Chapter 27: Sins (Part 2)
Just as on the drive to the courthouse early that afternoon, Maria lost track of where Georg was taking her. She recognized many of the buildings on corners here and there, some of the trees she remembered seeing from the window of the bus as it lurched along to her school and tousled the papers in her bag. I know you weren't that far from me, Georg, but somehow...I never imagined this close. It's almost as though we were neighbors. Maybe I shouldn't have too surprised to have met you in the end.
Once or twice, she laid her head against the window—and immediately sat up again. The glass was too cold and too hard and...Well, I doubt that falling asleep now wouldn't be the best idea. The sun was nearly gone for the evening, leaving just a few of the street lamps burning into her eyes. She closed her eyes for a moment, though when she opened them again at a particularly sharp turn (was the car moving faster?), she had to squint at the renewed glare. And when she looked to her right at Georg…
Well, it must be the twilight and what she assumed must be greater difficulty in driving. His eyes were always on the road whenever she looked at him. What will he think of me? she wondered as her gaze returned to the world fading outside her window. I know I won't be the first woman he's...been with, I'm not that silly. But I don't know anything but what I remember the girls in my dormitory whispering about, or what I read in my science books. I hope that will—
"Maria?"
She sat up straight, suddenly aware the car had stopped; she hadn't noticed, lost in a daydream instead. "What is it?"
"We're here."
"Home?"
"Yes."
Opening his own door, Georg tried not to shudder at the word. Even after so many months, it didn't quite feel like his home. But neither was the villa he reminded himself as he walked around the front of the car, a little heat still radiating from the engine. There is no home from me right now, he decided as he seized the handle of the passenger door. It's like being adrift at sea again. But he forced a smile as the latch clicked, the door came open, and his new wife spun about on the threadbare seat to step out onto the stone street. Always remember that, he told himself as he helped to her feet. "Don't worry, darling, it's only a block away. It's no easier around here than the courthouse."
His jacket still hanging loosely on her body, after another chilly but short walk, Georg led her through the front door into the little lobby of the apartment building. He didn't miss her eyes going here and there as though she had never seen anything quite like it. Well, he knew she must not have, at least in Salzburg he decided as they started on the first flight of stairs. Seeing just how worn the façade of her little rooming house was, there must have been nothing fancy behind the battered door. When they reached the next flight of stairs to the second floor, he heard her footsteps coming a little quicker behind him—felt her hand a little tighter in his, her fingers twitching back and forth.
By the time they reached the door to his flat, Maria was almost pressed against his shoulder again, her pace was so caught up with his. "You'll have to let me open the door," he said as he glanced back at her. He ran a finger across the swell of her collarbone he spied beneath her fancy dress until his jacket buried it. "I don't think you would make your way in otherwise."
"Oh, I'm sorry."
"No, don't apologize," he went on as he turned the key in the lock.
I never really had to worry about locking my door, there wasn't even one to use, Maria thought as the door opened. There was no squeal of the hinges, no flicker as the switch just inside clicked under Georg's touch. And...well, the front room looked pleasant and bright in the gleam of the electric light, but it wasn't quite what she expected.
A pair of chairs in dark blue upholstery, cushions tucked up against the back. White curtains flanking either side of a small window looking out onto the road they had just left. A bookcase awaiting more books to join the few sitting there as companions. I suppose mine will do, she thought as she hurried from the door, Georg closing it behind her. It was still too cold in here, she decided, even with the window closed despite the June warmth. Still peering around, Maria scrubbed her hands against her arms, happy Georg's jacket was too large for her to wear; she would still be shivering otherwise. Her heart leapt a little at the gramophone in the gentle shadows of the corner, though she didn't see any records to play anywhere, whether on the stand beneath it or on any of those empty shelves. At least I might have some music here and not just at the music hall downtown, but...
Something seemed to be missing, she decided. It wasn't just the lack of photographs—her uncle never tolerated any—but it was almost as though there was nothing of him.Georg talked often enough of the navy, how it had been good to him, but...No framed newspapers like in her foster mother's front room, no simple naval awards that she was sure he must have won to be rewarded like he was. But maybe he has them tucked away for safekeeping, she decided. I kept my precious things hidden for so long.
