sight of you makes me really dizzy in the crotch." "Like that?" She smiled amusedly. She liked Heino's boldness. He stood out pleasantly from the other employees at Securitas Versicherung. She didn't have much use for colorless office workers. "Then surely you've already planned a program for tonight?" "Certainly." Heino ordered a pot of coffee and a slice of Black Forest gateau for Britta before explaining mysteriously: "Because we're going to your place!" "To my place? Who decides that?" "You, of course!" He made a guilty face. "But it wouldn't be wrong. You and I could become much closer as people. After all, we've known each other for more than a year!" She looked him scrutinizingly in the eye. The corners of her mouth twisted mockingly. "So in plain language, that means you want to sleep with me?"
Heino wants to sleep with Britta
"Yes." He nodded, taken aback. A slight blush rose to his face. "You could call it that." "How else!" She lit a cigarette. "You're lucky, by the way, that I've been without a man for over a year! Otherwise you'd probably be biting your teeth out on me!" Heino beamed. He hadn't imagined it would be that easy. After all, Britta was considered unapproachable and difficult to win over. "Then let's not waste any unnecessary time!" urged Britta. She enjoyed his amazement. He seemed to have lost all boldness. Although Britta looked forward to the events of the next few hours with curious anxiety, she finished her cake first. Heino drank two double cognacs excitedly. As they set off, it began to rain. Britta didn't live far away. Nevertheless, the downpour soaked them both to the skin. Britta snuggled up very close to Heino. It was indescribably wonderful to feel the muscles of a man next to her again after half an eternity. The first streetlights came on. The rain became heavier. It pattered monotonously on the pavement.
When they arrived at her front door, Britta hesitated for a moment. She could still undo everything. Nothing had happened yet. But then she gave herself a jolt. The course had long since been set. "Come on!" She led Heino into the apartment. With a steady hand, she switched on the floor lamp in the living room. She placed a bottle of brandy and an ashtray on the table. "It's nice here," said Heino. What else could he say? Britta's willingness came as too much of a surprise, although he should have gotten used to it by now. "Yes, it's fine!" She disappeared into the bathroom. Before she closed the door behind her, she called out casually: "You should get undressed as soon as possible! Otherwise you'll catch a solid cold in your wet clothes!"
He stripped off his suit and underwear without further ado. Then he lit a cigarette, feeling strangely nervous. When Britta returned from the bathroom, they were both naked. He pulled her to him with a clumsy movement and covered her face with desirous kisses. The pressure of his body increased from second to second. Britta was so overwhelmed that she was unable to resist. And she didn't want to. He suddenly lifted her up and carried her to the well-padded bed against the long wall. He carefully lowered her into the soft cushions. Britta breathed heavily. She had been deprived of male affection for too long. Her full breasts quivered in anticipation of what was about to happen. Her narrow nostrils trembled imperceptibly.
"Come!" she urged restlessly when Heino did not immediately go on the attack. Her knees pressed impatiently against each other. A sweet thrill ran through her veins. Heino, however, took his time. He enjoyed every second of the exciting foreplay and kissed her exciting body everywhere. No area was off limits for him. Britta's smooth skin felt like tightly stretched velvet. She moaned again and again with heavenly shivers of excitement. Now she finally spread her slender legs. She looked like a goddess of temptation made flesh. No man could have resisted her charms. Heino suddenly knelt between her white thighs, which immediately clamped around his hips like a pair of pliers. Britta drummed demandingly against his back with her dainty heels. The small rosebud at the zenith of her crotch had long since opened as if under a mysterious spell.
Heino very slowly penetrated the delicious temple of love. In slow motion, he conquered the warm fairytale grotto, which greedily devoured him. Britta's eyes closed with happiness. She had her head tilted far back. The blood pulsing under the thin skin of her neck was clearly visible. Her temples were thundering. Heino was now lying possessively on his hot-blooded playmate, who intercepted his every wild movement with springy counter-pushes. Her open crotch pressed demandingly against his lap. The two bodies seemed to fuse inseparably together. The young couple quickly got going. The love ride escalated into an orgasmic gallop. Britta's legs wrapped themselves even more powerfully around Heino's loins. Their twitching bodies pressed closer and closer together. The uncontrolled movements became faster and faster. Britta's lap had long since become wet. Silver moisture glistened on the insides of her thighs, which spread apart in impotent bliss.
