War: A Love Story - Part 1

by:

Jason

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Rating: R	Add Review	Added: 06/21/2007
Complete: yes
Synopsis:	Avoiding military service becomes an uncomfortable ordeal. But there are compensations.
Categories:	Crossdressing / TV  In Hiding  Workplace Situations
Keywords:

WAR
by Jason Argo

"Will there be a war, Herr Strasser?"

The room was in shadow, the electric lights had been dowsed and heavy drapes had been drawn across the windows to block out the early evening sunshine of midsummer. On one side of the room atop a small dais stood a slender young woman, her beautiful face framed by a long fall of blond hair. She was completely naked, her breasts swollen, her nipples tight with arousal. Facing forward, she supported her breasts with her hands and lifted them a fraction for appreciation. They had deep pink aureoles, wanton and thrusting.

The room was wide and square with a high ceiling, and paintings decorated the walls while flowers brimming from vases scented the air. Opposite to the podium, seated in chairs of morocco leather, two men and a woman watched as the girl's naked figure slowly began to gyrate, hips rolling, torso undulating.

One of the men was young and wore a shooting-suit which included baggy Plus Fours and thick woollen socks; the other man, older, wore an all-over black uniform with silver decoration on the shoulders and collar. It was the man in the uniform who responded to the inquiry.

"The official communiqué from the German Foreign Office takes the view that war can be avoided, Fraeulein Dietz. Despite the problem of Poland, the commonsense of European statesmen can prevail."

The woman, thin and reedy, dressed in the best of 1930s couture, promoted a cynical smile. "That's the official claptrap. What do YOU think?"

Strasser was a big, beefy man, heavily jowled, with a pugnacious inquisitive look in his eyes, and the eyes never flinched away from the contortions of the girl on the dais when he replied. "I believe the Fuehrer will decide the best course of action for Germany. His judgement in the past as consistently proved infallible."

The girl in front of them was swaying rhythmically as if to music, although there was none. She was dancing in slow sensuous movements, her breasts moving in time with her hips. And she was excited, her rapid breathing clearly audible to everyone, then, aware of the lack of true astonishment it would produce, she threw back her head as she thrust her pelvis forward to display testicles and a half erect penis.

The woman in the chair broadened her smile slightly. "Quite a girl, Herr Strasser, wouldn't you agree?"

"Indeed, Fraeulein Dietz. Quite exceptional." answered the man in uniform.

"What is your opinion, Eduard?" the woman asked.

This time the question was intended for the man in the shooting- suit. He was a generation younger than the first one and he looked at her with an element of disapproval. "Your talent for depravity never ceases to amaze me, Celina." he remarked.

Hermann Strasser grinned. He had a dark face with big lips, and one side of his mouth curled up like a sneer when he smiled. "You should try to visit Berlin more often, Eduard. Such decadent creatures are not uncommon in the cabarets along the Kurfuerstendamm these days, and they add a little spice to the usual fare on offer."

"What may be acceptable in Berlin often appals the rest of Germany, Herr Strasser." Eduard answered dryly.

The girlish thing before them turned slowly, rolling its hips and smoothing two hands down over bare skin, offering a pair of trim buttocks for their inspection.

Getting to her feet Fraeulein Dietz stepped across to the dais, her mouth still conveying the hint of a smile as she observed the serpentine undulations of the man-girl creature.

"You're a shameless hussy, Rosalyn. You enjoy showing yourself off, don't you?"

Above her the models eyes held the sheen of sunshine faraway and the heat of sex. A breathless, "Mmm, mmm," was the only response she received.

"Naughty girl. Wanting to please a man. Wanting to give pleasure to a cock." The woman simpered while delighting in the control she had over such people. She turned the girly body slightly, angling it so that the two men across the room would have the best possible view of the up risen penis and its bulbous watering tip. As her hands circled the effeminates ankles and began to slide upwards Rosalyn ceased moving and seemed to be waiting for something, then as the rising fingers brought an insidiously arousing caress to his smooth thighs, he shivered.

Brushing aside the raunchy thrust of a penis with the back of her hand Fraeulein Dietz slotted her fingertips behind a hang of well formed testicles and stroked lightly.

"Oh, ooh, oooh!" gasped Rosalyn.

"A good pair at both top and bottom!" the woman grinned demonically. "And ah, yes, I do believe you are ready, my Liebling. Herr Strasser will wish you to amuse him for a while, so go up the stairs and prepare yourself."

The transvestite immediately stepped down from his perch and skipped out through the door, while the man in the black uniform stood up, straightened the front of his trousers and followed without a word. When he'd disappeared Eduard Dietz openly sneered. "I don't know why you invite that man here. He's an animal."

His sister answered with as much diplomacy as she could muster. "Hermann is an influential officer in the Sicherheitsdienst, the security branch of the SS. It's useful for me to maintain a cordial relationship with such people."

"Thank goodness I never have to spend more than a few hours in his company. I must get changed and be off. I'm expected to report back in uniform in the morning."

"You could at least pretend some friendliness towards him," complained the woman, "and why must you hurry, Eduard darling? You should relax and enjoy some of the pleasures that are free for the taking here. I could have Loti ready for you in five minutes."

"I'll forgo what you have on offer, Celina. My passion at the moment is for flying, and when I do come down to earth I prefer a more conventional kind of female company. I only attended your questionable little show this afternoon out of curiosity, and now having seen it, I won't be tempted again."

"You've done your compulsory military service. I don't understand why you haven't left the air force and entered into commerce. This house needs someone earning a decent salary to help it along."

"I've told you before Celina, I enjoy flying. I'd die of boredom if I were confined to an office. If you would only agree to sell this place we could find you a fine little house in Breslau, and in such a place you would have no worries about money."

Celina Dietz stepped back in horror and looked affronted. "Sell up! Abandon Ravenskopf? Never. I am not a common hausfrau who would be content to live in a city street. I am a lady, and this is where I live."

***

Willy Froehlich climbed from the train and found himself standing in Gleiwitz, a poky little town on the eastern fringe of Germany, a place whose isolation was emphasized by the thickly wooded hills that surround it. Using the last of the money given to him by his mother he hired a taxi cab and asked the driver if he knew the whereabouts of Ravenskopf.

"Get in. Everyone knows where that place is." the man said.

The journey was short but the going was difficult and Willy became increasingly depressed by the surroundings. A glance at a map had told him that the Polish frontier lay not far away, and having passed through the town of Frankenstein on the train earlier he didn't need to wonder what had inspired Mary Shelley in writing her famous novel - the steaming pinewoods that stank of punk and resin, the muddy hollows, the bestial looking peasants he passed along the way, the barbaric place names and wayside religious shrines, all must have been much the same when she had visited the region.

He couldn't imagine what Ravenskopf would look like, but he caught a glimpse of the house through the trees shortly before he arrived. >From a distance the high walls and turrets and the small dome that wouldn't have been out of place on a cathedral looked decorative and gave it a picture-book charm.

Shortly afterwards, where the road began to curve uphill to the right, he was confronted by an obelisk etched with Egyptian hieroglyphs, which signified the entrance to a small park copiously adorned with ancient statuary. Most of the pieces depicting maidens writhing in the grasp of bearded, muscular demi-gods, and only when he was beyond them did the walls of Ravenskopf loom above him like the ramparts of a medieval fortress.

"This is the door I'm told to deliver people to whenever I bring 'em here," the taxi driver told him as he drew up to the side of the building. "The front of the house is prettier, but we ordinary folk have to do what we're told around here."

A maid answered his knock to a side entrance; a young woman, dressed in black, wearing a small white organdie apron and a faint smile. As their footsteps echoed in the vaulted hall inside the building his gaze followed the wide sweep of a staircase as it climbed beyond an imposing chandelier, then while the maid went away to find someone to greet him he studied the rest of the room. On the walls inset paintings alternated most effectively with mirrors and panelling, and the ceiling was decorated with tendrils of vines spreading over a gilded pergola.

He turned to see a tall woman enter the room. He had expected someone older, but she was much younger than his mother, very striking, with luminous blue eyes and straight blond hair cropped just below her ears. Her lush figure was set off by a clinging, deep purple skirt and blouse, and above the pronounced dip of décolletage arose a marble-white neck and a face that mingled soft curves and angles to striking effect. Imposing rather than beautiful her deep set eyes ringed with mascara seemed to penetrate right through him.

"I am Celina Dietz. You must be Wilhelm Froehlich."

"Yes, Frau Dietz."

"Do not call me Frau. I'm 28 and you may think I should be married, but I'm not. I've yet to meet a man worthy of me."

"I apologize. I'll try to remember."

"What do you think of the house?"

"It's a very fine house. Much larger than I imagined it to be."

"Yes, it is large. My family had it built two hundred years ago when Silesia was first ceded to Prussia. We were important then, but unfortunately we are important no longer. My brother Eduard is a Luftwaffe officer and thinks more of dive-bombers than houses, so I live here alone most of the time. For that reason a great portion of it is not in use."

Her eyes flashed, hinting at a sharp temper that could erupt at any moment.

"Do you know why you're here?"

He nodded. He could see those eyes scrutinizing him closely, absorbing the hank of blond hair that hung down the side of his face which he constantly needed to brush back, and observing his narrow shoulders and the spindly wrists that poked down beyond the cuffs of his jacket.

"It's to do with conscription," he said, "I'm at the age for compulsory military service, and my mother doesn't think I'd do well in the army."

The mouth of Fraeulein Dietz curled slightly in the semblance of a condescending smile. She was as thin as he was, but taller, and she clearly looked down on him in more ways than one.

"She's probably right," her tone was derisory, "you certainly don't fit in with my idea of a Panzer Grenadier."

"Mother wants to say she doesn't know where I am when the papers arrive. She says I can't even remain in Heidelberg because they'd find me there."

The woman arched her eyebrows. "You have no brothers or sisters?"

"No."

"And your father is dead?"

"Yes."

Wilhelm resented the interrogation, but there was no way he could refuse to answer. For the near future at least he was going to be reliant on her goodwill.

"Are you a National Socialist?"

"No, but mother is. She joined the Nazi Party six years ago."

"I know that, it's the main reason I agreed to help her. It's wrong to cheat the system by hiding you away, but I don't think we're depriving the Wehrmacht of a particularly great asset.

"What were you studying at Heidelberg?"

"I was reading Classics and Fine Arts. I hope circumstances change soon because I want to go back to it."

The woman nodded, unimpressed. "Well, at least you should be able to string a sentence together when you write, and that I may find a use for. One other thing. While you remain at Ravenskopf you will adopt the guise of a female.

Willy blinked hard and his slender fingers reached down, nervously twisting the bottom of his jacket. "A - a female, Fraeulein Dietz?"

"Yes. It's important. It's the only way. You must look like a girl and try to behave like a girl. You may be secure from the mainstream of German life in this obscure corner of Upper Silesia, but people in small communities can be inquisitive. I have some insulation against such busybodies, but it's not limitless, and if a young man like you is seen not to be in military uniform they will become curious and begin asking awkward questions. The transformation shouldn't be too difficult for you. I imagine you've put on stockings in the past to amuse your university friends."

Willy hung his head, quite incapable of offering a quick response.

"I expect most of them called you Willy."

"Yes, Fraeulein Dietz."

"The name can remain. Willy is an acceptable abbreviation for Wilhelmina as well as Wilhelm."

She turned away, as far as she was concerned, the interview over. "Rosalyn." she called, and the maid who had first admitted him returned and dipped a small curtsy.

"This is Willy. He will be joining us here. Feed him and find him a place to sleep."

A minute later he was sat at a kitchen table eating sauerkraut and cold sausage while the maid who had escorted him stood silently in the corner of the room.

A second maid, dressed identically to the first one came through the door, and only then did the one called Rosalyn speak.

"Hi Loti, look what we have here. Fraeulein Dietz as found another one."

Loti walked over to him and bent down to study his face closely. "You're cute. You'll do well at Ravenskopf," she purred silkily.

"His name is Willy," said the first maid.

"A good name," grinned the second one.

Willy gazed up at the features examining him and he knew at once that the maid wasn't what she appeared to be at a distance. He could identify a cross-dresser when he saw one, and female clothes and lavish makeup couldn't hide reality. He looked again at the one called Rosalyn. The maids were the same in more ways than just the clothes they wore. They were both young men. Two brunettes, brazen and bra-less.

"Are you two in hiding here disguised as women?" he asked.

"Better that than being in the army," said Loti, abruptly moving away. "All that marching around and shooting guns. Ugh!"

"Does anyone else live here?"

"No, it's just Fraeulein Dietz and we," replied Rosalyn. "A fat old woman comes in every day to cook a midday meal, but the rest of the time Loti and I are expected to do everything in return for our keep."

"The Fraeulein's brother comes here for the weekend sometimes, but mostly he's away serving with the Luftwaffe," put in Loti. "Fraeulein Dietz likes to entertain though, especially if her guests have some influence with the Nazi Party. I don't mind that. Some of the old buffers she invites can be quite entertaining themselves."

He turned and stuck out his backside until it strained against the seat of the black skirt he was wearing, and then he slapped it, pitter-pat, with the flats of his hands and grinned over his shoulder. "Do you know what I mean?"

"Take no notice of Loti. She's always been a slut," remarked Rosalyn with lofty disapproval.

The other maid snorted, fluttering his false eyelashes as he examined his lipstick in a small hand mirror. "I'm no worse slut than you, Rosalyn. You'll drop your pants at the first sign of a man getting hard."

Rosalyn ignored the retort and came over to where Willy was sitting. "You've finished eating. Leave the plate. Loti can wash it while I take you upstairs and show you where you sleep."

The stairs were decorated with small statues cast in bronze set into narrow niches in the walls. Most people wouldn't have studied them closely, rating them as just part of the décor, but Willy had an interest in art and paused to inspect one or two. To the casual eye they depicted Greek goddesses, partially clothed, demure of expression but provocatively posed. Willy noted that they were all different figures in different poses, and a number of them displayed a set of male genitals. There were paintings too, equally explicit, and he realized that the sensuous works of art were a stage setting, there only to induce a pleasing mood. A backdrop to coax depravity.

The room he was given was not impressive and was smaller than the one he'd had in the Hall of Residence in Heidelberg. The contents consisted of just a bed, a dresser and two hard-back chairs with some walk-in storage set into one wall. The furniture was old and so well worn that the varnish had been rubbed from its edges and corners, while the cracked linoleum on the floor was only cushioned by a couple of threadbare rugs.

"Hardly luxurious, is it?" remarked Rosalyn with a sympathetic sigh. "Unfortunately the lady of the house doesn't spend money on servant's quarters. Frau Klausen, the woman that comes to cook lunch, says the Dietz family were quite well off once, but they lost most of their money during the hyperinflation that followed the last war. Fraeulein Dietz still likes to put on airs like an old-time aristocrat though, even when her big house is falling down around her ears."

"Is the house falling down?"

"Take a look at the unused part when you have a chance. The roof leaks like a sieve."

