Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 KING JAKOB (Part 6)

   By KATZMAREK

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   This work is fiction.  It remains the property of the author and may not
be used for profit without the author's express permission in writing.  It
contains sex, so if this offends etc...

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   Part 6

   "I can't see the bouy!" Gretchen yelled down through the boiler-room
hatchway.

   "100 metres to port of the reef," Jakob shouted back, "just don't run
her on the rocks!"

   "I've fixed it now," she told him, "can I have more speed now?  It's not
coming around."

   Jakob backed off the master valve and heard the chugging of the engine
harden.  He fed five shovel-fulls of coal into the fire and closed the
door. "Better?" he called back to the wheel.

   "Splendid!  She answers well to the helm for such a big boat.  Cuts well
into the tide..."

   Jakob's head appeared through the hatch.

   "The line of the bows," he explained, "makes it ride over the swell,
see?"

   "I wish we could hoist some canvas."

   "Too much for just the two of us," Jakob told her, "besides, it's a sea
breeze.  We'd need to clear the point by several kilometres at least before
putting up a sail."

   "Where shall we go?" Gretchen asked.

   "Over there," he pointed, "Mokoia, they call it Battleship Island. 
Uninhabited.  We could park her on the lee side and have lunch."

   "And what are you going to make me for lunch?" she asked, coyly.

   "Something rich and neutritious, perhaps?" he grinned.

   "You're so vulgar and impudent!" she told him.  Her face, however wore a
smile.

   The 'Borodino's' tall, slightly raked funnel emerged from the deck just
in front of the stern house called the cockpit.  The large wooden wheel
stood behind the cockpit with the compass binacle.  A wooden cover could be
slid back over the cockpit to reveal bench seats and the 'Borodino's modern
hand-cranked transmitter/receiver.  The aeriel ran up the mizzen mast above
them and stretched between that and the mainmast.  A large, twin cell,
lead/acid battery lay sealed against the salt water in a box beside the
radio.  This was to provide some power to the receiver.

   Just then, as Jakob settled comfortably in the cockpit, the receiver
began to beep a long line of Morse code.

   "How well is your Morse?" Gretchen asked him.

   "Too fast for me, I'm afraid."

   "Just as well I'm from a Navy family," she smirked, "or I'm afraid you'd
be all at sea." Jakob winced at the bad pun.  "Let's see...  hmm...  GQL...
Navy code, I think...  hmmm," she continued to listen.  "that's Apia
replying...  hmm...  permission to enter harbour granted, I think. 
Northwest by 10 degrees magnetic, hmm...  two big ships!" she remarked, "3
smaller...  berthage required, heavens!" she exclaimed.

   "What?" Jakob asked.

   "A request to clear the harbour for a fleet of two large vessels, say
16,000 tonners and three smaller.  I think the Asiatic squadron is paying a
call."

   "Shit, let's hide," Jakob grumbled.

   "I think we'd better get clear unless you want to bounce around in their
wash," she told him.

   "I could think of a better way to bounce around," Jakob grinned
cheekily.

   "No doubt!" she replied, keeping her composure, "your imagination
doesn't travel far from the boudoir, does it?" she said looking out to sea.

   "No madam," Jakob agreed.

   "You're an appalling lech, Gunner's Mate Herzberg," she told him.

   "Undoubtedly true!"

   "Two points South by Southeast...  starboard helm 15 degrees," she
intoned, "You have no shame."

   "None at all," he agreed.

   "Coming round...  slow engine Chief Engineer Herzberg!" Jakob rose
grinning and dropped down through the engine hatch.  Soon the vessel began
to slow.  "Stop engine, drop anchor crewman!" she yelled to him.  Presently
Jakob appeared up through the hatch and jogged forward to release the
anchor chain.  He returned puffing.

   "Next time, I'll steer!" he told her.

   "My dear, I fear we will need a life boat!"

   The 'Borodino' swung on the bow anchor as its two crew peered through
their telescopes at the horizon.  The distant blue became stained with
black coal smoke.

   "Masts ahoy!" Gretchen exclaimed.

