Chapter 22: A Lie Begins (Part 2)
The villa
The coffee had gone cold in his cup, even as Kerecsen struggled to drink it as fast as he could, stood on the terrace at the back of the von Trapp villa overlooking the little lake. Whenever the Captain was at home, it was a little luxury he didn't have, just having a chance to see the world he tried to tend come back to life. You do always prefer us to be invisible, he thought, another gulp of cold coffee running down his throat. At least you aren't here to complain right now.
Without the Captain at the villa, everyone breathed a little easier—a little louder. The man had only snapped and yelled at them since the Baroness died in September. As though you're the only man who's ever had a broken heart. Even the older wines flowed a little easier in the kitchen when the cook laid their table for dinner; Franz still took a seat at the dinner table with the children and the woman the Captain had hired to look after them since the man had either finally vanished or simply decided to keep to himself in the study. He raised another mouthful of frigid coffee to his lips as he shivered at the thought of the children. They really are a group of ruffians, he went on to himself, fingers clenched a little tighter around the handle on his coffee cup. He might drop it if he wasn't careful, his hand was trembling a little too much.
His wages had run down a little too much to add another package of cigarettes on his wife's last visit to the local shops, and not even András, the chauffeur, was willing to hand him one anymore, no matter how often he asked. It won't be too much longer, he went on to himself with a throw back of his head to drain the last bitter dregs of coffee. After all, the Captain will have to be around to hand us salaries soon—
"You were very quiet this morning, love."
Kerecsen started, the last of the coffee splashing around the very rim of his cup. He hadn't expected to hear Jutka's voice, though he wasn't quite sure why. He and his wife often clung together in this strange house, many of the other staff watching them strangely when they chatted in their own language. Franz was usually one of the worst, hand often in his pocket—twitching and fiddling like he had something in there he liked—whenever he peered at the only pair of Hungarian Jews in the household, possibly the whole district.
"Well, one of us had to be the first to get up."
"It's just been a little easier, recently, being here," she whispered. Her right hand slid into his left, her ancient wedding ring catching at a callous on his palm. "At least sometimes."
"Yes." A final throwback of the cup just left his mouth full of the grounds lingering from the percolator. "At least for you."
"For me?"
"Well, think of the time of year, Jutka."
Kerecsen always had to keep his mutterings to himself whenever his wife complained about the gossip in the back stairwells that hid the lifeblood of the house from the family—or just the children, these days. There wasn't anyone else conceal it from, really. During his own childhood with more sisters than should trouble any boy, he had learned the gossip that flitted between women. And it wasn't only Franz who seemed to dislike the pair of them. But even without the Captain, there was still more than enough to do as the spring vegetables finally began to bear fruit. Some days, he could scarcely scrub the soil from beneath his fingernails, much to his wife's horror before he showered, only to leave an initial pool of dirt around the drain. He always pushed it through before she had a chance to see.
"You do say that sometimes."
"Well, it won't be too much longer until it's hot and it will be a struggle to keep the children from ruining everything I've laid in the ground, even with that new governess to keep them in line."
She leaned into him, the plump line of her waist still as lovely as it was when it was drawn and trim, when they met at their first posts. There had been so many together, he could hardly remember where it had been. "I do feel sorry for them, the poor little dears." Despite his work jacket, Jutka pushed her face into his shoulder. "I've heard her murmuring about it when she doesn't think I'll hear, or that maybe I just won't understand."
"She's better than the lot of them," Kerecsen said as he set his cup on the thick railing at the edge of the veranda. He tightened his arm around her, a kiss lost in her hair. "They're far quieter than they used to be, but they still do talk." The first Christmas the cook had laid a feast in the kitchen and they declined...well, the already harsh glares and turned only worse. They didn't have a synagogue close enough to walk to—not that either was observant—but Kerecsen had tasted the pork he hated in his meals for days after that. He hoped Jutka had been spared.
"But…" He felt her face scrape against him. "Well, at least we have each other, even if not much else to our names."
"Yes…" His voice trailed off, a dark shape out in at the very edge of his sight breaking up the blossoming greenery, dark and almost...familiar. Almost like it was the battered car that the Captain had strangely taken back to...Well, wherever he spent so much of his time these days. And oddly pausing, whatever it was, right back in that cluster of trees and little clearings right where the Captain had agreed with the groundskeeper to let everything be for the next year or so. But it doesn't make sense.