The fiery girl's large nipples had erected steeply. Sensitive as a seismograph, they reacted to the slightest touch. Britta opened her eyelids a little. But her gaze was absent. It was blazing towards the approaching orgasm that was beginning to announce itself very clearly. The two bodies met in an intoxicating rhythm. They swayed back and forth ecstatically. A frenzy gripped the uninhibited lovers and swept them away into a whirlpool of euphoric oblivion. With a sharp cry, Britta suddenly reached the peak of all sensations. She tried in vain to rise up under the explosion of her feelings. Heino also lost his temper. All the floodgates opened. He felt as if he was going to burn up in Britta's arms. With overpowering lust, his pent-up tension was released in a glowing fountain. The convulsions subsided. One last liberating surge, then the wild movements came to an end.
The sweaty bodies remained in motionless exhaustion before they almost reluctantly separated. The lungs were still panting breathlessly. "You can really drive a woman crazy!" Britta had fully opened her eyes again. Her gaze caressed Heino's still defensive penis, which was only gradually going limp. "You've really got me all worked up." Heino lit another cigarette and exhaled the smoke deeply through his nose. He traced the edges of Britta's nipples with his index finger. "It was magical with you!" "Nonsense!" She blushed and hastily waved him off. "I hope I wasn't too clumsy. As you know, I've been pretty out of practice for a year now." "You don't forget something like that," he said emphatically. She was still wondering whether the relationship with Heino could last when he got up and started to get dressed again.
After sex - Heino just left
"What is it?" She watched him uncomprehendingly. "Nothing more." He was already stuffing his shirt into his pants. "Tomorrow is another hard day at work!" "I thought you were staying with me today!" There was unmistakable disappointment in her voice. "Better not!" He shook his head emphatically. "You'd only draw the wrong conclusions." "Wrong conclusions?" She didn't understand. "As head of department, I could never afford to have a relationship with a female employee from our company," he explained with ruthless objectivity. "There's nothing wrong with a quick fling in bed for two. But a full-blown fling, no, darling, that would only damage my career and your reputation! You understand me, I hope?" "Yes. I understand." Britta fought bravely against the rising tears. No, she was neither sad nor disappointed. She just felt used and insulted. Yet she alone was to blame for everything that had happened. What a fool I was! She began to organize her thoughts. Heino had just been looking for an adventure to release his pent-up tension. And she? No, an adventure alone was not enough for her. She suddenly realized that she needed a man for life, even if she didn't want to admit it.
Fortunately, Heino said goodbye quickly and painlessly. He did it in the same businesslike way that he would probably recommend himself in a brothel after a love affair. Britta watched him go with mixed feelings. But she had no regrets about the course of events. She would never have been happy with Heino. The callous finale to his visit gave her an idea of what an egotist he must be. Over the next few days at the company, he acted as if nothing had ever happened between them. He acted matter-of-fact and collegial, as you would expect from a department head. And Britta was even grateful to him for it. Nevertheless, nothing changed the fact that she was as alone as before and only one experience richer.
Britta's desire was awakened
Strangely enough, Heino had awakened her desire. The longing for physical fulfillment that Britta thought she had overcome months ago was rekindled. The sweet restlessness that tingled especially between her legs made itself felt very specifically every day. Britta had used all sorts of well-known tricks to satisfy herself at home several times. But the real redemption failed to materialize. Anyone who knows the delights of love is no longer satisfied with half-measures. On Sunday afternoon, Britta went against all reason to Café Wagenknecht, even though she knew it was a slippery slope for single women. But she didn't want to admit it, even though deep in her subconscious she longed for an erotic collision. With a lascivious movement, she sat down at a tiny table, ordered a cup of chocolate and casually leafed through a fashion magazine. After just a few minutes, a well-groomed gentleman with gray temples approached her: "Forgive my presumptuousness ... !" She flipped up her long-lashed eyelids in annoyance and measured him dismissively from head to toe. But he continued unperturbed, smiling: "I am a painter, my beauty. And I would be overjoyed if you could model for me!" "Nude?" She put the magazine to one side. "That would be my greatest wish."