In front of her already, Georg had his hand out like he was ready to lead her—somewhere, just as he had along the river through the afternoon and up the stairs just now. She gave him her own, allowing him to draw her forward—and as she saw the surprisingly large kitchen off to the side, she yanked it away. "May I have a glass of water?" she asked rapidly, almost stumbling over the words.
"Of course."
Walking away from her, Georg had to pause for a moment, trying to remember where he had placed the new glasses and not to walk into the new table and chairs. Was it this cupboard—this one—or that one? He decided on the one next to the sink, happily finding one of the unchipped glasses at the front edge. After running the water for a brief moment to clear any bits from the pipe, he thrust it beneath the spindly faucet set over the basin. Filled almost to the top, he closed the tap and returned to the entrance to the kitchen and handed it to Maria, shaking a few drops that had splattered from the tap onto the cuffs of his shirt. "There, darling."
"Thank you." Her hand wasn't shaking now as she pressed it to her lips, but her throat had gone so dry as they climbed the stairs. Just as easy as the stairs to her cluttered room—nothing like this front room—but no clear idea of what she was climbing those stairs to. After a few sips soothed her parched mouth and she handed it back to Georg. "That's all I needed."
He set it on the counter beside the sink after tipping what remained down the drain. "Then that's that." Her hand in his again, he pulled her along again.
It was only his bedroom that lay at the end of that short hallway, suddenly illuminated by another overhead light that didn't whimper as it came to life; she hadn't noticed where the washroom was. It was small, and still less there than she had imagined there might be. But, she supposed, perhaps it was to be expected. After all, her little room contained all she had in the world. With so much space, it was just sparse, she decided as Georg let her hand go. A little side table, a wardrobe without the little touches of age like hers, more delicate and pristine curtains hanging on either side of another window—a luxury to have a window like that, Maria decided—and a small bed with its head pressed against the wall. A lovely duvet without a single frayed hem tossed across it, half-covered clean and plump pillows—
"Darling?"
"Yes?" She glanced to where he had just been, but somehow his voice was lower, farther down.
Following it, she found him crouched on the floor swiftly unlacing his shoes, one then the other slipped from his feet before he stood straight again. "You won't need those here."
Maria nodded as she bent forward, not needing to be so far down; she only had to slip them from her feet. Standing up again, her head needing a moment to stop spinning as the blood rushed about, the wall across the room caught her eye. A pair of paintings she hadn't noticed just now: a collection of men in uniform and large ships sailing across a beautiful clear blue sea and, in between, a framed Austrian flag—or nearly, she couldn't see what was printed across the white band in the middle. I suppose you had to have something about it here, she thought as she took a first cautious step away from him and the doorway. But her pace increased rapidly as she approached the window, hands caught on the inner sill as she peered down at Salzburg as the lights below enticed her.
The sunlight was all but gone, a few final gasps still lingering at the edge of the horizon. In the street below, the headlights from cars and buses only appeared here and there like the fireflies at night around her foster mother's front door, despite how they split through the glass. And the lights peppering the buildings, only the very last were still gleaming. "I've never seen the city like this," she whispered.
"No?" Georg asked as he settled his hands on her shoulders, his coat too thick to feel anything but the weight of his touch. "A shame."
Maria tried not to jump; she hadn't heard him behind her. "Not even Vienna, like this. It's so lovely."
"You don't know what lovely is, Maria," he whispered as he leaned into her ear for a moment, not caring how she shivered against his breath. "At all."
Lovely. You've told me that so many times before, but now—we're here. And what will you do first, Georg? I don't know what I should do, let alone— Her knot of hair was suddenly heavier, a few strands of hair falling against her neck—then a few more. "Quite a knot you made, love." The first two pins tucked between the thumb and forefinger of his left hand, Georg reached for the next, not waiting for her complaint as he continued with practiced hands. Late at night, he had done this for his wife many a time, the silver pins dropped into a little ceramic dish beside her brush and comb and hand mirror, all now well hidden at the villa. And here I am again, somehow. Here, not there.