   "Quite the sea-bitch aren't we?" Jakob told her.

   "I haven't had this much fun in, well, a long time," she explained, "as
a little girl, I sailed with my Father in the Baltic often.  He taught me
navigation, ship handling, Morse," she grinned, "it's so much brighter out
here in the Pacific, isn't it?"

   "Sure is," he agreed, "no fog."

   "No fog, no.  Hull down...  four-stacker...  lead ship bearing on
harbour entrance...  two, three.  I can see three ships!"

   "Gretchen!  Cut it out!  You're sounding too 'Navy' for my liking."

   "'Scharnhorst' leading," she continued, "isn't it exciting?" Jakob shook
his head and walked away.  "'Scharnhorst', 'Gneisenau', a small cruiser, I
think...  'Berlin' maybe?  Or the 'Emden'? ...  and a two-stacker maybe the
'Amazone' or 'Gazelle'...  'Frauenlob'?"

   Jakob, however, had gone below.

   Some half-an-hour later the 'Borodino' rocked gently as the big ships
thundered into Apia harbour.  Jakob had to admit the big cruisers were very
handsome, well-balanced vessels.  Their four funnels and compact
superstructures were most pleasing to the eye, the long barrels of their
9.2 inch main guns full of menace.

   Gretchen enthusiastically waved the national flag like an excited
schoolgirl.  Some sailors on the port quarter of the 'Scharnhorst' answered
with a friendly wave of their own.  The exchange was repeated as each ship
in the squadron swept past them.  The 'Gneisenau' trumpeted a greeting from
her siren, the 'Gazelle' tooted like a tug boat.  Jakob and Gretchen
laughed together at the comic moment.

   Later, as he and Gretchen had lunch on the half-deck, he thought how
easy it was to be carried away with the whole panoplay of warfare.  'So
easy." he thought, 'to forget what the true purpose of those ships so gayly
entering the harbour was.  To hurl maybe 600 kilos of high explosive at
another group of human beings?'

   "A great big murderous game, isn't it?" he said aloud.

   "Pardon?" Gretchen asked, puzzled.

   "Nothing...  just a little sorry for myself, that's all."

   "I see!  Perhaps you would like to go below?" she said, raising her
eyebrows.

   "Excellent suggestion!" he replied, collecting himself, "after you my
dear?"

   ---------------------------------------------------------

   They returned to an Apia brimming with blue-jackets enjoying the
hospitality of the town.  The sailors strolled on the beaches chatting to
any female they encountered or lounged about quaffing beer at improvised
stalls.  A small ship's choir sang 'a capella' some German lieder.  A
blustering oompah band played lustily outside the town hall.  All was
pandemonium as Gretchen and Jakob parted company by Government House.

   As Jakob set about retrieving his car and driver from the chaos he noted
Government House was hosting a function for the ships' officers.  No doubt
the Governor himself was attending, happy, thought Jakob, in the company of
Imperial uniforms.

   Eventually, Jakob had to crank the Mercedes himself and set it off
bouncing and jerking back to 'La Ville Politovsky.' His driver was,
apparently, waylaid somewhere.  He fetched himself a folding chair and went
out on the front lawn.  The lawn with a view of Apia harbour.  Chuckling to
himself he looked back at his handiwork.

   There in the neat row of German warships was a white three-masted
schooner, her blue St Andrew's cross flag flapping at the masthead in
mockery of the waving German Ensigns of the Asiatic fleet.

   Asmira approached him nervously, breaking his secret revellry.  She
bobbed, offered him a pineapple juice liberally dosed with Vodka.  He took
a deep draft, noted Asmira still remained.

   "Do you want something, Asmira?" he asked.

   "Master Feodor," she said, uncertainly, "I'm late!" she told him,
rubbing her tummy.

   "So," he told her chuckling, "my Katalin was right in her prediction!"

   "Master?"

   "Nothing," he answered, "when is it due?"

   "March probably, Master."

   "And how many does that make?" he asked.

   "Three, Master.  Laila, five years this December, Ashok, three last
month and...  her in March," she pointed to her tummy.

