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   The Russian Girl (Part 16)

   By Katzmarek



   Author's Note.  This story is entirely a work of fiction.  It is for
entertainment Purposes only and does not reflect the author's views or
Attitudes.  It contains scenes of sexual activities with a minor And the
author does not condone this.  This work may not be Reproduced for profit
without the author's express permission.  If You feel the content would
offend you, or are underage, Please proceed no further. .  The Katz



   Lina is sitting in her hospital bed.  She is munching through her
dinner. She looks much better than yesterday, even though her face is still
swollen and she is pale.

   We are alone; Ana is out in the gardens with her father.  I guess they
have a lot to talk about.  A good man, that Mustafa.  He is showing
compassion and understanding.

   Kammhuber knocks and enters.  He sits on the other side of her.  He
takes out his Glock pistol and extends it to Lina, holding it by the
barrel. "Lina, take the weapon."

   Lina looks puzzled but accepts it.  "Eric.  See how she holds the
pistol. Wrist straight, controlling it.  The barrel points at the ceiling,
yet away from her face.  Her hand is around the trigger guard, protecting
it.  She does not put a finger through the guard, most people would."

   "Furthermore," he went on, "she is not scared of it.  She is not afraid
yet she does not know whether it is loaded.  She is automatically taking
precautions in case it is ready to fire.  Did you see her look at the
safety?  Checking to see that it is set"?  "No," I say, "I didn't."

   "Because, Eric, you are not a trained shooter.  But Lina is, aren't
you"? Lina swallows, bewildered.  "I, I don't know what you mean." "Someone
taught you to use a gun, Lina.  Military perhaps.  And they trained you
until you could do it in your sleep.  No!  Keep it.  Tell me if it is
loaded."

   "Empty." Lina says, dumbly, "there's no clip." "Nothing in the breech"?
Lina pulls the sleeve back and inspects it.

   "She holds it in front of her, barrel still pointing in the air," says
Kammhuber, "She looks through that slot on the top, the ejector.  She can
see if a round is present in the breech.  She stills slides it back
carefully, though, just in case.  She cannot help herself."

   "A driver always puts on the parking brake." Kammhuber went on.  "Even
though the gear lever is in `park' and the vehicle's on level ground.  He
cannot help it, he doesn't think about it, it's automatic.  Same with a
shooter, Eric, they always take basic precautions.  It is not something you
need to think about."

   "Where are you going with this"?  I ask.  "Just a minute, Eric.  I'm
just clearing up something.  Tying up loose ends."

   "Lina"?  He asks, "why did you choose the Luger"?  Lina was shaking,
ashen faced.  "I don't know." She answers weakly.  "I think you do Lina."

   Kammhuber reaches into his bag and brings out another weapon.  "Do you
recognize this"?  He says, holding it up.  "A VZ." Says Lina, barely
audible.  "A VZ," repeats the Officer, "we know it as the Skorpion, Eric.
It was designed to be carried by tank crews.  It is short, see.  So you can
get it in and out of hatchways easily.  Is it loaded Lina"?  "No," "How do
you know"?

   "A magazine slides in behind the grip." "Why did you choose the Luger,
Lina.  Tell me, I know already." "I, I... Ana..." "Yes, Lina.  A good
choice too yes"?  "I'm... lost, Kammhuber," I tell the Officer.

   "A sub-machinegun, Eric, has a great volume of fire, but it is not
accurate.  Lina knows that she would certainly hit her friend in the
confined space of a room.  So she takes the Luger, which is far more
accurate.  A shooters weapon, yes Lina." Lina shrugs.

   "What were you looking for when you searched the house, Lina?  Drugs,
money"?  Lina says nothing.  "You found the Luger and hid it, where"? 
"Umm."

   "I don't think that you could have run up and down those stairs Lina,
not with your injuries, and you were still sick, yes"?  "Kammhuber"?  I
say. "Just a minute Eric.  How many raped you, Lina"?  "I don't know." Her
voice is choked.

   "But it was not so bad, Lina.  Was it?  You were doing it to save Ana,
until, it wasn't so good"?  "They, Ram he..." Lina breaks down. 
"Kammhuber? Is this necessary"?  I'm getting angry.

