Hanna’s Conversion

Stepping off the train in Erding, Mark recognised her immediately. Hanna had aged well. Her figure, in body-hugging jeans and a summery top, was more womanly now but still as nicely proportioned as the youthfully slender Hanna of twenty-five years ago. From the distance, her now shorter-cut hair looked lighter than he remembered.

Approaching each other, just slightly hesitating in their final steps, Mark realised there was more silver in her hair than in his. Hanna stretched out her hand for the usual German greeting while Mark spread his arms for the Australian hug, reserved for people one genuinely liked.

She blushed as she stepped into Mark's bear hug and stuttered, "Oh Mark, it's great to see you again. Welcome back to beautiful Bavaria."

Having surprised her, Hanna did not struggle out of their tight embrace. Her body was firm and warm under her light clothes. Mark suddenly realised how sensually alive her body felt pressed against his.

Mark responded by releasing her before she would feel his growing erection:

"It's wonderful to be back after all these years. And especially, of seeing you again in the flesh after years of cards and emails.

I recognized you straight away, even though you are now more beautiful than I remember from, God, twenty-six years and seven months ago."

As they turned to stroll out of the station, his compliment made her smile. Mark noticed that the laugh wrinkles in the corners of her eyes, were the only signs aging had imprinted on her intelligent, calm face. In Mark's eyes, life had transformed Hanna from a pretty young thing into an exquisitely beautiful and desirable woman.

Her car was parked close by. It was a recent model BMW 3. Mark whistled, "You certainly travel in style, Hanna!"

"I am a working girl and like my little luxuries. My school is in a village twenty kilometres from here. As a principal, I need a reliable car." Hanna laughed, "And in Bavaria, I can't drive anything else but a Bemer."

From the outside, Hanna's house had not changed much. Originally built or bought by Hanna's grandfather before World War 1, it reflected the taste and prosperity of an esteemed citizen of a time long past. He had been the chief administrator of the local hospital and the regional health services, as well as running a lucrative private practice. He and his wife had only one son, who was killed on the Russian Front in 1943.

At twenty, at her grandfather's death, a stunned Hanna became -- what was in the small-town context -- a wealthy heiress. As his only but also much-favoured grandchild, he had left the house and a substantial part of his liquid wealth to Hanna, to ease her and her husband into their married life.

Hanna had fallen pregnant at nineteen without being engaged. For her disappointed family, it was fortunate that her man, Rolf, a seven years older, local civil engineer, was considered an acceptable partner. So, under pressure to save Hanna's and the family's reputation, a marriage was quickly arranged.

When Mark met Hanna, she had been married for five years and had two children: five-year-old Peter, and three-year-old Carla. In addition to being a housewife and mother, she had the five rooms on the two floors upstairs in her house converted for rental.

Mark, having arrived in Munich for a year of post-graduate study at the University, was looking for suitable and affordable accommodation. A relative of Hanna, in his department at the University, recommended her and rang her up. She had a room vacant and Mark became her tenant.

As sometimes happens, they liked each other and were at ease with each other from the moment they met. Though both were young and physically attractive, there was no sexual tension between them. With Hanna's respectable background and Catholic upbringing, it probably resulted from her sexual naivety, her inability -- not unwillingness -- to be the instigator. With Mark, it was not a code of ethics; he just could not see a mother of two as an object of sexual desire.

Unforced and undeclared, they became friends. They saw each other much more often than Hanna saw the other tenants.

Although sexually innocent, their relationship was still conspiratorial regarding Hanna's husband. Rolf openly disapproved of Hanna's tenancy business, and his behaviour towards her tenants varied between downright rude and icily polite.

Therefore, whenever Rolf was home, the regular and friendly interaction between Hanna and Mark ceased. They never talked about it; it was a silent agreement. It worried Mark that there was something seriously awry about Hanna's marriage.

Rolf worked in a senior capacity for a large construction company, either in the head office in Munich or on project sites all over Germany. In the case of the latter, even if it was only a few Autobahn hours away, Rolf rarely returned home for the weekend. When in Munich, late nights and weekend work were the norms.

Also, Mark never saw Rolf do any work around the house or in the garden. For him, her property was entirely her responsibility and concern.

What happened behind the closed door of their downstairs apartment, Mark could not know and Hanna never told.