"What is it, Ker?"
"Nothing," he said before he dragged his arm from around her. "It's nothing to do with us. But you'll take my cup to the kitchen, won't you? I fear we both have enough to do before we have time for one another." But I think we have something no one else here has, he thought with a touch of his hand to her cheek. No matter how they murmur about Jews and people from the provincial corners of the old empire. No one here quite seems happy, not even that new governess.
The clearing
Maria hadn't realized quite how hungry she was until she settled herself on her quilt just opposite Georg, the pale wicker basket between them. Something about it—all of it—seemed so unfamiliar, almost odd. Moments like these had been few and far between in her childhood, even in those little happy moments when her father was in Vienna from wherever in the world he called home at the moment. Her foster mother had no patience for anything like it and...She shivered despite Georg's coat on her shoulders as she took another bite of bread, her braid snapping around her neck.
The bread was followed by a smaller bite of the cured sausage wrapped in brown paper. It was similar to what she could sometimes afford, though the patch of grease on the paper and the slick left on her fingers was a little more substantial, the spices a little more potent than what she could purchase in her local shop, a little stronger as she . Even the cheese was nicer than she was used to, though after a few mouthfuls of the jam and bread Georg had unpacked from the basket, she was ready to settle it on the plate in front of her knees. Maybe...Oh, I don't know, she thought as she dragged one of her feet closer and tighter, suddenly feeling the breeze on her calf. Maybe for once I'm in over my head.
Sometimes, it was hard to even look at Georg just now, sat on her ancient quilt just a few feet away. I know I asked you for this, but...She had to shift her gaze over his shoulder, onto one of the tiny birds bouncing from one branch to another, a little song following it wherever it went as the fragile leaves shivered under its weight. I suppose I didn't really think about it, how it would only be the two of us, and...Oh, help. But at least if she gazed over him—around him—anywhere but his face itself—she could almost forget about it.
Now, even as she shook her head against a sudden fuzziness, she reached for her glass again, just balanced against the edge of the picnic basket with a red film still clinging to the inside. She wasn't used to wine, apart from just a sip that followed the dry wafer the priest offered her every Sunday. It left her mouth dry and almost tacky, though it didn't seem to trouble Georg. It hadn't since the moment he wrenched the cork out, poured a short glass with a swirl and some sort of sniff, then handed it to her. "We might be out in the countryside, darling, but there's still time to be civilized," he had said as he poured a glass for himself, a little more substantial than the one he had handed to her before he shoved the cork back into the neck of the bottle.
But you probably have more experience with it than me, Maria thought with another mouthful of wine before settling it back against the basket. She wasn't really thirsty, and if anything, she would rather just drink some water or even a lemonade, but she needed something for her hands to do, fidgeting exactly as her eyes had been. "I don't think I can have anymore," she whispered before righting the tumbler before it tumbled over to spill the last of the wine.
"Hmm?"
"Nothing," she whispered again, her fingers now fighting with the band at the end of her braid. He couldn't see her hands shaking, Maria had decided that as he threw her quilt out over the grass and tree roots that had stretched out from the trunks all around. But I don't know why I'm so nervous. The band was already around her wrist, the first quarter or so of her long plait already falling apart with a few gentle tugs. Or at least I won't tell myself why. She dropped her hand to the quilt, scraping away the grease still lingering from the sausage she was suddenly craving again.
"You know, darling, I didn't expect you to be undoing that right now after just doing it up while we were driving here." Georg reached for his own glass—propped against the other side of the basket—turning it up as he took a gentle mouthful. At least it reminded him of something real.
"I'm not—"
"Don't be silly, Maria," he said with another sip. "Why else is it coming apart in your hands?"
It wasn't that much, this outing, Georg knew, but it felt like he was a child again far away on the coast, at least when the governess of the moment was too busy with the fellow taken by her looks. And the rocks digging into his thighs and buttocks, calves scraping at the smaller pebbles and little weeds that had managed to scrabble up through them, all without anything to worry about...At least not yet, he thought as he drained his glass and placed it back on the quilt. You don't really know, do you, Maria? Well, you can't, I don't think, you're just a child like I was. Just happy to see the sunshine, or something else ridiculous like that. He didn't miss it, her eyes always going this way and that, the next chunk of her braid falling apart in her gently trembling hands. And if there's some things that I refuse to talk about, you have your own as well.
