Willie's War Ch. 09

"Is there any chance of peace? Hitler is so fully occupied now, he doesn't need the trouble he as with England."

Jeremy grimaced slightly. "That man is aglow with success and won't be in a mood to be nice. HM Government certainly take him seriously and precautions were taken some time ago. The nation's treasure... the family jewels as it were, was stowed away in Canada last year. Six hundred and twenty-seven million pounds' worth of gold and 1,250 million pounds' worth of negotiable securities were sent to Montréal and Ottawa, and a warship offloaded 9,000 gold ingots into Nova Scotia."

Tall poplars and horse-chestnut trees towered over them as they motored along, deciduous and evergreen, full of cursives and flourishes, their autumn smell mingling with the petrol fumes. There were no main routes around Brascombe, only minor roads and lanes that snaked between fields and broken woodland, and having gone beyond the soldiers the roads remained completely empty until they met with rural routine.

Suddenly there was a cow herder in the road ahead, motioning them to stop and give way for a milking herd on their way to the byre. As the first of a stately procession of fawn-coloured jerseys nosed their way out of a gate on the herdsman's left, Jeremy swung into the side of the road and stopped.

"It's glorious day for this time of year, mild and sunny. It's much too nice to go straight back. Sir Mortimer's favourite piece of primeval jungle is just across this field. Do you fancy a stroll?"

Willie glanced up at the sky and managed a smile, along with a stubborn lift of his chin. "It's not sunny at all. It's very cloudy and it may rain."

"You'll look very pretty in the rain." Jeremy said taking him by the arm and helping him from the car.

Willie remained dubious, but once they had climbed over a boundary fence by way of a wooden style he was surprised to find he was enjoying Jeremy's company; it was obvious he told himself, that he was rather an arrogant man, very sure of himself, probably selfish to, but he had to admit he had charm. And he was proving himself a delightful companion now, talking about everything under the sun and doing so in a friendly manner which held no arrogance at all.

They trekked up along the edge of a field that displayed the metal skeletons of agricultural equipment standing idle in fields of stubble corn. The sky was overcast but the day was not windy and Willie could feel warmth on his face. Nothing disturbed the day except the noisy rattle from a murder of crows.

On reaching the wood on the top of the hill they found a break in some sycamores still dressed with the yellow foliage of autumn. There the sunshine flickered off and on through a thinning canopy of leaves and Jeremy led the way into a tiny open space that seemed like a fairy dell, hidden from the road but open to the sky.

"It is a very eerie here." remarked Willie.

"Yes, it is eerie," the man agreed. "One can understand Sir Mortimer's fascination with it. Prehistoric people living simple lives would have found the stillness here awesome. They would have had animal cults and totems in those days. They would have imagined imps and demons living here, and would have terrified their children with stories of such things to prevent them wandering into the vast maze of the forest and becoming lost." he smiled down at Willie. "Does it frighten you?"

Willie gave a little smile back. "It would frighten me if I were alone and in the dark. But it's not dark, and you are with me."

Jeremy studied him with narrow eyes while his hands carefully sculpted his hips. The little Dutch girl wore a dark blue serge dress with a piped pique collar and cuffs and her blond hair was tied back with a blue ribbon. It was a combination he considered gave her an odd sense of allure. Most women he admired looked better out of clothes than in them, but here was an individual who he was sure could play the part either way.

Willie jolted as a hand closed over his wrist. "I'm sorry. Did I startle you?" asked Jeremy.

"Yes, you did a little." Willie replied, looking up in surprise. He felt slightly intimidated by the height and breadth of the man, and he refused to reflect on the fact that he looked even more attractive and compelling than he had the previously. In the countryside he looked all shoulders and muscle and endless legs in his slacks and a sweater.

He tensed, nerves suddenly coming alive as Jeremy pressed against his back and slipped his arms around him. The sudden stirring in his body startled him and cut through the previous promise he had made to himself ruthlessly. It had been a long time since he had felt such a strong sexual attraction to anyone, and he had thought he was long past the stage of being tempted by blind desire. But Jeremy was standing behind him, peering over his shoulder and holding him, and Willie could feel his heart thudding as the smell and bigness of his muscled body capturing all his senses.

