Forbidden Liaison: They lived and loved for the here and now

by Smith, Patricia I.

  Heinrich sighed. ‘If I arrested you, would you still want to put your arms around me?’

  ‘Yes,’ Izzy replied. ‘Wouldn’t make any difference,’ she added.

  ‘Oh, Izzy,’ Heinrich breathed. ‘What can I do, or say, that will remove you from this beach?’ he asked. Izzy shrugged. ‘Izzy,’ Heinrich said. ‘Please, just go now?’

  ‘Okay, if you insist.’

  ‘I do insist, but before you go, say my name, just once. I want to hear that hard English K sound again.’

  ‘Heinrich.’ Izzy said, emphasising the CH as a hard K.

  Heinrich closed his eyes, then as Izzy turned to walk away calling her dog, he opened them again to watch her until she disappeared from view.

  It was a whole week before Heinrich could get away to see Izzy again. He had the time, but he was put in positions where he couldn’t leave without telling someone where he was going. And under no circumstances did he want anyone else to know of his relationship with the lovely Izzy. If they did get know it would be around the island within the hour, causing, not only him problems, but particularly Izzy. No, he wanted her to be his secret: their secret.

  That afternoon Izzy dragged in the tin bath from the wash-house which lay adjacent to the lavatory. She had filled the copper and lit a fire under it and in a short time she had steaming hot water which she then ladled, with a bucket, into the tin bath sitting in front of the range fire. It had been a week since she had taken a bath, but she had washed her hair once. But was meticulous about washing those parts every day that would give off unpleasant odours, especially her armpits and her private parts. It was getting dark. She had washed her hair and lay soaking for a while before she got out to dry herself. The worst bit of having to bathe in a tin bath was that it had to be emptied afterwards. So wrapping a towel around her hair and putting on her dressing gown, she began to empty the bath. She had just poured the last bucket of water down the sink when a knock came at the door. She hoped it was Heinrich.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Izzy asked, seeing her mother; annoyed at her intrusion.

  ‘Just brought you some apple pie I made. Thought you might like some for your supper,’ her mother said as she walked in. ‘So; you’ve had a bath,’ she commented seeing the empty tin bath still in front of the fire.

  ‘I was muck-spreading today and I smelt awful.’

  ‘Would you like a hand to put it back in the wash-house?’ Hannah asked.

  ‘No. Thank you for the apple pie, but I would like to get dressed and relax a bit, I’m half-way through a book.’

  ‘Will see you in the morning then: don’t be late,’ her mother smiled.

  ‘No, I won’t, mother,’ Izzy said as she kissed her on the cheek. ‘See you in the morning,’ and she shut the door.

  She had just put the kettle on when there was another knock.

  ‘Mother, what is it this t…?’ she stopped herself short as she saw Heinrich standing there grinning. ‘Where did you come from?’ she asked.

  ‘I was crossing the field when I saw who, I now know to be your mother, knocking on your door. I hid behind a hedge,’ Heinrich replied as he stepped inside, quickly shutting the door behind him.

  ‘Are you sure you weren’t seen?’ Izzy asked.

  ‘Positive. I don’t think she’d have gone if she knew I was here, do you?’

  ‘Perhaps not,’ Izzy smiled.

  ‘A week ago you wanted to put your arms around me, do you still?’ Heinrich asked.

  ‘A week ago you wanted to kiss me, do you still?’ Izzy smiled.

  Heinrich took her in his arms and passionately kissed her on the mouth, his hands finding their way inside her dressing gown to feel her bare, warm flesh. He lightly squeezed her breasts before his hand slipped down. Izzy pulled away to walk towards the bedroom. Heinrich followed without saying a word. She took the towel from her hair before dropping her dressing gown to the floor. Heinrich quickly undressed, but not before he pulled a condom from his trouser pocket this time. His groin was throbbing, his erection hard as he stood at the side of the bed. Izzy sat down naked on the edge of the bed to take his cock in both her hands before feelings his balls. He groaned as she kissed the tip. Then taking the condom from his hand she slid it over the shaft before standing up again to press her body against his, her ample breasts flattening against his hairy chest. She put her arms around him. Heinrich kissed her hard and long, his hands reaching down to cup her buttocks before feeling every inch of her skin. Then as they fell back onto the bed her legs were immediately around him as he pushed his way into her warm, comforting body. His head was spinning with pure, unadulterated pleasure as he heard her whimpers every time his pelvis pushed against hers. She was pleasing him, and he, undoubtedly, was pleasing her to the point where he felt her vagina contract to grip his cock so tight he began to ejaculate. He quickly pulled out only to push back in to stay there, his whole weight against her groin bringing her to clitoral orgasm. Izzy gasped, them screamed, Heinrich grunted as he felt the full release which made him shudder. They clung to each other, not moving, wet with sexual pleasure, spent, but wanting more. As he felt himself shrink he pulled out, not wanting to leave the condom and the contents inside her to swim around in her fluids to reach those parts that in nine months’ time would spell trouble for the both of them. But if someone asked them to stop, they both knew they couldn’t. Izzy reached from the bed for the towel that was on floor beside her dressing gown. She wiped herself then handed it to Heinrich, who rubbed his cock and balls then dropped the towel onto the floor again. They were now lying properly in the bed, with theirs heads on the pillows, Izzy curled up in Heinrich’s arms, the bedclothes pulled up around their shoulders.