The male maid went to the cupboard in the wall and rummaged around inside. "She'll expect you to wear a dress tomorrow. I think this will fit." he said, pulling out a white item and holding it up to gauge the width of Willy's shoulders. "There's more in the cupboard with shoes and things."

Being measured up to fit a frock made Willy blush slightly. Although Fraeulein Dietz had guessed correctly when she'd said he'd probably worn stockings on occasion to please people, he'd never gone all the way to dressing as a girl.

He removed his jacket and remained stock still while he was being fitted out, which allowed Rosalyn's hand to brush against his bare arm with the intimacy of an established relationship.

"You're a pretty thing," he remarked playfully while the tip of his tongue circled his lips. "Would you like to do something nice before bedtime?"

The invitation to indulge in carnality was plain, and Willy's reaction was po-faced.

"I may like men, but I don't just go with anyone."

Rosalyn shrugged without showing dismay. "Don't you? How sad. Never mind, everyone who comes to this house is a freak in their own way."

***

Willy Froehlich had no illusions about himself. He was attractive enough, with a good figure, and his long blond hair gave him a sweet little-girl look of innocence, but he wasn't sophisticated and a lack of self-confidence became evident the following morning. It was then he discovered that the white dress didn't really fit well at all, and he replaced it with a simple round-necked, ankle-length thing in lilac floral print. Lacking any guidance he compounded that mistake by putting on white ankle socks and flat shoes.

Fraeulein Dietz greeted him at the bottom of the stairs with a grimace that made her dissatisfaction plain. "What on earth do you think you look like? You have a figure with such great possibilities, but you dress it up like a frump."

Willy's mind struggled for an excuse. He looked bewildered, brown eyes blinking back at her, and she noticed he still had the habit of flicking a fall of hair out of his eyes. "I put on some of the things I found in the wardrobe. I wasn't sure what to choose." he explained.

"Never mind about that for the moment," the woman snapped, "come with me. Other people such as yourself I utilize as domestic servants while they're here, but for you I have a different task."

He followed her through into what was clearly an innermost sanctum in a small circular library on the ground floor. Inside a table lamp cast a soft glow on decorations of bronze sitting agreeably on the warm brown of cedar panelling that squeezed between a number of ceiling high sets of shelves crammed with books. It was a comfortable den of a man's room without any softening frills. A solid mahogany door gave it an air of seclusion and an elegant Louis XIV desk piled high with pieces of paper and envelope files stood in front of a casement window.

"My father was Professor Dietz. He was an outstanding anthropologist." the woman announced briskly. "This was his work station when he was at home, and what you see around you are the last five years of his research. Unfortunately he was unable to compile his notes into manuscript before his death, and that is something I wish you to rectify. Everything is scattered about and in a jumble, so something more than a secretary is required."

A lugubrious head on the end of a long neck peered up at her. "Goodness! It sounds like an awesome task, I - I'm only an undergraduate and I don't know if I'm capable of doing anything as grand as putting together the notes of a learned professor of anthropology."

The woman's features became set with determination. "What nonsense, of course you're capable. Since you've attended university you will be practised in making dissertations, and the youthful, vibrant blood of enthusiasm still flows through your veins. The subject is no concern of yours. All the information you require is here and only needs putting into sequence. I'll allow you the rest of the week to read things through, then we'll discuss the matter again."

Having settled things to her own contentment she stood back and looked Willy up and down once more.

"Now then, we shall go back up the stairs and I shall choose the clothes you should wear, then I shall have Rosalyn and Loti pin back your hair and teach you about makeup. Don't expect this treatment every day. I expect you to be self sufficient in being a girl, and if you don't learn quickly you'll make me angry."

The two male-maids were summoned to his room, but she didn't spare him a great deal of time herself. Having selected some items of clothing from the cupboard she threw them across the bed and left Willy in their care.

"Nice fingernails," Rosalyn said, looking at his hands, "you grow them long and look after them. That's always a bonus for someone making a transformation."

Under the watchful eyes of Rosalyn and Loti he slipped into a suspender belt and silk stockings.

"Suspender straps are far better than garters," Loti assured him, "nothing looks worse on a girl than sagging stockings with baggy knees, so I advise you to always choose suspenders when you can."

When other feminine apparel was offered in his direction, he gave out a meek gasp.

"A brassier! I can't wear one of those. I don't have a bosom, hardly a very big one anyway."

"We can stuff it with cotton wool." Rosalyn told him. "It will help you look the part, and showing a bosom will help you feel the part."

His hair usually hung thick and straight, sometimes framing his face and sometimes half obscuring it, but Loti skilfully fastened it back to reveal features of haunting Madonna-like purity.

"You must wear more makeup," Loti said as he pinned back some rogue tresses. "If you emphasize your eyes you'll become quite beautiful."

Rosalyn agreed. "Yes, you have wonderful lashes, and a good lathering of mascara will make sure they're noticed. And a cherry-red for your lips, I think. You'll look gorgeous."

It had transpired that both the male-maids had been involved with show business in the past and knew everything about applying powder and paint, but Willy was taken aback by their enthusiasm. "I don't want to look like a painted doll."

Loti tutted. "Of course you don't. The whole point of makeup is to enhance natural beauty with a beguiling radiance. It's what the lady of the house will expect."

"Not Garbo," said Rosalyn, "More Rogers."

Willy looked at him. "What do you mean?"

Loti beamed. "Rosalyn thinks you look like the film-star, Rogers."

"Ginger Rogers, the American? Do you? Do you really think that?" he asked Rosalyn.

Rosalyn said he did, but Willy was hardly placated. "Is he teasing me?" he asked Loti.

"I think he meant it."

"Do you think I look like a film-star?"

"Yes, of course."

"I don't feel glamorous. I must look a sight. I don't think I'd be comfortable going into the town dressed like this."

His two companions glanced at each other and then at him. "Don't worry about that." said Rosalyn, "the lady doesn't allow her house staff to go into the town. She keeps us at a distance from other people in case they guess the truth about us. From now until you leave you'll be expected to stay within sight of the house at all times."

"We're practically prisoner's here," added Loti, "the only compensation is the chance to dress nice."

"Fraeulein Dietz isn't a very pleasant person, is she?" grumbled Willy.

Rosalyn responded with a brief, cynical laugh. "You haven't seen the worst of her yet, my little treasure. Most people wouldn't treat a Cocker Spaniel the way she treats us when she's in a bad mood. The trouble is, we're stuck, aren't we? You and us alike. We have nowhere else to go."

Eventually Willy became established as fully dressed and he was able to shoo the others from the room. It took him a while after they had gone to adjust to the strange feelings that now enveloped him. The odd shoes that deformed his feet took some getting used to, as did the tight hose that clung to his legs and a skirt that swirled around his knees. His face was masked with sweet-smelling substances, and most alarming of all, he had a bosom.

He wanted to look at the finished result but the mirror in his room was only ten inches square, and he had to go out onto the bedroom landing to find a full length reflection.

Fraeulein Dietz had selected a crisp white blouse to accentuate the creamy texture of his skin, and to accompany it a black skirt, narrow waisted, hip-hugging and tight in a Chinese cheongsam style, knee- length with daring slashes half way up his thighs.

The shoes she had chosen for him had incredibly clunky high heels, but when he examined himself in the mirror he noticed that they did promote a rather nice stance of elegance, and with the stockings they did emphasize the smooth slender curve of his legs in an attractive way. Enthralled with his reflection he swivelled left and right to examine his appearance from every possible angle, grinning, pouting and pulling funny faces. Although he lacked the vanity to consider himself perfection, he was small and slim and he did feel like a film- star.

The colour scheme, starkly black on white, also emphasized the sooty black of his eyes, and with his hair freshly brushed and feeling silky and lustrous he felt better able to cope with the demands being made of him.

By the time he was ready to descend the stairs again it was time for lunch. At lunchtime Rosalyn and Loti catered for the needs of Fraeulein Dietz who ate alone in a rather grand dining room. It was salad and a poached tranche of fresh salmon for her; boiled salted codfish and potatoes for everyone else, to be consumed at the kitchen table. Frau Klausen, the cook, was a large blousy woman and fervent National Socialist, who listened to music on the wireless the whole time she was there. Willy was partial to American swing, or even a good rendition of The Blue Danube, but the woman's taste was limited to martial music of the German kind that never veered from venerating the Fatherland and its Aryan stock. To its accompaniment she would constantly march back and forth, gyrating her spoons and ladles in the manner of a drum-major.

When he had eaten he went to the library and began the mighty task that had been bestowed on him. At once his interest was captured and within minutes he was absorbed.

It soon became apparent that although Fraeulein Dietz's father may have been a highly intelligent man, he wasn't an organized one. The professor was in the habit of writing down his thoughts on whatever piece of paper came to hand and in no specific order. There were a number of hard-back journals and leather bound notebooks, but most of his work had been recorded onto lose-leaf sheets of paper that were now stacked in untidy heaps on every flat surface in the room.

Initially Willy had intended to read everything chronologically in date sequence, but then he found that very few of the documents had any date on them. Instead he started to read things randomly and that seemed to work in an odd kind of way, because when he'd become accustomed to the content he found he could compile separate piles for notations that commented upon relevant issues. From the start he knew it was not going to be an easy task. It would require endurance and pain-staking observation, but given the week promised to him he was confident that eventually he would find a common factor to link them all together.

He closed his eyes, and suddenly his head was back in Heidelberg, the place where he really belonged and where he could submerge himself in real study. The time he was compelled to spend at Ravenskopf was merely an interlude, he reassured himself. It wouldn't last long. Soon things would return to how they had been previously.

***

Willy was a little bit wary of Rosalyn and Loti to begin with. Their attitude to sexual matters was to say the least, loose, and they openly admitted they sometimes slept together. He himself was more reserved. Although no angel, he preferred relationships to have some mutual rapport and not to simply serve as an excuse for gratification, but after he had declined their invitation to make up a threesome a few times they got the idea, and left him alone.

The thing that made living with them easier was their good nature, not to mention their actual skill. As housemaids their efficiency was as far above reproach as their morals were beneath it. This was a fact that Fraeulein Dietz must have recognized but seldom rewarded. Although she spared them military service, she ran the house like a military camp, directing things, throwing out orders and demanding obedience. Her harsh words seemed to accompany everything they did, and it was not an uncommon sight to find them on the verge of tears after she had smacked their hands with a wooden spoon as punishment for some perceived stupidity.

When he went to eat his lunch one day he heard conversation in the room where Fraeulein Dietz ate her meals.

"Does she have a guest today?" he asked Rosalyn.

"Her brother is here for the weekend."

"Her brother?"

"Eduard. He's stationed at an aerodrome near Grottkau, but he seems to get away quite often at weekends." Rosalyn told him.

Willy then remembered an earlier mention of Fraeulein Dietz's brother. "What's he like?

Rosalyn purred like a cat. "Good looking. Big and strong. Loti caught a glimpse of him in the bathroom once - said he was hung like a cart-horse. But I've never known him show any interest in us kind of girls."

He never saw much of Eduard during his brief visit. Eduard dined with his sister at meal times but spent most of his time out of doors with a twelve gauge shotgun, a fact verified by the amount of game brought back to hang in the kitchen larder. Willy's only close encounter came when the man was on the point of departing and made an unannounced visit to the library.

"You must excuse me for interrupting you, but I'm off back to my unit this morning and there is a book I want to take with me." His words were polite but abrupt, spoken as employer to staff, to someone he considered somewhat inferior to himself. He stared at the bookshelves on one side of the room and then the other. "I know my father had a copy of Voltaire in his collection, but where to find it is the problem."

Being only 5'6'' Willy had to tilt up his face to study the man closely, and he gazed up beyond a broad sun-tanned face and straight into the eyes of... a god. Not that he was like one of the statuettes of Greek deities that filled the niches on the stairs. Instead he took after the kind of dark warrior who appeared in late Renaissance paintings. Quite easy to look at, Willy decided. He was smart and upright in his perfectly tailored air force uniform, and as tall as his sister with thick wavy blond hair clipped short and with blue eyes shaded by spiky gold lashes. He was not handsome in the conventional sense, his appeal was much more subtle than that, and the faintly mocking twist to his mouth was an enigma. His prominent cheekbones, firm jaw and slightly crooked nose gave him a rugged appearance, but it was the startling blue eyes and high-voltage melt- your-bones smile that made his pulse jump.

"Voltaire is on the second shelf from the bottom," he said without even thinking hard, "it's on the right hand side, next to the book by Alfred Rosenberg."

The visitor gave him a quizzical look that was tinged with amusement, then his eyes stalked visually along the shelf indicated until he snatched a volume up in his hand.

"Quite right. Exactly as you said. It hasn't taken you long to get to know the lay-out of this place."

Eduard was the first attractive man Willy had met since arriving and he suddenly felt very aware of the bra thrusting out the front of his blouse, and of the two buttons unfastened at the top that exposed the hollow of his throat.

"I have an interest in books, Herr Dietz, that's all one needs really. I love books, and I love art too."

"Art!" The man's eyebrows lifted as he paused to consider the word. "Yes, of course. Appreciation of art is said to be a measure of civilization. Good art can be a joy."

"Examples of bad art are rare, Herr Dietz. Misunderstanding art is far more common."

Such a settled opinion caused the visitor to chuckle. "Holding firm views on things is worthy of respect. You must be the new - erm - person my sister informed me about. The one she as elected to write- up my fathers notes."

Willy nodded, suddenly becoming quite breathless. Eduard dominated the room. He had tremendous natural charisma and would have dominated a room anywhere.

The man cast around with his eyes. "Settled in, have you? You'll find this a very pleasant place to work, I'm sure. Sadly the library is in a terrible mess and my father left behind such a lot of correspondence to be dealt with. It'll take you six months to read everything."

Willy peeped up sweetly from under his lashes. "Fraeulein Dietz requires me to read everything in a week."

Eduard raised his eyebrows. "A week! If you can do it in a week I'll give you credit for being a top scholar."

"Oh, a week is long enough I think if I start early each day and finish late. The professor's writing is quite legible and I'm a quick reader."

The man grinned at that, an outright humorous grin that unexpectedly struck Willy like a blow to the solar plexus and made his nipples stir inside the cosy confines of his bra. The man was attractive of course, but he had no idea how irresistible his smile might be. Willy had regarded him speculatively at first, wondering if his sister's heartlessness was a family trait that he needed to be wary of, but the cheerful smile dispelled such fear. Now, with the lighter creases beside his eyes deepening to reveal laughter lines and his lips parted to reveal even white teeth, he was devastating.

"You are somehow different to the others I meet here." the man conceded, his eyes warming appreciatively as they rested on Willy's delicate-hewn features. "Not as tall. A little shrimp really. Refined. Not as sexually brash as they, and yet somehow more striking, and more - erm - more feminine."

