Heroine: The Husband's Cologne (6 page)

“Everything OK?” he smiled.  I moaned softly, turned over and threw myself around his neck.  I burst into tears, I was so happy.  I felt completely safe in his hands.

We spent the night in his bed, caressing each other and talking about things that I had forgotten by the time I awoke again.

The next morning, he had breakfast sent up to our room.  He then asked if he could watch me while I took a shower.  I obliged, soaping my skin and rinsing it off leisurely, all the while affording him the view that I had given him the previous day in the sauna. 

That would become our game in the following weeks: Erich standing in front of the open shower, sometimes clothed, other times naked, his eyes glowing with lust, and me performing for him, this poor, kind and impotent hero of my dreams.

On Sunday evening he brought me back to my apartment. In parting, I kissed him long and deep, and made it into the flat just quick enough to pick up the phone when Daniel called.  And then it dawned on me, that I had broken every promise I had made to myself, and had betrayed Daniel.

   The phone call with Daniel didn't last very long.  He had just returned from his conference near Riesser Lake and told me excitedly that he had been promoted.  Come fall, he would be attending more executive seminars.  I swallowed hard.

Was this going to work out?  I didn't want to leave him.  It was strange.  I had just met a man, had begun to trust him, had gone to bed with him, betrayed my husband, and now that I was back in my apartment, I wanted Daniel again.

Hadn't I just told Erich that I loved him?  And hadn't I said the exact same thing to Norman?  And what about Frank?  OK, Frank was a total mishap, that didn't count. 

And hadn't we, Daniel and I, vowed to tell each other everything about our “escapades,” as Daniel put it? He had probably had enough after the first time I slept with Norman.

I didn't get into any of this over the phone.  I wanted to think things over until I saw him the next weekend. 

The following week in class went pretty well.  It was only when I returned home in the evenings that I was faced with the same daunting emptiness.  Erich didn't call me during the week; I tried to contact him once on his private number, but only got his answering machine.  I left him a short message and left it at that.  And yet, somehow I managed to take the entire week with equanimity, and concluded that Erich had simply finished with me. 

On Friday Daniel arrived, we spent the time simply loving each other and I was happy that he was there.  On Saturday, I asked him please not to leave me.  He looked at me with eyes open wide and asked me:

“Why should I leave you?  I love you, and when you're done with your studies you'll move down to Stuttgart and we'll live together.”

Didn't he get it?  I was about to lose my mind from loneliness.  As for my escapades with Norman and Erich, didn't he realize that I needed someone who would be near me and protect me? 

Since Daniel had moved to Stuttgart, something inside me had changed. I vaguely recalled that I used to take pleasure in manipulating and dominating men, by women's means, needless to say.  But in the past couple of months I had given up this role, and now found myself seeking out men who could protect me.  What was going on?

On Sunday evening Daniel left for Stuttgart again, without me having told him any of this.  The following week I tried to contact Norman, but he wasn't around, and my university was closing for semester break, which meant I had one less thing to keep me grounded. 

On Wednesday evening at 8 o'clock, the phone rang.  Daniel had already called at 7, so this could only be
Erich, at least that's what I hoped.  Breathless, I held the receiver to my ear.  It was Erich.  He apologized; he had been at a convention in Hamburg and forgotten to tell me about it; he had only just got back and heard my message on his answering machine.  We agreed to meet on Thursday.  I felt a load tumble from my shoulders. 

From then on, the weekdays belonged to Erich, and the weekends to Daniel.  Erich had no problem with this he even thought it right when he heard that I was married. 
He had forgotten about that.  And since Erich also had a lot of time on his hands during semester break, we managed to do a lot together.

He showed me museums in Cologne and in in the old town of Aachen, of which I knew little; he enlightened me in dining etiquette in the finer restaurants, and even humored me with a little shopping, which meant a full wardrobe of new outfits and also a new cell phone, my first.  We often spent the night in exclusive hotels.  Initially, Erich would book two single rooms, but before long he went straight for a suite for us to share. 

When I was together with Erich, I was in love in with him.  At the same time I loved Daniel, but in a different way.  And sometimes, when I was back at my place alone, I longed for Norman. 