   "Ram... he hits me... over the ass... a whip... and he pushes something
... in my ass... it hurt...he tells me... I'm going to enjoy it..." "Ok,
ok. He rapes you anally.  And later on he decides to do it to Ana, Yes"? 
"Yes." "So you call Raede, or was he in the bed"?  "The bed."

   "He raped you too"?  "No.  He said he was sorry... for the others.  He
held me, said he loved me... If he loved me he would have done something.
He was too scared... the coward."

   "So he stayed with you until they went out, yes"?  "Yes... I didn't have
sex with him... I couldn't..." "Of course not.  They didn't all leave, did
they.  Ram stayed behind"?  "Yes." "And goes into Ana, next door"?  "Yes."

   "You decide to save her yourself"?  Lina nods.  "Raede helps you out of
bed.  You take the Luger, perhaps hidden under the bed." "Yes." "Does Raede
know you have it?" "No." "He walks you along the landing, to the next
room." "Yes." "Tell me what happens next... in your own words."

   "Ana is lying on the bed, face down... she is crying... she's
bleeding... from her... from her bottom...blood everywhere... Ram has it
smeared over himself..." "Where was Raede"?  "Behind me... holding me... I
shouldn't have..." "You take aim, and what"?

   "I was aiming for his balls... I was too high... shot him in the butt
instead.  Big splash of flesh... he is screaming...Raede screams too... not
for Lina... not for me... for that animal.  He yells for Ram..." "Go on."
"I'm angry... I turn around... Raede says, `what have you done'?  What have
I done, ME?  Ana's blood all over the place... and my blood... and he asks
me what I'VE done!"

   "I shot him... Ana is crying out no!  No... but I shot him... I aimed
too high again... meant to get him in the heart...I think the barrel's
out... shoots too high and off to the right." "They all do, you need to
compensate for it, aim down and to the right, see?" says Kammhuber
demonstrating with the Glock.  "Ah... I thought it was I..."

   "If you had been more familiar with a Luger we would have had one
deceased and one gelding." "I meant to kill Ram, after I shot off his
balls." "Ouch!  You are one tough lady Lina.  Who taught you"?

   "I learned many things in `Petersburg... did many things... Eric doesn't
know...I have not told anybody..." "Christ!" I exclaim.  "I think that it
is best you keep some things to yourself." The Officer tells her.



   A couple of days later the story breaks in the STAR GAZETTE, a celebrity
weekly here in Germany.  The headlines read,

   EDISON HIGH STAR IN SHOOTING.

   LINA POZNAN IN SHOOTOUT WITH NEO-NAZI THUGS.  TWO WOUNDED.

   It sounded like a scene from `high noon'.  Clearly the studio publicity
machine had leaked the story, somewhat sanitized.

   `Lina Poznan, star of Nickelodeon's `Edison High' is in hospital in an
undisclosed location after she was involved in a shootout with a gang
intending to abduct her and a friend.  Lina was in Germany on holiday after
taking a break from the series when her and a friend were confronted late
at night in Karlsruhe.  "They were in a dangerous situation," Police
sources told the reporter, "although we don't condone firearm use, they
would certainly have been the victims of a serious assault, even death". 
Police sources said they have recovered two firearms, a pistol and a
machine gun.  Both were in the possession of the gang.  It is believed Lina
somehow gained possession of the pistol and turned it on the gang.  The two
girls are believed to have moderate injuries and will be released from
hospital shortly.

   Below the story the Editor added.

   `Does it take a beautiful, blond, Russian, teenage girl to show the
police what must be done to make our streets safe?  We say `good on you
Lina Poznan.'

   And so it went on.

   Back at the hospital the girls' room is filling up with flowers and
gifts from mostly anonymous fans and well wishers.  The police have had to
increase security to prevent fans and reporters from pestering them.

   Ironically, right-wing political parties, usually associated with
anti-immigration issues are treating Lina like a heroine.

   Money is beginning to flow in too.  The hospital is costing about 4000
Euros a day each for the girls, only part of it is covered by the National
Health system.  At last the financial pressure is off me.

   Lina loves the attention, however.  It is invigorating her, but not so
poor Ana.  She is becoming more withdrawn and depressed.  I feel the
injuries to her mind will take a lot longer to heal then her body.