Willy felt a blush on his face rising up like a fiery dawn and he smiled awkwardly, unsure how to take the compliment, but he thought about him when he'd gone, remembering his smile. Eduard Dietz was everything he disliked about people in general of course; too self- assured and far too opinionated and over-confident, convinced he knew best about everything and infinitely superior to someone dressed as a girl. Even so, he had been utterly captivated by him, and his eyes glowed against the disturbing paleness of his face at the mere idea that the gorgeous man had noticed him.

It was important to stop such unsettling thoughts, he decided. He had to sweep them from his mind. A man such as Eduard Dietz was sure to have a girlfriend. He had the kind of looks that probably left broken hearts everywhere. He probably had lots of girlfriends. Real girls.

He slumped down in his chair. 'Oh, Heidelberg, where are you?' he thought. Gone were all those sunny, carefree weekends along the Neckar, laughing and joking with the lean bodied young men, who sought to court him. Gone, all those days of being chased along the river bank until they had their arms around him. Naughty boys, kissing him like they did, undressing him like they did, doing the other things that they did.

Eventually his face began to resume its delicate porcelain colour, but then he was startled by a tapping on the casement window. Looking round he saw a man outside gesticulating to speak to him.

Getting to his feet he went across and opened the window as if it were a door. "Who are you? What do you want?"

The stranger offered a broad grin. "I'm Guenter. I'm Frau Klausen's nephew and I too work for the lady of the house. Three days each week in the flower garden, then two in the park. I heard she'd taken on a pretty thing to do some office work, so I thought I'd take a look."

Willy gazed up into a tanned outdoor face under a mop of windblown auburn hair. How handsome he looked. How tall and muscular. His lean aggressively masculine body was wrapped in a white linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and his very masculine arms were matted with a delicate fleece of fine hair. He watched in fascination as the muscles in his arms bunched with each movement they made. He made all the boys he'd known at university seem insignificant, and he was a good substitute for the unattainable air force officer who had so recently captured his thoughts.

Still in some awe Willy watched the visitor push his hands into the pockets of his trousers, and became aware of the strong muscles of his thighs.

"You are very cheeky, Guenter. Do you want to come in?"

The young man grinned. "No, can't do that. The snooty Fraeulein doesn't allow outside workers into the house. But I bet you haven't seen anything outside yet, have you? Would you like me to show you the garden?"

"The garden! But I'm busy."

"You must be allowed a breather. The Fraeulein can't expect you to work the whole day without taking a short break now and then."

Willy brought a hand to his mouth and bit a nail, then caught himself and stopped. He found himself acknowledging Guenter's undoubted physical attraction. He suited the casual attire of a gardener. His long muscular legs looked good in close fitting trousers, and the tightness of his shirt exploited the flatness of his stomach and the strength of his hips.

Why not? he thought. Why not take a break? He'd worked pretty well nonstop for the past few days and never been thanked for doing it, and was it not reasonable to take the opportunity of viewing other aspects of the place where he now lived.

He opened the window to its full extent. The sill was very low so he was able to step over it quite easily.

Outside the garden was scented with the perfume of late summer and Guenter rejoiced in being his guide. Although the hawthorn hedges had lost their blossom other things were in riotous colour; there was broom providing its own splash of golden brilliance, pink and purple pansies, and in the park further on there were acres of buttercups.

The view to the front of the house extended over a formal garden to the nearby town, but each side of it was terminated by hedges and little grass plots where the family in the past had erected tombstones to their pet animals. At the back of the house orange trees in large tubs were ranged along the terrace.

"It's lovely." Willy said, very conscious of Guenter behind him, looking at the close fit of his skirt and the curve of his legs: overtly assessing things that had nothing to do with horticulture.

He turned and Guenter turned his chiselled features up to the sky. "No rain today. A good day for being out of doors," he said.

"Yes," Willy agreed, "but unfortunately I must return to my work."

"Shame you can't stay out longer. There are so many things a girl and boy could do together on a day such as this."

Willy's cheeks suffused with hectic colour. The handsome gardener was making a pass at him, and he rather enjoyed it. But he wasn't prepared to give in on a first meeting. "I'm afraid you will have to do them alone today," he panted.

Guenter leaned forward. "What I have in mind takes two," he growled against the shell-like cavity of Willy's ear.

As they walked back he slipped an arm around Willy's waist and rested his hand on the shelf of his hips, achingly aware of the slender, shapely body he enfolded.

"It must be awkward for you here. I expect you're a townie, who's used to being around boys a lot."

Willy nodded. "It is different here to what I've been used to in the past."

On reaching the window Willy made to lift himself through, but before he could do it he felt strong, masculine fingers close over his wrist. With no warning Guenter touched a finger to unresisting lips that promised the sweet taste of a mountain spring.

"Shame you can't linger awhile longer. Perhaps I should offer a sample of what you'll been missing."

The look in the man's eyes became one Willy could easily fathom and he shifted unsteadily under his gaze.

"Guenter, don't you dare kiss me," he spluttered in a gush of air. He swallowed, feeling his throat constrict, and he couldn't prevent his face from showing a blush. He knew he should have said more - he should have protested more fiercely, but further words became stifled at the source when the man's mouth descended onto his own.

Heat. At the touch of his lips, a volcanic shock seemed to flood along Willy's veins, searing him with the intensity of molten fire. His knees buckled beneath the man's probing caress and he clutched at him helplessly. Words were quickly forgotten and his good intentions fled the moment the burly man's arms closed around him, pulling him forward and drawing him in until he was curled into his embrace.

Fingers slid over his skin and tremors rock him, and he was lost, and all the time Guenter's mouth writhed against his own in a kiss that demanded everything, and gave everything.

When the kiss broke for a moment Willy whimpered softly. "Please - please let me go."

Slowly they drew apart, and the man stood smiling, making no attempt to hide the arousal in his trousers. "That's a good start. We must try it again sometime." he said.

***

Celina Dietz was in love. She loved Ravenskopf. Or at least she loved the status that living in such a fine house gave her. As she walked disconsolately to the window, she stared with fierce possessiveness over the lawns and flowerbeds that bordered the house. This was her home, it was the place she had been born, and she knew every each of it with the familiarity of long use. How could her brother even suggest that she leave it all to live in a grubby town suburb?

As a small child she had known a time when famous people had enjoyed hospitality beneath its roof; it had been a time when her family had owned estates that stretched back almost to the Oder. There had been picnics and hunts and wonderful parties in those days, but then had come the bleak time of the 1920s when the value of the German Mark became virtually worthless, and practically overnight the family fortune had dwindled to nothing. They had to sell most of the land around them simply to maintain a decent standard of living, and keeping such a large building in good repair soon became impossible.

With her father always so detached from everyday life and engrossed in his work it should have been Eduard's responsibility to put things right, but her brother was a boyish devil-may-care adventurer even in maturity and he had no idea how to do it. Instead she had taken upon herself the task of saving everything from falling into ruin. On coming of age she had encouraged a wealthy industrialist to court her, and his promise of marriage seemed to be the answer to everything.

Damn the man, for he had deserted her well before any wedding, and >from that time on she had sought to take out her spite on all men in whatever way she could. Having a handful of emasculated males around her was a sop to her vindictiveness. She took pleasure in their humiliation, delighted in bullying them, and revelled in controlling everything they did.

In the library Willy was composed when she entered. The room was a cool place, having the benefit of the northern light, but seldom direct sunshine. Nevertheless the book-lined walls were warming.

It was the seventh day since his arrival, and fully expecting her visit he leapt to his feet and did a little curtsy as he'd learnt was expected when she entered a room. Before him covering the whole tool leathered surface of the desk lay batches of papers; the professor's notes, divided and subdivided into relevant divisions, each neatly clipped together and fronted by a tag for his own guidance. The notes were so profuse that a score of other piles had been laid out on the floor.

The woman waved him back into his seat. "Have you read everything?"

"Yes, Fraeulein Dietz."

"What do you think?"

He drew in a deep breath. "It's an extraordinary study. Your father was truly a diligent and dedicated man."

The woman nodded and without saying another word she walked across the room and opened a cupboard to reveal a typewriter. "Did you learn how to use one of these whilst in Heidelberg?"

He nodded. "Yes, but my speed isn't very good."

"I'm sure it will improve as you go along. There is plenty of paper in the cupboard underneath, so I want you to begin writing-up the notes at once."

Willy slowly sank back into his chair, a slight expression of trepidation on his face.

"There is something I've been meaning to speak to you about, Fraeulein Dietz."

"About the notes?"

"Yes, Fraeulein Dietz."

"Well, go ahead. Spit it out."

"Your father, the professor, from what he's written I believe he was seeking evidence to confirm the existence of a past master-race."

"Yes, I glad you understand that much. He took it upon himself to establish the truth about the racially superior Aryan people of antiquity from whom all true Germans are descended. It is a subject Hitler himself is most passionate about and I believe my father's work will answer all the outstanding questions."

Willy only half-smiled, in fact he almost winced. "Oh, um... er, perhaps you shouldn't expect too much. It would probably be unwise to claim that all the questions have been answered. The Herr Professor clearly worked long and hard on the subject, but I don't think he has provided any real proof that a master-race ever existed."

The woman responded with blank look of dissatisfaction and dismay as pride and indignation warred within her.

"You must be mistaken, Willy dear. My father's health was not at its best towards the end of his life, but he was a very learned man who was revered by his peers. He wouldn't have spent his last five years researching something that couldn't be proven." She gave a dismissive wave of her hand. "No, no. Clearly you have skimmed too quickly through his work and missed something important. You'd better read everything again."

Willy was certain that he'd missed nothing. So often bewildered by everyday life a change came over him when placed in front of any kind of text. His brain cleared at once, it came naturally to him. It always had. It was no lucky chance or favour that had won him a place at a university in Heidelberg. He could analyse the written word with such clarity that discrepancies glared out like the headlights on a car. Modest and still lacking self-belief he regarded such a gift as mere common-sense, but it was a kind of common-sense that few others possessed.

He had quickly observed that contradictions abounded in Professor Dietz's notations, and they were also full of theories, assumptions and biased opinions that lacked any evidence. Taken as a whole the notes comprised a mass of wishful-thinking, and he had decided early on that the learned professor must have been descending into dementia when he compiled them.

"I assure you I've already read everything very thoroughly, Fraeulein Dietz." he insisted bravely.

For a moment the woman's facial features froze and only her eyes glared menace. But then a storm broke, her cheeks reddened, her lips twitched and words poured out in an enraged torrent.

"Have you indeed? Well perhaps I should remind you, little Willy, that my father held professorships in anthropology and eugenics before you were even a gleam in your father's eye."

Without warning she grasped the top of his head, wrapped her fingers in his hair and pulled viciously. Willy squawked, but his anguish was ignored.

"I will accept no truck from effeminate upstarts such as you, who think they know better than he," she continued, "the Aryan people did exist. My father proved it and you will record that fact."

Completely dismissive of Willy's discomfort she bounced his head up and down, then rocked it cruelly from side to side. "You will do as I wish and make a good job of it, or I'll inform the police of who you really are and tell them how you tricked me into employing you. And I'll tell you now, if you don't already know, that wretches, who purposely try to avoid military conscription are thrown into a Konzentrationslager where conditions are not pleasant."

At last she released him, and gradually her look of hostility faded. A softness, even a glint of amusement came into her eyes as she smiled her careful tight-lipped smile at him. "Being a conscript- dodger is a crime and being homosexual is illegal. Do look at everything again, dear, I'm sure you will find the inspiration you need. After all, breaking rocks to make roads and being marched out every day to lay railway lines in the middle of winter would ruin your fingernails. You'd hate that, wouldn't you?"

Expelling an audible grunt, she strode purposefully toward the door but swung about sharply before departing. "I wish to have my father's work in book form, so by Friday I want to see the outline of an introductory chapter."

When she'd gone Willy collapsed in misery behind the desk. Doing has she demanded was impossible, but the consequences of not doing it were terrifying. How on earth was he to get out of this fix?

He toyed with the idea of going home, but that wouldn't do either. His mother was a solid Party Member whose main pastime was denigrating those who weren't. If he went home she would despair of him and ensure he enlisted in the army at once, when the only thing he really wanted to do was appreciate art and read well written books, and perhaps one day write a book of his own.

He glanced scornfully at the piles of yellowing papers in front of him. His mother would say that here was his chance to write a book, but how could he make a book from a mass of such inconsistencies and faulty ideas?

It then occurred to him that perhaps he could do something. If he bent the professor's research and twisted the facts a little he may even come up with something that would satisfy his obsessive host.

He carried the typewriter to the desk and stared at it for a while, then with a single first finger and his heart heavy with misgiving, he typed the first line.

***

Breakfast was never a thing to look forward to. Slices of bread, scraped over with beef dripping, when dripping was available, was all that was provided. It was a rule impossible to thwart since the lady of the house kept the kitchen larder locked until Frau Klausen arrived, and when the cook had gone she made a personal check of things inside before locking it again. Loti said, only half joking, that she knew every egg inside by number and every potato by name.

Lunch was little better since Frau Klausen always provided house staff with food that was the cheapest in the town market. Hunger drove Willy Froehlich to eat as it drove everyone, but at Ravenskopf eating was rarely a pleasant experience.

Fraeulein Dietz herself lunched with people every alternate day, but few of her guests had any allure. Most in fact reminded Willy Froehlich of the villains that inhabited Grimm's fairytales; a miscellany of witches, ogres and knaves.

One lunchtime he looked on enviously as a silver flat loaded with succulent looking breasts of poultry masked with rich red wine sauce was taken into the dining room, accompanied by a plate of 'obazda' brot oozing cream cheese and onions.

"Is she entertaining someone today." he asked.

"Yes, Otto Hahn," Rosalyn said, "Otto is her solicitor, and from the snatches of conversation I hear at times like these, I have the impression he's a shifty character, who's helping her to hang on at Ravenskopf, probably by using the kind of tricks and shady deals only legal minds can understand."

Mildly taken aback Willy expressed his surprise. "But he's a professional man, and professional men should have scruples. Do solicitors do shady deals?"

His innocence caused Rosalyn's mouth to crease with mirth. "Do dentists pull teeth? He gives the Fraeulein's difficulties a great deal of attention, and in return she allows him some freedom with people here, if you know what I mean. He fancies himself as some sort of Don Juan with Loti and me."

Willy wrinkled his nose. "That's disgusting."

"No, that's life." Rosalyn replied fatalistically.

By that time Willy was beginning to understand that such arrangements were not unusual at Ravenskopf. As a reward for favours Fraeulein Dietz often entered into a conspiracy, and following lunch she would allow her guests freedom to roam about the house and gardens and amuse themselves in whatever way they wished. And what they usually wished for was some time alone with one of the maids. Just two days previously he had noticed a fierce looking old man disappear into the disused part of the house with Rosalyn, reappearing sometime later smiling with contentment, with his white moustache plastered with red lipstick and the front of his trousers unbuttoned.