It took a month for Erich to invite me to his house.  Up to that point we were spending a portion of our evenings in elegant hotels, some in Cologne, some outside the city, and he would always pick me up punctually at 8.  No more “cum tempore,” this meant that with me he wasn't playing the professor any longer. 

We enjoyed physical contact on a level which other men would have categorized as “sex.”  But with him it was a little different.  We attempted a kind of sexual play, which I could allow in good conscience, considering that Erich was impotent. In this way I could take pleasure in his body, without feeling guilty.  Or so I thought. 

The game was always the same: He would fondle me with his tongue and finger, and I would show him everything I had while taking a shower.  He told me that it turned him on seeing the soap wash off my body.  Initially, I tried my best to bring him to erection, but it
was of no use. The advantage for me was that I could give myself totally to him.  He was someone I could trust. 

Today he had picked me up in the evening and brought me to his house.  I had called Daniel beforehand and told him that I was going to the theater; there was a premiere which I didn't want to miss.  Little did I know that there was indeed going to be a premiere of sorts tonight, but of a different
kind. 

If I were to describe Erich's place as a house, it would be a gross understatement.  It was suburban villa, a luxurious estate with a walled perimeter and gardens as spacious as a park.  The interior was sumptuous.  Designer furniture, elaborate multimedia displays, several bedrooms with walk-in wardrobes, each bathroom bigger than my entire apartment.

In the cellar there was a large sauna with showers and a gym.  The gym apparatuses looked like they were in constant use.  A glass door led to an isolated studio, equipped with several plushy lounge beds and benches, upholstered in red velvet.  Thick rugs covered the floor and in the dusky hall one felt as cozy as in a mother's womb; that was how it struck me. 

The rooms were situated around an interior courtyard, whose roof was made of an opaque, milky white glass, which let in a soft and shadowy light.  In the middle of the hall interspersed with columns, there was a platform which reminded me a bit of boxing ring.  Only the ropes were missing, and besides, this platform was also decked out in thick red velvet.  In one corner there was a wooden box that looked vaguely like the vault from my days in gymnastics.  In high school I had always hated gymnastics.  From the ceiling I could see various ropes
and bands, which could evidently be lowered when in use.  Erich clearly dedicated considerable time keeping himself in shape and I admired him for it.

Around the pillars and passageways to the side rooms, there were various stools and small benches.  I imagined Erich organizing boxing events here, and entertaining his guests with Champagne and caviar during the show.

I would have preferred it had there been a pond in the middle of the room instead.  I told Erich this.  He nodded briefly, and said that he would think about it. 

In the dim light of the far end of the room I could see a bar and some high stools.  The room looked extremely comfortable.  With a few flowerpots and the pond I mentioned, this would be the ideal retreat. 

After the initial tour, which he seemed to enjoy as I duly admired all that I saw, we went to the kitchen to eat.  He informed me that his maid had prepared something for us, and that we were all alone.  He opened a bottle of red wine with the label ‘Bordeaux Grand Cru Classé’, which by now I had learned was something of quality.  We talked quietly, I laughed a lot and he laughed, too.  I felt happy, and it was clear from his eyes that he desired me.

We went into the bedroom and he took care of my body. But he hadn't been as tender as he usually was, so I still felt unsatisfied, and I told him as much.

He laughed sheepishly, asked me to stand up, and we went upstairs to his living room.  There was a fireplace here, too, and he proceeded to get a fire going. 

“I've thought a lot about us,” he said.

“There might be a solution to my problem, which has sometimes worked in the past.  You are a person whom I have absolute trust in, that's why I wanted to ask for your help in solving my issue.”

My heart began to pound in my throat, inwardly I was ecstatic, I felt flattered and abruptly threw myself around his neck, naked as I was. I asked him what he wanted me to do. He paused for moment and then said:

“Let's watch a porno together.”

If that was the extent of it, then why not.

We lay down on a rug in front of his enormous TV screen, our backs against the couch, and he inserted a DVD into the player, and the movie began.  I positioned myself between his knees, my legs curled up, and he sat behind me and held me in his arms.  How safe I felt with him!