Nude painting - really just art?
The artist sat down nicely next to Britta. He decoratively stroked his shimmering white Goethe wreath, which lent his head majestic dignity. He then handed Britta his business card. "My studio is right next door, by the way." Britta glanced at the business card and read it: "Professor Wolf Gordon, painter, Mommsenstraße 9." The cute waitress brought the chocolate. Britta stirred the cup thoughtfully. Interested, she asked: "So when do you want to paint me?" "I'd love to start today!" "Good." Britta slipped the card into her handbag. "Is it okay with you if I'm with you in two hours?" "Wonderful!" The artist stood up and waved the waitress over: "Put this lovely lady's bill on my tab!" "Yes, Professor!" The lady in the white apron, whose oversized bow was tied at the back like a box of chocolates, curtseyed politely. Britta smiled pensively as she looked after the painter, who suddenly seemed to be in a great hurry. And she was curious about her role as a nude model.
Two hours later, she rang Wolf Gordon's doorbell. The studio was on the sixth floor. It was spacious and elegant, although it only housed a huge French bed and an equally huge easel. There were numerous African wood carvings on the windowsill. "I'm delighted that you've actually come!" Gordon was only wearing sandals, a pair of washed-out jeans and an open, formerly white coat. "You actually changed your clothes again? That was quite unnecessary. Because I'm painting you naked. But why don't you come in first?" Numerous finished and half-finished paintings leaned against the walls. They proved that Gordon was an above-average artist. Britta looked around curiously. She felt inhibited. After all, she had never undressed in front of a stranger before. At least not just to be painted. "What's your name?" Gordon placed a stretched canvas on the easel. Then he almost casually stroked the bedspread straight. "Britta." "Britta? Good. I'll call you Katja. I call all my models Katja. I also use the first name. That relaxes the atmosphere. Agreed?" Britta nodded. "You can call me Wolf. While you undress, I'll brew us a pot of coffee."
He got to work in the tiny kitchenette. It didn't take long. When he returned with two cups and the pot, Britta was already lying naked on the bed. For nothing in the world would she have stood around naked like a gawky virgin. "You're very pretty! And you have an enchanting body!" Wolf put the dishes down on the floor. Without bothering with the coffee, he began to mix the paints on his palette. "I'm painting you as a symbol of temptation, by the way, if you know what I mean." Britta didn't understand. Nevertheless, she nodded. She stretched out in a pose of lascivious lust. "No, Katja! If I wanted to paint prostitutes, I'd get myself a hooker!" He put down the palette to direct Britta into an aesthetic pose. "I want to put a pretty woman on the canvas that no man can resist. The ravishing temptation. Perhaps even a goddess that has never been more beautiful. So I want you to be a goddess and not a slippery nymph. Got it?"
Britta began to understand. A barely perceptible shiver trickled through her veins as she asked: "So you think I'm beautiful?" "Beautiful!" Gordon seemed pleased with her attitude. He picked up the palette again and reached for a thin brush. "If only I were twenty years younger, I'd fall madly in love with you." "Like this?" Britta could almost physically feel his scrutinizing gaze on her skin. She felt indescribably attracted to this sensitive artist with the wiry, slender figure. "Certainly." With a confident stroke, his hands tried to trace the contours of an angelic face with large, questioning fairytale eyes on the canvas. All the bliss of this world, all the longings and all the desires should be reflected in these eyes. He wanted to combine virtue and passion. With a fleeting sweep, Wolf even hinted at the outline of the flawless body, which was as alluring as sin.Britta did not interrupt him. She knew that she couldn't distract him now.