He didn't quite know the time anymore, and buried this deep in the little wilderness at the edge of the grounds. Not even that sunshine Maria probably adored was helpful, the proper location of the sun that had guided his early journeys across the oceans before he found himself under the water completely useless, the tops of the trees cutting off the angles that might have told him something. Back down to Maria again, her fingers were finally picking the last strands of her plait apart, hands now running down through her wavy locks.
"You see, Georg?"
"Hmm?"
"It's lovely out here, isn't it?" she whispered with another sweep of her hand through her hair.
"You still don't know what that word means."
"No?"
Georg hardly even heard it, hardly even saw her mouth open; mostly, he saw her squirming on the quilt she had brought from her home, probably one that lay across her bed in the darker, colder nights. Her feet were suddenly tucked a little closer to her body, her arms suddenly a little more drawn in against her sides and almost shaking against the afternoon air despite his suit coat hanging from her shoulders. He leaned forward, one hand lifting his half of the wicker basket between them and dropping his empty glass back in. There might still be a glass in the bottle left to split between them, but it didn't seem the right time for it. The taste was a little acrid, as though the bottle had gotten just too warm, and…
Well, that wasn't what he worried about. Maria's face had already gone a little red right on the apples of her cheeks. I'm sorry, darling, he thought, one of his feet pushing the basket between them aside. I didn't really think you would find it that much, even if I'm certain you can't have it in your own little home."Come here, Maria." He leaned forward, one hand out to her. "You're too far away."
She tried not to lick her lips, a little heat blossoming under where Georg's coat scratched against her neck. "Hmm?" Her mouth was still too dry for anything else.
"You heard what I said. Come here."
Maria didn't wait despite the fuzziness in her head, suddenly on her knees as she scrambled over to him, dragging her dress back down along her legs as she did. Unlike some of their first meetings in the gardens, back in the time when she really first saw the Salzburg sky break open with frigid rain and snow, she didn't feel as though she needed the heat of his body against hers. But she still tucked herself up against him, flank against his calf and knee—hearing her own breathing rising a little faster.
"No—"
"But you just—"
"No, like this."
Georg had been sitting rather easily since they each took their places, legs propped up, almost spread as they exchanged little niceties, eating here and there. But suddenly—pulling her into him—he had his arms around her to drag her against him, her back yanked up hard against his chest, his legs along either side of hers as the cotton or….She couldn't even quite think, now, just the fabric of his trousers scratching against her bare legs, stockings not quite tall enough to hide her skin from his. "Better, isn't it, darling?" he murmured against the back shell of her ear. She wasn't quite sure if she heard him or felt the word instead.
"I…" Maria swallowed as she pushed body back against him—what was that sound from him now? "I…" She just nodded as his hands tightened around her, even his knees and legs closer as well. "What…" Her head dropped against his shoulder as he pressed kiss to the hollow of her neck.
No one would ever know, would they, if...Because we aren't there on the streets of Salzburg, are we? And we're nowhere near Vienna, so he could never know, could he? Not really, no matter what he always told me.
"You're quiet now, darling."
"What?"
"You're often a chatterbox, Maria, and now I think you've forgotten yourself again."
"No, but…" Maria hissed as a little moan broke through her mouth and she couldn't stop one of her hands clasping at Georg's knee. "Why can't—why can't I…"
"What, darling?"
She couldn't stop herself any longer, not if there was no one else here. It's almost like everything I've told myself I can't have, Maria thought. Both her arms were stretched out past the cuffs of Georg's coat—scrabbling against his legs and trousers as she tried to turn herself around. Her skirt and shift were rising again—up along her knee already as she found them grinding into the quilt despite the cage of his legs—but suddenly as she twisted about against his hands…
What am I doing? she asked herself as she found herself staring at him again. She almost couldn't see his face anymore, whether it was the small glass of wine she didn't understand or her eyes only half open as she pressed her mouth to his, hands under his jaw—almost demanding, refusing to let him go.