The film was pretty straightforward: a few men and women screwing each other, and that was about it. Then came a part where there was only a single woman in a room, surrounded by several men, five to be exact. 

Erich began to fidget a little, and I suddenly felt something getting hard between his legs. I swiveled around and parted his bathrobe, which he had put on when we had left the bathroom. 

“Watch the movie,” he said.

I turned back to the screen.  I watched as the men began fucking the woman.  They were young, well-built guys, two of them black and three muscle-bound white men.

Erich's cock was stiff.  I rejoiced inwardly and proceeded to please him, but he went limp again.  I felt frustrated, and saw a despondent look come over his features.  The porno had finished and we returned to the bedroom in silence.  We didn't discuss what had happened.  The next morning, as I was about to leave, he took me in his arms and quietly said:

“Thank you.”

   Had I not been able to count on Daniel coming home every weekend, I think I might have actually died of loneliness.  For it was after the meetings with Erich that I felt forlorn like seldom before.

  I might even have called on Norman, had I not been so sure that Daniel would show up; instead, I pulled myself together and tried to get through this one day of the week by looking forward to seeing my husband.

  As these thoughts occurred to me, I had to swallow hard. I was a married woman who had betrayed her husband at every turn. My troubled conscience, compounded by the isolation, made Fridays into a living hell. 

When Daniel arrived on Saturday, we made our way straight into bed together. My shaven pussy was greeted with a cry of astonishment.  I told him that I had done it for him as a surprise, something to entice him.  He nodded in approval and went to work with his tongue, exploring the area that used to bristle with hair but was now immaculate.  Evidently it was paying off.

Later that evening, as we lay cuddling in bed, he said that on second thought, he had actually preferred my little triangle of hair, it looked so cute, and besides, I didn't have a lot of hair to begin with.  Hearing this, I immediately decided I would grow it back. 

Daniel drove back on Sunday evening.  This time, however, the feeling of
emptiness  that usually assaulted me wasn't there.  I was a little sad to be sure, but still content and, most importantly, I didn't sink back into the black hole of despondency.  And so, that night I resolved to make a clean break and end my affair with Erich.

On Monday, however, my good intentions seemed to have dissolved into thin air, and I was again restless and glum, and broke two plates while washing the dishes.  There was something missing inside me, and I began to wait longingly for the phone to ring. 

This time Erich called me as early as Tuesday afternoon, as if he had read my thoughts.  Over the phone he asked me to wear something provocative.  That alone was enough to turn me on.  I stood before my wardrobe and wondered what he might like.  Finally I opted for a G-string - which I had hidden from Daniel - a pair of extremely short red pants that covered only half of my butt, and a white silk blouse, which I tied into a knot around my navel.  I was well aware that the blouse didn't leave much to the imagination.  The bra wasn't even worth taking.

As I regarded myself in the mirror, I decided I would try styling myself as a “Lolita” tonight.  I put on some rouge, and made my lipstick a little thicker than usual.  Perhaps I would even buy a brighter red lipstick; this one was too respectable.  But, it went better with the pants I was wearing, which were of the 1960's “hot pants” variety and were just now coming back into vogue.  Then I parted my hair in the middle and made a couple of pigtails.

Almost like Little Red Riding Hood
, I chuckled to myself.

A pair of high heels, matching my pants and open at the toe, completed the ensemble.  Something was still missing, but I wasn't sure what.  My toenails weren't painted!  That would have rounded off the outfit perfectly, but I didn't have any toenail polish.  I would
have to remedy that at some point. 

When I was fully dressed I was unrecognizable.  I looked like an odd blend of Red Riding Hood and a hooker.  And suddenly, I had doubts: had I laid it on a little too thick?  The doorbell rang before I had time to change.  Unusually, Erich had arrived at 6:30, and I had no time to rethink my outfit.  How was he going to react?  Before heading out the door, I threw on a thick overcoat.  With my heart pounding, I went out into the street.  I heard an appreciative whistle, when I opened my coat to show him what I was wearing.