   "Aye," he said reflectively, "come, fetch yourself a chair and sit with
me a while."

   "Master?" she questioned, shocked.  It wasn't 'done' for the servants to
sit with their employer.

   "Fuck them!" he told her vehemently, "sit down and tell me about my
children."

   It was well into the tropical evening and Asmira and Jakob still sat on
the front lawn, Asmira talking animatedly.  Yu waited patiently at the
house, a couple of messages in his hand.

   ---------------------------------------------------------

   Jakob woke up in the morning to find the 'Borodino' had been towed clear
of the warships.  He nudged Asmira who smiled dreamily putting out her
arms.

   "No, not now Asmira," he told her, "someone's moved my boat.  YU!" he
yelled, "get your arse in here."

   Yu entered the bedroom in a panic.

   "Master Feodor," he said desperately, "policemen come...  last night...
you were busy," he looked suggestively at Asmira.  "I said 'piss off you
brown bastards' but they leave message.  They say you must move 'Borodino',
Navy very angry...  spoil photograph.  They take steam launch and tow.  Tie
to beach with long rope.  They say it's Navy's rope and you must give
back..."

   "Hey, settle down!" Jakob said, putting up his hands.  "Are you telling
me they moored it to the beach?" Yu nodded enthusiastically.

   "It say," Yu started to read, "have moored boat...  by stern line. 
Kedge anchor holding bow off beach.  Must come move or boat will ground
with incoming tide.  It ends 'Russian Navy lost, as usual' signed von
Goeltz."

   Jakob began a deep belly laugh to the astonishment of Yu and Asmira. 
Tears were streaming down his face before he was able to talk once more.

   "That bastard!" he chuckled, "pinch me!  I'm beginning to like that man.
C'mon Yu we need to move a boat."

   Some time later Jakob hauled down a white flag placed at his masthead by
some wag of a bluejacket.  Upon it was a hand-scrawled message in blotched
ink.  'The Captain of the Russian Naval vessel 'Borodino' is hereby invited
to dine in the Officers mess on board the flagship 'Scharnhorst' of the
German Asiatic Squadron.  Signed, Vice Admiral Maximillian von Spee'.

   "Yu!" he called, "take a message to Government house, attention
Gretchen. Tell her we've been invited on board the 'Scharnhorst'.  I think
she'll be pleased."

   ----------------------------------------------------------

   The next morning, Jakob awoke to a sound he struggled to recognise.  It
reminded him of Willi Schepke's English 'Raleigh' motor-bicycle.  A sort of
long drawn out 'farting' noise.  He realised, however, that it originated
amid the mound of blankets beside him in the bed.  It was Gretchen snoring.
Gradually the events of the previous 24 hours unfolded in his brain.

   His schooner had been moored dangerously close to the beach with only a
single drifting anchor preventing it being carried onto the sands.  It had
been put there by German sailors in retaliation for his mooring it among
their fleet.  He had additionally aggravated them by hoisting a Russian
ensign up his mast.  However, when he came to move the yacht out of danger
he'd found an invitation to dine with the German Officers on board the
flagship.  He'd asked Gretchen to accompany him.  She of a Navy family had
been overjoyed to be a guest of none other than the Admiral, von Spee.

   Von Spee had seen the funny side of the stunt.  Rather than being
outraged, he'd laughed uproariously over dinner and recounted some of his
own stunts as a rather wayward cadet.  Urbane and cultured, Jakob found von
Spee a very impressive man indeed.  Quite the opposite of the rather
bullying, stiff-necked Governor.

   They'd returned to shore around midnight, too late, Jakob insisted, for
Gretchen to return to her quarters.  Flushed with the pleasures of the
evening, she'd readily agreed to accompany him back to the Politovsky
mansion.  The house had been quiet when they'd slipped in the back door
like thieves.  Threading through the servant's quarters, they'd sneaked up
the back stairs and flopped giggling onto Jakob's bed.

   Breathless, they'd play-wrestled on the big bed, making the springs
creak in protest.

