I Won't Hurry You

"The three western powers quickly became one bloc against the Russian sector. It became the West versus the East. Under our guidance the western sectors became known as the Federal Republic of Germany. The Russians immediately created a twin political organization called the German Democratic Republic. Both the Federal Republic and the GDR claim they want to unite all Germany, but each wants to be the controlling influence.

"Until now, it has been a political battle, but the Berlin Airlift shifted it a little into a military confrontation. Our battalion specializes in analyzing Russian military capability. The other battalion is more into the political aspects of the situation; in addition they analyze the military potential of the eastern countries bordering Germany.

"I'm going to give you the basic manuals of how an armored division is organized, and in particular, how our division is organized. Later I'll give you the equivalent manuals of a typical Russian armored division. Eventually, you'll be one of many here who studies how the specific Russian divisions in the Soviet sector are organized. However, first you have to learn about our own units.

"Once you get the feel of the job, I will give you specific assignments based upon signal intelligence that we intercept along with information that is received in other ways.

"For now, get comfortable with the job, meet your fellow officers and enlisted men, and stay out of trouble."

"Yes, Sir."

He pointed out my desk that was covered with thick manuals and walked away. It appeared I had some reading to do.

------

That night I met Elke at our agreed upon meeting place. We walked for an hour speaking nothing but German and then stopped at a small restaurant and we ate a sandwich. After dinner she started to teach me how to speak Russian.

Two hours later I walked her back to her apartment and watched her as she walked up the steps.

For the next three weeks we did the same thing. Finally Elke said, "It's not practical that you buy me dinner every night and we walk the streets. You must come to my apartment—I'm going to be embarrassed because the room is so poor—but I'll cook our meal and we can spend more time practicing Russian."

The next day we met at our spot and walked to her apartment. When she opened the door I had to force myself not to wince. The main room had an old couch, a small table with two cheap chairs, and against the wall, a two-burner cook top and small oven. The only window in the room looked at the wall of the next building. She showed me the second room—a painfully small room almost completely taken up with her bed, an inexpensive wardrobe cabinet, and a cheap end table holding a tiny lamp. A curtain separated the bedroom from a tiny bathroom with a shower, basin and toilet. What I did see was that everything was very clean.

We walked back into the main room and I noticed an old phone on a small table by the door. She saw my look and explained, "The telephone comes with the apartment, but I never use it since it costs so much money to make calls."

"Write down the number for me, Elke, so I can call you if plans that we make are disrupted because of my job."

"Yes, Dave."

Once I got over the initial impression of her tiny apartment, I realized that the aroma of something very good permeated the rooms. She had cooked dinner for us—sauerbraten, potatoes, and cabbage. She had prepared a typical German dinner.

The meal was excellent and Elke beamed when I complimented her. German was coming back easily to me, and Elke and I spoke only German unless it was our Russian time.

After dinner we spent the next three hours on my Russian.

We quickly decided it would be easier if I just came to her apartment after work instead of forcing her to meet me on the street. I increased the money I gave Elke so she could buy food for our dinners. It actually was better for me; the restaurants were costing me most of my monthly pay.

Another three weeks went by. We went to inexpensive restaurants two nights a week, but the rest of the time Elke made dinner for us and we ate at her apartment. She was an excellent cook.

She also was starting to relax with me. The first time she giggled and then laughed I was shocked—she was so beautiful when she laughed I couldn't believe it was the same desperate woman I had met on the street.

One night we had finished dinner and she was washing the dishes. I brought over a dish just as she turned and our bodies met. I could feel her breasts and she knew it. She blushed.

"I'm sorry," she apologized.

"Elke, it was my fault...and I enjoyed our encounter," I teased.

She blushed again and nothing more was said.

The next night we had another great dinner and then spent three hours in an intense Russian lesson. Their language is very difficult to speak, read, or write. Elke wanted me to be perfect in all three!

At the end of the lesson I said, "I have to go."