"Ma—"
"No!" she whispered as she felt him try to speak.
"You can't say—"
"No!" she shouted into his mouth, nearly biting down on his lip. "You can't—"
"Maria, remember where you are."
"Where?" It was muffled against him. "But I'm here—and with—"
"I don't know if you really do."
Her face was burning even though her eyes were closed, her mouth still pressed hard against his. As long as she didn't look at anything...She could feel the air right up against her legs, her old shift under her new dress both bunched up at her thighs, and her chest smashed right against Georg's. Maria didn't quite now when she had found her hands suddenly clasped around his cheeks, just that in the fresh midst of her need to kiss him—she had never really done that, usually waiting for him to do so for her—and...Her face was even brighter, she knew exactly what she was feeling right up between her legs. I took science classes in college, Georg, I know where babies come from and I know it's perfectly normal and right and…
She took a deep breath as she pulled her face away, now tucked into his neck, against his rough skin and the starched collar of his shirt. And how they come to be, and why. But I know it isn't just you, I know...Now it was a rasping breath as she couldn't even quite stand to hear it in her head. "Georg, I...I'm sorry," she murmured buried her face even deeper into his neck. Pushed the open hollow of her legs into his lap, right against...Everything down between her legs was hot and hard, not just what she had felt burning there herself—
I'm sorry, Father, I know it's not right—and I've told myself before not to be foolish, that you—Georg—must have had that before, but...Why won't it stop?
It was worse than ever, the ache, especially under his hands that were still drifting beneath his coat along her spine, and finally down to her backside. Clenching, almost kneading at her muscles...I know what you want, just...maybe I want that as well. No matter whatever he would say...Her face was even hotter and her rasps a little harsher against his skin. You think I'm just a girl, even if you don't really say it anymore, but I know...
"Whatever for?" Christ, she couldn't understand quite how irresistible she was when he could feel every inch of her body—see her half-bare with her legs spread around him—know how painful his erection was going to be in the next minutes. "What, Maria?"
"I shouldn't be so forward." She could barely talk, every breath a drag against his skin. "And…" Another. "I can't imagine what you think of me when…" She finally pulled herself back, one hand still on his face. "I don't even know what—"
"Do you think I'm bothered at all?" Georg didn't give her a chance to answer, instead crushing his mouth to hers, not waiting for her to decide if she would like to feel his tongue searching for hers, instead just listening to her first coughs as she struggled to breathe before she moaned, her body stroking into his a little more harshly than ever. And then her other hand back around his face, stopping him from moving away.
She pulled her mouth from his ever so slightly. "No."
Georg buried his hand into hair—right up at the top of her head—his other still dug into her backside, every movement releasing a new moan—a new sound—from her throat. And she didn't know it, he was certain she couldn't, she constantly moved her body up against his, only sharpening his arousal and the pain in his trousers. You don't, he thought, her body suddenly a little lighter—
It was a sudden pain in his chest—certainly hers as well—as he crashed onto her, a squeal against his face as he heard the gentle thud of the back of her skull against the ground that wasn't very softened by her threadbare quilt. "I'm sorry, darling," he said, his right hand running along her face as he pushed himself up on the other, just a little. His coat was certainly a crumpled mess under her back, but her unfurled hair was all that he could see, gentle waves thrown out either side of her—her eyes wide and lips just parted enough he could see the damp from her mouth glistening. She shook her face away, now pressing her cheek into the quilt beneath them and her own waves of hair. It opened her neck to him, and Georg pressed a gentle kiss to the swell where it met her collarbone, almost ready to leave another mark just where the other must have eventually faded.
Instead, Georg dropped his weight onto the full length of his left arm, his right hand unable to resist the temptation of what looked to be endless waves of hair. It was one finger—then another and another suddenly wrapped in the frayed mane, gently tugging her face back toward his. "Look at me, Maria," he rasped, a cough caught in his throat. "Look at me."
"What?"
"This is…isn't it?"
"What do you mean?"