With a hand around the back of her head, Maria tried to push his hand away. "I can do—"
"No, it will be better this way," he said, gently shoving her fingers away.
Maria pulled her arm back, just feeling her hair fall away little by little: the subtle warmth on the back of her neck, the gentle rustling as Georg occasionally ran his fingers through it from the top to the tips. And with every one of those strokes, something tightened in her belly.
Her hair at last completely unfurled, Georg dropped the pins in his jacket pocket with a cringe as the cheap metal clanked against the whistle. "Hmm," she hummed, her head lolling to the side for a moment, her blond hair almost blinding against the black coat. You're more ready for me than you'll ever admit, he thought with his right hand rising along her spine as he tried not to look at the ring on his finger. He slipped his jacket away from her only to see her shoulders rising and falling faster than he had seen since...well, he was sure the entire day had been near the same. Perhaps only at Attersee, it had been nearly so bad. Distracted, he decided as he tossed the it aside. You wouldn't know what she had in her pocket, even if you looked.
Georg pushed her hair aside to leave her neck bare, a patch of pale skin he had never seen before. The silver chain over the top hem was an annoyance as he searched for her dress's zipper right at the top of her spine, and he pushed the little clasp aside. He was certain she heard the first clicks as he worked it down the top of her back, a white slip appearing almost immediately. She turned her head back as far as she could, but he just kissed the back of her cheek. "I told you before, I wanted to show you everything I wanted to do to—with you in my bed."
"Yes…"
"I can't do that with you bundled up in that, no matter how lovely you are in it."
Under his hand, Maria's chest swelled with another breath—but she turned back away from him, her hair gathered in one hand to keep it aside. "Good," he murmured, his hand continuing its quest. It journeyed along the back of her ribcage—past the curve of her spine—down her backside where his other hand lingered, as always wishing there was a little more of her. "There, darling, but you'll have to help me with the rest. It's a little too tight around the waist to do much more without you."
Georg coaxed her arms through the short sleeves before he pulled the white and blue dress up from her waist. Her loose hair tangled with the zipper's teeth briefly before he tugged it free with just a gentle hiss from Maria, then pulled the dress over her head, not quite anticipating the silky fabric. He hadn't expected to see her shoulder blades protrude from beneath her skin or the little bony bumps he had followed as he began to strip her bare. But unlike her dress, the white slip still hanging on its thin straps was a little loose rather than hugging every one of her minuscule curves. But as her skin shone in the harsh electric light...Christ, his groin already ached.
A hand on either shoulder, one burrowed beneath the hair she had pulled aside, Georg spun her about gently. Her mouth was just open and her eyes as wide as he had ever seen. The front of her slip ran straight across her chest, just below where her dress must have lain, that little silver cross hanging down and almost touching where the top of her cleavage must be. A finger across that only made his pain worse. "I could look after that, love, but…" He ran that same finger beneath one small breast, now playing with the strap lying across her left shoulder. "I can't do it all for you."
How had she put it on this morning? Maria couldn't quite remember, her thoughts were suddenly so muddled. I suppose I should just do the opposite, but...Oh, just treat it as you would your Sunday dress. But I don't know if I'll be so embarrassed I— Another delicate kiss banished any thought of that. "Maria."
She nodded a little as she shook herself free of his grasp, either hand beneath those straps, pulling it just high enough that she could catch the front hem that crossed her chest. Now, she pulled it quicker, not giving herself time to stop and think. If I do, I just don't know if I will. Her hair was everywhere now, the static pricking at her cheeks and shoulders as it fell back. The little crucifix bounced against her chest as she did, and before she dropped the slip beside her dress, she had to peer at Georg, arms full of the linen almost like a shield. He was smiling at her, already unknotting his tie...and she let it finally fall to the ground beside her dress. If I don't, I just know I'll turn back.