Wolf worked with concentration and determination. Time flew by for him before he put the brush down and took a few steps back. "Well?" Britta carefully stretched out on the wide bed. She made an effort to get up and admire the work of art she had begun. Then Gordon took the canvas from the easel and slammed it against the wall in displeasure. "What on earth are you doing?" Britta tried to save the painting. "It would have just been a do-it-yourself template for bachelors," the painter growled angrily. "A very shallow sex ham with no soul, no depth, no momentum. Nothing more than lecherous eroticism!" "Really?" Britta now looked at the work. "I also know why I can't achieve the noble expression of human aesthetics," Gordon said, as if to himself. "It's because I desire you in a damn sensual way. If you only ever have to think about fucking, then you can't paint a timelessly beautiful goddess by any stretch of the imagination. That's it!" Britta had sat down on the edge of the bed. Tentatively, she asked: "Would it help if you slept with me first? I mean, you might be able to curb your impulsive desire ... "
Britta offers the artist a little pastime
"Not a bad idea!" Wolf smiled delightedly. "The pictures of the models I've gone to bed with have always turned out particularly well." "But I hope you don't paint men?" "No, I don't paint men. Or only very rarely." He took off his smock and slipped off his jeans. Britta saw that he had a surprisingly youthful body that belied his gray temples. She was curious to see if Wolf would live up to the promise of his looks. "I hope the sight of me doesn't repulse you too much!" Wolf flexed his biceps. "You ask too much." She grabbed him by his phallus and pulled him towards her. "Isn't it enough for you that I welcome you with open arms and open thighs?" Her right hand tightened around the root of his wand, which her fingers began to massage sensitively. They sank into the soft bed together.
They were barely lying side by side on the crumpled sheets when Wolf threw himself over Britta and spread her legs apart with his knees. The woman squirmed irritably. Her swelling body relaxed so loosely that Wolf's penis penetrated the sultry fountain of pleasure almost of its own accord. "Wonderful!" Britta blissfully stretched out towards her partner. Her abdomen rose and fell in rhythmic twitches. The arrow of love drove deep into the thirsty cup. Britta gasped. Her cheeks glowed. Suddenly she begged him: "Lie on your back!" Gordon silently followed her command. And she was already sitting on his lap with her legs apart. His cheeky rascal was up to the hilt in her crotch. Without further ado, Britta began a weightless trot, which soon turned into a wild gallop. Her whole body bounced up and down on Wolf's lap, increasing her pleasure. Her breasts bounced pertly and merrily. Britta's riding movements became wilder. The phallus drilled deeper and deeper into Britta's treasure chest, making her moan lustfully. Silver sweat had long since covered both their bodies. Then Wolf thrust violently one last time. Britta whooped with joy. She rode like an Amazon. With her mane flying and her breasts bouncing, she chased towards fulfillment. The muscles in her thighs tensed. Her stomach clenched with every new rebellion.
Wolf gave free rein to his feelings.
Britta was no longer able to restrain herself either. And no sooner had Wolf shot his precious powder than the fiery rider reached a climax, shaking herself as if in an electrifying spasm. A wonderful shiver flooded Britta's tense body. The relieving feeling catapulted her weightlessly into paradise. "Heavenly," she whispered enthusiastically. Her thighs were still pressed tightly around Wolf's vibrating loins, as if they wanted to suck every last marrow out of them. Wolf lifted Britta off his lap without further ado. Slightly embarrassed, he stood up and looked for a reasonably clean cloth. "You're a wonderful painter," Britta giggled sweetly. "Thank you very much." He smiled flattered and got back into his washed-out jeans. "I can't paint now, though." "Why not?" She straightened up and remained in this pose for a moment before swinging her feet out of bed. "Because a bit of sizzling eroticism is part of it when I immortalize a pretty woman on canvas," he explained. "And I never crackle after an orgasm." "I see," Britta just said. She put her clothes back on sympathetically. "So that's it for today then. Should I come back tomorrow?"