   "Guess what?" he'd said, "I'm going to be a Father again."

   "Not with me, you're not!" she'd told him, laughing so hard she shook
the bed like an earthquake.

   "Asmira," he'd said, "next March!"

   "Congratulations!"

   "And Katalin, around September."

   "What?  When did you find out?"

   "On the 'Scharnhorst' Westermann got the Navy to wireless her just
before she entered Apia.  Asked her to pass on the message."

   "Why didn't he cable..."

   "A bit of Westermann theatre, I suppose," he told her, "y'know, 'send a
Battleship to pass on a message that the Count's wife's pregnant'?"

   "Oh, that's glorious!" she bubbled.

   "The Samoans will be impressed!" he laughed, "but von Goeltz won't, you
can bet on that!"

   Later on, they'd lain side by side, naked as the day is long. 
Gretchen's leg had been hooked over his, her knees spread wide, Jakob had
been slowly teasing her.  She had him in her fist, squeezing and teasing
him in return.

   Their love-making these days was full of laughter and play. 
Occasionally she'd allow him brief entry into her pussy when she considered
herself in her safe period.  Otherwise she was left to massage Jakob's
emissions into her skin.  She believed it had the same effect as lanolin,
that it moisturised the skin and prevented sunburn.  Jakon really didn't
care if it was true.

   "Jakob?" she'd asked him in her 'kittenish' voice.  "Can you kiss me...
down there."

   He'd obliged her.  Rolling over, he'd put his head between her flabby
thighs and licked her to a frenzy.  She'd heaved at his mouth, legs flung
into the air.  She made deep, throaty growls, pushed his head down hard
into her pussy so he couldn't breathe.

   Later, she'd told him it was 'splendid', as he caught his breath, his
mouth wet from her sopping pussy.  She'd taken him again in her fist, but
this time pleased him with her mouth as well.  She'd called it her 'tiller'
and gulped him down noisily.  Exhausted, he'd wrapped himself around her
soft body, listening to her rasping breath subside to a sleep rhythm.

   "Gretchen?" he said to the mound of blankets, "are you awake?" There was
no response.  He shuffled over until he felt warm flesh.  She had her back
to him.  He slipped close alongside and pressed his morning erection
against her.  She mumbled, snuffled, then continued snoring.

   He reached over her body and found her big tits.  He cupped one and
squeezed.  She jerked, mumbled some more, then continued snoring once more.
Pushing his cock between her legs, he parted her arse cheeks and allowed
them to close over him like a glove.  He ground himself slowly against her.

   Jakob eased Gretchen's leg over his body allowing him access to her
pussy.  He felt her pubic hair and the juicy contents they concealed.

   "What are you doing?" she mumbled and put her hand between her legs,
massaging his cock.

   "Remember doing this?" he whispered.

   "Yes, you beast!  And you nearly gave me a family."

   "You didn't seem to mind at the time?" he chuckled.

   "I did!  It was you that didn't care!" she continued massaging him.

   "Would it have been so bad?" he asked, "to have got pregnant?"

   "It would!" she told him.  "Already they call me a 'Politovsky woman'.
Now, it doesn't bother me as much as I thought it would, the scandal.  But,
a child, that I would have to take back to Germany.  It would be too much
for my family to bear."

   "A 'Politovsky woman'?" he said, raising his eyebrows.

   "You think a little cruise for two out to Battleship Island would go
unnoticed?" she said, "late nights and early mornings?  Light from the
schooner's cabin ports at one in the morning?  Turning up to work
bleary-eyed having wrestled with you half the night?  This would be
missed?"

   "I suppose...  The Governor, does he suspect?"

   "You may keep doing...  uh that.  Of course he does.  Harder please!"
Gretchen pressed the head of Jakob's cock harder, and dangerously close to
her vagina.  "He...  oh Jakob, like that...  uh...  He told me I must... 
oh...  reconsider my position...  uh...  if I continued my...  uh... 
liason with...  oh...  a notorious...  philanderer...  baby!"

   "Philanderer, me?"

   "Don't stop!...  yes you!  Moral...  oh...  turpitude!"