  It was seven hours later when they both awoke to find themselves in the same position as when they first fell asleep. The dog was in the room, whining, wanting to go out. Heinrich looked at his watch that was on the floor having fallen from the bedside table as the headboard had hit the wall like a battering ram the night before. It was 3.30am. Izzy stirred, feeling for the body lying next to her. She knew it was Heinrich. She also knew she hadn’t been dreaming. Sex with Alain was also never perfunctory, even though she was inexperienced when they met. He was her first and he had taught her things her mother would have a coronary over if she found out. And Alain had taught her that women could enjoy sex, too, it was not solely owned by the male of the species. It was not a woman’s mechanical duty to undertake her marital obligations when it suited the husband. Marriage had liberated Izzy from the stifling puritanical moral principles her parents tried to instil in her. Sex was for pleasure, too, it was as important to her as eating and drinking. So performing oral sex came quite naturally and spontaneously that morning, to both of Heinrich and Izzy.

  Chapter Eleven

  Izzy was late again, much to the vexation of her parents, and it was also noted Heinrich had not slept in his bed the night before. He braced himself before walking into the kitchen knowing there would be the usual questions: male banter.

  ‘Well, well, well,’ Busch exclaimed. ‘You’ve finally arrived back at your billet.’

  ‘I was off duty, and I do not have to explain myself to you,’ Heinrich said as he sat down.

  ‘Were you at the whore-house?’ Busch asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Liar,’ Busch replied.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Heinrich asked, glaring at him for having the impertinence to call an officer, a liar.

  ‘Beg my pardon all you like, but you weren’t there. I was though,’ Busch replied.

  The men guffawed.

  ‘You’re a married man with five kids,’ Heinrich retorted

  ‘Ditto,’ Busch replied grinning.

  ‘I do not happen to have five children,’ Heinrich reminded.

  ‘Are you absolutely sure about that?’ Busch said winking.

  The men laughed again.

  ‘I could court-martial you for insubordination,’ Heinrich retorted.

&nb
sp; ‘You could try, Sir, but look,’ he said showing Heinrich both his arms. ‘Not a stripe, a pip or even a squeak.’

  Heinrich just sighed. ‘You know the Russian winter is about to start?’ he mused.

  ‘I know, Sir, that’s why I decided to get myself a decent fuck before they shipped me off. Forget all that propaganda shit, but men are coming back from the East saying things are not going as well as our leaders make out. So, I thought, where’s the harm; one last fuck before it was back to wanking.’ Busch said scratching his crotch. ‘I just hope I die with my dick in my hand,’ he added as he scratched his crotch again.

  Heinrich looked at him. ‘Given you crabs, has she?’

  ‘Nah. They got out a magnifying glass to check us both.’

  ‘That was to find your dick, numb-skull,’ one of the men shouted back.

  The men roared with laughter.

  ‘You know,’ Heinrich said, ‘this conversation is best left in a bar-room. It is not for the breakfast table. And it would cause great shock and distress to Mrs Wilfred if she happened to walk in on it.’

  ‘Suppose you’re right, Sir,’ Busch replied. ‘I’ve managed to get us some eggs this morning, Sir.’

  ‘And how do you intend to serve them up?’ Heinrich asked.

  ‘I could make a soufflé,’ Busch replied, sarcastically.

  Heinrich ignored the cynicism. ‘You were once a chef,’ Heinrich commented.

  ‘Yes, before they shoved a Schmeisser in my hand and taught me how to kill.’

