Welcome to Part 10 of The Emerald Lady.

To think at one point I was going to give up on this after chapter 1, and now it is 10 chapters with more to come! All that is solely down to all you wonderful readers who have encouraged me with your lovely reviews. I would never have continued this without you. Please keep them coming, they mean everything to me.

So not much else for me to say about this chapter, except please enjoy!

All characters are copyright of their creator Quentin Tarantino.

WARNING! Some sexual content in the beginning of this chapter.

Hellstrom was on all fours, gripping onto the bed sheets and gasping as he felt Landa thrusting into him from behind. He had wanted this for so long and now it was finally happening again he was almost delirious with ecstasy. His gasps turned to moans of pleasure when he felt Landa's hand slide down and grip his very hard cock before starting to stroke it slowly in time with their movements. Hellstrom began to move his own hips backwards in order to meet Landa's body and push him in deeper, every penetration making him groan and sigh.

Landa was in his element as he looked down at the naked body in front of him which contorted and shook every time he pounded himself into it. He couldn't take his eyes off Dieter's back which was arching up towards him in pleasure. Such a long, slim expanse of perfect pale skin, glistening very slightly with a sheen of sweat. Landa couldn't resist him and leaned down over Dieter in order to kiss and lick the skin between his shoulder blades, tasting the delicate saltiness of the moisture. Hellstrom leaned his own head back in response, allowing Landa to do the same to his shoulder and neck. Hellstrom's moans became even louder as he soaked up every kiss and lick that was being bestowed on his hot skin.

Landa held onto Hellstrom's hip with his one free hand and began to force himself in and out with even more strength. He'd forgotten how truly glorious a creature Dieter was to fuck. His body was so perfect and beautiful, like a statue carved out of porcelain. He was so incredibly tight and responded ecstatically to anything Landa did to him. Landa could feel himself starting to get lost in a cloud of pleasure and all coherent thought left him so he could only focus on the reactions of the man in front of him and that wonderful tightness that was gripping his cock.

Landa knew he couldn't hold on much longer and continued to thrust with all his might. Beneath him Dieter was beginning to moan with increased urgency, the wincing of his body suggesting that Landa's force was starting to hurt his tender flesh. The sight sent Landa over the edge and with a heavy gasp of his own he came deep inside Dieter's body. A strangled cry told Landa that Dieter had also just climaxed and he firmly held onto his hard cock as he felt it jerking in response.

Hellstrom's arms buckled and he lay awkwardly on his side, panting with exertion as his body glowed with orgasm. Landa gently withdrew himself and lay next to him, still idly stroking the hot cock that was now slowly softening in his hand. They both lay still together, absorbed in the shared afterglow of their passion, the room hot and stuffy from their very physical efforts.

Landa looked again at Hellstrom's back which was now heaving very slowly as his breathing began to steady and return to normal. It never failed to fascinate Landa how powerful sex was in completely taking over a person. All rules of normality and reason seemed to disappear when the body was engaged in sexual pleasure. Landa knew this was one of the reasons he enjoyed sex so much; it allowed him to exert such extreme control over another person. Hellstrom was so intelligent, confident and adept at his job and yet when in the throes of sexual ecstasy he was nothing more than a bundle of emotion and reaction. Landa smiled vaguely to himself and allowed his hand to sweep gently one last time over Hellstrom's hot skin before he climbed off the bed and stood up.

Hellstrom shifted onto his back when he felt Landa move, the familiar feeling of disappointment growing in his stomach in acknowledgement that their union was over. He watched Landa as he walked out of the bedroom door and into the adjoining bathroom where he started to clean himself up. Hellstrom could have happily stayed there forever, staring blatantly as that stunning naked body. How long would it be until he would experience this again?

Landa returned to room, patting himself briskly with a towel. He smiled pointedly at Hellstrom.

"Time to start work I think, Sturmbannführer," he said pleasantly.

