There she stands, all alone in the cold, dark night. Shivering a little she just stands there, leaning on the balustrade of my residence's terrace, staring at the snow covered German landscape. I wonder if she is as happy to be home again after all those years as I am. Icy wind parts her beautiful blonde hair into glittering strands. Her slim, elegant facette shakes from the cold breeze that seems to blow directly into her heart. There she stands, my Aryan beauty, the woman I am sharing my life with for almost 80 years. Most of the time she is in a bad mood, only shouting at me and scolding with me. She wants me to assist her in resurrecting her lover, and I follow her orders - well, at least some of them. But if there come up troubles or anything does not work, she says "Kroenen, this is your fault! Why don't you ever listen to me?", obviously though she never recognizes I always listen to her. Maybe she even does not notice, I never talk to her, as I try to avoid as much conflicts between us, as possible. Well, maybe she does not care about me at all. My eyes wander back to Ilsa, still standing on the terrace. Behind my mask, my lipless mouth forms sort of a smile. She looks so beautiful, her blue eyes shimmering like glaciers if moonlight sparcles into them. But suddenly, there are tears in her eyes, quickly escaping to run down her cheeks. She is shaking heavily from the cold, German winter wind. The scenery reminds me of a poem... "Wo soll ich hin, wenn kalt der Nordsturm brüllt?" is the only line I recall, and I can't remember the author's name. But it fits perfectly. I feel sorry for her, seeing her standing outside, lonely, trying to embrace herself, to give herself some comfort. I grab a piece of paper. The fine, graceful lines of my otherworldly handwriting form the words "Come on, let's go inside."; then I step outside, approaching her with my quick, slightly marching style of walking. Shortly before I reach her, she turns around. "Kroenen!" She sobs, throwing herself into my arms and pressing her small body against mine. Although I am not used to such intensive physical contact and unable to understand Ilsa's feelings, as I have not felt them for long decades, there is a warm shiver crawling up my spine. She cries heavily and her tears drop onto my chest, but still... it feels so good to have her close. I manage to break my confused paralyzation and I gently lay my arms around her. Then, careful, slowly, I guide her back into my living room, where a soft, comfortable couch and a warm, inviting fire wait for us. As we sit down together, she sighs, wiping some tears out of her face. Tiredness seems to fill her mind, when she softly leans against my chest. I let myself sink down on the pillows, taking her with me. I can feel her relax, as she feels my warm body underneath her. She sighs again, almost yawns. "Are you tired?" She titches at the sound of my crackling, raspy voice and looks at my face with bloodshot eyes. "You... you can talk?" "Of course..." I murmur, trying to make her ignore my incapacity to spell labial sounds. She smiles a bit; not the cruel smile I'm used to - instead, this is a warming, caring smile. She suddenly seems to be interested in me... I can feel her hands wandering to the straps that hold my mask tight. Her small, slim fingers nestle around with the buckles; finally she takes it off, exposing my devastated, scarred remains of a face. Even thought the light that comes from the fireplace is dim, it is blinding me, so I try to turn my eyes into some shadows beside me. "Your eyes are so beautiful, Kroenen..." she whispers. "You can call me Karl..." I respond. She smiles again. "Karl... That's such a beautiful name..." Titching my shoulders, I place my hands to her cheeks, pulling her face closer to mine. She closes her eyes... the next moment I realize I am pressing her lips against my exposed teeth, rolling my eyes upwards. I can feel her soft, moist tongue sliding into my mouth, playing around with mine. Despite all the self-control I taught myself in the past years, a soft moan escapes my mouth. This feels so good... After all those years of waiting and loving her without response, I finally have what I wanted all the time. With a loud, rattling sound I can hear my mask falling on the floor. Ilsa's warm hands are wandering down my chest, my stomach, my waist... Hmmm... Oh how I wish I could close my eyes... The feeling of her soft palms, touching my private parts is so... beyond descrition...
I remove the leather glove from my right hand - the human one - and pull her closer. Slowly, carefully, I start to unbutton her shirt, watching her, as she relaxes under my touch, the feeling of my normal, human skin obviously arousing her. Now she sits there, on my crotch, her beautiful upper body exposed to me. I notice she did the same to me... It is a strange feeling to have her looking at my naked chest, with all those scars and sutures and, of course, the dial of my clockwork's key. And still, she does not seem to be afraid of what she is looking at. Instead, she slowly places her fingers around the dial, starting to wind me up, carefully, as if she was afraid to cause any pain to me. My right hand is softly massaging her warm breast. Somehow, it is a strange feeling to lie there, underneath her spread legs, completely a slave to her will... But still, it is intensively arousing me. She smiles at me, and I wish I could do something else but to stare at her with a strangely persistent, lipless grin... She unzips my trousers and I lift my hips to make it easier for her to undress me completely, before she does the same. Afterwards, she slowly sits down on my crotch again, softly caressing me by her movements. Immediately those parts of my body respond to that feeling, as they have not been touched for many decades. Every single fibre of my body was longing for what she now does to me for such a long time. Slowly, enjoying every second of it, she allows my stiffened member to slide into her, letting me feel even the slightest movement she makes. Her lustful, erotic moaning is so catching... After a short moment of rest, she moves again, caressing all those sensitive inches of skin and muscles, I didn't even know I have got. The pleasure, I can feel, is unbelievable. This is so much better than pain, killing or torturing jews... "Karl..." her moans grow... louder... more sensual... Oh how good that feels... Don't ever stop that, my Aryan beauty... I lay my hands onto her hips, guiding her to touch my most sensitive spots... more intensive... slower... She nearly cries out from pleasure, when my erection slides deeper into her. "Oh Ilsa..." I softly moan into her ear. Her breaths get faster, her chest heaving quickly, as I lead her forth and back on my lap... again and again... increasing the pleasure for both of us... up to a point where I cannot take it much longer. Ilsa's inner muscles tighten around my private parts, her fingernails digging deep into the flesh of my shoulders. I can see my blood running down my chest... oh god... that feels so... amazing... A weak groan escapes my clenched teeth, as I finally release, slumping backwards, not even capable of looking at Ilsa, who seems to have come just simultaneously. She sinks forwards, lying down on my chest, both of us panting heavily, while I slowly grow soft inside her, after a while sliding out completely... From far away, just like in trance, I notice I place my hands around her shoulders and embrace her tightly, carefully pulling the woolen sheets above us. The fire slowly burns down... step by step, just like the tiredness that suddenly surrounds the scenery spreads over our minds, making my sight blurr, before I fall asleep, taking Ilsa with me, into the land of my dreams...