Georg had to look twice at his new wife. "Not what I expected from such a modest girl," he said quietly, his tie forgotten. Rather than undergarments to match the old shift he remembered finding beneath her dress weeks earlier—he pictured them as dingy and grey as that old shift—they were white and shining just like her dress, the top of the brassiere dipping lower than he could have imagined. Underwear to match, though not the frumpy knickers up to her waist he had anticipated. Still white silk, he supposed, drawn right across her hips. "Not in the slightest, my dear."
Maria had expected to be cold with everything but her undergarments stripped away, or nearly everything, and her goose pimples hadn't vanished yet as she just shook her head side to side. Right now, I would feel so bare without my mother's cross. Only a step or two from her, Georg had resumed the dismemberment of his tie's knot, continuing as though she wasn't nearly naked. God has always said this was right and holy, that's it what should happen. But I still just don't know what to expect. "The—the dressmaker," Maria finally managed as Georg pulled the black tie from beneath his collar, the very base of his throat exposed. "She packed them in with my dress and shift. I didn't quite know until I finally opened it today."
Georg tossed his tie aside to join his jacket before he tugged his shirt free from his waistband, working his way up the buttons one at a time. "Quite a lovely thought from a stranger."
"She said…"Oh, I'm staring again, I know he knows that, Maria thought as Georg's chest began to appear, not quite as tan as his face and hands, but still sun darkened with a thin layer of dark hair atop his skin."When she was measuring me for my shift that…"
"What?" Georg asked, his fingers already nearing the top button. Her eyes were following his hands as though she was waiting to see what lay beneath. Heart on your sleeve, darling.
"You wouldn't be—happy to see me in what I had on that day. I hated her seeing them—well, I hated having to be in them even though I know she said she had daughters—"
"And there you go, running off with your thoughts again."
Everything in her stomach—even more!—was tight, almost coiled like a spring ready to be released as Georg tossed his shirt into the growing pile of his own clothing. "I mean for...tonight. That she would sort something—I didn't think what she meant, I was just so excited for the dress. I didn't understand what she meant until I unpacked everything this morning."
With another step closer, he had to run a hand along the very top of that brassiere, still seeming like such a new-fangled garment for a woman to wear even in the 1930s. God, not here and now."Hmm?"
"I couldn't have imagined that's what she meant."
A few fingers atop it, Georg curled the rest of his hand around her breast, a gentle squeeze eliciting a sharp sigh. "Perhaps, but you chose to wear them today." All Maria did was nod.
Georg pulled her after him, away from the window and around toward his bed. There won't be much room for you, Maria, but you won't need that much after all, especially with what I need from you. At the edge, hands on her shoulders again, he pushed her down gently onto the duvet; she was so small, the mattress hardly complained. She shivered under his palms until he took them away and seated himself beside her. Her knees were clamped together more than before and luckily her gaze was down, as though she was fascinated by the little rug running alongside the bed. (That dressmaker's plan had worked, he decided; sitting was an excruciating task.) With another small smile, he twisted a finger into her long hair again. "You're shaking," he murmured against her mouth. "You're not frightened."
"No."
Hair released, Georg caught her jaw instead. "So show me." Her hand was still shaking as it worked its way down just against the buckle of his belt, but he stopped her and dragged it away. "No, show me. Just the way you did in that clearing."
"What?"
"What else did you expect from tonight?"
Her hands were knotted in her lap, fingers nearly white. "I don't know."
"Yes you do." He tugged his fingers through her long blond hair again, her shudder impossible to hide now.
Why is my heart pounding? she wondered, one of her nails finally cutting into her palm as she turned toward him. Nothing is wrong—it's only right. With a quick bite of her tongue—struggling to find that wave of courage again—Maria pressed her lips to his, hardly more than brushing them. Despite that glass of water, her own were so dry she thought they might be scratching at his.
"Not like that, darling," he said as he pushed her back with a hand against her upper chest. Now dipping his hand into her lap, he began to pick her fingers apart one by one. "Exactly what you did, and don't pretend you don't remember."
"Exactly?"
"Yes."