Hellstrom sighed as he obediently got up and made his own way to the bathroom, wishing he could remain in the bedroom to watch Landa dressing. It was so rare that he got to see Landa in a state of undress that he wanted desperately to savour the moment, memorising the sight that would fuel his fantasies until the next time the Standartenführer required his services. Reluctantly, Hellstrom retreated to the bathroom where he hurriedly washed his hot, sweaty skin. Despite the speed of his actions, Landa was almost completely dressed by the time he returned, buttoning up his jacket with a knowing smirk on his face, obviously aware of Hellstrom's disappointment. Hellstrom himself dressed quickly, wincing slightly as he realised how sore the flesh between his legs actually was. Landa had been rough with him today but he never minded; the chance to have Landa's hands on his needy body was worth any amount of later discomfort.

They left Landa's townhouse in the staff car driven by Hermann. Hellstrom often wondered how much Hermann knew about Landa's private life. The man was surely not stupid enough not to realise who amongst Landa's house guests were lovers. Hellstrom often wondered if Hermann had any inkling of the sort of things he and Landa did together, or whether he innocently thought him as no more than another of the Standartenführer's colleagues. Hellstrom thought it was probably best he never knew what Hermann privately thought of him or the situation.

"Now, Dieter," Landa said, "you remember what we discussed? You know exactly what I need you to do?"

"Ja, Standartenführer."

"Good," Landa replied. "I'll go into the cinema and keep Mademoiselle Mimieux occupied whilst you do what I said."

"What will you do, Standartenführer?" Hellstrom asked before he could stop himself.

Landa raised his eyebrows with a look of amused disbelief.

"I'm sure I'll think of something to keep the young Mademoiselle entertained," Landa said with gleeful malice.

Hellstrom wished he had never asked and flushed deeply as jealousy began to stab him painfully in the stomach.

Shosanna stood in front of her mirror, wishing her chest would stop fluttering nervously. Landa had promised to try and see her today. She knew he was busy, but she suspected he would make every effort to get away from his work for her. She was anxious and jittery. Landa seemed to have completely infiltrated her mind and body. She was obsessed with him.

Shosanna never bothered to wear her nice clothes during the day as this was when she did all the household chores. But today was an exception; she couldn't have Hans seeing her in filthy work clothes! She was wearing one of her black skirts, slightly tighter and shorter than she would normally have chosen. She looked at herself from all angles, checking that it complimented her body rather than emphasised her bad features. She had found a brand new pair of black stockings in her drawer and had slid them on very carefully to ensure they did not get ripped like all her others. Shosanna wondered idly if Landa was aroused by stockings; most men seemed to find them attractive. She blushed and felt herself growing hot in acknowledgement of hoping circumstances that afternoon would allow him to discover the pretty underwear she had chosen especially for him.

Shosanna had chosen a white blouse to wear with her skirt. She normally hated white as she was self conscious of her body being too visible under the sheer fabric. But today the colour suddenly seemed attractive to her. She tucked it into the top of her skirt to emphasise her slim and shapely waist, easily the part of her body she liked the most. Shosanna unbuttoned the top button of the blouse and examined herself carefully. Was that too provocative? She wanted to look attractive but didn't want to look cheap with too much cleavage on display. She decided to be cautious in case Hans did not appreciate her flaunting herself too much for him.

Shosanna looked at the time. Normally she was dressed and ready in minutes but this morning was taking a long time. She applied a second coat of red lipstick, smoothed her hair around her face and stepped back for a final look. Shosanna turned slowly to look at herself carefully. She was satisfied; if Hans came she looked and felt her best.

Shosanna was still looking at her own reflection admiringly when Marcel passed by the open door. He had begun sleeping in a different room and was no longer using their bedroom. He stared open mouthed at her, not quite believing the spectacle before him.

"So you really are playing the whore for him, aren't you?" he asked nastily.

Shosanna scowled.

"Why do you think everything is about him?" she snapped angrily, "am I not allowed to look nice if I want?"

"You'd never dress up nicely for me," Marcel said bitterly.

"And that's because you wouldn't even notice if I did," Shosanna replied icily.

No, I..."

Shosanna turned to face Marcel full-on with such ferocity that his sentence stuck in his throat. Her vision seemed to be blurring and her entire body buzzed white hot with fury. It was as if all the confusion, frustration and guilt she had been feeling was now ready to explode.