   "What?"

   "He says you...  oh...  suffer from...  moral turpitude."

   "Turpitude?" Jakob said laughing, "Gretchen, um, is this wise?"

   She squeezed the head of his cock into her warm, wet entrance.  She
rubbed the underside rapidly, Jakob held his breath as he felt his orgasm
boiling to a crisis.

   "Just a little..." she gasped, "oh...  I want to...  feel it...  Oh
God!"

   She ground her arse against Jakob, pushing him further and further
inside her pussy.  Moaning, she rubbed them both furiously.

   "Now!" Jakob yelled.  Gretchen wrenched him out and pointed his cock
away from her.  His thick strands of come shot over the bedcovers as she
continued to milk him.

   "What is life?" she panted, "without a little danger?"

   ---------------------------------------------------------

   On New Years 1913 the first Balkan war was over and events were
proceeding towards the second.  Strikes and more discord occured in Russia
and France, Britain and Germany launched more battleships.

   Katalin provided another brother for Willi and Alex.  A difficult birth,
she chose to remain in Germany another 6 months to regain her strength. 
Asmira was growing rounder, her condition was now obvious to everyone. 
'Politovsky has been busy again,' was the talk at the local taverns and
churches.

   Skilled typists were rare in Samoa and Gretchen kept her position at
Government house.  Despite von Goeltz's disapproval she continued to take
voyages with Jakob in the 'Borodino.' They say the rocking of the schooner
anchored off Battleship Island was not entirely due to the ocean.

   The first lorry arrived on the island, a Magirus, bought by a copra
trader named Hoffmann.  It broke down within a week and languished in a
shed waiting for spare parts from Germany.  The Japanese training ship
'Suwo' arrived in Apia on a cruise around the Pacific and promptly grounded
herself on the sand spit at the harbour entrance.  She was familiar to
Jakob as the Russian 1st class Battleship 'Orel' captured by the Japanese
at Tsushima.  She was towed off on the tide the next day.  Jakob was drunk
during her visit.

   Jakob spent his time learning the basics of sail and ocean navigation.
The man was a self-taught mathematician and found learning the skill an
easy leap.  Sailing, however, seemed a lot easier in the theory than in
practice.  He found a willing tutor in Gretchen.

   The 'Borodino' needed a crew for ocean voyaging, an expensive
proposition.  Jakob figured she would require at least 12 counting himself.
The yacht itself can accomodate 35 quite comfortably, perhaps 45 at a
squeeze.  For crew, he found Samoans were experienced sailors and cheap. 
For companions, however, he still hadn't made up his mind.  Jakob's affairs
delayed the maiden ocean cruise of the schooner The date was put back
repeatedly until he finally settled on the month of August, 1914.

   ------------------------------------------------------------

   This was an era of military 'excercises' and fleet 'courtesy' visits,
gunboat diplomacy and downright international bullying.  Throughout 1913
French, British, German, American, Austro-Hungarian and Dutch warships
found their way in and out of Apia.  The crews mixed with the locals, had a
good time ashore, and returned to their ships with hangovers.  Underneath
the festivities of the occasion, however, was the demonstration of an
empire's naked hormones, a grotesque international pissing contest.

   And the nation that could piss the furtherest was Great Britain.  In
July 1913 the Royal Navy's latest 'splendid cat' arrived off Apia's
lighthouse.  Nominally an Australian ship, the Germans on Samoa had no
doubt from where she took her orders, the British Admiralty.

   HMAS Australia had a rangey, workmanlike profile.  She was bigger,
longer, faster and more powerful than anything previously seen at the port.
Dotted along her main deck were five great turrets mounting altogether ten
mighty twelve inch guns.  There was no doubt she could obliterate Apia in
ten minutes should she so wish.  This ship had a profound effect on the
German settlers of Samoa, as, of course, she was intended to do.

   Her home port was Sidney, Australia, a few day's hard steaming away at
her best speed.  If von Goeltz had any fantasy of defending Samoa in time
of war with Great Britain, the 'Australia' put that delusion to rest. 
Requests to Berlin for shore guns and capital ships to defend Samoa fell on
deaf ears.  In 1913, Imperial Germany had already given the game away in
the Pacific.