The painter just wanted sex
He made a face as if he had bitten a hollow tooth. Then he explained: "No way! I've got my hands full over the next few days. It's best if I call you. You'll have to be a little patient. Just write down your number for me." Britta reached for a piece of paper. "But I'm only available in the evenings. I work during the day." "Sure." He nodded. And he seemed very happy that she was saying goodbye very soon. A little irritated, Britta drank another mocha with cognac in Café Wagenknecht. "So, did the professor paint you?" the pretty waitress asked with an ironic smile. "Why do you ask?" "He started painting me too," the girl whispered merrily. "But when I got into bed with him, he suddenly lost all interest in me. My nude painting has been unfinished somewhere in his attic for two years. And I bet it will never be finished." "So that's how it is!" Britta understood. "So he's not interested in the art, just the sex!" "Guess!" The waitress leaned down to Britta's ear. "But don't worry about it. After all, the good professor does something in bed. And besides, other women have already fallen for him!" "Yes." Britta nodded. "That may well be the case."
That evening, she stood in front of the bathroom mirror for a long time. She looked herself in the eye and said to herself: "Britta, you'll go to the dogs if you carry on like this! You need a man for life, otherwise you'll soon turn into a girl who does it with everyone!" And she decided to seriously look around for a partner who was worth being there for. There was no shortage of bachelors vying for Britta's affections. After all, Britta looked prettier than average. She knew it, and the men knew it too. But among the few serious contenders who were hopeful, there wasn't a single one at whose side she would have lasted even a few days, let alone a lifetime. A staid small town offers a single woman very few opportunities indeed. Not only the opportunities, but also the suitable partners seemed to be too few and far between. Britta had long since realized this. At "Securitas Versicherung", which employed Britta Müller as a conscientious typist, there was an even greater lack of opportunities. The really desirable men had long been in steady hands.
Britta is looking for a husband again
Britta gave herself a jolt. She was tired of leaving her future to chance. Tomorrow she would take the plunge and go straight after work to the matchmaker Hilde von Buchwitz-Langendorf, who had already arranged many lasting marriages, albeit for hard cash. But happiness for two sometimes comes at a high price. Mrs. von Buchwitz-Langendorf was a mature, well-groomed lady of the world. She received Britta Müller with winning politeness as if she were a good friend. She casually referred to an impressive series of files in which all the couples she had brought together were conscientiously and effectively cataloged, and explained with mild pathos: "Your future is in the best hands with me. Because the pre-selection is made by an infallible computer. And I shouldn't be surprised if we not only find a suitable man for you, but also a rich one." "He doesn't have to be rich," Britta objected, furtively examining the dignified furnishings of the room, which were as elegant as the matchmaker herself. "I attach much more importance to naturalness and ..." she blushed slightly, " ... and a little tenderness!" The matchmaker nodded understandingly. Then she had Britta fill out a long questionnaire in which she had to describe all the desired characteristics of her dream partner in detail. Ms. von Buchwitz-Langendorf explained: "The more detailed we feed the computer, the more accurately it will select a man for you. Computers are never wrong, by the way." Hopefully, thought Britta. Afterwards, they had a cup of tea together and Mrs. von Buchwitz-Langendorf casually collected the first installment for her efforts. Marriages are made in heaven, but Britta realized that neither computers nor matchmakers go into action for free. Everything in life has its price. Her colleagues at "Securitas" laughed when Britta rashly told them how she was looking for a husband, which was no longer entirely unusual. And the company noodle Babsie explained sympathetically: "That was stupid of you! If you want, you can have ten on each finger!" But Britta didn't want ten on each finger, she was looking for a single man, but one for life. She just shrugged her shoulders and was already regretting that she had confided in the female employees. She could do without guys like Heino from the Cancellation and Statistics department or the lecherous Professor Wolf Gordon without excessive grief.