"You don't understand any of this do you?" Shosanna said, so angry her voice was shaking. "I know you love me, Marcel, but everything we do is so dull! We don't appreciate each other and never do anything exciting. I know Hans is an evil bastard, but he makes me feel alive! He's exciting and tells me I'm beautiful and..."

"Are you in love with him?" Marcel interrupted, his face stunned with pain and shock.

Shosanna hesitated.

"No," she said after a moment of thought, "I love you. But I can't pretend that I don't feel something for him as well."

The hurt in Marcel's eyes was almost too much for Shosanna to bear. She watched with tremendous sadness as he turned and walked away, not even wanting to react to what she had said. Shosanna felt guilt like she had never experienced, but she couldn't lie to Marcel anymore. Their life was boring and dull, safe and repetitive. When she was with Landa, Shosanna felt more vivacious and animated than she had ever done before. It was probably mainly to do with sex, but this was one element Shosanna knew she could never discuss with Marcel. Telling him how wonderful Landa's lovemaking was would do irreversible damage.

Shosanna didn't see Marcel for the rest of the morning. She could hear him upstairs, pacing around and occasionally stopping for periods of time, presumably sitting down and thinking. Shosanna got on with the day's chores and didn't disturb him. She knew she had hurt him badly but there was nothing she could do or say to change the situation. She could of course have lied and told him Hans meant nothing, but the situation had advanced too far. Marcel could see in her eyes that the infatuation was strong and Shosanna knew that to hide it further would be impossible.

It wasn't until lunchtime that Shosanna heard Marcel descend the stairs. Bracing herself for another argument, Shosanna abandoned the bowl of soup she had been toying with and walked cautiously into the lobby. The sight that greeted her made her spirits sink.

Marcel was standing at the bottom of the stairs, two small cases sitting at his feet. He was wearing his coat and his face was heavy with resigned sadness. Marcel followed Shosanna's gaze as she looked at his luggage, realising what he was doing. Marcel looked back at her and shrugged vaguely.

"This is for the best," he said softly.

Shosanna shook her head.

"Please Marcel," she pleaded, "just give me a chance to get these feelings out of my system and we'll start again."

Marcel gave a gentle smile.

"You mean sit at home and wait until you get bored of sleeping with that animal?" he asked.

Shosanna didn't reply. Marcel shook him head firmly.

"You know I would do anything for you," he said quietly, "but this is too much. Don't stand there and ask me to sit quietly whilst you sleep with another man."

Shosanna rushed forward and tried to take his hands but he brushed her away.

"Please," she said again in a desperate tone, "I think I'm just confused. Just give me some time and this will all go away."

"No, Shosanna," Marcel said wearily, "it won't go away. You need him. I don't know why but I can't stay here whilst you do."

Shosanna's eyes filled with tears. Marcel had to look away; he could never bear seeing anybody cry, it upset him too much. With a final half-hearted smile he picked up his cases and walked out of the front doors, not looking behind him. Shosanna watched him leave, leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen and suppressing a sob. Now she really was all alone, like she had been all those years ago after fleeing that farmhouse. Once again, she had unwittingly made the decision to abandon her loved ones and be alone. Shosanna walked slowly back into the kitchen, wondering what was wrong with her and why she seemed to feel the need to push those away who loved her.

Marcel had barely left the cinema premises when he was forced to sit down on a nearby wall. He was shaking badly and finding it hard to walk calmly and coherently whilst in this state. He leaned forward and rested his head in his hands, breathing deeply and closing his eyes in an effort to stop his pounding heart. The hard lump in his throat had subsided now, along with the aching burn of tears that had been threatening to spill. It had been hard enough walking away from Shosanna without tears complicating the situation.

Marcel reached into his pocket and pulled out his cigarettes, lighting one and inhaling deeply. He wasn't a particularly big smoker, but at this moment he craved nothing more than the calming effect of a cigarette. He smoked slowly, enjoying the relaxing sensation until it was time to throw away the stub. He sat still, thinking over what had just happened.

What hurt more than anything was not knowing what he had done wrong. Marcel had always been devoted to Shosanna, looking after her and loving her more than anybody he had ever met. They had argued at times of course, but he had never knowingly hurt or mistreated her. What had she said? Their life was boring, dull and repetitive. Well he couldn't help that! Everybody's life was dull and repetitive because that was what everyday life was like. Marcel felt that at least if he could understand what mistake he had made, the situation he found himself in now would be easier to bear.