Willy was wary about being drawn into such cold affairs and always retreated to the library as quickly as he could. But following lunch that day he almost collided outside the kitchen door with Otto Hahn. He was about fifty years old with a fat face and black hair slicked back and plastered down with brilliantine. For several moments he was aware of the man's undressing stare, and his face wasn't a pleasant face. Somehow it seemed all mouth - mouth and lips - a big wet mouth and flabby lips, until he smiled, when it became predatory.

Otto Hahn at once became predatory. "Ah! You must be the new one called Willy. Fraeulein Dietz mentioned she had fresh meat in her larder. I must make a point of taking lunch here more often in the future."

Blushing with indignity Willy stared at him. "I doubt we are ever likely to dine together, Herr Hahn."

He leered, his teeth showing in a white line, like those of a rabid animal. To judge by the fixed, uncaring expression in his eyes he was incapable of warm affection and thrived on lust. "You miss my point, sweet poppet," he teased, "not inexperienced, are you? Not exactly untouched by human hand, I vouch. The buttocks of a sweet tart such as you I would expect to find on the menu."

Willy shuddered with revulsion. Appalled at hearing his tittering laughter he could hardly bear to look at him. He felt intimidated, and to avoid further conversation he stepped back into the kitchen and then went through to the garden at the back. There he almost collided with Guenter.

"Willy, my love, I haven't seen you for a couple of days. Have you been in hiding?"

"No, I've just been busy. I only hide from people I dislike, and you aren't one of them."

The man swung a broad arm around his slender waist. "I've shown you the garden, now allow me to show you the rest of the house."

"I've been told it's in bad repair."

"Sadly, it's almost a ruin." Guenter said.

When they walked along the rear elevation it was clear that Ravenskopf had once been a grand house, but impressive as it was Willy could see as they made their way along its exterior that there had never been any attempt to stun the visitor with an expansive stony courtyard as was the case at Versailles and Schoenbrunn, instead a simple colonnade faced onto a small stream which framed a view across water to a great zone of resin-scented pinewoods on the far side.

Guenter swung him about and walked him up a ramp. The unused part of the house was entered by a neoclassical portico, and a person with time to spare could enjoy taking the air beneath the eyes of long- suffering caryatids that supported its heavy entablature.

Beyond a rococo decorated vestibule lay the magnificence of a central hall. The vast oval chamber, now devoid of furniture, was floored and walled with Carrara and green Prato marble of the most delicate vein and hue and Corinthian columns stretched up high into a central cupola.

This area had obviously been commissioned by a person of exquisite taste long ago and was a room that would have been incredibly impressive in its prime, but now could be whiffed the smell of damp and decay. Grime laden watermarks on the walls spoke of rain seeping in from the roof over a number of years. The longer he stood in that vast hollow space the more it fitted with the idea of a forsaken cathedral or gigantic elaborately carved cave.

It was dingy inside, and nervous of encountering spiders amid the gloomy shadows Willy felt along the wall for a light switch, found one, and found it didn't work.

"There are no electrics in this part of the house," said the man with him, gazing down at the youthful girlish form in his arms and pressed her against the wall. She was so fragile he feared he may bruise her. And yet even while that thought flitted through his mind, he drew her even closer, until he could feel the thundering of her heartbeat on his own chest. His hands were all over her, she was letting him touch and feel freely. He was licking her ears and biting her neck, and she was loving it.

Guenter's dark, heavy lidded eyes glittered with excitement. He had waited long enough and he could wait no more. He was a man and he had to take her. He would give too, but then he would take her again. He would take her until she was full to the top with him. His fingers encountered the swell of her breast beneath the soft fabric of his blouse and he heard her quick little intake of breath. Instantly his touch gentled, and he moved to the small of her back, stroking, arousing, until he felt her begin to surrender. He was experienced. He could tell when a girl was ready for a good fucking, and this one was as ripe as any he'd ever known.

Willy felt Guenter's hot, hard length rub his stomach and he wriggled against it seductively, a feminine ploy that seemed to have developed naturally of its own accord. It was shocking and primitive and exciting, but it made him long for more.

"The central hall must have been a lovely place in the past," he murmured.

"Ja," Guenter said cynically, "but now it doesn't even make a good potting-shed." He tugged his arm. "Come with me."

Willy followed him without a murmur. He was curious to discover what this man, who was capable of unsettling him with a mere glance, had yet to show him.

They went towards a battered wooden door with an iron ring for a handle. But it provided no exit; instead it led into a smaller, high- ceilinged salon with a frieze of an old-time hunting scene incorporating bears and deer. A little milky light seeped into the room through small windows high on the wall, and in a dim haze the armoire, some overstuffed worn chairs and a chaise lounge bulked like enormous dozing animals themselves.

Willy turned to him wide-eyed. "Why are we here? What are you going to do?"

Guenter chuckled. "Fraeulein Dietz allows her guests to use this place as a play-room. It's a good place for a girl to stretch her legs wide and there is no reason why we can't use it too." He winked. "Do you understand what I mean?"

Willy did understand, but before either of them could make any move to play they heard footsteps approaching on the outside.

"Just our bad luck," bemoaned Guenter, "that gruesome lawyer as decided to use the same room today. Get down at the other end, screened behind the cupboards and other junk there we'll be able to see everything without being seen ourselves."

Mystified, Willy again followed his man friend. They scuttled to the far end of the room where a motley of disused things had been stored, and there they secreted themselves in the darkness between old cupboards, coils of rope and piles of worn out carpets.

Within seconds there was a noise at the door, and they both shrank back into the shadows as two people appeared. Otto Hahn was followed by Loti, and Loti was the star of his own show that day; hair pulled softly back, begonia lipstick perfectly in place, still wearing his housemaid dress but looking... just lovely.

Willy gave Guenter an urgent glance. "Why are we staying here?" he hissed softly.

The man put a finger to his lips. "Keep quiet and you'll see," he whispered back, "I told you it's a play-room."

"I don't want to watch other people."

"It's only a bit of fun. Crouch down or Otto may see us, and if he sees us he'll throw us out."

At the other end of the room Loti had swung about and was now pressing himself against his own man's obese figure. "You've been keeping me waiting, Herr Hahn," he said, his voice husky and believably feminine.

"You know I always wait until I've had my lunch," the man replied.

"Why is that?"

"It is important to show civility to one's host before pursuing ones own diversions, and anyway, I can never spank a girl on an empty stomach. Not even a girl such as you."

Loti tilted his chin. With the lines of his throat ironed out by that attitude, it was one of his best poses. "You really are cruel and heartless." he said with a weary sigh.

Loti stepped forward in his perilously high heels and did a deliberate pirouette in front of the man, fawning before him for his pleasure. Willy felt the tightness of revulsion in his stomach at such a shameless come-on.

"How would you like my bottom?" asked Loti.

"Bare, of course."

"I know that," Loti told him, wiggling a pair of lace panties down over his legs, "but do I bend over or do you want me across your knee?"

"You are so forgetful." Otto Hahn retorted as he reached out and took hold of a neat little ear and led Loti over to the armchair. "I smacked you over the chair arm last time I was here, so today it's across my lap."

Placing himself firmly on a seat a mildly protesting Loti was helped to bend over his lap. Immediately he grasped Loti's skirt at the back and pulled it up over a pair of tense and slightly quivering buttocks. The black fabric complimented the exposed white skin perfectly, and its uplift allowed him to contemplate the smooth white curves at leisure.

Loti's was at his disposal, poised gracefully over his lap with his bare bottom sticking up beautifully. Suddenly Otto seemed to remember that touching was better than looking and he reached out and stroked the warm, satiny skin. Having enjoyed a prolonged and intimate feel, he rested his hand in the small of the maids back, patted the nearest cheek to get the aim right, then raised his hand and delivered two resounding smacks, one to each buttock.

Loti squeaked and kicked a little, and with an expression of relish the man watched the springy quiver of flesh settle and a pair of pink patches blossom.

"Oh yes. So nice and colourful. And so quickly too."

Willy drew back against an old cupboard, wishing he could melt into its panelling. Feeling a sense of irritation he arched his brows and glanced once more at Guenter. What was he trying to do? Was watching other people a way Guenter found stimulation? Maybe he believed the person with him would be stimulated by it too.

"Aren't you going to put on some lights?" asked Loti.

Otto Hahn tutted. "You know very well the electrics in here have been cut off, but there is enough light for what we need. I wish to keep you in shadow today. Today I wish to concentrate on the sensation of touching you, feeling you, penetrating you. I find a little darkness quite exciting."

Loti writhed slightly in an alluring manner. "It's not because I'm ugly, is it?"

Otto tutted. "I don't smack ugly girls, you know that. My hand is reserved for the most outstanding and vivacious anatomy. You look like a film-star."

Loti giggled. "I've heard that line before. Am I Garbo or Rogers?

"Neither of those," the man replied. "You're more compelling than Garbo, and your body is far more voluptuous than Ginger Roger's boyish looks. You're Marlene Dietrich by no stretch of the imagination, a German beauty to the tips of your effeminate tits."

As he spoke he landed two more brisk smacks on Loti's bare rump before beginning to undress him, unbuttoning his dress at the back and peeling it down.

Loti was wearing a girdle beneath with suspender straps to hold up his stockings, and Otto was quite content to leave them in place.

"I wish we could have a light on." Loti said.

"Don't be silly, Loti," Otto said calmly, "you've been in this room before. There's nothing to hurt you here."

"Only you." Loti replied, reaching behind to stroke his red blotched bottom.

"That! Oh, that. I do that for you as well as myself. It's not punishment, its sex play. I know you respond to a little bit of smacking. It warms you up and makes you frisky."

Loti climbed from the man's lap and lounged back of the bulky sofa until its softness enveloped him in its cushioned embrace. His head was resting against the dark green velvet upholstery. Half crushed into a corner his long legs splayed indolently, which allowed his excited penis to swing up and flop onto the girdle that covered his belly. "Like this?" he asked.

Without speaking another word the man peeled off his jacket and unfastened the front of his trousers. Even at the other end of the room Willy could hear his breathing, heavy and hoarse, as he levered out his penis and leaned over Loti.

He stole a sideways look at Guenter again. His face was turned a little away from him, offering a perfect view of his profile, with his eyes staring fixedly at the other people in the room, and it was clear that the gardener's imagination was running riot. He was a voyeur who found enjoyment in watching others perform.

Willy at least had the grace to flush, the colour deepening beneath the blush of rouge on his cheeks, but with regret he found he was excited by what was happening.

If what had gone before had painted a picture of Loti being some kind of victim what transpired next altered everything. Loti's smile seemed lazily indulgent but he was no less harmless than a sleeping tiger. Quite unshaken by what had gone before the she-male arched his back to show his tiny waist to perfection, but more than anything else it was his face drew the solicitor on. Loti put his hands on the small of the man's back and the man fondling Loti's breasts. Loti's tongue appeared to moisten his lips, then he turned his lips upwards and their mouths fused together.

Slithering like a snake Loti turned over and raised himself up on his knees, then he slumped forward on his elbows and raised his bottom, waiting in that pose until strong hands parted his sexy- smooth mounds.

"Come on, lover-boy," he urged, "you know I like it strong and hard."

"You minx!" Otto groaned as he shunted his thighs against willing buttocks and strived to go deep.

The man and Loti were soon locked together in a ferocious coupling of a kind that made Willy's senses swim. Otto was driving his thighs forward with all his strength, and Loti was responding with undulating and curvaceous movements as fluid and fast as his partner. His head was thrown back; tresses of hair falling away from the nape of his neck, and with his mouth open in a cry of wonderment, his facial expressions were that of unashamed primitive lust.

Willy listened to the sounds of animal rutting as a mixture of pleasure and need engulfing himself. Otto's strangled exultant grunts, Loti's strident girlish sobs, the urgent thumping of bodies on the furniture, they all combined to create a soundtrack of utter debauchery.

By the time Otto Hahn and Loti had finished and departed through the door Willy was as ripe as a plum for what must follow. He wanted the gardener to take him at once, masterfully and fulsomely, just as Loti had been taken.

Guenter seemed to know that. He gave him a roguish smile that started his heart tumbling, and then slowly, lazily, he kissed his nose before following the slope of his cheek to his lips. Willy's mouth moved beneath his, opening for him as their tongues met and tangled.

Guenter's fingers were strong and sure as he reached for the buttons on the front of his blouse, undoing them and drawing the garment wide, before slipping his hands around behind to unfasten the bra.

"I want you. I want to taste every inch of you," he muttered with his voice thickening.

He fumbled and struggled with the clasp of the bra, and Willy had to undo it for him. Guenter then pressed his fingers into the tender flesh of his breasts. In the gloom of their private hideaway he wasn't put off by their small size and began lifting and kneading and drawing them out, while his mouth clamped to Willy's throat and Willy moaned and arched his neck, inviting his touch. The man's mouth dropped lower to close over a nipple, first one then the other. They were already erect and he delighted in kissing them in turn, rolling his tongue lazily around the aureoles and suckling each tight little peak, making them swell and extend even more.

Eventually, as was inevitable, a hand slipped up Willy's skirt to caress his thighs and make him burn with desire.

A low moan shuddered from between his lips. He could tell Guenter was rampant and ready, and he was ready too, ready to accept the firmness of his adoration, ready to enjoy his muscular thighs and his bliss giving thrusts.

But then the gardener suddenly pulled back his hand in horror.

"Gott im Himmel! You've got a prick."

Willy glanced up at him with a stricken look. "But, I thought you knew."

"I know about Rosalyn and Loti, but that aunt of mine as had a good laugh at my expense with you. She told me that the Fraeulein had brought in a real girl to do her office work. You don't for a moment think I go around chasing faggots, do you?"

Willy's lips became a thin line. He meditated in silence for a moment, then said: "I thought you liked me for myself, whatever I was."

Guenter gave him a jaundiced look as he backed away. "That's out of the question now. I could get into trouble by associating with a pervert cross-dresser, and I'm not going to risk ruining my reputation with the real girls in this world by being friendly with a hung hen, either."

As he spoke he was already on his feet, buttoning up his trousers and brushing past on his way to the door.

***

"This won't do." Fraeulein Dietz remarked frostily. The woman cut an elegant figure that day. Her pleated skirt of soft blue wool emphasized the slim lines of her figure and the pearls that circled her throat were a family heirloom, and consequently valuable. She looked at ease in her surroundings, fashionable, but not flashy, refined, but not understated.

She was standing by the window to benefit from good daylight whilst reading one of the pages Willy had typed up, and her finger tapped the paper disparagingly. "The statistics of head-measurements and facial features for blacks and Asians seem right enough, but the conclusions you've drawn from them are too vague. People are not interested in reading about likelihoods these days, they demand certainties."

With shoulders hunched and chin on his chest Willy began a meek protest. "But Professor Dietz seemed to think…"

"There was nothing uncertain about my father," she snapped coldly, quickly bullying him to a standstill, while simultaneously skimming the paper towards him. "Do it again, and this time be more positive."