Without his suit jacket or a heavy winter coat slung over his shoulders—the latter buttoned up to the base of his throat before the winter had begun to break—there was no mistaking the hardened nipples at the very peaks of her breasts, almost digging into his muscles. This is how you'll look buried beneath me, won't you, Maria? When I finally have you...There was hardly any space between them, Georg couldn't finally take his chance to pinch and squeeze at a nipple, his hand moving down along her side. Into the curve of her waist, still so drawn in it sometimes worried him, along the top of her thigh and to her—
No, it was something he never felt before, but he had certainly seen. The cheapish fabric that was probably the best she could afford, then something coarser and worn, probably stained from the years of wear. And then...warm trembling skin, a soft layer of hair, and yet another moan coming up from her throat. "Just that this is interesting, Fräulein," Georg whispered. He finally turned his gaze down her body to see his hand buried under the hem of her skirt and shift, pale skin gleaming below where her dress had bunched up at her knee. "I'm used to standing over you when you're on your back with your dress tangled up around your legs." He pinched her thigh once more, a little harsher this time, his rising fingers suddenly meeting the coarser hair that must also lie in that hollow between her legs. "Not lying right on top of you."
Maria tried not to think about the surge of pleasure, the heat burning in her belly as her shoes dug into the quilt around Georg. "Yes." It was all she could manage, some tension seizing every limb, the same sort of ache she had felt in her dreams, even just before she threw herself from her room to— She had to close her eyes, she couldn't look at him. His eyes were more ravenous than even that evening at the market as he first struggled to devour her and she couldn't resist it later that night...She gasped for a breath, her half bare legs suddenly opening—nearly parting!—for him, one of her hands suddenly around his neck.
"This is much better."
She couldn't quite breathe, whether it was her own— No, I can't even...Another kiss from Georg stopped every thought she had."Is it?"
"Of course." He abandoned his hold on her leg, dragging his hand away as he finally collapsed onto her and she let out a breath laced with wine. "And don't pretend you don't know it." He caught her jaw in his hand—and she opened her eyes again, pupils wide and huge and glassy. "You're shaking, just like you will someday."
"What—"
His next kiss silenced her apart from the moans she couldn't quite keep to herself. Her mouth even opened to his as she ran her fingers through his hair for a second before he felt her nails digging into his back through his freshly wrinkled shirt. No one comes here, he thought as he had a taste of her tongue again. He pressed his erection harder against her and the little moans were suddenly harsher as she ripped her mouth away—her face against the quilt and her hair again. I could take you right here if I wanted to, be the first man to ever learn how you make—
Maria pushed herself up into him, probably not even knowing she had, she still wasn't even looking at him. Her hips rocked against his exactly as they would if he had already buried himself deep inside her. You won't say it, I think, but you're craving me just as much— Another stroke of her body against him brought a harsher rush of blood down to his penis. "Oh, God, Maria," Georg hissed, his erection almost painful by now. "The things I..." He dropped yet another kiss into the curve of her neck, all the scents she carried around with her melting together with the grass and the forest and the spring wildflowers carried along with the breeze. "The things I would do to you if you were in my bed right now." He had seen her there time and again: heard and smelled every delightful moment of their lovemaking as her tiny body took his every thrust, open to his every demand. "And you…" He needed another breath, though his mouth was buried so completely against her skin, he didn't think she could hear him. "You wouldn't push me away, would you?"
Maria couldn't remember a time her heart had beaten faster. If she didn't know better, she would think Georg would hear it himself, perhaps even feel it throbbing against her ribs. "Oh," she moaned as she wrapped her other arm around him. His back was rising and falling almost as quickly her own chest would without his body weight crushing her into the gently rolling ground. However everything that had burned deep during her secret little dreams and imaginings at night, it was worse than ever just now. The damp between her legs had never been so thorough, she was almost worried her underclothes were sodden, that Georg must have certainly felt it when his hand wandered up her leg, she was almost desperate for it to go higher and higher, that his touch must relieve all the heat—
Her face was bright red, she felt, suddenly remembering her own fingers between the tender folds buried under the rougher hair. Even if she had forbidden herself from ever doing so again, these last weeks as Georg grew in her mind and dreams, she hadn't been able to stop herself from wondering if it would be nicer. "What do you mean?" she asked, coughing for a second—only to draw another deep breath as her breasts scraped against his chest.
"Hmm?"