   In the middle of 1913 von Goeltz was recalled to Berlin for
'consultations'.  Schapinski became the 'interim administrator' during his
absence and despite Jakob's worse fears, did a reasonable job.  An
accountant by profession he had accompanied von Goeltz through the milleau
of island politics and developed a good grasp of the mechanics of
leadership in Samoa.

   In August, Katalin and the children finally arrived home on the SS
Amsterdam.  Although some month's short of her 23rd birthday, Jakob was
shocked at how much she appeared to have aged.  Three children, especially
the last, had taken their toll.

   Her Father had broken the news to her of Jakob's real identity.  Leaving
Samoa the wife of a Count, she returned as the wife of a mere Gunner's
Mate, although a considerably rich one.  As the weeks rolled by it became
obvious that their relationship had changed as a result.

   Jakob's infidelities became a contentious issue.  Samoa was 'dreary and
isolated' compared to the bright lights of Berlin.  Being rich meant
nothing if there wasn't anything to spend money on locally and one had to
wait six months to receive an order from Europe.  There were arguments over
the children, the servants and especially Asmira.

   Jakob himself spent more and more time on his boat.  Katalin visited the
'Borodino' once and complained it was too tiny and made her sea sick.  She
refused to sleep with him, telling him she never wanted to get pregnant
again.  By October it was obvious that the marriage had ended and all that
they could do was tidy up the paperwork.  Katalin, with the children,
arrived back in Germany for Christmas 1913 a divorced woman with a 500,000
mark settlement.  Shortly after her departure, Gretchen shifted in to the
Politovsky mansion as his 'personal secretary.'

   Qing Li was not part of the settlement with Katalin.  She remained at
Jakob's mansion and was promptly taken back onto his inventory.  She was
given the nanny's room next to the nursery, which was full of Asmira's
offspring.  She was pleased to see Jakob, nay even missed him.  It wasn't
long before they became re-acquainted.

   She'd filled out a little more in the past 18 months.  Her hair was
still long but it was now tied back in one pony tail.  Her breasts were
still little more than upturned demi-cups and her arse, the perfect peach
Jakob remembered.

   She took off her clothes eagerly, smiling at her Master.  Qing Li ran
her hands sensuously over Jakob's naked body, her breathing trembling, as
was indeed Jakob's.  She told him she'd hadn't slept with a man since
leaving for Germany.  She pulled Jakob's head against her chest as he
suckled her.  Her German had improved.  She told him in her little
sing/song voice that she was happy to be back.

   She lay on her back with her legs spread and waited for Jakob to
tantalise her with his tongue.  Soon her sex gaped through her little black
tuft, pink with arousal and glistening with lubrication and saliva.  Jakob
found her as tight as he remembered, but he moved easily within her.  She
clung to him like a limpet, legs and arms locked over his back.  So pinned,
Jakob had difficulty moving, so the love-dance became slow and intimate. 
Spurred on by her little squeals next to his ear, Jakob blasted her vagina
rather earlier than he, or Qing Li wanted.  Jakob remained with her the
rest of the afternoon, the children next door having been tactfully
withdrawn by their Mother.

   Qing Li later gave Jakob a body massage with jasmin oil.  Her fingers
were sensitive and experienced.

   "I practise with Mistress Katalin," she told him, "she very sore with
baby.  I make her feel better."

   "Hmm, I bet you did," Jakob agreed.

   "But me keep clothes on," she giggled, the sound not unlike crystal
chimes in a light breeze.  "I do it every day even after baby born.  But
stop after soldier man start coming."

   "What?" Jakob opened his eyes.

   "Soldier man.  He want big breakfast in the morning."

   "Whoa Qing Li!  Tell me from the beginning.  Don't leave out the
details. Who is this big eater?" Taking a deep breath, she began to relate
the story.