Willy couldn't hide his anxiety, his long lashes drooped over eyes that revealed uncertainty and his shoulders slumped. She read through his work every day and threw pieces of paper and the same kind of remarks at him constantly. What had begun for him as a crafty exercise in rounding things up and tidying the ragged ends of the professors various assumptions had been forced to develop beyond reason.

"Fraeulein Dietz, perhaps I'm not the best person for doing what you want. Perhaps you should find someone else to finish this work."

The woman's face took on a look of thunder. "Stand up! Stand up straight, you stupid fairy."

Willy pushed himself up at once, and there was no doubt from his hang-dog look that the serious nature of things had struck home.

"It is not your place to offer suggestions to me." The woman glared at him and a certain trace of waspishness entered her tones. "If I didn't think you could do it I would have employed you as a scullery- maid from the start. I find nothing wrong with most of what you do, in fact you are quite competent and have a rather nice way of putting words together in pleasing phraseology. It's just your dedication I question. You really must stir up some enthusiasm for what I demand. If you don't I shall have to begin rapping your knuckles with a wooden spoon as I do with the other lazy, effeminate wretches here. And if that as no effect I'll start smacking your balls."

She paused and then added caustically, "am I making myself clear, Wilhelm Froehlich?"

She was using his proper name, rolling it out slowly and conspicuously to emphasis the power she had over him, reminding him that his safe sanctuary at Ravenskopf could only be had on her terms.

"Yes, Fraeulein Dietz," he replied, nodding.

The woman strode towards the door, then almost as an afterthought she paused and turned. "I'm holding a small dinner-party at the week- end and I shall want you to attend."

Willy looked up, astounded. "Me - attend your dinner-party?"

"Yes. Professor Pohl from Berlin will be one of the guests. He's an old acquaintance of my father's and may ask about his latest work. Since you are the only person who as read it in its entirety it makes sense for you to be there. Make certain you look sweet and feminine on the occasion. I don't want anyone referring to you as the bearded she-male."

When she'd gone he sat down again and tried to sort things out in his head. He was being compelled to surrender his own integrity and independence of judgement, that was certain; Fraeulein Dietz was demanding that quite consciously and inexorably. So determined was she to have her father's work accepted as a success, he had found it necessary to add entire tracts of make-believe to it out of his own head. But even that wasn't considered enough for her. He had been prepared to cheat a good deal to remain in her favour, but the whole thing was getting out of hand.

Like a worm contemplating an apple he paused until the worm began to burrow.

The solution was blindingly obvious in the end. He had the skill to make even the heap of rubbish in front of him sound plausible, so he would do that.

He would extend doubtful concepts into logical argument and even invent substantiating evidence if it were needed. There were whole rows of books in the library that could help him, everything from Darwin's 'Origin of Species' to an 'Everyman's Guide to the Artificial Insemination of Cows'. With their help he would convert foolish ideas into the kind of irrefutable certainties that were sure to please Fraeulein Dietz.

Sitting up straight, his confidence began to blossom. Yes. He would produce a suit made to measure. A fairy story designed to please.

***

He worked tirelessly for the following two days, the library completely silent but for the incessant clatter of the typewriter. There was only one notable incident. On a rainy Friday afternoon his attention was drawn to a tapping at the casement window, and he peered round to see Guenter standing outside owning a smile that was speculative and subtly ingratiating.

Disenchantment showed on Willy's face as he opened the window.

"What do you want?"

Guenter hesitated for a moment, his mouth taking on a vaguely sardonic twist. "I can tell you're still annoyed with me for what happened the other day, and you've every right to be. I was pretty much a disappointment to you."

Willy scowled. "So?" he said scornfully.

"So, I'd like to make up with you. You know, make a new start."

"What about your reputation with real girls?"

The gardener shrugged. "Girls are pretty scarce in my life at the moment, and I'm feeling horny enough to want to try out a hot-arsed queen. It's a bit of a step back for me, but I know you'll be grateful. O'course we'd have to keep it a secret. I wouldn't want anyone else to know I go with faggots."

Momentarily stunned by surprise Willy stood back. The audacity of the brute, attempting to seduce him with such clumsy words after what had happened earlier, and to satisfy nothing but his own selfish needs.

He'd been told as a child that when in danger of losing his temper he should count to ten, so he counted in his head, then said flatly: "Fuck off!" and closed the window.

As the weekend approached he began to have apprehensive feelings about sitting down to dinner with Fraeulein Dietz and her friends. She seemed to associate with some of the most ugly and uninteresting people in the world and he could predict that none of them would care a dot about reading good books or be interested in art. It seemed doomed to be a dismal affair until he heard laughter outside in the hall.

On the Saturday morning there was some noise outside in the hall. It was the first Willy knew of Fraeulein Dietz's brother spending the weekend at home, and when he opened the library door a crack to have a peep at the new arrival a spider tickle crawled down the back of his neck.

Eduard had bustled through the door of the house without any prior warning even to his sister, and his laugh was infectious, it was a laugh that was rich and warm and brought a grin to the face of everyone in hearing. In his Luftwaffe uniform with his visor-cap tipped jauntily to the side of his head he exuded vitality.

Fraeulein Dietz greeted him with gentle annoyance for not giving her notice of his intention, but her reprimands fell away from him like water off a ducks back.

Now the prospect of dinner didn't seem so daunting. Eduard would be there, so at least there would be someone nice to look at. And at least Eduard knew what he was, so there would be no mistakes and no misunderstandings as there had been with Guenter.

Excitement bubbled inside him. While he bathed and dressed that evening he hummed a little tune. Eagerness to share the same dinner table as Eduard made him feel flushed all over. He looked at himself in the mirror; too much lipstick he thought, and wiped it off with a handkerchief. Five minutes later it was the way he wanted.

He applied blush and mascara lightly, stepping back to study himself as he pinned up his hair the way Loti had taught him, and fixed it with a black velvet band. Everyone said it suited him that way.

>From the wardrobe he selected a plain, black silk dress, backless, figure-hugging and sleeveless with a deep V in the front. The skirt draped below his knees in sinuous folds and stretched over the rounded contours of his body to make him feel like a rather sexy vamp. The style precluded the wearing of a brassier, and his breasts were nowhere near as pronounced as Rosalyn's or Loti's, but he fancied they did have a nice girlish jut to them. The boys in Heidelberg had always said they did, anyway.

Rummaging around for accessories he found a pair of gaudy gold- coloured earrings and a dinky black velvet choker that complimented his dress and the hair band, and which also added a beguiling facet to his slender white neck.

When all was done he leaned on the dressing table and studied his face again in the small mirror. He pushed back a stray strand of hair that had fallen over his forehead, turned his head on one side and smiled at himself as he stuck out a vampish tongue.

Move over Ginger Rogers, he thought.

Downstairs in the dining area the scene was one of intimacy and richness. It was an elegant place, its beige walls hung with panels of moiré silk, the carpets with their distinctive design, brought many years ago from the Caucasus. Candles flickered on an immaculately set table, lanterns illuminated the terrace outside and the balmy summer air wafting through the open windows was scented with jasmine.

The ambiance was almost that of a family gathering in which he felt oddly out of place. There were five people taking drinks on the terrace. Otto Hahn the solicitor, Eduard and Hermann Strasser in their uniforms, and the academic from Berlin, Professor Pohl. And Celina Dietz of course, who was magnificently sheathed in a glittering emerald evening gown of metallic lame which was probably a Madeleine Vionnet creation.

Even when aware of his arrival there was a tendency for most of them there to ignore him. Only Eduard made any effort. He gave a friendly wave as if greeting an old school friend and Willy's heart gave a little flutter as he then walked over to him.

"You look enchanting this evening Willy. What would you like to drink?"

Willy wasn't very good with drink and had rarely ventured beyond an occasional glass of beer. Unfortunately he sensed that beer was out of the question in that place on that night.

"Um, er. Perhaps a sherry."

"Dry or sweet?"

"Oh, um. Sweet I think."

"Of course. And in a big glass with ice. It makes an excellent aperitif with ice."

"Lovely." Willy agreed, not knowing if it would be lovely or not.

Eduard went to the side of the room and returned bearing a goblet of dark liquid that tinkled with ice cubes.

"Thank you," said Willy accepting the drink, "you're being very kind, but I don't wish you to neglect your sister's other guests."

The man's mouth curled up in cynical amusement and he replied in a soft, low voice. "Look at the choice Celina has given me. The professor, Hermann Strasser and Otto Hahn. An egghead, a thug and a solicitor with the moral values of a second-hand car dealer. You are the only nice person here tonight. How are you doing with all that reading?"

Willy peeped up at his elegant features, feeling as giddy as the young girl he had never been. "I've done with the reading. I've made a start on typing it up."

When they sat down at the table he thought Eduard looked the dashing hero in his air force uniform. Professor Pohl should have been resplendent in his white tuxedo, but he seemed to care little about his appearance. He was thin and wiry and wore heavy framed glasses, in his late fifties and didn't seem to care that his dinner jacket was unbuttoned and flapped open, and how his bow tie was tied inelegantly loose. During the meal that followed he sat with his chin cupped in his hands, elbows on the table, between each course of food.

For the first part of dinner the conversation centred on trivia. The food was delicious. Fraeulein Dietz had persuaded Frau Klausen to provide an evening meal instead of a midday lunch that day, and she had excelled herself. A delicious home-made soup to start followed by veal escallops, and with a mouth-watering fruit sponge to finish. Otto Hahn glanced sideways with some amusement as he observed Willy tucking into the schnitzel on his plate with obvious relish.

"Your cook should be complimented, Celina. The food is clearly much appreciated. Few other people in Germany will have dined as well as we do this evening."

Celina Dietz reciprocated with a dignified smile. "Other people - oh, I'm in my let-them-eat-cake mood tonight," she replied lightly.

"Veal is one of my sister's favoured dishes," Eduard put in, "I prefer well hung fowl myself."

"Pheasant hunting," Otto said, "is it still good around here?"

"Never better. All kind of game. The woods about here are a great joy."

Eduard's sister smiled dreamily. "Not like the shoots in the old days though - all the people that used to come here when I was a girl - the parties, the picnics, the good times. Ravenskopf was always full of guests then, often fifteen, twenty all at once."

Rosalyn and Loti were waiting-on-table, and from the slightly startled expression that erupted on Rosalyn's face each time he cleared crockery from before Herman Strasser it was clear the man was relishing the opportunity to caress the seat of his skirt with his broad hand whenever he could.

Willy found himself sipping wine nervously, his throat a little dry; it had something to do with the way Herr Hahn kept looking at him. It was disconcerting. It was as if he were devouring him with his eyes. Every now and again Otto smiled at him and for a brief moment touched his silk-clad knee.

When the meal was over the men lit cigars and sat back in their chairs.

"I've noticed you decorate this fine old house in a traditional Teutonic style, Fraeulein Dietz," remarked the professor, "you haven't yet been seduced by the trend for Art Déco."

Celina hesitated, loathed to admit she couldn't afford to buy modern works of art even if she wished to.

Hermann Strasser saved her the trouble of a reply. "Art Déco!" He spat the words out. "Art Decadent more like," he snarled.

Stirred by a subject close to his heart Willy spoke for the first time at the table. "Don't you think some of it is quite adventurous and rather exciting?"

The SS man gave him a disenchanted stare. "The Fuehrer despises all that distorted, modern abstract rubbish, and if he despises it so should we all." He turned to his host. "You spoke earlier of the good times, Fraeulein Dietz, and I believe the good times are about to return. We have in Adolf Hitler a guide of the first magnitude in everything. I think everyone here will agree with that."

Celina smiled, "you speak of the Fuehrer as if he were a holy man."

"Perhaps he's not holy, but there are many who label him as the 'New Messiah' and worship him without reservation. After the dismal years of the 1920s - the crippling war reparations imposed on us, the stripping away of our overseas colonies, the destruction of our economy - it is he more than anyone else who as given Germany back its self-respect. His decision to reintroduce compulsory military service for young men in defiance of the Great Powers I consider a master-stroke. It at once took the sharp edge off unemployment figures, while the need to equip an enlarged army has given German industry exactly the kind of fillip it required to rise up from its own ashes. "

"He as given us an air force too," Otto Hahn said pointedly to Eduard. "The Luftwaffe now has the most formidable air fleet in the world. Other nations sit-up and take notice of us now. Being militarily strong won us back the Rhineland and accommodated the Anschluss of Austria. I don't doubt it will also solve the Polish problem."

Celina sighed. "I don't think most people wish for another war. They still remember the terrible cost of the last one."

Hermann Strasser offered a severe look. "Such people are selfish and are not good Germans. The Fuehrer thinks only of the welfare and betterment of the nation, and if necessary he will drag such faint- hearted fairies kicking and screaming into the glorious future he plans by the scruff of their miserable necks."

Testing for a diverse point of view Celina looked to the other side of the table. "You circulate in Berlin society, Professor Pohl. What is everyone saying? Will there be a war?"

The professor shrugged. "Speculation is rife. Hitler as resolved to reunite all German speaking peoples in a Greater Reich. Everyone as their own theory and mine is that the Fuehrer must go further than that and move against Poland. It is the only way to provide Lebensraum - space for the German nation to expand. Poland can provide a great deal of space. Afterwards other places may also be useful, but first and foremost we must have Poland."

Hermann nodded agreement. "The security and standing of any country is determined by the size of territory it possesses."

"Very true," Otto said, taking another swig of brandy.

"But Poland as a population of its own," put in Willy rather timorously.

Hermann's dark heavy-lidded eyes glittered with passion as he looked around the table. His expression was one of stone, his face an effigy that wouldn't have looked out of place on Easter Island. "Only beast- like Slavs live there, and der Fuehrer has a profound hatred for them. The Slavs are remnants of the pagan Huns that pillaged Europe centuries ago and most of them will be removed. Those that are left we can use much like the ancient Spartans used the Helots. In the New Reich we shall probably need slaves to till the soil and provide labour for industry while the legions of our own vigorous Aryan warriors protect the State."

Professor Pohl sparkled with interest and resting both elbows on the table linked his fingers together. "Ah yes, the Aryan's. A fascinating subject and one that follows the line set down in Mein Kampf. Man is a fighting animal and the fighting capacity of a race is determined by its purity."

Otto Hahn drained his brandy glass and pouted thoughtfully. "I take it you support the theory that the Aryan or Nordic high-browed people are destined to rule over the more primitive low-browed races."

"Yes, it's a much debated, but widely held belief that all true German's originate from that mysterious and superior species of people, and any governing race would of course be under German leadership. Vacher de Lapouge made a very good case for it in his 'L'Aryen'. In some mythologies they are believed to have founded the ancient civilization of Atlantis. But of course that society was destroyed by a great cataclysm long ago and now no one knows where it lay."

Willy hiccupped and wobbled slightly in his chair. He had consumed a large sherry and two glasses of sparkling Sec when even a small glass of beer usually made him feel whoosey, but that night the fortification loosened his inhibitions and encouraged him to speak out.

"Professor Dietz believed that Atlantis was a large island in the Baltic."