  ‘For Fatherland, for freedom, for fuck all,’ someone said standing to attention.

  ‘You could be shot for that,’ Heinrich warned.

  ‘Let them,’ was the man’s retort.

  Heinrich sighed. That’s all he needed, mutiny in the ranks. He had enough to worry about, especially after picking up his mail first thing that morning and reading the contents of a telegram from home.

  Heinrich took himself off to do his morning duties immediately after finishing every morsel of the scrambled eggs and toast Busch had made. One of his duties that day was to carefully supervise then scrutinise the food tally rosters. He was down at the town’s slaughter-house making sure every animal slaughtered checked off with the farm it came from, the weight written down on the tally – allowing for a gram or two - its breed and eventually a vet’s chitty to say it was free from disease. He found it boring, but necessary, not only for the Germans, but for the islanders, too, as it maintained a standard. Only healthy meat - what little there was around - was sold in butchers shops, and every bit of the animal was used, even the bones, for soups and stews.

  Izzy finished her chores and had taken the milk to the dairy. Under the front passenger seat of the lorry was hidden a basket of vegetables. As usual she went around to the back door of her aunt’s house to take them in. The door was locked and Margaret was nowhere to be seem. She lightly tapped on the window. No response. There was always a key hidden on top of the cistern in the outside lavatory, so Izzy stood on the lavatory seat to get to it. Unlocking the door she immediately put the vegetables under the sink where Margaret kept them out of view. As she put the basket on the table she shouted, ‘Aunt Margaret.’

  The house appeared empty.

  Izzy walked into the communal kitchen which was also clear of soldiers, before trying the door to her aunt’s living quarters. That door was locked, too. Curious as to what she might find, she walked up the stairs trying the other doors on the landing. They, too, were locked. Lastly, she came to the large bedroom at the front. It used to be the best and most expensive of the guest bedrooms. She thought it might be Heinrich’s room. She tried the door and to her surprise it had been left unlocked. She tentatively walked in, not quite closing the door behind her, and stood in the middle of the room which still had in a double bed and all the expensive Walnut furniture. It had not changed since before the invasion. Only now it was strewn with Heinrich’s belongings. She stepped towards the chest of drawers to find a picture of two small, blonde-haired little girls. This was definitely Heinrich’s room, and she was intruding on his privacy. But he had not told her about his children. She was the invader now, and she felt like one, seeing Heinrich’s personal things. She knew Heinrich the man, but this space was about Heinrich the person: the husband: the father: and she suddenly felt she knew nothing about him, even though they had been so very intimate the night before, and especially that morning. Her eyes now roamed to the small round table by the window. An unlined letter writing pad sat on it, opened, with a pencil resting by its side. Izzy looked down at it wondering if he was writing to his wife and children. But all she saw was a pencil drawing of a woman. She stood stock-still for a while looking at it until the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs startled her. As they came closer she ducked behind the door.

  ‘Is that you Mrs Wilfred?’ She heard Heinrich ask. And pushing open the door, he said, ‘If you’ve not finished cleaning I will wait downstairs.’

  Izzy stepped out from behind. ‘I’m sorry, I was looking for Aunt Margaret.’

  Heinrich smiled. ‘What a lovely surprise,’ he said.

  ‘You have two daughters,’ Izzy suddenly remarked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘They are lovely little girls,’ Izzy added.

  ‘Yes, they are.’

  Izzy sighed as she looked down. ‘About last night,’ she said.

  ‘What about last night?’

  ‘It was just…’

  ‘Just a fuck?’ Heinrich asked.

  ‘Yes. A moment of madness.’

  ‘And this morning, just oral sex?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said.

  ‘But you did like my tongue licking your cunt?’

  Izzy winced at hearing that word, but when she looked at him she realised he was being deliberately insensitive: purposely trying to shock her.

  ‘What’s suddenly changed?’ he asked.

  ‘You have a small family. It doesn’t seem right.’

  ‘So, if I didn’t have children, it would be acceptable?’

  ‘We are both married. It’s…’

  ‘Why have you suddenly got cold feet if it’s just a fuck?’ Heinrich asked.

  Izzy ignored his question and made for the door. Heinrich caught her arm.

  ‘Izzy, I come to see you because I like you. I like talking to you. I like being with you,’ he said letting go of her.

  ‘You don’t know me,’ she quickly retorted.