   "Mistress Katalin and Qing Li we take rooms in big house near
Brandenburg Gate.  Mistress was getting big tummy and I massage it with
oil. Sometime she want me to touch her like Asmira, you know, here." she
pointed between her legs.  "I'm sorry, you not cross?"

   "Of course not, proceed."

   "Mistress get horny and Master not there, so..."

   "Yes, yes, I get the picture.  So you made her feel better, go on."

   "Qing Li get horny too but Mistress not touch me like Master Feodor."

   "Tell me about the soldier?"

   "He come to see Mistress, stay long, he come every other day.  Mistress
moaning all night long, she stop me from sleeping.  Mistress tell me he got
long one, but he not as long as Master, me think.  I not like soldier, he
call me 'yellow monkey', touch Qing Li's arse, he want me jerk his thing.
He say I tell Mistress and he throw Qing Li out to live on street.  He
arsehole."

   "Sounds like it," Jakob agreed.  "So this soldier was screwing her every
night?"

   "Not every night," Qing Li told him, "just Sunday, Wednesday, Friday. 
Me see him with no clothes, he not so long as Master," she grinned.  "Qing
Li call him 'land Pirate'.  He wear badge like skull and bones, like pirate
story, 'Long John Silver'." She giggled again.

   "A skull and bones badge?  Probably an 'Uhlan'.  A Cavalry officer Qing
Li."

   "Ah.  He ride horse.  Like he ride Mistress?" She giggled once more.

   "Apparently," Jakob replied, "no wonder she was so anxious to get a
divorce and return to Berlin.  So she found herself some Graf, though not
hung like a donkey?" he smiled ruefully.

   "Not like donkey," she agreed, laughing, "more like rabbit!  Rabbit
dick?" she tittered.

   "Cockroach?"

   "Like needle?  He want put needle in Mistress's mouth but she say no.  I
hear through wall.  She say, 'she not do those things'." Qing Li told him.

   "Ah," he laughed, "I see troubled waters ahead!  I think when they've
spent up all my money he will not find her so attractive."

   "What about Willi, Alex and little Michael?" her eyes widened, "Mistress
no good with children without nanny.  No money, no nanny?"

   "We'll see, Qing Li.  I'll cable Westermann and keep an eye on things.
If Katalin loses her grip, I might have to bring them back to Samoa."

   "Oh please do," bubbled Qing Li, "I miss them."

   "So do I," he admitted.

   Later on in the afternoon they tried again.  Qing Li related more
details of the affair Katalin had with the cavalry officer.  That, her
massages and tongue soon had the inevitable effect on Jakob.  She washed
him with a wet flannel and scented soap until he felt as fresh as a
mountain breeze.  Her little mouth closed over him until he was painful
with arousal.  Sitting on him, she massaged his cock with her talented
pussy before lowering herself down on him.  In that position, she could
stimulate herself more by grinding herself against his hard pubic bone.

   "I not...  take other man...  like this," she gasped, "master Feodor
good...  to Qing Li.  He give...  babies...  oooh."

   She rolled her arse on Jakob faster and faster, rubbing her self rapidly
to a crisis.  Jakob threw the girl on her back and finished himself,
pounding into her while she bounced on the bed, her eyes closed and mouth
open.

   He awoke late in the evening to a tangle of legs, arms and sweaty
bodies. Qing Li's cot was narrow, and sagged under the weight.  Somehow,
Asmira had worked herself around them both, arms locked around so she
didn't tumble onto the floor.  Jakob hadn't heard her enter, nor hear her
shed her clothes and get on the bed with them.  Locked in her precarious
position, she dozed contentedly.  He rolled himself over the top of Qing Li
until he touched the floor.  Standing by the bed, he watched Asmira roll
into the vacant space and circle her arms around the Chinese girl.  By the
moonlight flooding through the open window, he watched for a long moment
the bodies of his mistresses.  Jakob felt a softness in his heart that went
beyond desire and animal lust.  Perhaps, he thought, at 30 he was losing
his touch?

   He dressed and followed the sound of the piano tinkling Chopin from the
parlour.  Gretchen looked up as he entered and stopped playing.