Oh, it is right now, I know that, Maria told herself as she pushed herself to her feet and turned back to him. She wasn't blushing now as one of her knees landed on either side of his thighs with her legs splayed open, her hands on his face. This time, she worried she had bruised his mouth, the force of hers with so strong. His own hands were rising along her back again, almost stroking at her skin higher and higher until they descended again to her backside, clenching and pinching—she couldn't even keep her lips against his, the moan was so sudden. "Georg," she whispered as she pulled back for a breath—
Everything about her chest was suddenly loose, the band that had held her brassiere closed smacking at either of her flanks. Her breasts were suddenly cold as the air rushed across them—and there was that little grin on his face again, now nothing to stop him from touching her bare skin and turning a nipple between his fingers. "You see, you do understand." She could hardly nod as fresh goose pimples raced across her skin and she pushed herself closer—and right up between her legs, pressed to his groin, she felt him. Hard and swollen past anything she had ever felt in those tight embraces that had sent her running to her room. And now his eyes, closed and his own mouth slack with a little groan of his own for a moment. "More than I thought you might." Opening them, his eyes raked down her chest before he whispered, "Stand up."
Maria clambered to her feet, one knee tangling in the edge of the duvet for a second before Georg stood as well, just turning back to strip back the duvet and top sheet. "Sit down again." Back on the edge of the bed, she tightened her fingers in the fitted sheet stretched across the mattress. I don't remember if I even said it—I don't remember anything—but I know that's what God would have me do, honor and obey— His hands were slipping the straps of brassiere from her arms, down around her wrists; after he tossed it aside, he wrapped his hand around one naked breast. She couldn't keep her eyes open—she had to drop her head back—open her mouth with a sigh—
The last of her clothing was sliding away, Georg pulling a little harder to free it from where it was catching on the little folds in the sheet. It was softer and sleeker than any she had ever felt, Maria realized, almost frigid against her bare backside. Bringing her head back straight and opening her eyes, it was impossible to miss how his eyes were probing, endlessly drifting over her like a starving man. "Lie back," he whispered.
She slid backwards for a moment—dropping back onto her elbows before a quick touch against the only exposed portion of the crevice between her legs made her gasp. "That won't do, darling." He jerked his head toward the pillows propped against the wall. "There. On your back."
Maria scrambled toward the head of the bed, trying to ignore the little lumps beneath the remaining sheet as Georg released the buckle of his belt and worked it from the loops. She didn't notice where he tossed it, already staring at him again as he winced while bending down to strip away his dark socks. (It was still too painful, he instantly decided.) Standing straight again, he was working to open his trousers—tossed them aside—followed with his own underwear. Now naked just like her, he was nothing she had expected. Strong thighs with the same tan as his face and arms, the muscles she had noticed when his shirt first vanished descending down nearly to his groin. And between his legs, what she had just felt, erect and strong, a gentle cluster of hair right at the very center of his thighs.
"It's what you wanted, darling," he said as he sat beside her calves, ignoring the bed's creak. Along the whole of her torso—her breasts and belly—her skin was smooth and pale. Only the hair beneath her pelvis scraped at his fingertips as he explored her legs, the inner skin of her thighs so tempting and white. You'll be marked by me soon enough, Maria. He tugged his feet up as well, laying down beside her with his weight on one elbow, the mattress giving a louder groan.
"Won't—won't that be too much? Too loud? I'd be so embarr—"
"No," he murmured as he wrenched her face toward him, this kiss rougher.
Maria pushed herself into him, up onto her side. He had never been this warm, no clothing to hold that heat back—but he pushed her onto her back once more. Her belly was tauter than before and with another soft touch to the very top of her own groin, her legs opened as her breathing grew faster. Georg climbed onto his knees, both of his hands caught on her thighs and holding them still as she began to tremble. "It's what you want. What you want from me."
"Not just—" Another harsh kiss forced her to quit.
"But you did, darling." He was already settled between her legs, hands now kneading at her hips, hair growing wild as he took the tip of one breast in his mouth. "I can see—feel it here." One of his hands grazed the hollow between her legs and it was only his body that stopped her from clamping her legs shut against the quick shudder. "What I—you need," he said against her chest, the torture of his fingers increasing for a moment. "You're so slick." Another hmm made its way through her lips—and something was there—he must be there, what she had seen, right where everything had burned for so long. "You'll take all of me, you will. You have to."