Pohl gasped in amazement. Eduard chuckled.

"Willy is collating my father's notes with the aim of putting together a book for me," explained Fraeulein Dietz. She had planned to introduce Willy's involvement with her father's work at a time of her own choosing, and a look of severity crossed her face now showing her concern in case her guests should feel embarrassed at the interruption.

Hermann Strasser just looked puzzled. "It would seem incredible. Can it be proven? I mean, that the site of that fabled lost continent is in the chilly Baltic?"

Most of what circulated in Willy's head was a mixture of an effete man's demented ramblings and his own thoughts, linked together by what other people had written in their own books. That was exactly the kind of things he was typing out to please Fraeulein Dietz, and it would probably have been best not to say too much about it. But the ability for conversation, almost dormant since he had sat down, was now revived, and once started he was unable to prevent himself continuing with gusto.

"There is evidence that antelope, elephants and crocodiles once lived in Europe, so the entire region must have been sub-tropical at one time. Ancient Greek tradition as it that Atlantis lay beyond the Pillars of Hercules - a reference to the Straits of Gibraltar - but that only means it wasn't in the Mediterranean. It could be anywhere else. Professor Dietz studied everything very carefully, and he was sure that a large stretch of land existed once in the waters to the north of Pomerania. He was certain that a magnificent civilization once thrived there, and he was convinced it could only have been Atlantis."

At the foot of the table Eduard cradled a brandy balloon with both hands and offered his warmest smile. For him the conversation had taken an opaque turn, and had now become incoherent. "Is any of this credible to the scientific mind, Herr Pohl?" he asked.

Pohl paused to examine the glowing end of his cigar, pale blue eyes myopic behind thick spectacles. "It makes perfect sense and I'm sure the Fuehrer would agree. He is convinced that every manifestation of human culture, every product of art, science and technical skill that we benefit from today is the product of Aryan creative power."

His gaze suddenly rose up and settled keenly on Willy.

"My friend, the eminent Professor Rosenberg as long maintained that the Nordic people evolved in a now-lost land mass in north-western Europe, and if Atlantis produced the Aryan race it would obviously be close to Germany. If dear Professor Dietz can present proof to qualify such a theory his work will be precisely the kind of academic study so many important people are yearning for. Can he do that? Can he provide proof?"

Willy sensed Fraeulein Dietz's eyes glaring hard in his direction, almost demanding an affirmative answer. She was smiling, but it was the kind of smile that cautioned him against smiling in return. He hid his anxiety, his long lashes drooping over eyes that might have revealed uncertainty. "Erm, oh yes. I'm sure he can," he said.

Throughout the entire evening Otto Hahn had been acutely aware of the smart little morsel seated next to him. He'd admired Willy's girlish profile in the flickering candlelight, noting how elegantly his hair was pinned back except for a few corkscrew tresses that had prized themselves loose to drift about his face and neck.

"You're a saucy madam and no mistake. You spoke up very bravely just now," he murmured.

When the little porcelain princess gave him a watery smile he decided it was time to try for something else, and Willy's attention was suddenly diverted once more by the man's straying hand, which this time moved from his knee to grope beneath his skirt in an attempt to run lecherous fingers along his inner thigh.

Willy dug his nails dig into the palms of his hands as he swivelled sideways to shake off the lecherous intrusion, but suspected the man wouldn't desist until he made a scene that was certain to bring on Fraeulein Dietz's displeasure, which was certain to be displeasure at his own behaviour rather than that of the debauched solicitor.

The tortured expression of discomfort on his face was soon noticed by Eduard, who pushed himself to his feet. "Excuse me everyone, but I need to get outside and take a breath of fresh air," turning his eyes sideways he added, "perhaps Willy would like to join me."

"Oh yes. I'd like that," Willy exclaimed pushing back his chair.

Eduard's boots scraped on the paving as he strode onto the terrace. "I hope you don't think I'm taking advantage of you by requesting your company."

"Not at all. I'm only grateful to get away from the table. I was beginning to feel trapped."

"I understand. Some of my sister's acquaintances are no gentlemen."

He received back a trusting look that made his insides tighten.

"You're a gentleman, Eduard. I think you probably lark around a lot with your friends, but I sense you are very right and proper about things that really matter."

Eduard nodded solemnly. "I'd feel upset if we beat the Poles in a war and didn't treat them right afterwards. In the past the German Army as always been honourable in its fights, and I resent the likes of Strasser wishing to poison that tradition."

The evening air was warm and sweetly perfumed by the garden and he at once invited Willy to descend from the terrace and take a stroll among the shrubs and stands of flowers. They walked side by side for a while, careful not to touch.

"At the moment my Geschwader - air group - is converting from Stuka dive-bombers to the new Messerschmitt Me 110 fighters. Superb machines. The best in the world. If trouble does come, they will prove a real war winner."

"'War is sweet - to them that know it not'," replied Willy solemnly, "the philosopher Erasmus wrote those words five hundred years ago, and they are as true today as they were then. I wish everyone would stop talking about war."

Eduard treated him to a slow smile. "I dare say you do. You are a gentle creature, Willy, but unfortunately we are living through times that require forceful measures. The Great Powers suffered from political blindness following their success in 1918. In a move to punish our country and keep it weak they granted Poland access to the port of Danzig on the Baltic coast by way of a wide strip of land that cuts through German territory."

"I've heard of it. It's referred to as the Polish Corridor."

"Yes. It separates East Prussia from the rest of Germany; a nonsense, you will agree, to split a country into two pieces like that. And it's not just the Corridor either. The Poles have never ceased in their claims to the greater part of Silesia, a province that as been German since the time of Frederick the Great."

"This book my sister insists you write - my fathers concepts - it's all silliness of course."

Willy gave him a sheepish look. "Professor Pohl was enthusiastic. He seemed to accept it immediately."

Eduard scuffed the toe of his boot against the gravel path. "My father was ill prior to his death and probably deranged, moreover he was consumed by a fanatical desire to please Hitler, just like so many others these days. The eminent professor from Berlin is a perfect example. He is willing to sacrifice his professional commonsense and believe anything that fits in with the notion of a master race, no matter how absurd it may be, while the Fuehrer himself is influenced by Himmler's fascination with mumbo-jumbo." He sighed. "The fault dear Brutus, is not in our stars but in ourselves."

Willy grinned. "You surprise me. You're quoting William Shakespeare."

Eduard smiled. "I'm not a complete warmonger. I have been educated, Willy. And just for the record, I rather like Art Déco."

They passed through the small formal garden and followed the curve of a gravel path into open parkland. "I used to take an interest in weeding and pruning when I was young." Eduard said. And he proceeded to confound Willy by explaining to him the various problems encountered in growing greenhouse tomatoes with all the smoothness of an expert.

It was not yet fully dark and the open ground smelled heavily, deliciously of sweet grass. The distance from the house incited a relaxed mood and an atmosphere that was erotic embraced the air force officer. It was persuasive, seducing all his senses. The good food and wine he had consumed and now the flower-perfumed air and the soft lantern light had combined to give the illusion of a wonderland where he found himself lost in admiration of Willy's unsettling appearance.

He drew to a halt and raised a broad finger to stroke beneath Willy's chin and lift his face. "Are you familiar with Shakespeare's Sonnet 18?"

Willy's pulse galloped. "Um, er. Yes, I think so."

Eduard placed a hand on each side of his face and looked deep into his eyes. "Doesn't it begin with something like, 'Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate...'?" he murmured.

He was looking intensely at Willy as he said it, heated eyes lingering on his face, and Willy immediately turned to mush. "Yes, it does… Herr Dietz, I - I..."

"Let's slip the formality. You must call me Eduard. In the past I have never approved of my sister's interests and I've certainly never indulged in what she offers. But you are different to the others she keeps here. More delicate. More feminine. More beautiful."

Eduard inhaled deeply, chest expanding as he tried to retain control of his emotions and his body. It was one thing to have a soft spot for this winsome youth dressed in women's clothing, but quite another to feel sexual longing for him. It was forbidden, immoral, and it was unnatural to be attracted to someone such as Willy, he tried to remind himself. It was perverted. It mustn't escalate further.

It did no good; his thoughts remained syrupy and dim from a heady rush of sensation.

Willy watched keenly as his handsome face hovered in front of his own, and their eyes locked. He watched fascinated as his mouth came closer. Eduard was going to kiss him, he just knew it. His small breasts ached and the teats of his nipples stood out. And then his eyes somehow closed all by themselves and their mouths were linked, and he was dying of love.

Leaning over, Eduard's mouth went down on Willy's, and in response Willy readily opened his lips. The moment Eduard's tongue touched his own he trembled and his knees turned to jelly, his heart lurched and every molecule of his body reacted to mould against the fabric of his uniform. He clung to him, softness against hardness, a perfect fit, a fit to heighten desire. His arms looped around Eduard's neck, his fingers coiled in his silky hair. He smelled so good, he thought, a mingling of shaving cream, body heat and musky male odour.

It made him weak with longings he didn't know how to avoid. He only knew his breasts were hard where they crushed against his muscular manly chest and he could feel an aching sensation lower down.

Indulging, savouring, Eduard's hands became clamped behind Willy's back, but after just a few moments they began shifting, moving, running over his bottom and around his waist. Willy felt a thumb stroke over his hipbone and then across his stomach, then the hand cruised higher, over his ribcage and up to his chest to push aside the flimsiness of his dress at the front and unfurl the ribbon of sensation that linked his upper body with his groin.

"Mmm." The hands continued moving. Eduard's palms pressed forward and big, manly hands were on his bare skin, pumping, caressing and lifting his minuscule breasts.

Willy felt like he was melting, but despite that he was all too aware of the man's mouth and hands, his broad shoulders, his hard body - and his hard...

Abruptly Eduard's shoulders flexed as the weight of the situation settled in his mind and with a muffled oath he eased himself away. "I don't think we can go any further with this," he murmured with a wry grimace.

Willy caught his lower lip between his teeth. "Really?" he murmured chokily, "so, what happens now?"

"You're sweet both in mind and body, so we can be friends. But friends are all we can ever be."

Willy's hands fell to his sides and his eyes mirrored his disappointment, but he simply shrugged and adopted a casual manner he was far from feeling. He had surrendered to the handsome Luftwaffe officer; he had put aside his shyness and reserve and had been prepared to be ravished by him, only to be cast aside at the final moment. Another mistake, exactly as it had been with Guenter.

Eduard's apology had been sincere, he knew that. But that didn't compensate for what may have been. Chastened by his rejection they walked back to the house in silence, and just before they arrived on the terrace the anger that comes with rejection overcame him and he stormed off ahead.

When he entered the dining-room Celina, Herr Strasser and Professor Pohl were standing up taking coffee and talking while Loti and Rosalyn scurried back and forth clearing the table.

Almost at once he felt an arm slip possessively around his waist. "Nice," said a voice that accompanied a hand appreciatively running up and down the skimpy fabric of his dress. "I can't imagine what Celina is thinking of, letting you off the leash to roam around with Eduard. That boy doesn't appreciate people like you the way I do."

Willy's gold-coloured earrings clinked as he swung round with a start. Otto Hahn was standing beside him and at once he noticed the forward drop of the man's head, the eyes, bloodshot from the amount of alcohol he had consumed, and the large salivating mouth with its leering grin.

"He's clearly finished with you, so perhaps you would take a turn in the garden with me next," the man remarked, "sexy little fruitcakes such as you will be well used to spreading their buns for more than one man in an evening I would think."

Willy tried to move away but the man's arm held him firmly in place. "I'm not a slut, Herr Hahn," he protested.

Unimpressed the solicitor's hand moved up from the small of his back, sliding against bare skin to probe the line of his spine.

"Someone like you can't afford to be choosey, sweetheart," he replied thickly, burying his face in the hollow of his neck. "In this place you will be reasonably safe as long as you behave yourself, but if you're compelled to join the army, you'll be the regimental bike - everybody will ride you."

Distraught and feeling vulnerable Willy felt his lower belly tighten, a tightness borne out of knowing the man's expectations. He hated the man for what he was doing, hated his voice, hated his greasy hair and his fingers probing up and down his back.

Just at that moment Eduard came through the French windows, his mouth taking on a vaguely sardonic twist at the sight of his distress. At once his voice cut through the tension.

"Otto, may I have a word with you in confidence outside on the terrace?"

The solicitor was obviously displeased at being interrupted and didn't hide the fact. "For goodness sake, what is it now?" he grumbled irritably as he released his grip on Willy and followed Eduard out through the French doors.

After no more than a few seconds Otto staggered back into the room, groaning sorrowfully and clutching both hands to his face.

Eduard came in behind him and beckoned to one of the maids. "Loti, would you look after Herr Hahn? He took a tumble just now and banged his nose on the masonry outside. I think he's bleeding."

Willy sidled up to him as Otto was led away. "Eduard, did you hit Herr Hahn?"

The man shook his head. "No, no. Truly he banged his nose on the wall, although I will admit my hand assisted in propelling his face towards it." He smiled grimly. "A relationship between you and me may be impossible, but I couldn't stand back and allow him to maul you in such a ghastly way. One thing is certain. The odious creature will not bother you again. That much I have established."

Willy felt slightly ashamed of the way he had indignantly strutted off and left him earlier. "You are indeed a friend, Eduard. I'm lucky to have you as a friend."

Celina Dietz was astute enough to guess what had just happened and was infuriated that one of her most useful allies had been subject to such treatment. While Eduard was replenishing his drink she deftly slid up beside Willy and whispered in his ear. "The party is over for you, you little trouble-maker. Get up the stairs."

***

The evening ended soon after Willy had departed, Otto Hahn consoled his discomfort by taking Loti up to bed and after a brief pause Hermann Strasser made a similar arrangement with Rosalyn.

Celina and the professor chatted for a while longer then went to separate rooms.

"If you are to return to Grottkau tomorrow it would be unwise to stay up too long," the woman advised her brother.

Eduard watched the door close behind her then slowly walked to the window, his dispassionate gaze tracing the paved path that he had so recently walked with Willy.

He had never invested much time or effort in relationships with the opposite sex. Men and women were different. Men did things one-two- three, and when it came to practical stuff a man had to take into account that the heads of females were on upside down. Throughout his adult life he had found women unpredictable and illogical, but although he gave them no encouragement they seemed strangely attracted to him.

He switched on the wireless and listened to the end of the late night news. There was an item about brutish Polish vagrants raping virtuous young German maidens in the land corridor to Danzig. He'd heard similar things before and recognized them as scurrilous propaganda-babble designed to stir up loathing and hatred of the Poles.

He turned the wireless off and prowled the room, pacing in circles, achingly aware of the person he most wished to be with. Unbuttoning his tunic he removed it and threw it across a chair.

A shiver ran through him, but it was not caused by the lack of a coat or by a ghost walking over his grave. It was Willy, fragile and radiant, projecting both childlike and feminine qualities. His mind was suddenly full of him; his scent, the way his skin had felt under his hands, the little lift at the corner of his mouth. A smiling mouth, he remembered, smiling himself.