That was then. Hanna's emails had briefly reported on some of the happenings since. It included news of her divorce, that Carla had married a Frenchman, and that Peter had joined his father in Dresden.

Hanna had made some changes to her house. A second entrance door to what was a stairwell built against the side of the house and a roofed carpark in the forecourt were for Mark unfamiliar additions.

The changes inside the house were substantial. The interior stairwell was gone and the ground floor was now Hanna's apartment. The first floor was a three-bedroom rental apartment, with two studio apartments, for long or short-term rent, on the level up under the roof.

As she told Mark about it, Hanna's pride in what she had done with her property was apparent.

Leading Mark into and through her tastefully furnished apartment, Hanna eventually opened the door to a well-furnished room with an en suite bathroom. She explained that it was originally the two children's rooms. As both had left, she converted it into a guest room, mainly for their irregular visits.

Looking at Mark, Hanna said, "I decided against putting you up under the roof." Then, with a sideway glance through the open door into her bedroom, she grinned and added, "After all these years with you on the other side of the world, I wanted to keep you close."

Mark grinned back, "As you know, I'll be on my best behaviour," without adding, 'but not like long past, innocent years ago.' He was convinced, Hanna read his mind. She had, he thought, blushed.

It was late afternoon. Hanna left him to prepare dinner. Mark unpacked, had a shower, and settled in.

Joining her later in the kitchen, Mark read and liked the signs.

Hanna had set up a delicious cold serve meal with an opened bottle of claret on the little kitchen table with the two chairs close together. Customarily, guests were entertained in the dining room but friends always met and shared in the kitchen. It told him, better than words, what he still was for Hanna.

The second sign gave him hope that now he could be possibly more. Hanna had changed out of her everyday jeans and top into a dress. Fitting the warm summer evening, it was knee-length, bare-shoulders and of the lightest cloth. It meant to show off the beauty of her figure just as the lipstick Hanna had put on highlighted the sensuousness of her lips.

She watched for Mark's reaction, fearing that he would politely pretend not to notice:

"Wow, Hanna, you are not only the sexiest school principal I have ever met but the most beautiful woman I have been with in a long, long time."

"Well, this little dress I bought for this summer holiday, knowing that you would come. I hoped, that you would want to take me out. I could not wear such a dress to school, being a boring head teacher."

"Can I take you out tomorrow? Do you know a classy restaurant or bar where we don't have to be respectable and boring?"

Hanna laughed; stepping up to Mark she cradled spontaneously his head in her hands and kissed him:

"Wonderful idea! It's mid-week and we could probably get a booking at Jagdschloss Kiefer. I have wanted to go there for ages. I'll ring them now."

She returned all excited, "We are booked in, at seven tomorrow."

Over dinner, enjoyed by both, with Hanna not being the dieting kind of woman, Mark tried to find out more about Hanna's sexual past. She responded in a, for Mark, surprisingly relaxed and unapologetic way:

"About my sexual past, there is not much to tell but much to wonder about.

I married a man that got me, as a virgin, pregnant at nineteen. He was never a lover, a poor husband and father, resentful of my financial independence, and for the last ten years of our so-called marriage absent.

He had moved to previous East Germany to buy cheaply run-down houses to renovate and resell to other West German speculators. In building up his lucrative business, he needed constantly more capital.

Between us, all marital relations had ceased. I wanted a divorce.

He was willing, provided I agreed to an equal division of our marital assets to which our laws entitled him, although he had contributed practically nothing. Three years ago -- he wished to remarry -- he gave up his claim and we divorced.

Since then, no local suitor has come knocking on my door and I have not been on the lookout for one. I am well-off and independent. I need neither a provider nor a protector.

Regarding sex, neither my Catholic upbringing nor my thirty years of marriage nor my holiday flings - two since my divorce - have convinced me that I'm missing much."

Reaching across the table for the wine bottle to refill their glasses, Hanna's dress gaped open and Mark's eyes fell on her breasts' perfect orbs. Giving them a little shake, she grinned, "I really don't know, Mark; could I just be frigid?"

Dinner finished, Hanna, took Mark into the Living Room to show him some photos, mainly of Peter and Carla, on her iPad. Sitting on the sofa, their thighs pressed closer together than their viewing made necessary or that Mark would have risked initiating.