She grimaced. Something hard—Georg—was forcing its way into— It was a new pressure building between her legs. Maria shoved his mouth from her torso, desperate for his face— It was stronger and harsher, growing deeper as his elbows landed on either side of her breasts. No pain like she had feared from all the little words other girls whispered between one another when their dormitory minders weren't listening, but...Too much, she thought as she gasped, her cheek suddenly pressed into the pillow beneath her head.
"No, Maria!" he demanded, one hand dragging her face back to him. His gaze was loose, unfocused as he continued to push himself into her little by little, her body yielding to his as something deep within her continued to open for him. "You look at me."
"I can't!" she whispered. The pressure wouldn't stop and it was almost uncomfortable, too much within her, pushing on everything more than she could stand. "I won't be able—"
"Yes, you will!"
It was so much more suddenly as she drove the crown of her head into the pillow, not quite able to suppress a little cry as her abdomen ached, not quite able to hold all of him as something deep erupted from Georg's throat. "It's—you're too—"
"A moment, Maria. Just a moment to learn to what to feel." He tucked his face into the hollow of her neck as she shuddered and her breaths turned to pants. For a second he thought he could feel her pulse against his skin—recognize the scent of the perfume she had worn for a decade. "It's all you'll need."
She winced, and with every little twitch of her body, that pressure changed. Worse here, better there—growing here, ebbing there. "No, I don't—"
"What, need that? Or need more?" he rasped as a handful of blond hair that he brushed from her face flashed brown before his eyes, even her eyes suddenly deep and dark before she blinked. "There's no more of me for you to—to have, right now."
It was getting easier, Maria realized, the sensation of overflowing suddenly lessening with a gentle sigh. He was gone for a moment, then filling her again, even deeper than before—but now it was a soft moan of pleasure from her mouth instead of discomfort. She clenched her eyes, the same thrill of strange pleasure in her belly rising again— "Maria? Maria!"
"What!" she gasped as she tried to push herself up on one elbow against him, her other hand scratching at his back as his body vanished again. Oh, you can't go, you can't! And then again and again, until she had to collapse back onto his bed.
"Do you feel that, darling? What you wanted?"
"Yes," she whispered with a nod, her legs somehow opening wider for him. "I wanted—"
This kiss was rough, almost biting at her lip before one of his hands twisted around to keep her crushed beneath him. "Now—" God, I said what you wanted, but you are what I needed. "Now you belong to me."
Her fair hair was plastered to her forehead, her neck, her chest, her shoulders, the sweat already blossoming across her skin. "What?" She could hardly breathe, arms suddenly clasped around his neck to clutch him to her.
His next movements were harsher and faster, though Maria had already grown used to him buried between her legs. "You'll..." Harsher still as he shook her hands away, one wrist caught and drawn up over her head, almost hitting the wall. "You'll always be mine."
Georg tried not to think about the previous night as he woke, groggy and almost exhausted. It was nothing like before, waking and curling up next to his new wife. Waiting for her to open her eyes—smile—whisper "Good morning, darling". Nothing like this as he peered at his right hand in the morning light with a scowl at the glint of gold and listened to the faint rustling in his bed. It was almost a moan as someone shifted on the lumps in the mattress, too light to be anything but a woman's voice. God, he thought as he rolled over beneath the sheet toward the noise.
That girl lying on her side, mostly buried beneath the sheet; it had been too warm the night before for the duvet as well. Her hands folded up by her face, long blond hair tossed across her bare shoulders and the top of her naked breasts—and that matching ring on her hand as well.
The anger was already rising as he pushed the sheet away, her legs stretched out almost to the foot of the bed. Gently nudging her onto her back—a little hmm escaping her mouth before her breathing calmed—there was no hiding the evidence, what he had taken from her. The drops of blood on the sheet—the little drops still on the very tops of her thighs—any man would know. A gentle finger along the skin inside her leg found the broken bits of dried blood, a few crusts of dried semen...