She walked me to the apartment door and looked at me. It wasn't her normal look—it was a look of expectation. And then I realized that every night I went home and dreamed about how beautiful she was. I had never tried to make a move on her since I didn't want to take a chance that it would spoil our relationship. Her look said I was wrong to be so careful.

I put my arms around her waist waiting for any resistance. There was none.

I pulled her to me, and she quickly came into my arms.

She looked up at me and I kissed her. Her lips were soft and moist and my erection was immediate. I knew she felt me. We broke our kiss and she leaned her head against my chest. I could feel her soft hair and smell her fragrance. My hands moved from her waist to her back; I could feel the straps of her bra as I lightly caressed her. We stood that way for several minutes.

Finally I backed away and said, "Thank you, Elke, for a wonderful night."

She smiled shyly at me, as if she were embarrassed by her emotion.

I walked back to the base that night in confusion. I thought, "In college I met girls, bought them three beers and fucked them. If I knew a girl had broken up with her boyfriend, I was there for the rebound, which usually meant sex.

"Yet here I have a woman absolutely defenseless—at my complete mercy—and I do nothing for weeks and then hesitate to even kiss her. What is causing me to act like this?

"Love," I answered myself.

During the next month I saw Elke at least five times a week. I always spent the weekend days with her so that we could spend more time on my language training and, I have to admit, because I was becoming more and more attracted to her.

I was lucky to have met Elke for another reason. The military had a huge reduction immediately after the war and terminated over eighty percent of its officer base. The lifers clung to their jobs if they could, but most of the younger officers were released—both voluntarily and involuntary. Consequently, the other officers who had made the cut were much older than me.

The program that paid my way through college was now suspended and my class was the last one that had to perform their military obligation. Others were not permitted to enter active duty, but rather were ordered to serve in the reserves. The end result was that I was the youngest officer in the company, and had few friends.

My job was better than boring, but not something that made one meet each new day, anxious to get back to work. My section's job was to profile the typical Russian armored division, including number of men, types of fighting equipment and weapons used, and the tactics and strategy when engaged in battle.

Each scrap of information came to the section. It might be from a newspaper article, intercepted signal communications, defectors who had served in their military, and in some cases, spies who worked for us. Each piece of the puzzle was added to prepare a picture of what was assumed to be our next enemy. However, I was under no delusion that my unit was anything but a very tiny cog in the military intelligence community.

The German military in the Russian sector, which was sometimes described as an independent force, mimicked the Russians; so to know one was to know the other.

Captain Myer had learned about my Russian lessons. One day he stopped by my desk and gave me three books written in Russian. One was written just after World War I and the other two more recently. All three of them focused on the role of Russian armor in the military. "Dave, take a swing at these books and see if there is any useful tactical information."

"Yes, Sir. Can you tell me if these books are classified? Can my teacher help me if I run into translation problems?"

Myer answered, "They are public documents, so there is no military classification to them."

Elke and I spent many nights together as I struggled with her help to translate those books. It was tough, but Elke pushed me.

I would whine, "Elke, we need to take a break. Let's go for a walk or something?"

She would look at me with that stubborn German look and reply, "Dave, it's good for your career; you must work harder."

A month later I wrote a fairly lengthy report on the philosophy and psychology of the Russian armored division for the period between the two great wars. One point I emphasized was the apparent lack of creative decision-making just prior to and during battle—the Russians had a battle plan and gave it to the armor. Armor was expected to execute the plan without deviation, even if the battlefield situation they expected to find had significantly changed.

Captain Myer came up to me a couple weeks later. He grinned, "You did a good job with the report. I liked it, but better for you, Colonel Weldon liked it too. He told me to tell you, 'Well done.' "

Elke beamed with pleasure and hugged me when I repeated Myer's words to her.

Our relationship was slowly changing. The good night kiss at the door had become more intense, and then there was more than one kiss. Lately we had kissed passionately and pressed our bodies against each other—her breasts pushed into my chest and my hard cock pushed into her pelvis as we continued those good night hugs.