He was admiring a holiday shot of Hanna and Carla taken only three weeks earlier. Both were in bikinis with Carla's only marginal briefer on her slender body than what Hanna needed to wear on her womanlier one. Laughing into the lens, neither Hanna nor Carla had a bodily flaw to hide.

Mark made an appreciative sound and pulled the pad for a closer look. As Hanna tried to hold on, it slipped out of their hands and fell on the carpet. As he bent down to pick it up, he placed his hand unintentionally on Hanna's thigh.

Embarrassed, he stammered an excuse but Hanna not only burst into a happy laugh but her now pressed-together thighs had captured and held Mark's fingers:

"Don't apologise, Mark. I like you touching me; I've wanted it from the moment you took me in your arms at the railway station."

"You know, I almost kissed you."

Hanna twisted her upper body, pressing her firm boobs onto his chest. With her lips just touching his, she whispered:

"God, why didn't you?"

"I did not know, Hanna, if you wanted me as more than a friend. I was going to seduce you slowly; wait for a special occasion, like our going out tomorrow."

Hanna giggled:

"I'll be on my guard, Mark, for whatever you are planning. But as I am feeling naughty tonight, you could kiss and touch me a bit already."

Her lips closed in, opened, and her tongue pushed at first shyly, tentatively searching, as it touched his in shock momentarily withdrawing, deeper and deeper into Mark's mouth. When his tongue joined hers in a gentle, courting dance, a throaty moan escaped Hanna.

She still gripped the wrist and held his hand locked between her now rubbing-together thighs. As her tongue succeeded in luring his into her suddenly hungry mouth, her legs spread. While she sucked and bit Mark's now deeply invading tongue, she pulled very slowly his hand up her thigh until it closed over her mons.

Cupping her crotch, his bending fingers sank through the flimsy fabric of her panties into a hotly-wet pussy. In between whimpers, Hanna cried out, repeatedly his name but always without a Yes or a No.

It caused Mark to hold his hand still without groping. He wanted her to admit her desires, especially as Hanna's salacious kissing left him anyway in no doubt.

When they finally broke apart, Hanna threw herself back on the sofa. Her little dress was in revealing disarray, and with her eyes on Mark's face, she did not attempt to cover up. She had put on no bra, and one glorious, firm tit, with its proudly erect nipple, had slipped out of its flimsy covers. Her dress had rucked up to her waist.

To Mark's delight, Hanna had put on for him panties that were the merest, sexiest suggestion of a cover. Under the sheer lace, the dark triangle of her bush offered to Mark's eyes the promise of her womanly sex, there to be taken.

Hanna lowered her eyes:

"As you can see, Mark, you won't have to try hard to seduce me tomorrow. I've done things tonight, trying to get you into my bed, that I never imagined I would do -- or wanted to do -- with any man.

I'm almost fifty; I should have felt sexy like that long ago. I just never did.

Now I can only hope you will be as crazy about me as I am about you."

Her face lit up with a grin, "I'll be wondering all night what seductions you have in mind?"

They went to bed. Although Hanna seemed to have accepted that tonight had been foreplay for tomorrow, she still left the door to her bedroom an inviting gap open. It amused Mark and he followed suit with his door.

However, befitting their age and good sense, both spent their night undisturbed by intruders but far from at ease.

Without mentioning the previous night, they continued their playful game the following day. Mark went shopping with Hanna and was introduced to a few of her acquaintances as an 'old friend from Australia.' At home, they studiously ignored how close they had already come to fucking and neither touched nor kissed.

When Hanna emerged from her bedroom ready to leave for the restaurant, she wore a light summer coat over her dress. Her make-up was tastefully unobtrusive. The sneakers she wore for driving clashed with the silvery stockings. But with the high-heel sandals, she carried now in her hands, eyes would surely be drawn to Hanna's long, silvery legs.

The restaurant, originally a substantial hunting lodge of a Bavarian count, was situated in a park-like forest. In the carpark, Hanna slipped out of her sneakers and handed Mark her high heels.