"Goddammit, you silly girl," Georg muttered as he swung around and dropped his feet to the floor. Half of his clothes lay here on this side of his bed, and now he remembered most of hers were puddled beneath the window. Standing with a quick shiver as the morning air chafed at his own naked body, he paused long enough to tuck the sheet around her again. But before she could fully awaken, he hurried to his wardrobe and almost wrenched open the door, only just remembering that girl as he snatched his dressing gown from its hanger. His new wife. Georg threw it across his shoulders and tightened the sash around his waist without bothering to toss on any clothing beneath. He nearly slammed the door, only the memory of that girl stopping him.
Heading into his front room, Georg glanced around at the still unfamiliar place. God, he missed his lone wooden chair in the center, the small table with his brandy and glass, his ashtray and his lighter and his cigarettes. They must be hidden in one of the new cupboards, and a chair at the new table would have to do. It only took a minute or so to dig them out.
They were only in the cupboard because he refrained from bringing them along the day before, certain the girl—Maria—would be unhappy. He wasn't quite certain why he simply decided to acquiesce before she even asked. A flick of the brass lighter against the cigarette already caught between his teeth brought the end to life. Did it make you happy yesterday, darling, everything I agreed to? You were so happy for me to have you, once you were used to me. Who would have known, who would have cared if I had you here without saying a few silly words. You don't even know my full name, Maria. He dropped the lighter to the unscratched table with a clatter. Why not the church? They'll demand names—post them for the entire city to see, and I can't—you can't be anywhere else but here.
A mouthful of smoke escaped his nose leaving a cloud in front of his face. Perhaps he hadn't been gentle enough with her last night, his hunger was so desperate. As he made love to her the first— No, Georg told himself with another drag on his cigarette. He had ravaged her. He hadn't been able to decide whether or not her little sounds as she constantly tried to close her eyes were from passion or pain. He was gentler the second time, his true desperation fed, but both times, he spilled himself into her before he could stop to think at all. God, he didn't need to be told it was a terrible idea. He'd only made love to his wife a handful of times before he left her pregnant with Liesl—
The smoke burned down his throat, Georg drew a breath so strong. You can't be here, any of you, especially right now. Not when...she's right in there.
No one could know, he decided then. Whatever he had thought or or tried to tell himself yesterday as they wandered along the river and he waited for her nerves to die to a level he could endure. No one. Not the children—the staff—the handful of friends he hadn't alienated in these last months. Georg pulled the cigarette from his mouth. "You're mine, Maria," he muttered as the last puffs of smoke escaped. "But you're only mine, like no one else has been. Not even the children."
The children...
His wife had hardly seen her twentieth birthday before Liesl arrived. You would be the same, Maria, Georg thought with another drag on his cigarette. Only she had seen proper meals her whole life. You...how little you eat, absolutely not. I can't imagine what a child would do to you. There was the next cloud of smoke surrounding him as he tapped away the ash. I can make it up to you today, Maria, last night, but you'll still always be my distraction.
O O O
Maria rolled over onto her side, yawning into her hands. She opened her eyes—and after a quick squint, closed them closed them again. It was too bright in here, too chilly like the window was open. She drew the sheet up to her chin with a shiver, her bare breasts such a strange thing to feel unless she was only just out of the shower. She was still trying to remember the smallest details: the color of the curtains, how the clerk frowned when they just wanted to sign the papers, how even in a flat much nicer, the mattress was just as lumpy as hers.
She smiled, just thinking about the previous day. It somehow seemed like a dream, though it wasn't quite the...fairy tale she had thought about, even if she hadn't dreamed of it. "We're married, now," she whispered. It sounded so strange coming from her mouth, like it was someone else. And last night…
It made her blush, despite knowing where she was, what had happened—all that had happened. Georg's eyes skimming over her naked body—seeing his and not quite understanding all of it in the sort of way he must understand hers. Struggling to understand the pressure and fullness and need between her legs, but coming to love it as it went on. Not quite knowing why it felt so different the second time, gentler and lighter. But why would it be different like that with Georg? Did I do something wrong? Or was I just less afraid?