  ‘I know you’re as lonely as I am. And after last night, and this morning, I think we know each other very well,’ he replied.

  ‘That picture of me?’ she asked. ‘Why did you draw it?’

  ‘I did it from memory. Before the war I was an architect.’

  ‘That’s not what I asked.’

  Heinrich walked towards the window to look out. ‘You get a good view of the coastline from up here,’ he said, side-stepping the question.

  ‘Heinrich?’

  Heinrich turned. ‘We should never have started this, but we did, and now there’s no going back.’

  ‘Then we should end it,’ Izzy said. ‘Before we get too involved: before things get too complicated.’

  Heinrich walked towards her. ‘Is that what you want?’

  ‘Yes, it is,’ she said, her eyes filling with tears. And she turned and ran from the room, down the stairs, crying. It was the last thing she wanted, though, but knew it had to be done. Nothing good could come of it, and they were both being selfish for thinking it didn’t matter.

  She was about to go out the back to put the key back where she had found it when she heard Aunt Margaret behind her. ‘Why are you crying?’ Margaret asked. ‘Has he tried to…?’

  ‘No,’ Izzy snivelled. ‘It’s just my time of month, you know how weepy I get.’

  Margaret didn’t believe her.

  ‘Look, I really have to go,’ and Izzy picked up the empty basket and ran out.

  Margaret turned around. Heinrich had followed Izzy down the stairs
and was now standing in the hallway.

  ‘What have you done to her? If you’ve done anything to her, I will…’ Margaret suddenly shut up.

  ‘You will what? Mrs Wilfred,’ Heinrich asked goading her. He didn’t like being suddenly cast aside. He couldn’t suddenly ignore the profoundly tender and passionate affection that would rise up in his belly every time he saw the woman he had only met a few weeks before. He felt attached to her now, and he couldn’t, so quickly, disregard the intimate acts they had indulged in.

  Margaret stared at him. She felt so helpless. ‘You’ve been trouble since the day you arrived,’ she added. Not only had she accused him of abusing her niece, to add insult to injury, she also inferred he was a trouble maker, yet he appeared so calm.

  ‘I am sorry you feel that way,’ Heinrich responded. ‘But I will trouble you no longer.’

  Chapter Twelve

  The following morning Heinrich left the island by the first boat before taking the railroad through France, into Germany. It took him the whole day to reach home, having to change trains a couple of times. He gave his men no details, just told them it was on compassionate grounds: that was all: it wasn’t their business. Only the Major and the Oberst knew why he had to leave so quickly; it was they who had given him the telegram when he had called in at headquarters with the meat tally papers.

  The mood Heinrich was in as he sat on the train was a mixture of eagerness at seeing his children again; sorrow at the news he’d been given the day before; and a keen-ness to see his parents, even though he knew they would be heartbroken. But he felt apprehensive at the thought of having to see a wife who had rejected him. Why couldn’t she see him, the person, not the unsightly mess parts of his body had been reduced to: he couldn’t face his wife after Izzy, so he decided to go to his parent’s home; they would give him a bed for night, they would never spurn him. He remembered that first night at home with Anna after being released from the hospital after a lengthy stay. Anna and the children had visited him, naturally, and it had been explained to Anna the extent of his injury and how lucky he was not to have lost the limb. That first night at home he had caught a glimpse of a look he could only describe as disgust, on his wife’s face. She began to shrink away from him; withdraw from the reality of what war can bring: retreat from a relationship that had once been sound, to a place where Anna had physically flinched when he had touched her for the first time in almost a year. And when she ran from the bedroom unable to hide her tears, Heinrich began to feel like the bogey-man who lived under the bed, the pervert every child was warned about, the hermit who was so ugly he had to be admonished forever to live a solitary life in a forest, right away from other people. Most of all, he now felt how it was to be different, which made him think about what he was fighting for, what other men were fighting for, and why men were laying down their lives because the powers that be only wanted perfect beings to bring about their vision of a master race. He wasn’t an ugly man, in fact most women thought he was most handsome. Izzy had been attracted by his good looks, and he to her loveliness. She hadn’t rebuffed him when she saw his body for the first time. But then he began to think it was all about sex: nothing more. But Izzy had seen the gift, wrapped and unwrapped. She’d been offered the box and she had briefly looked inside to like the gift presented, and Heinrich took great solace in that fact. His doubt and uncertainty had momentarily vanished, and for those few hours Izzy and he were together, he felt like a man again, not a freak.