The days passed. Nothing happened. The computer was obviously taking its time. But presumably even a computer can't do magic. Of course, the painter Wolf Gordon didn't get in touch either. After all, he had gotten what he wanted. Only Heino always put on a mockingly knowing smile when he met Britta in the corridor or in the canteen. She would have loved to smack him. But that wouldn't have made anything better. After a fortnight, a letter arrived from Mrs. Hilde Buchwitz-Langendorf. She wrote that she had hopefully found a suitable man for Britta. He had the qualities she was looking for in an almost ideal way and his looks exceeded her wildest expectations. Could Britta come to a casual meeting on Friday evening in the rooms of the marriage institute? The socializing in a small, manageable circle over coffee and cake has proved extremely successful so far, and the presence of the hostess acting as intermediary would guarantee that any awkwardness would be easily overcome. It will certainly be like the horse market, Britta thought with mixed feelings. After all, each of the guests present knows what has brought the others here. You can sense the intention and are on your guard. Britta hesitated. But then she decided to accept the invitation. Mrs. von Buchwitz-Langendorf should also do something for her money. Britta couldn't suppress a curious tingle as she prepared for the visit on Friday evening. As she had gathered from the letter, there would also be other ladies and gentlemen present, which undoubtedly made the atmosphere a lot more relaxed. Probably like a dance class or a social club.
Off to the tea dance
Britta put on her prettiest dress, the smart one with the narrow, pointed neckline and slim waist that Gerd had always loved so much about her. She spent almost a whole hour putting the finishing touches to her make-up, although she was naturally graceful and attractive even without cosmetics. She knew that from experience. Finally, she dabbed a few drops of Chanel behind her earlobes, on the back of her neck and on her wrists. Done. A last, scrutinizing glance in the wall-high mirror next to the bedroom door confirmed that she could be satisfied with herself. With quiet nervousness, she slipped into her high-heeled pumps. The atmosphere in Mrs. von Buchwitz-Langendorf's salon was informal. When Britta arrived, she was greeted by a muffled babble of voices, like at a casual party. Unobtrusive dance music sounded from the music box. "You look enchanting, my dear," the matchmaker greeted her with an encouraging nod. "You're sure to make a splash!" She probably says that to every customer, Britta thought with amusement. Rattling is part of the trade. Curious, yet discreet, she looked around. Candles were burning in silver candlesticks. A festive coffee table exuded dignity. Three ladies and three gentlemen of advanced age were chatting with the distance that is customary among people who hardly know each other. Unfortunately, there was no man present whom Britta found overly likeable, no matter how hard she tried to force herself to make concessions. It wasn't just the vintage. She looked over at her hostess doubtfully. But Mrs. von Buchwitz-Langendorf just squeezed her arm reassuringly and whispered: "Don't worry, my beautiful child! Your dream partner is not here yet. But he should be here any minute!"
Britta's pretty head flashed with the thought that she was a dead loss. And she cursed the idea of entrusting herself and her entire future to a marriage institute. "May I introduce Mrs. Britta Müller?" Mrs. von Buchwitz-Langendorf pointed to Britta, who was still standing a little helplessly in the middle of the room. The ladies nodded politely, the gentlemen bowed a little too stiffly. Hell, this was going to be good! The hostess passed around a tray of cognacs to lighten the atmosphere. Then she pulled Britta aside: "You really don't need to be afraid, Mrs. Müller! And if it doesn't work out today, just try again next time or the time after that. You can't force love with a crowbar." "No, definitely not!" Britta downed her cognac in a single gulp. The landlady was about to pour her some more when the doorbell rang again. "That will be your prince charming!" The hand with the bottle withdrew. "Carefully selected by the computer and found to be excellent by me. Incidentally, just like you, he bears the not exactly rare name of Müller. If that's not a good omen!"
Britte and Gerd meet again
Mrs. von Buchwitz-Langendorf opened the door. A remarkably handsome young man entered and gallantly kissed her hand. Britta looked at him in astonishment through the open salon door. This couldn't be true! The floor beneath her dainty feet began to sway. The matchmaker ushered the new guest in. "Gerd ... !" Britta breathed in disbelief. "Britta ... !" "You know each other?" Mrs. von Buchwitz-Langendorf folded her hands nervously. The knuckles were white. Gerd was no less surprised than Britta. He stared at her like a ghost. Finally, he turned to the embarrassed landlady: "We actually know each other very well. We were married for seven years!" "Heavens, I've never experienced anything like it! God, that makes me so uncomfortable!" "You don't need to be embarrassed," Britta apologized. She was the first to regain her composure. "I'm delighted to see my divorced husband again, even if the meeting is quite unexpected for both of us!" "I really didn't think anything of the name Müller," whispered Mrs. von Buchwitz-Langendorf distraught. "When it is so extraordinarily common." "We should have met much earlier!"