Maria finally sat up, her back aching a little as she stretched an arm over her head and drew her legs up. She winced against a little twinge deep in her pelvis, hissing as she did. Down between her legs, something was sticky, right at the top of her thighs. Despite the chill, she pushed the sheet down, fingers skating over it whatever it was. A little film on her skin—dried, but a little tacky—and a couple drops of blood as well. "Georg?" she murmured.
There was silence beside her; her heart dropped. In her morning grogginess—trying to understand everything that was last night—she had forgotten to even look for him. Glancing to her side, Maria clearly saw the impression of his body in the mattress, where his head had been crushed into the pillow...But nothing of him.
"Georg?" she asked, louder this time. "Where are you?" She nearly had her feet on the floor when she saw him in the door, dressing gown loosely tied around his waist.
"Right here, darling." He smiled at her a little as he finally stepped through the doorway. "Did you really think I disappeared overnight?"
Maria shook her head, clawing at the sheet now down around her waist and struggling to drag it up to her shoulders. "No, but—"
"So why are you worried?"
She shook her head again as he finally reached his side of the bed carrying the smell of cigarettes, the mattress sinking a little as he seated himself gently. "I'm not, just…" Maria couldn't stop herself from glancing down, suddenly aware of almost nothing apart from the fact that she had nothing beneath that sheet, not even her undergarments from the day before. "I just don't know how to—to feel, this."
Georg struggled not grin as he reached for one her hands, just managing to coax it away from the blanket's top hem. I won't do what I did at first last night, darling, he thought as he saw her first breast emerge into the morning light. "This?" he asked gently. He managed to tug it from her other hand as well, and the sheet pooled around her waist. There were a few bruises on her once virgin breasts from last night. He supposed they were from the first time he finally had her, his hunger had driven him so brutally. "Being like this? In front of me?"
Maria nodded, though her head went down as well. "Yes," she whispered.
By now, Georg couldn't stop a little laugh. "It's a little late for that, Maria." Reaching for her chin, he brought her face back up again, those lovely blue eyes wide, though he wasn't sure what to make of them. "After last night…" She tried to squirm away, but as he released her chin, Georg caught her wrist instead, holding her right where she was. "But you are lovely, all of you." He couldn't miss her breasts rising and falling faster and faster, her eyes beginning to lick over his exposed chest with its smattering of dark hair for the first time this morning.
"Please, darling," he whispered, only letting go of her wrist to loosen the sash of his dressing gown, releasing it from his shoulders. Without him to hold her, Maria snatched up that sheet again. His dressing gown finally on the floor alongside his discarded clothes, Georg fully climbed into the bed beside her, a quick kiss pressed to her cheek drawing a shiver that pushed her thin shoulder into his chest. "Don't hide like that."
Georg tugged the white sheet away from her and dropped it at her waist, the full view of her breasts once more sending a wave of blood to his groin and stoking his first erection of the day. You must see it, Maria, you must see what you do to me even though I don't quite know why. "That's no way to greet your new husband the morning after your wedding."
Maria needed a deep breath, her heart pounding rather as it had yesterday afternoon, evening...and night. "How—" She stopped. I can't think anymore. "How should I greet him?" Why do I have to say everything that comes into my head before I know what it is? Georg finally smiled—his first real smile of the morning, she decided. But you don't smile often, not really. I know that.
He tossed that sheet aside, ignoring the little traces of blood on her legs. Almost as though she knew what he wanted—expected—Maria slid down along the bed, on her elbows before she fell onto her back, laying down for him. Her thighs weren't clamped as tightly as the night before and even before he touched her left leg, he knew she wasn't trembling. "You see, you do understand how to greet him—me." Georg pushed himself right beside her, rising up on his knees and landing one between her legs. He slid it along the sheet to tease her legs apart. (Maria didn't protest.) "You'll learn, love."
Georg made love to her once more just then; after waking for a second time, he reached for her again. Maria didn't attend Mass the following morning; her husband refused to let her out of his bed. She didn't even attempt to leave, happier to let him have his way with her than hear the Word of God.
