"Genau hier bitte." Alma spoke to the officer driving, and jumped out of the car as fast as she could. She waited for the car to disappear before she turned towards the direction of her apartment. Alma wasn't about to let the Nazi know what street she lived on, let alone her neighborhood. She had a ways to walk before she'd reach the comfort of her home.
And so it was nearly dark before Alma arrived at her apartment. When she closed her door, she smiled. Alma was not one to be prone to the charms of men, nonetheless a German man - a Nazi at that! But Alma felt something strange with Dieter Hellstrom, something unfamiliar, something carnal. Attraction would not begin to cover it.
In the bathroom Alma cleaned her wounds and the dried blood on her face. She sighed, staring at herself in the mirror. What was happening to her? One moment she was transporting a family over the border into Spain, then she was being detained and beaten by Nazis, the next she was being turned on by one of them.
Alma made her way over to her bedroom. She flipped on the radio. One good thing that came from the Nazi's occupying France was their radio choices. Classical orchestras would play all night, while they were mostly German or Austrian - Alma welcomed the soothing melodies either way, they often helped her sleep. But tonight, as she dressed herself in a silk red night gown, she could not sleep. When she shut her eyes all she saw was that man. Not even Wagner could pull her from this reverie.
Die Meistersinger Von Nurnberg, Overture. One of her favorites.
Alma laid on her white sheets, one leg crossed over the other, squeezing. Dieter Hellstrom.
Just thinking of his name made her tremble. Dieter. Alma felt dirty under his gaze, she still felt dirty. She squeezed her legs tighter and sighed.
She had experienced her share of Nazi cruelty, prior to the morning she'd just had. Experienced their hatred and evilness. But never before had she experienced an iota of kindness from a Nazi before Dieter. In fact a Nazi was the purest antithesis of kindness. When she looked into his eyes she knew he had killed many people to get where he was today, but that didn't seem to phase her.
Alma was confused and helpless to her thoughts. This man, a Nazi-a captain at that, who would kill her at the mention of her belonging to the resistance, this man who would slaughter her and everyone she knew, this man who represents everything she hates-was making her touch herself.
She wished she could speak to someone about this. But no one would understand, they'd shame her, call her insane, shun her from the resistance. Alma wished her mother was still alive so she could talk to her about Dieter, she would understand; she was a romantic. Alma never thought of herself as a romantic up until now. She'd always assumed she'd live and die alone, an assumption she had always been comfortable with.
Dieter Hellstrom.
Alma touched herself gently, sighing - a slight moan curving the end to a lower pitch. She lifted the hem of her nightgown up over her knees and rubbed herself. She closed her eyes. Several moments passed, Alma's moan cut through the violins echoing through her bedroom. A beat of sweat trailed down her breast as she came swiftly.
"Oh..." She sighed out, her body tingling all the way down to her toes. She adjusted the hem of her gown and slipped under the covers. Laying on her back Alma imagined Dieter hovering above her. She closed her eyes with a smile.
Alma decided right then and there that she would see him tomorrow.