   "Eric?  Will you look after Ana... she's not strong... I fear for her,"
Lina says to me one day.  "I know you could fix things... you can always
fix things..." "How"?  I ask, "I'm not a counselor or a psychologist, she
needs expert help." "But you will do what you can?  I trust you.  You were
always good to me Eric.  I never should..."

   Later she says, "Ana wants to be an actress too.  You could help her...
like you did me... you could make her an actress and she would be happy."
`Oh no', I groan inwardly.

   Lina management and financial hassles are slowly being sorted.  She was
underage when she signed her new contract so that makes it invalid.  Now
the problem of recovering $40,000 or so of her money.  That will take
longer.

   Ana's mother is here from Frankfurt where she lives.  It takes a few
hours of coaxing before Mustafa agrees to meet her.  I have an idea to run
before them concerning Ana.

   There's a Stage and Screen School in Frankfurt and I suggest that I can
get Ana a place.  It would mean that she would have to live with her
Mother.

   Meanwhile I have a marriage to repair and a business to recover.  Having
done what I can for the present in Karlsruhe I point the Audi north and
head home up the West Bank of the mighty Rhine.

   I left Lina, once again, deluged in attention and hardly noticing my
departure.  When I went to say goodbye she was beaming at some young male
reporter whom, clearly captivated, was hanging on every phrase.  "In Russia
we learnt to take care of ourselves," (knowing smile) she was telling him.
"Yes but you must have been scared?" asks the reporter.  "They were just
boys," she explains, "haven't you any real men in Germany?" `Oh brother!' I
thought, `the sooner she gets back to LA the better.'

   Sophia's in the kitchen when I get home.  There's a crashing and bashing
that husbands the worlds over know so well, the sound of an angry wife.

   "Hi babe," I greet her cheerily.  No answer.  "Darling," I say moving in
behind her and lightly circling her hips.  "Leave me alone, Eric!" she
says, "what are you doing home?" "I missed you." "Scheisse!" she says,
jabbing her elbow back at me.

   Most people like to curse in their native tongue.  They can apply just
the correct amount of vehemence to it unmatched in any but one's language
of birth.

   "(Ger) You have a nerve coming in here all loving after having spent
days and nights at your lovers bedside.  How much money have you spent on
her, Eric?  All our savings?" "That's unfair..." I try to say.  "(Ger)
UNFAIR!  You schweinhund, you miserable excuse for a man, UNFAIR?  Why are
you crawling back here, has she finished with you, again?" "It's not like
that." "Well don't tell me, I don't want to know."

   As a director I work with people, not cameras.  I pride myself in my
ability to get along with people, especially their tantrums.  At those
times I can think most clearly.

   Patience, patience and understanding, knowing when to bully and cajole,
the right time to praise and flatter, these are my stock in trade.

   Two things I need to do when faced with a furious wife.  First, maneuver
her away from the cutlery, second, stand my ground and wait her out.  Like
standing in an air lock, you need to allow the pressure to ease before you
can open the door.  Half Aristocratic Austrian and half Italian she can
build a lot of pressure.

   Now I had a pal, once who had been flattened by his Romanian-Greek wife
with a frozen turkey.  He had a depressed fracture of the skull and it took
him two months to recover, 4 years to make up.  Then there was Lorena
Bobbit and those famous shears.  I ease between Sophia and the cutlery.

   She's beginning to cry, a good sign, it tells me she's nearly finished.
I gently advance towards her waiting for her to collapse in my arms.

   But instead, WHACK.  A straight arm punch right to the mid-riff doubles
me up.  I wasn't expecting that and it knocks all the air out of me. 
"Jeez, Sophia," I gasp.

   I stumble forward into her.  I figure that if I'm close she can't get
any speed or power in the next punch.  I grab her around the waist and hang
on.  She's beating at my back but there's no force in them.  Then she's
trying to twist so she can go in with the knee, now I'm ticked off!

   On impulse I go in with the shoulder and lift her bodily up and over. 
She's drumming on my back and growling at me to put her down.  I carry her
right through to the bedroom and dump her on the bed.

   I figure my manhood's at stake here, not just physically but
psychologically.  Before I could react though, she sits up and slaps me
right across the face.  This is not the Sophia I know and love.  "WILL YOU
STOP FUCKING HITTING ME," I yell, and pin her arms to the bed.  I am losing
my temper.