Smiling, she turned in her seat and lifted first one, then the other leg into his lap. She turned on the light to help Mark in doing up the straps of the sandals. With her legs spread wide and the knee-length coat and dress underneath, Mark had -- did Hanna intend it -- a full view of the black lace bands at the top of her silver stockings as well as the outline of her pussy's plump lips under the sheerness of her panties.

Mark looked. He smiled at Hanna and said:

"I love your sexy stockings. Will you keep them on when I have you spread out on the bed?"

Hanna laughed:

"Want me to keep the thong on too?"

In the restaurant's wardrobe, when Hanna shed her coat, Mark's mouth fell open. Hanna was in the most daring, little black dress he had ever seen on any of his women acquaintances. It included his ex-wife, who had liked to display her delectable assets in public.

The dress's shimmering material looked like it was cast on Hanna's body. It accentuated the contours of her hips, the stomach's flatness and the beautiful shape of her breasts. The dress' décolletage was a V, pointing from throat and shoulders deep into the valley between Hanna's enticing orbs.

As she turned around, following the waiter to their reserved table, the dress' most daring appeal was revealed. It was held in place on Hanna's body by two thin straps, one around her neck, the other across her back. Her bare back from her neck to the beginning swell of her buttocks suggested that under her slip of a dress, Hanna was naked.

Quite a few of the diners had looked up. Their eyes were on her alluring nakedness, either lusting or admiring or envious, as she, her head with her greying hair held high, walked with measured steps to the table.

Over their excellent four-course meal, with the main course being venison, their conversation became sexually charged.

Mark started it by telling Hanna how much her brave dress had surprised him, and how breathtakingly sexy she was in it.

It forced Hanna to confess that she still did not know what made her buy it.

It happened during her recent visit to Carla in Valence. On a stroll through town, in a fashion boutique, the dress was on display. When Hanna looked at it with -- she knew not why -- rising interest, the boutique's lady owner approached. Looking at Hanna closely, she told her that this was the dress for a confident woman with a figure like hers: would she like to try it on?

In the changing room, Hanna stripped down to her cotton panties. The owner pointed at them and signalled a No. Rushing out, she returned with a thong.

Hanna paused in her eating:

"I had never seen a thong up close. Suddenly, the idea of wearing one under this dress or being naked made me shiver. My sex felt hot. I stripped down my panties and wriggled naked into the dress.

It fitted like a glove. It transformed me. As I turned before the double mirrors and the admiring eyes of the boutique owner, I knew I had to own this dress, even if I would never wear it in public, never dare to be this other woman.

Not even asking for its price -- it was a shop where prices were not displayed -- I bought it."

Mark lifted his wine glass for a toast:

"And there you are tonight, in your stunning dress! Shall we drink to it and to you, the daring, gorgeously sexy woman wearing it?"

Hanna lifted her glass with a glitter of tears in her eyes as she smiled at Mark:

"It took you, Mark, to lure me out of my hiding. With you, I want to dare all.

But it's peculiar; I knew you were coming in three weeks but when I bought this dress, I did not think of you at all. It had its own magic.

True, in blind hope, I bought a few other new things, sexier clothes than usual, for your visit.

But I'm wondering: if we shook hands at the railway station instead of sinking into that sexy embrace, would we have remained just friends for our next thirty years?"

Hanna paused, "Instead of becoming scandalous lovers!"

Mark grinned:

"While I settle the bill, you can go to the Ladies'. Bring me back your thong. In the Bar, I want your pussy as hot and naked as it was when you bought your magical dress."

Hanna swallowed. Smiling, with a light blush she rose and walked to the dining room's entrance. As before, Hanna felt many eyes on her naked back. It should have discomfited her; instead, it put a sway in her walk.

Returning to the table, Hanna reached into her purse. Gathering the tiny thong loosely in her hand, she offered it to Mark openly across the table. He grinned. Without quite hiding it in his large hand, he brought it up to his nose for a less than furtive sniff before pocketing it.

On getting up from the table to go to the bar, Hanna hooked into Mark's arm. Suppressing a giggle, she looked at him and whispered, "I never thought we could be so naughty."

"And I always thought school mams were prim and proper."

The bar was large, moodily lit and not uncomfortably crowded, with a small dance floor and a DJ who played for the predominantly middle-aged affluents relaxing mood music. Mark and Hanna secured a small table, he a large cognac and she, as the driver, a mocktail.