Jeremy had strong shoulders and muscular arms and he liked to feel the touch his arms. He felt solid and reliable, and he was sure his physique matched his character. He could depend on him, always. Suddenly Willie felt small and helpless being submerged in his embrace; it made his legs feel weak. What a sexy game they were playing, he thought. It was lovely.

Jeremy caught hold of his hand. "You showed a flair for dancing the night we dined at Brascombe. Would milady care to dance with me now?"

Willie's eyes rolled in mock horror and he laughed. "That's stupid. We are in the countryside, and anyway there is no music."

With a grin Jeremy turned him and clamped his other hand into the small of his back, the little finger splayed over the point where the curve of his buttocks began. Then he hauled him close. "You and I can make our own music." he said, whirling him round and taking just enough of Willie's weight with his left arm to make him feel that his feet merely skimming the ground as he followed the steps.

.A gallery of curious grey squirrels in the trees watched them as they skipped and swirled. Jeremy rose on his toes, leading surely, commandingly, skilfully avoiding any obstacle on the ground and sweeping Willie into the compass of an intimate two-step.

Willie abandoned himself wholly to the movement of their bodies, a drifting leaf among so many others. Jeremy's left arm was crooked so that they could dance cheek to cheek, and now and then his lips brushed his face, while his legs and hips moved as if he were making love. It all became complete when the man first began to hum and then quietly mouth the lyrics to the tune they had danced to when they had first met:

"That certain night... the night we met... it was such a romantic affair. There were angels dining at the Ritz, and a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square..."

His diction was perfect, his voice all silk, and Willie felt as if he were melting. He felt as if he were about to collapse. Jeremy was looking at his mouth and he thought he was certain to kiss him eventually, and he wanted him to. He drew a deep breath, his pulse speeding up just thinking about it.

Yes, he had seen the look on his face, and although his heart begged him to stay just where he was, he tore himself away and took a prudent step backwards.

Jeremy merely smiled. Willie had got under his skin and was one of the reasons he returned to Brascombe so often. And at that moment his body was making his flirtation known. Just standing near enough to touch and kiss her made his blood run hot and his groin tighten in awareness. It had taken all his willpower not to kiss her parted lips in the past, and judging by the desire he'd seen flash in her features, she wasn't immune to their close proximity, either.

"Don't move. It won't be of the least use, you know. I shall only come after you. If I offered you my heart would you reel back from that too?"

He pressed against the effeminate young man, and made Willie suck in his breath as a slow liquid heat seeped into his pants, making him moan into the man's mouth. Jeremy was hard against his belly. He wanted him.

"No." Willie's voice was a whisper. There was no mistaking the look upon his face now. He took another step back and felt a piece of fallen timber against his heels.

Jeremy de Vere was as entranced as Willie. She, this Dutch girl, was irresistible, he thought. He felt his gaze sliding slowly from her eyes to her mouth, to absorb in greedy silence its shape and its beauty. He couldn't stop himself anymore than he could stop breathing. He stepped closer, and a smell of jasmine registered as he inhaled. Then he wrapped her in his arms and kissed her hard.

Dimly above his roaring pulse he heard the girl groan as her fingers clenched in his hair. She moaned, moving her hips against him while her arms tightened around his neck.

While kissing him in return Willie became aware of the strength of the man's arms and his lean body, and of the strange weakness brought on by the pressure of his hips against his own. He was no callous youth attempting seduction by force; he was a lusty mature man making known his needs.

"I couldn't resist that." Jeremy said, finally drawing away.

Willie stared back, wide-eyed, his lips slightly parted, while his arms tightened around his neck "I didn't tell you to stop." he answered in a sultry voice.

He understood sensuality and its lure. He had long ago become used to the way men admired him, but although some had used his body, very few had captured his heart. Jeremy had succeeded in doing that in amazing short order.

Jeremy's mouth already knew the texture, Willie's texture, but the memory of it wasn't enough. He wanted to know it again. To trace its tender outline, to stroke its soft warmth, to probe the sweet resistance it offered and capture its innermost sweetness.