"You said—said I'm shaking like I would be someday." His hand dropped back along her side, a finger or two starting to ply at the laces she had stitched into her bodice just at her waist. "What does that mean? I don't—"
"Don't say you don't understand, love. And…" Maria felt the very base of those laces loosen. "Do you think I wouldn't look after you until you were finally still again?"
"Look after—"
"You won't have me to look after you—"
Maria still didn't know what he meant to say after that, but it didn't matter. Her entire body was suddenly stiff, her top teeth cutting into her bottom lip, and her arms falling away from him. "Why did you have to—to say that, Georg?"
"It's true—do you think I don't see the way you look—"
"Stop using that word!" she hissed, one hand against his shoulder to shove him away.
"Maria?"
She pushed at him harder than before despite his body still holding her to the ground. "Please don't. Please?"
Georg sighed as he scrabbled his hands at the quilt to find purchase, already halfway onto his haunches before reaching one hand out to her. "What's the matter now?" Maria almost resisted his offer, wondering if she should just wait until he was off her and she could do so herself. But instead, he seized her hand and hauled her up, no patience left to wait for her.
She quickly yanked her hand away, desperate to drag her skirt down at least past her knees. I know what he would say if he knew what I just felt and thought and...wanted. She pulled her legs again and away from Georg, though her shoes caught and crumpled the quilt. "It's not right, this," she murmured, her fingers now tightening the laces along her side. I don't want to think you meant to do that, I don't think you would be like that. But I don't know what I think I meant to do, either.
"No?" Just as Maria had, Georg pulled his own legs back, trying not to wince as his thighs pressed in what to a more experienced woman—or even a girl, he allowed—would still be obvious. She shook her head, though her fluttering hair did nothing for the ache in his penis. "So explain yourself, I'm sure you know well enough how to."
"Anyone could walk by and—"
"Here?" He tried not to laugh. "In the middle of the trees and weeds and birds, away from a Salzburg park or street?" Even though he saw her eyes suddenly obsessed with one of the snags on her quilt, Georg ran a finger along her cheek. "It's where you wanted to be today."
"Yes, but I didn't think that…" She was already looking for the band on her wrist, in between her slender fingers already weaving her braid back together. "Oh, we're here, someone else might be."
He needed to swallow—anything to calm his breathing, to calm the pain at his groin. "But you won't pull back." If anything, her reemerging plait only opened more of her skin to his sight, made obvious her breasts still heaving against her dress as her little gasps slowed. "You never have, and especially not today. Trust me, if that's what you're worried over, you're safer here—"
"Safer?" she snapped, her eyes back on him as she was already half-finished with that braid. "I'd die of shame if someone saw!"
"Saw what?"
"Please don't make—don't make me say it."
"Well, it's safer with the chance of a few prying eyes to embarrass you." He clenched a fist in the blanket, fighting the need to reach out for her knee, even possibly find her bare skin again with its layer of soft hair. "Without the thought of them looming over us...We'd likely be enjoying all of one another right now, and I would show you all the things I want to do to you in my bed."
Maria dropped a strand as she pulled one leg out from beneath her backside, her foot going numb against her weight and the laces of her shoes—though not too far from where it had been. "All?" she murmured, eyes fixed over his shoulder. She hissed again as she caught her strand of hair. It's almost hurting, Georg—
"Don't play a fool, Maria. You know exactly what I mean."
She scrubbed her thighs together, just needing to move suddenly as everything in her belly ached even worse. "But it...it isn't right." Her braid was done, tossed over her shoulder as her hands twitched without a thing to fidget. "You know it isn't."
"It isn't?" he asked. God, Maria couldn't understand how here—now—her legs peeking along her quilt were irresistible—her breasts still seizing under her dress and the shift he had only just discovered.
"No—I mean yes, but—"
"Why?" he whispered. One of his hands skated across the quilt, stopping just short of her knee. Christ, I can't do this any longer. You simply don't understand, I think. "Maria?"
"What?"
Georg couldn't stop himself any longer, at last reaching out for her knee. All he wanted to do was tighten his fingers around her calf, pull one of her legs closer— It would all be so simple, Maria, you being in my bed right now. Do you think I wouldn't make you happy? He dragged another deep breath as he grazed his fingertips down along her calf, feeling her little gurgle for air more than he heard it.After these last few minutes, I know I would."You haven't answered me."