   "Some supper?" she asked.  Her tone was full of hidden meaning, unspoken
thoughts.  He realised he was starving and smiled at her.  She called to
the maid and asked her to fetch some cold chicken for Jakob.  Her voice
still saturated with subtext.  "You were a long time?" she said.  Jakob
thought it was going to be a longer evening.

   They both watched the maid enter and deposit a plateful of chicken salad
on the table.

   "Coffee?" Gretchen asked.  He nodded and she smiled at the maid her sped
out again.  "Where were you?" she asked, breathing heavily with tension.

   "With Qing Li," he told her, "she told me some interesting things about
Katalin in Berlin."

   "You were talking all this time?" she asked, disbelieving.

   "Of course not." Jakob was already tired of the conversation.  "She is a
mistress after all.  What do you think I was doing?"

   "And what, Jakob, am I to you?"

   He'd had enough of jealousies over the last few months.  He wasn't going
to change.  Why didn't Gretchen accept the situation?

   "What do you want to be, a wife?" he said angrily.  "You think that will
change me?  I give you a roof, a position, all the money you wish to spend
and still you want more?"

   Gretchen walked to the window and looked out at nothing in particular.
She sighed heavily.

   "I...  I'm sorry," she said miserably, "I think I'm..." she breathed
deeply.  "I've developed some feelings..." she started to say, bracing
herself.  "Feelings of...  deep consideration and..."

   Jakob came and stood beside her, staring out the window at the front
lawn in the moonlight.  He put an arm around her shoulders, she allowed him
to draw her against him.

   "Deep consideration?" he chuckled softly, "you 'deeply consider' me?"

   "Don't mock me Jakob," she said, "I feel foolish enough without you..."

   "Ok, ok.  What do you want of me?" he asked.

   "I don't know," she sighed, "I know your kind, Jakob.  I married one and
lived to regret it.  A stallion in a field of mares, that was my husband.
Handsome and charming, full of himself, an adventurer with a wicked eye for
the ladies and impossible to nail to the sofa, Jakob.  You're such a man
and it is my misfortune I have such a fatal weakness for your kind.  I
fear..." she sobbed quietly, "I fear that I will awake one morning to find
the bed empty, my jewelry gone and a note attached to the pillow."

   "I have no use for your jewelry, Gretchen."

   "See?  Life comes so easy for you.  Everything is a joke, a lark.  You
discard that which is of no further use to you and move on.  That is your
nature.  It is my nature to fall in love with such men."

   They in stood silence for an uncomfortably long time.

   "Most of my life," Jakob said eventually, "I have doubted I will ever
see another sunrise.  I've felt that my life has been nothing but one long
farewell.  Since Nossi Be' I have waited for the authorities to catch up,
throw me in prison and shoot me at dawn.  I've survived this long,
Gretchen, because I cheated fate.  To take someone along on this journey
would be, ah ,irresponsible."

   "Oh swill, Jakob!  Utter, unadulterated bilge-water!  You really are a
self-serving son-of-a-bitch." Her candour shocked him.  "You're a child in
the candy store, Jakob, gobbling up as much as you can before the
shopkeeper throws you out, as you rightly deserve.  There will be a day
when you'll move along the street to the next candy store, why?  Because
you're afraid someone will see through your disguise and find you some
'real' work for you to do.  Honesty, courage, integrity, commitment, love,
these are only words to you.  You no more know their meaning than I can
swim home."

   She stalked off towards the piano, sat down and banged lustily on the
keys.  Jakob folowed her and stood behind, put his hands on hers and
stilled them.

   "You'll wake the servants," he told her.

   "I don't care."

   "Perhaps some supper, a drink and we might retire upstairs?" His hands
strayed to Gretchen's chest.

   "You solve everything with sex?" she asked.

   "Mostly," he replied, grinning.

   "You're an unmitigated arsehole, Jakob Herzberg."

   "I know!"

   "Perhaps we can take supper with us upstairs?" she said.

   "Splendid suggestion!" he smiled his charming smile.
   KATZMAREK (C)