They kissed again, and this time Jeremy plunged swiftly into undefended territory with his tongue. His thighs were hard against his as Willie clung to him, his body welcoming as he stroked his breasts over the soft fabric of his dress, teasing his nipples into hard peaks with the pads of his thumbs. It went on and on, until the dream was gradually replaced by a very real passion.

Suddenly Willie didn't want a fantasy; he wanted a real man, flesh and blood, driven by pure lust and desire. Hard muscle and smooth skin, warm breath and firm touch. He wanted Jeremy.

With his mouth still melded to his own, he fumbled with the man's coat and scarf, until he agreed to remove them. At once he yanked Willie against his body, taking his breath away as he eliminated all space between them. His eyes were dusky with desire and he smiled crookedly when he reached out to caress his cheek with his fingertips.

A sudden aching need twisted inside Willie and he caught himself stopping the words he longed to say. He wanted to tell him how much he wanted him, but he didn't wish him to lie in reply.

Jeremy was kissing his throat and biting his neck while his hands fathomed the contours of his girlish bosom. With his forehead against his muscled chest, Willie inhaled the clean scent of his skin radiating through the crisp, starched fabric of his shirt. When he had been told of Eduard's death he had never believed he could find another man worthy of replacing him in his heart. But perhaps he was wrong. Here was a man who could be worthy. If only he could accept what Willie Froehlich really was, life would be worth living again.

With a flick of his fingers and a wicked smile; he unhooked the man's trousers and unbuttoned them with tantalising leisure, casually brushing against the hard length hidden behind the fine fabric. But then he felt his hand clamp around his wrist and pull him away.

Jeremy had made a plan of his own and he made a harsh sound in his throat as he searched to unfasten the dress at the nape of the girl's neck.

"It hasn't got buttons or a zip." Willie's voice was breathless. "It goes over my head."

"Never mind about the dress. I want you." Jeremy murmured against his swollen lips. "I want you like men have always wanted a woman. Here, now, at once."

Willie's eyes came to rest on the man's arousal protruding out from his trousers, smooth and hard, a shaft of silky steel, and he knew the sensation of his own body beginning to strain against the constriction of his clothes.

"Jeremy, you mustn't say that. There are things that you don't know about me." He was relieved to hear no tremor in his voice, even though his heart boomed hard enough to rattle his bones.

The man smiled softly as he reached out to cup his breasts and savour the malleability of them beneath the dress. He didn't fumble. His hands were steady. Willie imagined they always were. "Credit me with some intelligence, Willie. I know that you're in the same mould as Deborah Findlay and the fact that you're something similar to her doesn't disturb me one little bit."

Astounded, Willie gasped. "Am I so obvious?"

"I've known what you are right from the start, but poaching is an ungentlemanly business and I had to be sure Sir Mortimer wasn't popping you. Fortunately he's so infatuated with Deborah I don't think he has an inkling about the kind of person you are, even though he's been around men in frocks for years."

"You know about Sir Mortimer and Deborah?"

"Of course. Everyone knows of Sir Mortimer's curious little habit. Thankfully no one knows about mine yet."

Willie's gaze embraced his erection with a molten look of longing and hunger. He reached out and touched him, hot flesh beneath his fingertips, the foreskin pushed back to expose the rounded tip, dark and rosy. He rimmed a fingertip around it and felt his whole body jerk.

There was no restriction now, no impediment to the result they both yearned for. Reaching under his skirt Willie skimmed off his underwear and thrust himself down over the broad trunk of a fallen tree, skirt up and bottom in the air, lewdly presenting himself like a cat ready to be taken by its tom.

He felt Jeremy's fingers between his shoulder blades, the hands caressing and pushing him farther forward. Jeremy was excited. For him there was something special about viewing a beautiful young man in seamed stockings and suspenders bending over like that. It proved extremely erotic for him. It was wonderful to see a delicate young bottom with such well formed testicles hanging under it, and even if Sir Mortimer had chosen to neglect such a thing, he himself couldn't possibly pass it by. The tension in his groin demanded something else.

His movements were unhurried. He wrapped his fingers around his impatient erection and guided it to Willie's ready entrance, and Willie winced as the essence of desire spiked him deep, impaling him on a lance of fevered longing as it possessed him fully.