She squirmed against his touch—not away, but she dug one of her shoes into the quilt from the foot of her bed to stop herself from sliding any closer as she had before. "We...We aren't..."
"Why?"
The flush on her face was stronger than ever, Maria knew it already. Not even a quick breeze was enough to cool it. You must know it, even if I don't know if you would want that. Perhaps I'm just a little fool to want it. "We aren't married," she whispered, her eyes down on the worn blanket from her bed.
Oh, I should not have done that, she thought as she clenched her eyes shut. I know what that sounds like, but...I think I'd follow you wherever you asked—do whatever you ask, even if I don't know why. Everything, really, even if I know it's—
"Just that, darling?" She felt his hand suddenly in hers, and when she opened her eyes, he was still there, leaned forward a bit with a half-smile on his face. He hadn't expected it to come to this, his strange craving for this girl. It was about to tumble out of his mouth, anything to have everything from her. "You know it isn't so much, don't you?"
"You can't," she murmured as the ache only grew in her belly. "You can't ask me that, you can't…" Don't tempt me like that, Georg, I don't know how much more I can stand.
"So why not, then?" Georg asked, one of his thumbs running over the back of her hand, right where...You're being a damn fool, you know that, he told himself again, already seeing her shift a little closer to him.But you're so firm in everything, Maria, and I don't quite understand why. Why is it so difficult for you?
"Be serious! I—we can't—"
And I don't know why I think I need something from you that Elsa would happily give me the moment I knocked on her door in Vienna. "That's not what I meant, darling."
"Then what do you mean?"
"You're not angry with me, darling, are you?"
"No!" Maria was already in his arms. She didn't care about the shirt buttons running down the middle of his chest despite them cutting into her cheek as she scraped her face down, arms wrapped around his waist. "No, but I don't quite know what you mean."
"I think you do." Goddammit, you idiot, what are you saying?
She tried to shake her head, but just pressed her skin harder into his chest. "No—"
"Don't be silly, darling."
"No?"
"Certainly not." There was no stopping the words, Georg already knew it. "Why not marry me?"
"Marry me." Maria had to run that simple sentence through her mind, then again—and again. "What?" she whispered, another shift of her face against his shirt probably leaving a mark on her red face.
"You heard what I said."
She tried to nod against him, though now his arms were so tight around her that could hardly breathe. "I did, but—"
"I miss you terribly every time we say goodbye." Georg tossed her braid aside to expose that little exposed patch of skin where her neck met her collarbone. You don't mean to, but you're so tempting, just with—
"But you're gone so often—"
"Maria," he growled, cutting off whatever she was going to say. What else do you expect me to do with seven children— Georg sighed, just pulling her a little closer instead. I can't imagine what you would say, after all your talk of God, if I have seven children maybe a ten minute walk away. And what...God, he really was willing to thoroughly strip everything from her right then—her clothes, her virginity, any lingering thought she had of him being an honorable man. I can't imagine what you would think—or why I would wonder what you would say, if you're just the girl I want in my bed.
"You're always out of town looking after...everything you don't like to talk about—I know you're here more often now, but it's still so often that—"
"And that can change, if I have a reason to stay."
She curled herself closer to him, almost tugging her body into his lap as it had been a few minutes earlier. "It's so much to ask, Georg," she whispered despite her fingers digging into his back, harder than ever. She could still feel it like it had been in her dreams, her bare arms and legs wrapped around him— "It's for life," she added. "What if you leave like you have before, or just change—"
He pulled her face up, his thumb now brushing against her lips. "And why do I think you wouldn't really mind?"
No, I didn't—I didn't think of it, Maria told herself as the tip of his thumb just brushed through her mouth—forcing it open onto to come back out a second later. "But how can you be so sure?"
It's only one word, girl, how can it be so hard to decide when I've been able to persuade you to about nearly everything else? He pressed a rough kiss to her lips, his hand firm enough to hold her face still for a moment. "Because I want to learn everything about you," he managed when he pulled away for a breath of air. "Everything."
"Ev...Everything?"
"You know exactly what I said." He righted her over his legs, draping hers around his again as he pulled her down hard as he could manage, her thin undergarments stoking his erection harder than ever. "And don't pretend otherwise."