I looked forward to the weekends. I would come to her apartment early and she prepared breakfast for us. Then we would start out on our weekend plan. Sometimes it would be a day at the park where Elke and I would spread a blanket and enjoy the lunch that she had prepared. Other weekends we would take a commuter train to nearby cities and explore them.

One Saturday in the late afternoon Elke took me to a beer garden on the other side of the city. The music was happy and lively, and the teenage kids danced and raced through the tables as they played their games.

After a few beers Elke giggled, "Dave, you must dance to the happy music."

"But Elke, I'm not a good dancer and I've never seen this type of dance before."

She reached out her hand, "I will show you."

The band was on break so I took the opportunity to buy another pitcher of beer for Elke and me. Just as I arrived at our table I heard a familiar voice say, "Good evening, Lieutenant."

I turned and answered, "Good evening to you too, Top."

He said, "My friends and I are at a nearby table and I spotted you. I don't want to interrupt anything, but decided to say hello."

"You're not interrupting anything; I would like to introduce you to my Russian teacher."

I held out my hand for Elke to stand and said, "Elke, this is First Sergeant Franklin; Top, this is my teacher, Elke."

Franklin grinned and said, "Good evening, Elke."

Elke held out her hand and said, "Dave speaks of you often. I am honored to meet you."

Franklin was taken aback and tried to make a joke, "Does he say anything good about me?"

"It is all good, First Sergeant. He says you are a soldier's soldier."

Elke immediately saw we were both embarrassed by her statement.

Elke blushed, "I apologize First Sergeant Franklin; I meant no embarrassment."

Franklin grinned at her to ease her discomfort and answered, "How can I be upset when I receive such a compliment? Obviously, the Lieutenant is getting smarter the longer you teach him."

We spoke a few minutes longer and he returned to his table.

An hour later we left the beer garden and took a bus back to Elke's apartment.

We stood at the bottom of the stairs. Elke said, "Please come up for a few minutes. It's early and we can talk."

I sat in the couch while Elke opened a bottle of inexpensive German wine. She sat next to me as we sipped the wine.

"Dave, I like the First Sergeant. I'm sorry if I spoke incorrectly."

"You were fine Elke. He likes you—even though you caught him by surprise with your praise, he clearly appreciated what you said. I could see him looking at you when we danced."

We sat there quietly and each of us had a second glass of wine. It was starting to get late, so I stood and held her hand as we walked to the door.

The kiss that night was different. It started slowly and then grew in passion. For the first time our tongues met—I could taste the wine on her tongue.

The kiss finally ended and she put her head on my chest. I could feel her soft hair and smell her fragrance.

"Elke," I whispered, "I don't want to leave."

She pulled away from me and our eyes met. Seconds passed; finally she said, "Then stay."

I took her hand and we walked into her bedroom. The single light in the room cast a soft glow as she stood in front of me, waiting to see what I would do.

My hand lightly caressed her cheek. As soon as she felt my touch, she closed her eyes. My hands held her face as I leaned over, and we kissed again. Her mouth opened and once again our tongues touched and teased each other. The feel of her soft hair and her fragrance overwhelmed my senses as we kissed.

My mouth continued to kiss her face and then her neck and earlobes. My tongue flicked into her ear and she flinched and then groaned with excitement. As I kissed her, my hands roamed over her back and then sank lower as I cupped her ass and pulled her into me. She gasped, but there was no resistance.

We pulled apart for a moment and she looked at me. "You are beautiful, Elke—the most beautiful woman I have ever touched."

Her answer was another passionate kiss.

My hands went to her waist and then slipped under her sweater so that I could feel her skin. I moved my hands up the sides of her stomach until they touched the strap of her bra. I continued up so that my hands were under her arms and embraced her bare shoulders.

The feel of her skin was extraordinary; I could not believe how much my body wanted this woman.

After five minutes of hugging her and feeling her bare back and shoulders, I brought my hands down to the bottom of her sweater and gently pulled it up over her head. I looked for resistance or fear, but there was none.

She stood upright before me with only a bra covering the upper part of her body. She didn't wait for me as she put her hands behind her back and reached for the clasp. Moments later her bra fell to the floor; she stood proudly before me.