He moaned softly - a woman's moan, a supplicating moan. In an action that was irritating carnal torture Jeremy had slipped into him, expelling a tightly held sigh as he began to move. With his hands gripping his hips Jeremy held him still, controlling his ability to move. There was nothing he could do but submit.

Willie arching against him and writhed as he felt his grip on reality loosen. He moved with him, absorbing every thrust, feeling his world spiral upwards and outwards until his body tensed.

"Oh!" He gasped at the girth, winced at the depth it penetrated when it got going, and had to grit his teeth to prevent himself crying out for him to stop tormenting him as he moved against him. His body seemed to have no means of moving itself, it had become completely obedient to his touch, whilst deep inside him the tension continued to grow so that he felt as though at any second it would spill from him and flood out.

Jeremy was working so hard his face had turned a shade of an overripe plum, but suddenly he froze, body taut, his eyes squeezed tightly shut with a soft plea of need. Willie urged him on, carrying him higher until his control shattered and they both found release in a rare and precious moment of exquisite splendour.

He felt a fierce clench of muscle inside and a mighty lurch as the liquid of love spilled forth. "Oh, that's good." Jeremy grunted. "That's so good!"

***

Alfred Naujocks went to his Berlin office as he normally did on any day. He had hardly given a thought to Willy Froehlich since the time he had extracted him from the clutches of the Gestapo, because as far as he knew the sweet-arsed little queen was such a soft-hearted, soft-headed pacifist he could be left alone to do what he could amid the jungle of English politics. He certainly didn't worry about extracting him from England if he failed or happened to get into difficulties. The tart was there to do or die.

There was a brief, typed note on his desk when he arrived in his office. It said: 'Report to the Admiral immediately.'

He had been told that Admiral Canaris, Director of the Abwehr, the German Intelligence Service, was in Spain offering General Franco Gibraltar in return for some token support of the Axis, but he had obviously been misinformed.

He walked down the corridor to the Admiral's secretariat, straightening his tunic as he went. He sensed an odd look in the secretary's eyes as he announced him on the intercom. The secretary hung up. "Go right in, Herr Oberst."

Naujocks strode through into the big office suit, pulled up in the centre of the floor, clicked his heels and saluted. Like many German men subjected to strict discipline since childhood, he had acquired the habit of bolstering his ego with outward arrogance and stiffness. He believed that any man worthy of the name should be made of steel, and he had behaved accordingly during the war in Poland and France.

He had once been a disciple of Colonel-General von Seeckt, who in the days of the Weimar Republic had masterfully orchestrated the rearmament of the German Army in spite of the restrictions imposed on it by the Great Powers. He was dedicated to his country and the Fuehrer and placed obedience to duty above politics.

The Admiral was gazing out of the windows and he didn't turn when Naujocks entered. "You placed an agent in England without my authorisation, colonel."

Naujocks pursed his mouth. As an officer of the Allgemeine-SS he resented the possibility of being reprimanded by someone in the Kriegsmarine, no matter how senior he was. "With respect, Admiral, it was simply easier for me to arrange matters through the office of my own chief, Reichsfuhrer SS Himmler."

When the old man did turn, he sat down at the other side of an antique desk and left his visitor standing. "You damned SS think you're a law unto yourselves, taking short cuts and ignoring procedure. It is the Abwehr, the department you chose to ignore that as received a communication from your agent, Harmony."

Naujocks stiffened, but he refused to be intimidated and even smiled slightly. "Harmony? Oh yes. I put Harmony into England as a disruptive mole to stir up trouble in British politics. I don't know why you are being bothered with him."

"I'm being bothered because your agent as contacted us with coordinates for an important airstrike. What's it all about? If it involves the Luftwaffe I need to be sure of what I'm doing. Is Harmony a trustworthy operative?"

And now Naujocks began to feel slightly discomforted. Even if Canaris was just an old sailor he was an important man and not beyond making trouble for him.

"His brief did not include any form of espionage, but if he came upon something vital he would certainly act on it. He is completely trustworthy."

The right side of the Admiral's face twitched slightly and a shadow passed through his eyes, a shadow and a glimmer, like the rutilant scales of something just below the surface in murky water. "Harmony was given no wireless transmitter. Explain to me his mission and why you didn't give him one."