Gerd dabbed the sweat from his forehead with his handkerchief. "We certainly have a lot to talk about!"
"But it's not my fault!" The matchmaker only gradually regained her composure. "I have matched you both with the partner who best meets your expectations! The computer simply evaluated your precisely specified wishes." "With remarkable success." Without paying any attention to the other guests, Britta pulled her former husband into a quiet corner. "You've become even prettier," Gerd stuttered and moved Britta into a tiny cocktail chair. "I've never stopped loving you, by the way." "So?" Britta felt the nerves tingling all over under her skin. "Are you sure?"
"Yes. And so is the computer!" Gerd was now sitting opposite her. Barely an arm's length away. They didn't hear the muffled murmuring of the other guests or the music from the loudspeaker. They just looked at each other wordlessly. And they were both thinking the same thing.
Mrs. von Buchwitz-Langendorf placed two glasses and the half-full bottle of cognac next to them on the low tea table. Guiltily, she said so quietly that the other visitors couldn't hear: "I am indeed heartbroken! But this unforeseen incident should teach me a lesson! In future, there will never be another mishap like this!" "It's possible that it wasn't a mishap at all!" Britta tilted her head thoughtfully. "Love often takes strange paths." Mrs. von Buchwitz-Langendorf discreetly moved away. But she didn't feel well. "Are you serious?" Gerd looked at Britta scrutinizingly ... "Do you have another wife now?" she replied with a counter-question.
"Anyone who's been married to you won't find an equal partner so quickly." He scratched his chin in embarrassment. "And you?" She laughed amusedly: "If we were both tied down, we would hardly have met in the offices of a marriage broker!" "Sure!" He slapped the flat of his hand in front of his head. "I still don't think I'm any wiser! Do you still have our little apartment?" Britta just nodded. "Then why are we still sitting here?" He stood up and grabbed her by the arm. Britta stood up too. Her knees were still very weak. They left the strange apartment hand in hand. Like a young couple happily in love. The other guests looked on uncomprehendingly. "If you two get married again, I'll only charge half the fee," Mrs. von Buchwitz-Langendorf called after them. Only now had she really understood. On the staircase, Gerd pulled his Britta stormily against him. Their lips met. There was no end to the hot kiss. They had so much catching up to do. Britta finally managed to break free. She gasped breathlessly: "At least wait until we get to my house!" Then they were sitting in Gerd's car. There was no end to the journey, even though it only took a few minutes. In Britta's apartment, they didn't bother with any superfluous questions. Gerd picked Britta up and carried her straight to the wide marital bed. "At least give me time to undress!" she asked him with a laugh. But by then he had already started to remove her shoes and clothes with flying hands.
"And I've worked so hard to make myself so pretty!" Britta stretched out expectantly on the soft mattress. "Wasn't it worth it?" Gerd was now also standing naked like an ancient statue in front of her. "You bet!" She looked promisingly at him. He sat down next to her a little awkwardly. He shyly held out his hands to her. "I hope you haven't forgotten in the meantime, have you?" She spread her legs invitingly. Her firm breasts quivered softly. He knelt down between her white thighs. He enjoyed feeling the warmth of her smooth skin. Very slowly, he drove into her, who immediately accepted him willingly. "It's best with you," Britta breathed. But Gerd wasn't listening. He was now lying on top of her and looking deep into her eyes. And while his lap pressed even more firmly against her crotch, he whispered in her ear: "We could actually get married again, what do you think?" Her abdomen squirmed in agreement. She wrapped her arms conqueringly around his neck. Her lips moved slowly: "I'd love to! But now shut up and make love to me! Because we both have a lot of catching up to do!" He just nodded and penetrated her slender body even deeper. Britta enjoyed his tender thrusts with all her nerves. She didn't waste another thought on Hein or Wolf. The present was stronger.
"A Husband for Britta" by Kristel Kane from "Breathless Desires" published by: ORION / Carl Stephenson Publishers
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