“Precisely what I had in mind,” he declared.  I gave him a mischievous grin, averted my eyes bashfully (I hadn't neglected a rich coat of eyeliner either) and got into the passenger seat.  The car door made a pleasant “poof” sound as Erich swung it closed, and I sank into the dark upholstery. 

This time we left the confines of Cologne and headed toward Bonn.  We turned off onto a side road and made our way into the hills.  When we arrived, I could see the entire stretch of the former capital city below, and the Rhine River twinkling in the evening light.  We parked the car in front of a restaurant, which didn't look as imposing as the previous ones we had been to.  It looked modest, in fact.  Oh well, I didn't always have to be pampered.

We entered the place and I suddenly felt all eyes on me.  Some of the guests paused in mid-conversation and looked wide-eyed at both of us. 

A sugar daddy with his floozy
, I could see them thinking.  And to my surprise, I liked the idea.  Walking coquettishly behind Erich, I followed him toward a table near the window, led by the waiter. 

There was an even mix of men and women in the room, few of them older than 30 or so.  Not all of them were in pairs.  Most of the men sat together in groups, drinking beer and talking.  It looked more like a stylish pub, for I could see several black-and-white pictures lining the walls, many of them depicting jazz musicians and various bands.  At the far end was a small empty stage, presumably where on weekends there were groups performing.  I would have to keep this place in mind, it was a venue to which I could bring Daniel one day, I thought a little wistfully.  And then I realized that after my entrance here tonight that would be unlikely.  As this dawned on me, I felt my mood plummet. 

That was until Erich began speaking, and he managed to lift my spirits in a matter of seconds.  It was his deep and soothing voice that scattered my bleak thoughts, and I turned to look at him.

“That was quite an entrance you made,” he whispered with a roguish smile. 

“How do you mean?” I asked, feigning innocence as I lifted my eyes demurely like a little girl. 

“I mean that you sauntered in here as if you were intending to devour every man present.  It turned me on, the way you swept through the place.  Those men in the back could hardly contain themselves; their pants must have been bursting at the seams.  That's exactly what I wanted to see tonight.  And now let's enjoy the evening.”

By now I had learned to gage the effect I had on men a little better, but I was still surprised at how deep an impression I seemed to have made here.  I told Erich as much, and he simply laughed and said:

“Even a few of the women are finding it hard to resist.”

Taken aback, I turned my head to look around the restaurant, and noticed a handful of young women quickly averting their eyes.  Now I got a little suspicious; what kind of place was this?

“No need to panic,” Erich said, as he noticed me getting pale. 

“These are simply young people, some of them students, most of them teachers and academic types.  A few of them are homosexual, and there are some lesbians, too, who don't feel at ease in the all-female establishments.  Most of them are heterosexuals, though, and they're from around here.  The gay men like it here, because they feel welcome and don't have to put on airs, like in many of the gay clubs that seem to demand a certain type of behavior from them.”

“How do you know all this?” I inquired, with an ingenuous glance. 

He grinned broadly and replied:

“They told me about it, because I happened to have tried some of the men out for myself.”

I swallowed audibly:

“Are you gay, and that's why you have trouble sleeping with women?” I asked, dumbstruck. 

“Not at all,” Erich said, his expression suddenly turning sorrowful. 

“When I became impotent, I was advised by a sexual therapist to attempt sexual relations with men.  The therapist had probably read about the writer Thomas Mann (or was that the other
Mann
? Anyway, you get the idea), who, having reached a certain age, ventured a sexual reorientation and became gay.  And so he recommended I try it.  Then a couple of years ago, I was brought here by one of my students.  We carried on a relationship that lasted a couple of weeks, but it wasn't to my liking.  So we parted on friendly terms, and still meet here occasionally.  He usually comes with his life partner, who is a politician.”

I was somewhat relieved, but again I felt sorry for Erich.  How many things did he have to endure in order to find his potency again?  I felt grateful that he had decided to open up to me about these things, and I told him so. 

The waiter arrived as we had ordered in the meantime, and were now enjoying our meal, which was naturally a little more modest than in previous weeks.  But it was tasty, very tasty in fact, and I even treated myself to a small Pilsner beer. 