Marcel sighed sadly to himself as he contemplated what to do. The cinema had been his home for even longer than it had been Shosanna's and now he was at a loss as to where he should go. He wondered what she was doing now, if she was sad that he was gone or looking forward to seeing Landa. Marcel's blood boiled with uncontrollable hatred as Landa came into his mind. That evil, malicious bastard. Not content with having killed Shosanna's family he was now destroying their relationship as well. Marcel had no idea how but somehow he would get even with Landa over this. Shosanna seemed to have long since abandoned her plans to get rid of the Colonel; Marcel wondered if maybe he should use his time to plan how to do it himself now that he had such a grudge to bear.

Marcel got off the wall and picked up his cases. Hunting down Landa would be much more difficult in reality; the man was an officer and no doubt had plenty of minions around him to protect him. Marcel shook his head as he mentally abandoned the highly ambitious idea and began to walk slowly down the road. He didn't see two men, one in SS uniform and the other in Gestapo, exiting a car and beginning to walk decisively across the square.

Shosanna felt dazed as she sat at the kitchen table. She had no idea what to think or feel. She should have lied to Marcel and not told him the truth about her feelings. But these feelings were so strong it was becoming impossible to pretend they didn't exist. Maybe she had hoped he would understand and give her his blessing to discover more about this newfound side of herself? Despite the fact that she was alone, Shosanna laughed audibly at this. She could never be naive enough to actually believe Marcel would have accepted the situation.

Shosanna was so engrossed in her thoughts that she didn't hear or see the figure that had crept silently across the lobby and was now standing in the kitchen door watching her.

"So deep in thought, Emmanuelle?"

Shosanna jumped violently and almost screamed in shock. She leapt up from her seat and turned to see Landa standing in the doorway. He was smiling as usual, a particularly wide and wicked grin. He leaned back nonchalantly against the wall and raised his eyebrows in playful anticipation.

Shosanna knew the irony of the situation was perverse but at this moment all she wanted was the warmth and comfort of another person. She marched directly over to Landa and flung her arms around his shoulders, kissing him more deeply and desperately than she had ever done. He matched her passion, opening his mouth and thrusting his tongue into hers as if he couldn't consume her quick enough. They kissed each other with frenzied lust, Shosanna moaning against him as she felt his hands begin to slide up her skirt. Marcel was right; this addiction she was in the throes of was too powerful at the moment to ignore.

Marcel was mentally calculating how much money he had and whether it would be enough to get a room at one of the local taverns when a sharp tap on his shoulder distracted him. He turned round only for his blood to freeze as he saw a young Gestapo officer facing him, smiling cheerfully, his eyes glowing with enthusiasm.

"Going somewhere?" he said.

"What?" Marcel asked in confusion.

The officer's smile deepened in a way that made Marcel's skin crawl.

"Sorry," he said lightly, "let me rephrase that. I meant to say you were going somewhere."

Marcel was completely lost but knew something was wrong.

"I don't understand what you're saying to me," he said, making a monumental effort to sound polite.

The young officer's face changed once again, this time the fiery excitement in his eyes fading and being replaced with one of cold disdain.

"Then let me rephrase once again," he said, his voice now soft and deadly, "you are under arrest."

Blind panic seized Marcel.

"You can't!" he protested, "I haven't done anything! What are you arresting me for?"

The Gestapo officer did an exaggerated expression of thoughtfulness, giving Marcel the distinct impression that he was plucking a charge randomly out of nowhere.

"I could have you arrested for anything I wanted," he said gleefully, "but I think being arrested under suspicion for harbouring Jews sounds appropriate."

With surprising strength, the officer gripped Marcel's arm in a vice-like hold and began marching him towards a car where two other men in Gestapo uniform were waiting.

Marcel was beside himself with fear as he was forced into the back of the car. Was this officer making it up? Was he really under suspicion of harbouring Jews? Marcel felt physically sick as an even worse thought hit him. No, surely this man could not possibly know about Shosanna?