That strangely naïve, rather scatter-brained young transvestite brought out a streak of tenderness in him he had not known he possessed. He had a wonderful instinctive sexuality that he'd never needed to learn. He enjoyed himself, enjoyed his body. No guilt. No play-acting.

He raked through his hair with unsteady fingers, remembering the forbidden joy he had known with Willy in the garden, his lust made him hard. Sometimes a woman may be not quite as female, he thought.

It was a dangerous thought, he warned himself sternly. There was no room in his life for someone like Willy.

In his room Willy Froehlich slipped off the black dress and heels and the lacy underwear and left them in a little heap on the floor while he slipped into a pale yellow silk nightdress that felt like flowing water against his bare skin. Maybe it wasn't silk, he thought, maybe it was that cheaper rayon-stuff that looked like silk, but it didn't matter, it felt like silk.

He lay in his little bed and drew the sheet up to his chin, but sleep didn't come. There were too many thoughts in his head, too many memories that were almost painful. What was it about Eduard Dietz that teased him so much? It wasn't just his fine looks, which he had in plenty. Perhaps it was the way he carried himself so easily, as if nothing could shake his quiet strength. And yet he was not arrogant. His confidence was born of honour. Eduard had defended him so stoutly earlier in the evening, but unfortunately nothing could come of it, that was certain. A man like him could never give himself over to a close relationship with a cross-dresser, and a cross-dresser Willy Froehlich was, there was no doubt about it. He had found his place in life by being feminine.

His reverie was disturbed by a tapping on the door of his room, and he climbed out from under his sheet. Barefoot and slender in silk that drifted around bare legs he stood at the closed portal. "Who is it?"

"It's me. Eduard," came a reply, "can I speak to you for a moment."

Willy fussed with his appearance, draped in clinging yellow and with a halo of golden hair, he felt like a Botticelli angel. But an angel of course he was not. He certainly wasn't feeling like an angel that night. Far from it.

When he opened the door the tall Luftwaffe officer was in his shirt sleeves looking slightly confused and apprehensive.

"Can I come in?" he said.

Willy allowed him into the room then leaned back against the door as he closed it.

"Willy," the man whispered his vice disturbingly low and gentle. "I erm... I have to apologize. I'm not used to women, and much less used to beautiful boys dressed up as women." Then suddenly he faltered. Eduard Dietz was a man rarely stuck for words, but this occasion had caught him out.

Willy shook his head and recklessly raised himself up on his toes in order to touch his mouth against his. "That's okay. It's alright."

Few words were spoken because few were needed. Instinctively they both knew why he was there, and neither regretted it. Their thoughts were as in tune as any two peoples thoughts could be. It was something Willy had hoped for but hadn't dare think possible.

The man stepped closer, put his hand on his shoulders. He could feel delicate bones beneath his fingers, could see the flickering of a pulse in the transvestite's throat. Willy's anxious eyes sought his, and what he saw in them melted any resistance he may have had left. Almost hypnotically he allowed himself to be drawn into the man's arms.

Eduard pressed his chin against his temple and enveloped him with his embrace, putting a hand on the nape of the girl-things neck he eased his fingers into his soft blond hair, felt the moist heat there. He pulled him close and saw Willy's mouth open in a soft oh of surprise as he kissed the corner of his mouth, his eyelashes, his brows and the line of his jaw.

Willy wasn't sure how he ended up in his arms or whether Eduard said anything more. All he was aware of was that he had thrown his arms around the man's waist and anchored himself to his strength, and things he knew he should have said dissolved in his throat, demolished by the man's touch and taste and by his incredibly heady scent.

It all seemed like a dream as he pressed against Eduard's long, lean body, a hazy cloud of romance, a fantasy come true. His skin tingled beneath the silk of his negligee, the garment drawing in the heat >from two manly hands. Now he understood the appeal of silk. Such fabric seemed to intensify every touch.

Eduard leaned into him, outlining the shape of his mouth with his tongue, biting his lower lip, running his tongue along the smooth ridge of his teeth or order to sample the taste of his mouth. In return Willy wrapped his arms around him and threw himself into the kiss, his mouth pressing hungrily upwards, parting his lips, drinking him in until he was breathless and dizzy.

He felt the man's hands slide down his back onto his hips, could feel the tautness of strong biceps as arms made his thighs arch forward. The man's breath caressed the side of his face and there was the sweetness of his lips against his own. Mmm, he thought, Mmm, as he tasted tongue, sweet, smooth, slippery. Just how it should be.

The kiss went on and on and passion rose between them. As tension began to build Willy pulled him closer, wanting more, and suddenly a fantasy wasn't good enough for him. He wanted a real flesh and blood man with hard muscle and smooth skin. He wanted a man driven by lust and desire to take him.

He drew back and looked into Eduard's eyes, and for a moment he was surprised by the vulnerability he saw there. It was as if he were looking at a different man to the carefree one he had come to know.

With a low laugh Willy swung forward and playfully bit him on the earlobe, then traced the contours of his ear with his tongue. "I'm yours to do what you want with," he whispered.

He heard Eduard's breath quicken and a moan rumble in his chest as he gripped Willy with both hands, his fingers as elegant and forceful as the rest of him. "Let me look at you," he insisted, pushing the straps of the negligee from his shoulders.

As the garment slipped to the floor hands exploring his body and Willy gasped out his name low and urgent as spasms of pleasure began to engulf him.

He turned towards him and unfastened the top button of his shirt, then working systematically down as far as his belt, unbuckled it, unbuttoned his fly and pressed his hand against him, arousing him with the warmth of his palm. Loti had once said Eduard Dietz was hung like a cart horse, but at that moment Willy thought he was massaging the shaft of the cart itself.

Nibble fingers quickly exposed everything and Eduard's penis was then standing out, raised up from the horizontal in a flattering Hitler salute. Slowly Willy sank to his knees and his mouth and wet tongue briefly caressed the fleshy sacs of the man's testicles before paying full attention to the main event. His hand flirted with it, appreciative fingers wrapping around its impressive contours to feel its strength, then after lapping at the juices flowing from its broad tip he took it in his mouth to adore it.

Just a few hours ago, Eduard would have been horrified by the kind of scene he was now a party to, but his blood was running too fiercely to hesitate now. Willy wanted more than sweet kisses and tender caresses, and he did too.

In a rush of commitment he swept Willy up in his arms as if he were a new bride and carried him across to the bed.

Lying on his back across the mattress Willy yielded immediately, looking up at the man who dominated him, eyes wide, pupils dilated. Consumed by desire, his body began to twitch with impatience.

Eduard watched for a moment and then slid between his thighs. The fires of love were all ignited and aching longing to please swept over both of them.

There was no restrictions, no coyness, no haggling. Willy raised his legs, and

grasping the man's penis like the handle of a tennis racket he tugged it forward to the place of his desire.

Eduard lined himself up and screwed forward, and seizing Willy by the hips he drove down in a act of wondrous carnal delight, deep into his pulsing centre.

The two of them groaned in unison, establishing a rapport of pleasure given and pleasure received which transcended everything else. Suddenly Willy's insides felt full, and his whole body blazed in reaction. When he felt his flesh compelled to stretch his head snapped up and he gasped.

"Oh, Eduard, you're such a big... man."

"Am I hurting you?"

"No, it's alright. Don't stop. I want you to finish properly."

Eduard collapsed between his thighs and the transvestite's long legs parted and wrapped around his muscular trunk, the calves becoming ever shapelier.

As Eduard began to move Willy expelled a tightly held sigh as his grip on reality slackened and they copulated in a man and woman fashion. Eduard bit his neck, pulled his breasts and possessed him, moving slowly at first and stroking inside against places that would have made any girl groan with joy. Willy became transported into a never-world of pure sensation has he twisted sensuously beneath him, loving every movement of the powerful body against and inside his own, absorbing every thrust, feeling the room spiralling around until at last the man's body tensed.

Eduard froze for a moment, his muscles taut his eyes squeezed tightly shut, and then he moved once more, rapidly and ferociously this time, moaning out loud, his thighs convulsing several times to indicate that his orgasm was intense and probably very copious.

At last they lay together, their bodies damp and tangled, still joined as one, neither of them willing to break their fragile bond.

Eventually Eduard whispered softly in Willy's ear. "I have to return to Grottkau in the morning. Something is brewing that may entail active service, and I don't know how soon I'll be able to visit again. Can I stay here for a while tonight?"

"It's only a single bed." Willy explained apologetically.

"You mean it's too big?" Eduard murmured huskily. And he smiled his beaming smile.

***

Hermann Strasser found Berlin sweltering beneath a hot summer sun. The cafes on the Kurfuerstendamm were crowded, girls wore gaily flowers dresses and businessmen took off their ties, while the beaches along the Havel and the Spree were packed with bathers.

Alfred Helmut Naujocks, Head of the Sicherheitsdienst (SD) stood behind his desk in his office on the Prinz-Albrecht-Strasse on August 11, 1939, wearing an immaculately tailored black uniform. Behind him the wall was hung with red, white and black banners and a giant portrait of Hitler. Herman stood in the centre of the room.

"I was summoned before Heydrich yesterday directly after his meeting with Reichsfuehrer SS Himmler." Naujocks began. "It seems the Fuehrer wishes to be furnished with a palpable reason for crossing the Polish frontier in force, and we have to provide it."

Herman was suitably shocked, but the shock quickly settled into dour satisfaction and he glowed. "An invasion? At last! I was beginning to think it would never happen."

"Well, it is to happen. We have been given the task of creating an incident - an acte provocateur, as the French would say, that will enrage the German people and illicit sympathy from other nations. It must be a good enough reason to warrant an all out attack. The Fuehrer as always maintained that Poland should not exist as a country, and a small war should settle the matter to his satisfaction."

'Naujocks moved from behind his desk. "In the past we have manufactured a number of incidents along the German-Polish border at the behest of the Party, all minor trifling affairs designed to stir up anti-Polish feelings. This time it must be something more substantial. Something that will provide a good headline. To restore our nation to its rightful status everyone must be convinced that freedom by force of arms is possible, and the German population must be more frightened of the Poles than of going to war with them."

He walked to a wall map, and with a red pencil he circled a place name at the tip of the finger-like salient of Silesia that jabbed like a dagger into the belly of Poland.

Strasser blinked. "Gleiwitz! I know that place. It's in my Wehrkreis - my military district. I was there recently. American cowboys would call it a one horse town, but I know people who live in the vicinity."

"Good. Then you will know that it's close to the Polish border. It is of no importance but for the fact it has a radio transmitter linked to the Deutschlandsender."

Naujocks turned slowly and tapped his knuckles thoughtfully with his pencil. "Now let us suppose that a party of Polish troops stormed the radio station one evening in an act of misplaced bravado, and let us suppose they broadcast a message insulting and threatening both the Fuehrer and the German people. We would have to consider that a serious provocation and deal out a stern reply."

For all his usual warlike bluster Hermann looked slightly shocked. "Yes... but invasion? It would mean a big war; the Poles are in alliance with the French and British."

"Mere pieces of paper, dear Hermann." Naujocks assured him with a wave of his hand. "They are paper treaties that will dissolve with the first real hint of hostilities."

Crossing to a table he poured out a shot of schnapps but neglected to offer any to Herman. "And if the allies of the Poles do put up their fists, what can they do? France hides behind its Maginot Line of fortresses which a simple thrust through Belgium can outflank, while the British government - so long the advocates of world disarmament - maintain an army that is small and weak and have an air force that is still under reconstruction after twenty years of neglect." He paused only to throw the shot of corn liquor down his throat. "They are both bluffers, those two. They will stand back in regard to Poland just as they did with Czechoslovakia last year, and since Ribbentrop will provide us with a friendship pact with Russia - I hear it will be signed within two weeks latest - we can expect co- operation rather than interference from the Soviets."

"There is still the Americans to take into account. What about America?"

'Naujocks smiled complacently. "The Americans pursue a policy of isolation and are turned inward on themselves. The rest of the planet can fry in hell for all they care. No. No need to fret about them. And anyway, when all is said and done, we are not threatening Western Europe. Hitler has his eyes focussed on the east. He wants land, large stretches of it, and it's to the east where the land is."

"Everything seems to have been studied very rigorously, but then the Fuehrer always calculates every move he makes extremely well."

The other man smiled. "Yes, and it's advisable to leave the creation of ideas to those who know best. We do not make policy; we merely carry through the orders given to us. Come now my friend, this is serious business and we are serious-minded men. Anti-Polish feelings gives the German nation something to bind them together, and eventually Hitler can use that adhesion to dominate all of Western Europe while he completes what he has decided to do in the east. The Gestapo are committed to helping us in this business. The army as been warned and the generals are ready to move next week, so we must not let them down."

Moving forward he placed a hand on Hermann's shoulder in a comradely gesture. "I shouldn't need to draw pictures for you. The culprits - the Polish troops involved in this little escapade - will a SD Sonderkommando of our own men."

***

Bratwurst and boiled potatoes was lunch. Just about every other meal provided for the house staff at Ravenskopf consisted of sausage of some kind, but Frau Klausen remained unimpressed by any complaint.

She switched off the sound of a German marching band that was playing on the wireless. "Don't moan about the food, at least you usually get meat. There's plenty of people in Germany these days who still exist on eating cabbage."

Pulling on the lambswool coat she wore constantly, winter and summer, she added vindictively. "There's a special police detachment visiting the town today. They're checking identity papers, looking for army deserters and shirkers trying to avoid military service."

No one at the table made a reply. She had finished her lunch duty and they watched her leave. They all knew she had been amusing herself by trying to sow a seed of alarm.

When she'd gone Loti gave Willy a nudge. "Don't worry about those policemen. Gleiwitz is such a small place they'll be gone in a few hours, and they'll never come to Ravenskopf while Fraeulein Dietz keeps in thick with Herr Strasser. He protects her from them."

"I'm fed-up with sausage and I'm fed-up with hiding. I wish I could go back to my studies." Willy said glumly.

The cook always left the kitchen pots to be cleaned by Loti and Rosalyn, which allowed Loti to scoop up some gravy from the dish served to Fraeulein Dietz to put over his potatoes.

"Where do you come from, Willy?"

"Leipzig is where my mother lives, but I'm much more at home in Heidelberg."

Loti slumped down at the table with his plate in front of him and expelled breath in a long sigh. "I'm a Berliner myself. I miss the hustle and bustle of that dirty, smelly old place and I wish I could go back there and sit in front of a big dish of Eisbein. Have you ever been to Berlin?"

"Once when I was little I was taken there to visit a relative. I remember the Friedrichstrasse station and the tramways around the Potsdamer Platz, and of course the famous traffic tower."

"I lived not far from there," Loti told him, "I had lodgings on the Saarlandstrasse when I was in cabaret. Those were the good times. The adoring audiences, the applause, the Stage-Door Johnnies queuing for kisses and begging for a date. I knew Ernst Roehm, you know. I was one of his favourites. Do you know who I'm talking about?"