In the end, Erich did order a bottle of wine, after he had confined himself to water all evening.  Meanwhile, the restaurant was filling up nicely, and considering the early hour, we could assume that it was going to be full by the end of the evening. 

At one point, Erich waved toward the door as a couple entered.  The woman was petite and dainty, had black hair falling down to her shoulders and finely shaped features, which reminded me a little of the middle-aged Madonna figure in the  Catholic church of my hometown, where I wasn't allowed in as a child.  She wore tight black pants, flat shoes and an elegant white blouse. She didn’t have on a trace of make-up. 

Her escort was tall, at least 6 feet, 2 inches, if not more, with broad shoulders, which were accentuated by his snug, white silk shirt, whose top button was undone so that his
pecs stood out. He had no hair on his chest.  His large, chiseled head was completely shaved. Had he not worn such a genial, almost innocent expression, he would have certainly instilled fear.  I had seen him somewhere before, but couldn't place him. 

Both of them approached our table.  Erich stood up, offered his hand first to the woman then to him, and then introduced us:

“Juliane, this is Tanja and Horst, and this, my dears, is Juliane, whom I've told you about.”

I was perplexed and uneasy.  What had he said about me?

“Aha, so you are his new girlfriend,” Tanja said to me in a whisper. 

“I'm glad to hear that he has found again a human relationship, after so much time spent alone.”

This all sounded pretty harmless, and I was relieved.  They saw me as Erich's girlfriend and lover, and that was alright by me. 

As Horst opened his mouth to speak, I felt a tingle course through my belly.  He had a voice like a steam train: a throaty, resonant bass, the deepest voice I had ever heard.  If only he could drop that ghastly Rhine accent...

“It's a pleasure to meet you.  You're a student, Erich has told us,” he said, and looked at me questioningly. 

“I am,” I began.

Whereupon Horst cut me off and asked me with an expression of surprise:

“But how is it that a beautiful young lady such as you studies a subject such as engineering?  You must be running around all day in oil-stained clothes.  Although I can well imagine how much Erich loves to peel off your overalls afterwards and soap your entire body.”  Erich,
Tanja and Horst burst out laughing.  I blushed deeply. 

“Easy Horst,” Erich said, still laughing. 

“Juliane is a lady, and she doesn't study “engineering,” as you put it, but psychology, and she can handle your kind any day of the week.”

“I apologize,” said Horst, his brow wrinkling.  “I meant that as a joke to break the ice, but I guess it didn't work.”

The way he looked now, I couldn't even be angry at him.  He peered at me with his big, round eyes and his blameless expression, and now I had to laugh as well.  What a ham.  Somehow I liked him, and the tingle in my stomach grew stronger.  I suddenly realized that I was getting wet.  It was time to run to the restroom, put some distance between us and calm down.

Tanja had been looking at me in a friendly manner the entire time, and when I asked her if she would accompany me to the ladies' room, she nodded. 

Once we got there, I freshened up my makeup and she asked me how old I was. 

“I'll be turning 22,” I replied dutifully as a schoolgirl, under the gaze of her stern black eyes.

“Well then, Erich can consider himself lucky,” she quipped, but in a warm and friendly tone, so that I couldn't take it the wrong way.

“I would appreciate it if we called each other by our first names.  Otherwise, the evening will get too formal and dull for both of us.”

“Agreed,” I said, relieved, because I was still a little nervous, and since their arrival I had not been able to relax. 

Back at the table, we didn't have to convince Horst to use first names, and so I asked him directly:

“So what do you both do?”

“Horst is a car salesman.  Erich buys his cars from him, and I run a beauty salon on the south side of Cologne,” Tanja informed me, speaking for both of them. 

During dinner, neither of them ate or drank very much, and for the next couple of hours we talked of this and that.  At one point, I went outside the restaurant to call Daniel from the cell phone that Erich had recently endowed me.  He wasn't home, but he had finally acquired an answering machine, on which I left a message, telling him that I was out with a girlfriend named Tanja.  I had his cell phone number, too, but I decided not to try him on it.

As I returned to the table, I saw that the three of them were having a lively talk.  Horst was leaning forward and Erich was pointing to his expensive wristwatch.