   "Let go of me!" she says, menacingly.  "Not until you calm down," I
reply.  "I will not!" "Where's Bella?" I ask, changing the subject.  "At
Tante Lotties, safe from you.  Let go of me you child fucker." "Child fu...
What!" I reply in astonishment.  "You heard me, Eric.  I know what you did
to that Russian, she was underage.  No wonder she's all fucked up."

   Keeping my genitals out of her reach I continue to pin her to the bed.
"Listen!" I say, " Lina was a woman/child well before I met her.  She'd
already seen more of life than any child should.  If it weren't for me
she'd be a 10c whore in St Petersburg.  I gave her the best chance she'd
ever had.  Sure!  I loved her, and I showed her how to love, something
she'd never experienced before.  I don't know whether I did the best for
her, whether I helped her deal with her demons enough, but thinking of
Lina, I doubt a panel of psychologists and social workers could have made
her half as happy as she was with me."

   "You still fucked her, Eric, knowing she was too young..." "She was
never too young, Sophia, I learnt today that she could have shot off my
balls with her eyes shut." "What the hell are you saying?" "A long story."

   I must say I quite enjoyed pinning Sophia like this.  Her scowling at
me, chest heaving, and beads of perspiration on her forehead, she looked
quite sexy.  "Ok, ok," she says, "let me up." "There's the question of the
sucker punch," I tell her.  "You deserved it, you've been a prick." `Maybe,
but I seem to remember we agreed long ago we would never hit each other in
anger." "I'm sorry, I lost my temper," she replies.  "No excuse," I say,
"you need to be punished."

   With one movement I flip her over on to her stomach.  I then give her a
perfectly aimed slap right across her jean-covered ass.  "Ow, that hurt,
Eric, what are you doing?" "Get off your jeans and panties, now!" I tell
her sternly.  "What!" she replies uncertainly.  "Now!" I emphasize the
command with another slap.

   She takes off her pants with a bemused look on her face.  All the time
she's telling me that, `I'd better watch out,' and, `don't carry this on
too far.'

   I get her to lie over my lap and to pull up her shirt.  Her bare bottom
is now exposed, still the peach that turned me on two years ago.  WHACK her
flesh ripples, she gives a little start, WHACK, she grunts and sucks in her
breath.  I then deliver some quick fire slaps on both her cheeks.  She
twists and turns her ass, this way and that to avoid the rain of blows. 
"OW, OH, OUCH, Eric, stop it.  OW... please, no more, OW, you're hurting,
OW, OW."

   I figure ten is enough.  She lies on her stomach rubbing her ass that is
a nice rosy color.  She's panting away like a steam train.  "Put your ass
in the air," I tell her, releasing my throbbing member, "it's time to
complete that next part."

   I slip into her easily, she is warm and well lubricated.  Sophia
immediately grinds back at me, wriggling and gyrating her ass around.  I
seize one of her cheeks and grab her pussy with my other hand.  I rub her
slippery slit with my finger in time to my steady rhythm.  She's soon
grunting and gasping.

   In no time she's stabbing back at me and urging me to go faster.  She's
soon shaking and howling out her orgasm.  She stiffens then flops on the
bed.  "Turn over," I command, "and pull up your top."

   "Eric, no," she says, pulling up her top and bra, "please, I'm too
tired." But she puts her feet up on my shoulders and grins at me as I push
myself back into her turgid vagina.

   This time I'm able to squeeze her nipples and play with her breasts as I
pound into her in steadily increasing speed.  She has her eyes tight shut,
her mouth is slightly open or held in a grimace of exertion.  Her breasts
flop crazily across her chest, when released, with each thrust of my
pelvis. After a while my rhythm is increased and she is starting to gabble
in German.  "Gott... fick mich... JA... JA... starklich... schnell...
schnell... fick mich..."

   Her orgasm is the strongest I've ever seen her have.  Shortly after I
give her the benefit of my stored up jism, she scissors me with her legs,
beats on my back then claws at my ass.  Gasping and struggling for breath,
she doesn't know whether to scream or cry, holler or sob.  She pounds the
bed with her fists then clutches me around the neck until I think she'll
choke me.

   Later, she's trying to disentangle her bra and top from around her neck.
Her chest is still heaving and she's bathed in sweat.  I'm lying on my
stomach trying to cool down.  "Eric?" she says in a small voice.  "Unhh."
"I think... you've just... made me... pregnant."