Maria could only bury her face in his neck anew, something hard scraping at the aching place between her legs. I know—or at least I know what, but I still don't know what I've gotten myself into. His hands were braced on her backside harder, fingers digging into one side— She couldn't stop the shudder, now, the echo of her moan against his skin almost sweaty against her face.
"Are…" Maria moved against him again, though Georg was certain she hadn't meant to. No man before me, Maria. He took another deep breath of her hair, her body rolling against his again. "Are you going to just wait for your life to fall into your lap?"
"No!" Georg felt her head squirming against his neck, and a hand now caught around her back stilled her. "Why—why else would I be here instead of back in Vienna? Everyone I know is there—everyone except you."
"I suppose you're as lonely as I am."
"What?" she murmured into his neck, the word long and drawn out.
"Don't worry over it, darling." You hardly touched that glass, really, if I remember how thoroughly they're drained in Vienna.But somehow I wouldn't be surprised if your only experience with wine is when you're spending a Sunday morning with God himself. As glassy as I'm sure your eyes are just now. "Just a sailor remembering how it felt to be alone."
"Have you always...been alone?" Her face finally came up from his neck, those eyes just as wide and almost confused as he had expected. "Sometimes...I think I have been."
Georg couldn't answer her, his hand now up along her collarbone, then falling down into the open front of his jacket, down to the base of one of her breasts. "So why would you hold back from a man who wants to give you whatever he can?" His hand was down on her backside again for a second—and it yielded another shudder rippling into his frame. "Maria?"
"Hmm?" Her gaze was still relaxed, fixed on him except for a second when her eyes dropped down to her legs spread wide around his. "Oh, I'm sorry, I can't—"
"It's a simple answer. You came to Salzburg for a new life, didn't you?"
"Yes—"
"And maybe…" Georg took a deep breath. "Maybe…" He still heard the sounds of the little girls as they squealed in Agathe's arms, his sons when they took some time to run about behind the villa just a short walk away around the lake that never quite wavered like an ocean or even the larger lakes in Austria that made it seem a pond, an echo of a life that didn't quite feel as though it ever existed.Something new, darling, please."Maybe I'm looking for one as well."
Maria's mouth was dry as she stared at him, her rapid breathing pushing her breasts into his chest. "A new life?" she whispered. It already feels like the one I had in Vienna is so far away. She couldn't stop herself, her right hand catching at the top of Georg's shirt, the skin she could find warm under her fingertips. There's still so much I don't know: about you, myself...anything. "But I'm just…"
"What?"
I'm just a girl, I really am, no matter what I say. But I don't want to be anymore. "Georg?"
"Maria?"
She nodded as she pushed her body harder into his, her thighs starting to clamp closer around his hips. "Yes—" A rough kiss silenced her, Georg's now on her back again, right in the curve of her spine and almost pushing another moan from her mouth into his. Am I...Would it really be so wrong, if that's right? I don't think— There was a groan from Georg as his other hand ran along her side again. "But, Georg," she gasped as she gulped down air herself, "we still can't...You said you—you would—show me everything you would…" Maria clenched her eyes as she had to push her face into his skin again, another deep breath filling her lungs with his cologne again. "Everything you would do to me in—in your bed."
"I would—"
"But we can't, not now—"
"So soon," Georg said and dragged her face from his neck. "Look at me, darling." She blinked heavily. "Very soon. Who do you need?"
Maria shook her head even as Georg caught her jaw again. "You know I haven't got any family, at least not to speak of—or will stand up beside me."
"So soon, darling. As soon as possible. Before you are utterly irresistible." You'll be something to refresh me nicely, darling, even if I don't think you'll ever really understand.
A/N: First off, I know that was three updates in very quick succession...that never happens in this story! But I know how long it took to get the last up, and these last three were all originally one ginormous, hugenormous, WOULD BREAK YOUR EYES HORRIBLY LONG chapter. So this was basically ready to go and I'd been waiting to get here...for a while.
I know how that reads. If you like Georg right now, you need to ask yourself some questions. And this time, if you can spot the Pirate Jenny song reference (the band, not The Three Penny Opera), more bonus points. But I turned on some music from the Mamas and the Papas recently…"I Saw Her Again". This moment has been coming for ages, and then...How appropriate.