Her skin was flawless. I saw her perfectly formed breasts for the first time. Her areolae were small; they highlighted nipples that were hard and pointy. I could see the tiny bumps on her areolae and my tongue teased each one. She groaned and encouraged my teasing.

I finally led her to the bed. I found the buttons on her skirt and released it. The skirt fell to the floor and she lay down on the center of the bed. My hands went to her panties, and she lifted so that I could slide them down her legs and drop them to the floor.

I lay next to her and my fingers went to her slit; it was wet with her moisture. Her pubic hair was wild and untrimmed, but the thin, white strands of hair did little to conceal the soft curve of her mound. Her musky smell was an aphrodisiac to my body. I touched her inside thighs and she spread her legs wide, permitting me access to her most sensitive area.

I played and teased her for ten minutes or so when she whimpered, "Take off your clothes and make love to me."

Minutes later my cock pushed into her. The smooth, wet walls of her vagina captured my cock and I could feel her muscles squeezing it—the feel of those muscles clutching me was extraordinarily erotic. Quickly we started the rhythm of love and it escalated faster and faster until just before I emptied myself, she suddenly arched her pelvis into me and her violent spasms started. It was a perfect first time.

When we were done, I pulled her to me. Her fragrance blended with the tinge of sweat that our lovemaking had started. As I caressed her back, I felt her tongue lightly lick my nipples. We fell asleep clutching each other.

I woke up that morning with her face on my chest and my knee lightly touching her pubic hairs. When she was sleeping, her face was one of beauty, and I didn't move since I didn't want to wake her and ruin this picture.

Finally she woke and looked at me. "I hope my Lieutenant was not disappointed?"

Moments later I was bringing her to another orgasm as my cock aggressively penetrated her. I could feel her vaginal walls squeezing me and again we climaxed at the same time.

She put her head on my chest as we recovered from our sexual joust. I stroked her back and felt the thin sheen of perspiration created by our physical activity. My face rested on her hair and we enjoyed the glow that comes when everything happens just right.

After a while it was time to get up. With some care, we washed each other in the tiny shower. Afterward, I dried her and touched every part of her body that I now knew was the best thing that ever happened to me.

We spent the rest of Sunday walking in the city. It was a Russian day, which meant the entire day we talked to each other in Russian. Each time I tried to switch to German, Elke got upset.

"You have to learn Russian for your career, Dave. Don't cheat and speak German."

"But I can't tell you how much the weekend has meant to me speaking in Russian."

"Try, my Lieutenant."

Chapter 3

The weekend that we first made love was perfect—it was as good as any dream I ever had about Elke and me. The following Monday I couldn't wait for work to be over so that I could rush to Elke's apartment.

I walked into the room and Elke was putting our dinner into the oven. She had heard me open the door and turned to me as I hurried over to her. I put my arms around her and kissed her. She returned my kiss, but there was a hesitation—a lack of passion.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Dave."

"Elke, something's wrong. What is it?"

She looked at me shyly, "I enjoyed our weekend, but maybe our situation is going too fast. You're not always going to be posted here and..."

"But Elke, I love you."

She smiled sadly at me and then touched my face as she stood on her toes to kiss me—this time with a little more enthusiasm.

After the kiss she whispered in my ear, "When there is no good ending in sight, why rush?"

So much to my dismay, our relationship went forward in slow motion. I wanted to move into her apartment; she said it was too soon.

I wanted to make passionate love with her nightly; she resisted in her quiet way.

"You must learn Russian, Dave. We will maybe have fun in bed next weekend."

I was frustrated.

The next weekend I spent Friday and Saturday night at her apartment. We made love, but I soon found out that Elke was shy in bed. She was able to come every time I entered her, but any experimentation was frightening to her.

On that Saturday night I was kissing and licking her breasts waiting for those groans of pleasure to start when I started kissing her stomach and then her pelvis as my fingers combed her thin, pubic hairs.

I spread her labia and my tongue licked her clit.