Austria…

Too gorgeous to be real…

Eyes a hypnotic, bewitching purple, and sparkly…

Behind gentlemanly glasses (GLASSES! Now that's just too much…)

Hair that is elegantly disheveled, as oxymoronic as that might sound…

Pale, creamy skin, like moonlight…

And that mole! It's killing me…

And the prettiest clothes! Does he have impeccable taste or what…

Body is tall, slender, not too muscly – mmm, delicious…

And all the goodness is on the inside too…

A good head on his shoulders, the musical talent of all of Austria's great musicians combined…

Come to think of it, even his voice is a rhapsody to the ears…

The enchantment… the rapture… aah… mein Gott… YES!

I squirm in my bed, humming soft moans as I wake up. My hands had been subconsciously flexing and stretching at my crotch.

What a pleasant dream. I am fuzzy on the details, but the feeling had been crystal clear.

Of course I had to wake up right at the moment of climax. No hope of going back to sleep; I am an early riser, and once I am up, I am up.

As I rise to take a shower, I realize that my panties have become wet. Certainly not with urine, for I had never been a bed wetter, nor with blood, for my period would not begin for another two weeks. No, this discharge was clear, and sticky like snot.

I reflect on my dreamtime thoughts and actions and I feel ashamed. I feel so gross and vulgar and dirty. That is NO way for a proper young lady to think or behave. Though I usually follow Big Brother's advice and take shorter showers and use a modicum of soap, today I take twice as long in the shower and use about three times as much soap.

Tonight, as I go to bed, I resolve NOT to do any more dirty things or think any more dirty thoughts in my dreams, no matter how pretty or handsome I think Austria is.

Ohhhh, Austria…

I want… I want… I WANT!

I wake up in the middle of the night. I sit up in bed and swoon dreamily over my fantasy lover. Even knowing that, when I am fully awake and out of dreamy thoughts mode I will feel repulsed thinking back on it, I feel myself some more, imagining that it is Roderich feeling me instead, until I am asleep enough to believe that it is indeed Roderich who is feeling me.

A few more nights of this, and I no longer feel dirty about it. All I feel is desire – deep, passionate, burning, GAPING desire – for my sweet Austria. My daydreams turn to petting and hugging him at every idle moment, and though I try to avoid such thoughts, they occasionally turn to my panties.

Roderich would never approve of such behavior. He is a proper gentleman. Why, I wouldn't be surprised if it turned out that, even after all of his marriages and forced unions, that he was still a virgin. Or half a virgin, anyway; knowing how many other countries must lust for him the way I do, I imagine he must have been raped quite a few times.

Of course, that modest and noble behavior of his is what makes him all the more desirable.

I have avoided Austria this entire week, in a further attempt to repress these insane fantasies. Perhaps this is the wrong way to handle it; absence does make the heart grow fonder, the libido hotter.

I decide to go shopping for a new outfit today to wear to my long overdue piano lesson. I pick a pretty blue dress that looks sort of like the jacket that Austria likes to wear, gold buttons and all, except without the fluffy white thing at the neck. I try it on in the dressing room, put the clothes that I wore to the store in my shopping bag and pay for the dress at the dressing room counter.

Now all I need is a pair of glasses. Brother had often mentioned that Roderich has 20/20 vision and only wears his glasses for vanity's sake. I much admire that he is willing to put up with bullying that he does not have to put up with, being called a nerd and specs and all, so that he can be an individual and look classy instead of following the crowd and looking like a militant thug.

I look through all of the frames on display until I find the pair that looks exactly like Roderich's. I try it on and stare at myself in the mirror.

I sure look classy! Now, maybe if I cut my hair shorter, maybe dye it a dark coffee bean brown, even take a curling iron and some hair gel to get it to curl up on one side like Roderich's –

"Sister?"

I jump. I see Big Brother's face in the mirror. I had forgotten – today is his shopping day! I turn around to say hello.

"What are you…" His eyes are side, his mouth gaping. He puts his hand to his forehead, closes his eyes, shakes his head and takes a deep breath.

"Why are you wearing glasses?"

"Oh, I was just trying them on. For fun." I fold up the frames and put them back on the display rack.

"And you went shopping for a new dress all on your own…"

"W-Why yes I did." I swallow and strain to hide my nervousness. "Is there a problem?"

"No, no, it's just, uh, never mind." Big Brother turns around, sighs, and whispers to himself.

"Sister, I've been meaning to tell you a few things about… Austria…"

"No need, if you please. I've already heard it all."

"Now I know that Austria seems to you to be the perfect gentleman… but that is just a façade. In actuality, he is really very…"

"Horny?" The word slips out before I even have time to give it a thought.

"HORNY? What ever gave you that idea – no, well, I don't know, it's not like I have any personal experience on that facet of his life…"

Big Brother is sweating and talking unusually loudly again, as he usually does when he's trying not to become overwhelmed with emotion.

"What I meant to say is, well, sort of, ahem… evil."

"Evil? You can't be serious! Austria is one of the most peaceful countries around!"

"That's what he wants everybody to think! And so far the crafty bastard has done a mighty good job of convincing people of that! World War One was entirely his fault, his and Hungary's, and yet it was Germany, not him, who was forced to manufacture billions of cuckoo clocks to pay off the war debt! And as for Germany's crazy former boss, the one who started World War Two, where do you think he came from? Not Germany, he was an Austria native! See, Austria does all the dirty deeds and makes Germany looks like the bad guy. It's a wonder that they can have such a peaceful relationship after all of that – "

"Well maybe because they have decided to let bygones be bygones and move on from the past. Besides, what did Austria ever do to you?"

Big Brother grits his teeth. "He… he… I'VE ALREADY TOLD YOU ALL OF THIS! NEED I REMIND YOU?"

"No, Big Brother, I remembered it the first time." I sigh. "B-…"

"Is there something that you want to tell me, Sister?"

"I open my mouth and take a deep yet shaky breath."

"I knew it. Go on…"

"I…" If I am going to say it, I had better say it right away, to avoid suspicion. "I find R-… Austria to be… quite fetching. That is all."

Big Brother scoffs. "Don't we all."

He turns around to walk away, then stops and turns his head around to look at me. His eyes travel from my face down to my clothing, as if scanning it for comparisons to the outfits worn by Roderich. He shakes his head in denial and goes away.

I take the frames back and request for the optometrist to make me a pair in that style but with flat lenses.

"Oh, well, then, you can just have those, they have flat lenses. Nobody buys that style of frames anymore anyway."

"Danke." I get the glasses for way cheaper than it would cost to have them make me a pair of new glasses, let alone with prescription lenses. Big Brother would be proud – that is, if he weren't so anti-Austria.

I debate ordering my own piano. It would be a very pretty thing to have in my house, and after taking some more lessons I would be able to play beautiful music all day just like my beloved does. But it would be expensive, and Brother would probably go ballistic should he come to visit and see me with it.

Not to mention I could no longer use wanting to play the piano as an excuse to visit Roderich…

But still, I can think of quite a few other good reasons for visiting him. I skip merrily out of the store, all smartly dressed and eager for my piano date – I mean, lesson.