Willy moved his shoulders in an offhand gesture. "I think I do."

"Herr Roehm was the leader of the Sturm Abteilung - SA -, the Brownshirt storm troops. He was very high-up, very important. But then he fell out with the Fuehrer, and Hitler had him shot. The Night of the Long Knives, they called it. Hitler had hundreds of people shot that night, although some of them were allowed to drink poison if they preferred." He gave a small dismal shrug. "And then my conscription papers arrived and I had to come and hide here."

Rosalyn joined them having just completed serving Fraeulein Dietz her coffee. "How is the Professor's book coming along, Willy?"

"I've completed a good portion of it. Fraeulein Dietz is very pleased with what she's seen so far."

"She was very pleased with the impression it created with that professor from Berlin when he was here, and Herr Strasser reckons that if it is everything it promises to be it will stand shoulder to shoulder with Mein Kampf on every good German's bookshelf. I have the idea that Fraeulein Dietz is relying on the sale of it to finance the refurbishment of this old house."

"Having put together such a fine thing will probably make you famous, Willy."

Willy chewed his sausage absently. "I didn't do much. I just wrote up Professor Dietz's notes and added a few bits."

Rosalyn put down his knife and fork and his face suddenly screwed up with alarm. "You added bits? What bits?"

"Well, the professor's notes are all rather fuddled and cranky, so I've had to put in a few bits of my own to make things sound more reasonable."

Loti's face clouded in concern. "Just how many bits of your own have you put in?"

Willy shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. "Quite a lot actually. Some basic information and some conclusions that were needed. It would have been impossible to make everything fit together and make sense otherwise."

Loti frowned. "You're a silly bitch, Willy. Fraeulein Dietz will be sending copies of her father's work to all kinds of important people. Perhaps even to the Fuehrer. If just one of them becomes curious and demands to see the original notes, then where will you be? Those lofty self-important kinds of people don't like being hoodwinked."

Rosalyn agreed. "No, they've got no sense of humour at all, so you'd better do something to delay finishing that book or Fraeulein Dietz could find herself chucked into a Konzentrationslager, and you poor Willy, you will be sliced up and put through a meat-mincing machine."

Suddenly he didn't feel like eating any more. He put down his knife and fork and pushed away his plate, a worried frown coming and going on his smooth cheeks. Placing a coffee cup between his bare elbows he crouched over it. When he looked into the sympathetic blue-shadowed eyes of his companions and knew they were right. In trying so hard to please Fraeulein Dietz he was probably digging his own grave.

***

Late on a summer evening, Sonderkommando 'Naujocks - six men dressed in civilian clothes and travelling in two black Opel saloon cars - arrived in the town of Gleiwitz. They stayed overnight in the Hotel Oberschlesischer Hof and the next morning in the guise of a geological research team they spent time digging around ostensibly collecting earth samples from various places in the town.

No one found it odd that they hovered most of the time in the vicinity of the soot-stained building of the radio station, so during this reconnaissance it was quickly established that the easiest way into the building was at the front. At the top of a short flight of stone steps the double doors of the front entrance seemed to be perpetually pinned back to allow access.

While the others made their observations Hermann Strasser visited Fraeulein Dietz to enlist her co-operation - for the good of the German nation and the glory of the National Socialist Party, he told her - and later that afternoon the entire team drove to Ravenskopf where they changed into brown Polish army uniforms.

The air was thick with cigarette smoke in the small, long disused salon where 'Naujocks assembled his team. He noticed that their clothes fitted badly, but that didn't matter for a one-off, one-act play.

His men were joking about with a pair of lace panties they'd found under one of the cushions, and he smiled with them.

"No flirting with the skirts in this place while we are here," he told them. "Stay anonymous and keep focussed on the job we have to do."

He checked his watch. "We'll return to the town at nineteen-thirty and go into the radio station by the front entrance, slick and quick. The daytime office staff there will have gone by then, so there will be fewer people to worry about. Remember that the Gestapo are in this with us, but the local police aren't, so if any of them get in the way play out the role of a Polish terrorist and shoot them."

He half-turned and then turned back, and with a grim smile added. "I'll remind you now that this is top-secret business and if you're disabled and get left behind you'll have to shoot yourself. If you don't kill yourself the Gestapo clean-up squad will certainly do it for you. Verstanden?"

There was a unified chorus of "Jawohl" from everyone present, after which he drew Hermann Strasser to one side.

"Hermann, make sure you know the text you have to read, there won't be time for rehearsals later. And I hope you know your stuff. This country-bumpkin Radiohaus we're attacking will be operating on a local waveband and we must broadcast on a national one, and there is always a possibility that the people there will refuse to co-operate with us."

"I don't have a problem with that. While I was in Berlin I spent some time at the radio studio to familiarize myself with the switch- over procedure."

"That's good. Now, one last thing. The girls from this place never go into the town, do they?"

"No. Fraeulein Dietz keeps them tied to the house and watches over them like they were prize brood mares."

"Which is ideal for our plans. It means they won't be recognized, so choose one of them to accompany us. I want her to go in first."

"A girl?"

"Yes. We need to provide a distraction. When we were in the town earlier I noticed a security guard sits inside the door at the Radio Station, and if he's alert and sees Polish soldiers running up the steps this evening he may well slam the doors in our face and lock them. That would be an inauspicious start to our adventure, wouldn't it?"

Hermann Strasser's eyes opened wide. "It would be a disaster. That place is built like a blockhouse; we'd need a tank to get in."

The other man nodded. "That would be hardly slick and quick, would it? That's why we need a girl to engage the guard in conversation and get him to turn his back to the street if possible, until we're all inside. Choose one. No, tell that beguiling little thing that acts as the Fraeulein's secretary to come with us. She's got good legs and an arse to make eyeballs explode."

***

They had timed it precisely. The dark building of the radio station loomed before them as the two Opel saloons pulled into the kerb at the roadside no more than a hundred yards from their destination. It was only early evening but there was no one about. The street was empty. Gleiwitz was a small market town and everyone would be having a meal at that time. The whole place was dreaming in evening sunshine and not even a stray dog was moving within their vision.

"I don't like this. I don't like being here," bemoaned Willy from the back seat of the first car.

Hermann Strasser swung round from his place beside the driver. "Shut up for goodness sake. All you have to do is talk to the man on the door. You won't be in any danger. Just hold his attention until we all get inside."

Willy climbed from the car and walked unhappily towards the front of the radio station. He'd been told nothing about the reason he was there; just talk nicely to the man on the door was all he'd been told. The men in the cars could have been a gang of robbers, except that he knew the ugly building in front of him wasn't a bank.

Life had become so terribly complicated lately. The wretched book he had been compelled to write had put him in a dilemma. His original idea was simply to do something to please Fraeulein Dietz, but the silly woman had become ambitious for what he'd made of it. The snag was that although the preposterous make-believe he'd created was good enough to fool her, it was unlikely to fool everyone, and if he did complete it - a book almost wholly strung together by imaginative fabrication - they would both probably end up in a prison camp.

He was trapped by it. How was he to get out of the hole into which he had dug himself? Maybe if he had explained the problem to Eduard he would have been able to bring his sister to her senses. He felt strong when Eduard was near and such a weak little girl when he wasn't. But it was too late for that now. Eduard had returned to his unit and he had no idea when he would see him again.

The building loomed before him, a square, soot-encrusted place with rows of small unwashed windows and a heavy entrance door standing wide to admit the maximum amount of air on a sultry evening. When he saw the set of steps leading up to the door he had a strong urge to turn and run, but in the end he was more fearful of the men in the cars than the steps.

He hung back for a moment like a lion-tamers apprentice, then taking a deep breath he trip-trapped lightly up to the entrance.

Sat to the left, just inside the open door in a sort of foyer area sat an elderly blue-suited guard who was just about to bite into a sandwich. Willy gave him a winning smile. "Oh, hello. I'm new around here, just visiting the town. This is a nice building. Is it... erm... is it the Town Hall?"

Swamped by the attention of a pretty girl, the guard put his sandwich back into the tin he'd taken it from and stood up smiling. "This place is more important than the average Rathaus, little Fraeulein."

Willy stepped further into the building, wiggling his bottom alluringly, and the man's eyes followed his every move. At last he turned towards him. Distract the man, had been his instructions. Hold his attention.

He wet his lips with the tip of his tongue and conjured up a vampish smile. "I'm intrigued. Tell me more..."

"She's done it." muttered Herr Strasser, squinting through a car windscreen along the street. "The little bitch has the guard's attention and he's turning his back to us. Signal the others that we're going in."

There was a hand signal through the rear window of the first car, and the two black Opel's moved off and skidded to an abrupt stop in front of the Radio Station. Six figures leapt out and raced up the steps towards the entrance. Hermann Strasser had no compunction about hitting the guard on the back of the head with the muzzle of his Luger pistol and the old fellow went down hard like a felled tree, but without making a sound.

Willy shrieked and stepped back. He definitely didn't want to be there. The silent majority inside him wanted to be treated like a weak and defenceless woman and sent somewhere pink and cuddly to sniff Sal Volatile. But just at that moment Naujocks entered to take command.

"Bring that silly cow upstairs with us; we can't leave her wailing at the door like an air-raid siren."

Leaving three men to round-up any staff still on the ground floor he led the others up the stairs to where he knew the radio studio was situated. Hermann and another man followed at his heels sweeping a near hyperventilating Willy along between them.

The surprise was total. In an upstairs room a man was found sitting behind a desk, and Hermann pistol-whipped him just as he had done with the guard. The man pitched forward, splashing blood onto the papers he had been studying.

Willy shrieked again but there was no pause in the momentum now. Immediately they dashed into the radio studio where a pale-faced young man pushed his hands in the air at the point of Naujocks' gun.

"Switch over to a national transmitter," Naujocks told him.

The man swallowed hard, his eyes nearly popping. "I don't know how to do that. I'm only the newsreader. Your friend's just brained the technician, who does that kind of thing."

'Naujocks grunted with ill temper and pushed him against a wall. "Herman, you do it." he snapped out briskly.

Hermann Strasser quickly found his way behind the thick glass panel of the transmitting room, confusion showing on his face as he stared at rows of switches. He was clearly unsure of which one would link into the wavelength of the Deutschlandsender transmitter of Radio Breslau.

"Everything has a different lay-out to what I expected. I can't find it. I can't find the right connection for Breslau," he lamented.

Naujocks felt his face drain. After all his careful planning he was going to be let down by an incompetent fool. Failure would bring an end to his career, maybe even an end to his life if certain people were in a nasty enough mood.

"Damn it man, I thought you knew your job. Can we use a local channel?"

"Yes, but no one will hear it beyond the immediate area."

"Do it. A local broadcast is better than no broadcast at all."

"No, I think it's alright. I think I've found Breslau." Hermann said, and he immediately began to scream into the microphone. "The city of Danzig is Polish forever. The city of Breslau belongs to the Polish nation. Hitler is an evil gangster..."

'Naujocks fired a couple of shots from his pistol into the ceiling for effect, which made Willy scream in high-pitched hysterics. That wasn't a problem now. It fitted in exactly with the sound of on-air mayhem Naujocks wanted to create at that moment for the listening public.

Hermann, already at a high pitch of excitement himself, lost track of his script and began repeating what he'd already said while adding new elements of his own.

"To Hell with the German Reich. The German people are sluts and thieves and we Poles are going to teach you how to behave."

The young radio newsreader had ducked under a table when the shooting started and Naujocks told him to stay there.

"That's enough," he shouted to the rest of his group, "let's get out of here before the local yokels wake up to what's happening."

Together everyone bundled back down the stairs and hurried to the entrance.

Inside the front foyer they needed to step over a figure dressed as a Polish soldier who was sprawled out beside the stunned security guard. While they had been busy elsewhere the Gestapo had delivered their own contribution to the evening - the 'Konserven', a callous codename that referred to tinned meat - but which was really some unfortunate men selected from an internment camp for political dissidents and were put into German uniforms, who would remain as evidence of a Polish intrusion. They had been shot through the neck and lay dying.

***

Comparatively few people in Germany heard that brief hate-filled broadcast from the little town of Gleiwitz that night, but the fact it had happened was enough to satisfy Hitler. Within an hour of the raid he had been informed of the encroachment of armed Polish terrorists across the border and of their vicious assault on innocent German civilians. Blandly he had remarked that it was his first good news of the day.

At 10 o'clock the following morning he addressed the German people on the radio from a session of the German parliament at the Kroll Opera House in Berlin, ensuring that what he said could be relayed around the world by overseas transmitters. Using the impassioned, crowd-stirring eloquence for which he was noted, he magnified what was essentially a minor incident of self-inflicted thuggery into a drama of nation-threatening proportions.

Ending his speech on a fiery note he declared... "I have now decided to speak with Poland in the same language they have been using with us. For the first time they have used regular soldiers to shoot at us in our own territory, so since 5:45 this morning we are shooting back."

Things were already in motion. Without any declaration of intent and several hours before his speech on 1 September 1939, German Panzer units had smashed through the Polish frontier posts and the second great war of the twentieth century had begun.

"It will be a quick war," Fraeulein Dietz assured everyone at the house later. "Herr Strasser refers to it as a Blitzkrieg - a lightening war. If it continues for more than a few weeks I'll be tempted to suggest to him that Ravenskopf should serve the Reich as a Recuperation Centre for senior military officers. By doing that I'm sure I'd get some help in restoring parts of the building."

"If Fraeulein Dietz turns this place into a kind of hotel we're going to be kept very busy." said Rosalyn, when the woman had gone.

"Hope she brings in some more help," responded Loti, ruefully stroking his bum, "there's a limit as to how much a girl should be expected to take."

Willy stood well back from the others, arms clamped across his chest while he thought of Eduard, who would be in the thick of things. There was no stopping love and, having known it he would hold Eduard in his heart forever, no matter what else happened.

He thought about how much he himself had changed recently, despite Fraeulein Dietz's constant harassment. He had arrived at Ravenskopf as a slightly introvert student and become a rather happy girl. He still looked mostly the same, and he was still a bit of a disaster area when it came to organizing himself. But he had changed inside. No regrets about that. No sadness. He had made the decision to take happiness where he found it and hold it for as long as it lasted.

The trauma of the previous evening had shaken him badly, but surviving it had brought on a curious effect. Rather than cowing him, it had proved to be a rite of passage that had shocked him into mental maturity, and on a new day he felt strangely confident in his own ability to look after himself.

He believed that entering into any war, however brief, was a tragedy, and the tragedies were not yet over. In the middle of the coming night there would be an inexplicable misfortune, when Fraeulein Dietz's library together with all her father's irreplaceable notes and the manuscript he had unwillingly laboured over for so long, would all be destroyed by fire.

It was an awful thing to predict, but there was no doubt it would happen. Willy was sure of it, because he'd already taken a box of matches from the kitchen cupboard.