The Forests of the Night

I said through gritted teeth, "Don't you know how to treat a lady my friend?" Then I slammed him once more against the filthy brick wall. His head hit the bricks and it stunned him. He slid down the wall and lay there sprawled. I turned to the rest of them and said, "I'm looking for Robert. I will be in that boite, if somebody wants to fetch him."

The rodentia scuttled off. I got us a couple of coffees and two Pernods. I added the water and watched the anise flavored drink become milky white. I said to Bernadette, "Forgive me for doing that in front of you, but that is the only way to get their attention. I am sure Robert will find us sooner than later."

She just stared at me intently. It was hard to know what was going on behind those glorious eyes. But, it looked a bit like fascination. It was unimaginable that a woman as beautiful and refined as Bernadette would find anything attractive in a guy whose hairline began just a few inches above his eyebrows. But, it almost looked like I had turned her on.

Before I could say anything further, a scuzzy, rat-like creature pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. He said, "You wished to speak with me Monsieur?"

I looked him over. He was a caricature of the grenouille frénétique, with the requisite nervous tics and furtive glances. He was five-six, and perhaps 130 pounds. His beady eyes and long French honker, combined with his wispy mustache, no chin, and scrawny neck cemented the impression of rat.

It was an apt analogy since his pallid skin made him look like he had crawled out of a sewer. Perhaps he had, indeed; because the stench of body odor and stale cigarette smoke was almost overwhelming. I looked at Bernadette and she was suitably horrified.

He was the right guy, no question. He said imperiously, "Proceed."

The insufferable arrogance told me that he thought he was holding all the cards. I was going to ask him about the Blochs. But, Robert had made a fatal mistake. He had assumed that we wanted to talk because we needed to escape. That opened up a whole new realm of possibilities.

There were several ways I could play this. But the most obvious gambit was to just go along with his assumption. That way I would be able to follow in the footsteps of the Blochs. Sooner or later I would either run into them or find out what happened.

It was dangerous. But I had promised the little lady that I would answer her questions, and I was curious now, too. I said, "The Germans are after me." I thought I would let his mind's-eye fill in the details. I added a touch of desperation, "I need to get out of France, and I hear that you can help me do that."

Robert got the same satisfied look that every shyster gets when he knows he is about to close a deal. He said, "We can do that Monsieur, but it will cost you. Can you afford it?"

I was about to say, how much?" when Bernadette said with assurance in her voice, "It doesn't matter how much Monsieur. We are wealthy. We can pay."

I had a momentary flash of irritation. She had just blown the whole thing. I wasn't going to let her step into danger. She was far too precious to me at that point. I was about to deep-six the whole gambit, when the British intervened.

It is a common myth that Paris was never bombed. The parts of the City with all the beautiful buildings wasn't hit. But the rail yards in the 18th, especially the Gare du Nord, were bombed regularly.

The sky was filled with a deep-toned and intimidating roar of airplane engines. Sirens sounded and the quad mount 20mm, Flakvierling 38s and the big lethal 88s opened up. Then the bombs began to fall.

We knew that we had to get out of there fast. Robert shouted above the din, "I will meet you here tomorrow. Bring your belongings and twenty thousand Francs.

The Metro wasn't running during the raid. So, Bernadette and I had to walk back to Harry's. Our route was through the blacked-out streets of the 9th.

The Rue Jean-Baptiste is a middle-class area. But, it was pitch dark due to the blackout, and the hammering of the guns and the sound of the explosions behind us was overwhelming. I put my arm around Bernadette, just to reassure her. She made a small noise of pleasure and molded herself to me. I said, "You know we can never go back there now."

She stopped, and very slowly and elaborately unwound my arm, turned to me and said, "But WHY?? This will lead us to Aurore. If it's the money, don't worry. I have much more than that in my home safe."

I could barely see her in the ambient light. But I could tell by her body language that Bernadette was bristling with fury. She said heatedly, "But you were willing to go a moment ago. What changed your mind? Was it the bombs?"

I laughed out loud and said, "I spent my first year in France; getting mortared, shelled and bombed NIGHTLY. It's YOU I'm worried about. I simply can't put you in harm's way like that."

I added as gently as I could, "It's too dangerous. We have no idea what's going to happen. These are all bad men, and we don't even know where we are going. I can protect myself. But I'm worried that I can't protect you and you are very important to me."

She seemed to contemplate that, like what I had said had surprised her. Then unexpectedly, she leapt up, threw her arms around my neck, grabbed the back of my head and planted an open-mothed kiss on me.

That kiss had more passion behind it than I'd experienced in twenty years in France. She moaned loudly and continued to search my mouth with her tongue. Then, just as suddenly, she let go of me; dropping back to the ground, as agile as a cat.

She grabbed my belt, tugged on it, shoved my pants down so that they were puddled around my ankles, spun and pushed her own panties down, planted both arms against the wall of the building, flipped her dress up and spread her legs wider.

She turned her head to look inquiringly at me. I could see in the momentary flash of a nearby 88 that one eyebrow was cocked. Then she waggled her round little butt invitingly.

We were standing in a blacked-out thoroughfare, in the middle of the crushing rumble and flash of a bombing raid, with anti-aircraft guns blazing-away around us. It was just too bizarre. So, pardon me for hesitating.

Bernadette was so far above me in terms of her beauty and social status that I couldn't imagine why she was offering herself to me. But, I would have to be a total moron, or gayer than a tree full of happy chickadees to not take advantage of the opportunity.

I'm neither an idiot, nor homosexual. So, I only hesitated a moment. Her insides were boiling, and she was so wet that I slid up into her without effort. Her head rocked way back, and she emitted a shriek that I could hear over the constant thudding of the bombs.

I felt her passage go nuts as she shoved her 110-pound frame back against me. I was twice her weight. But she was pushing so hard that I had to grab her shapely hips to keep myself steady. Her scent and the frantic gyrations of her cute little butt, got me there a lot faster than I had planned.

In the meantime, Bernadette had three major orgasms. Her passage would start an insane pulsing, she would whip her head around like she was in agony and then she would sag. I kept going, because I had to get to where I needed to be, no matter the chaos going on around me.

Bernadette seemed to pass out after her second climax. I had ahold of her hips and I was pounding her shapely ass like it was the only thing I wanted out of life; perhaps it was. The tempo of the guns was increasing. But I could still hear her shrieks. Then she went completely limp and I was throwing her lifeless body around, like a rag doll.

She began to come back to me at the thrilling conclusion. She was even making feeble efforts to push back. Then, it felt like the Brits dropped one of their "blockbuster" bombs on my reproductive organs. I heard her deep-throated "Ahhhh" of satisfaction, even over the earthshaking boom of the 88s, the rapid-fire din of the Flakvierling 38s, and the roar of Lancaster engines.

I put one hand on the wall to steady myself, trying to breath. Bernadette turned and threw her arms around my neck; more to stay on her feet than as a sign of affection. But, she whispered in my ear, "We are forever one soul. I go where you go."

That was how our bond was forged; standing in the middle of a blacked-out boulevard, with the flashes from RAF bombs and the red-hot tracers and flack bursts lighting up the sky above us. Still, the immense power that was unleashed around us, paled in comparison to the love that I felt for this valiant little woman.

*****

Bernadette lived by herself in the Rue St. Germaine. It was one of those Belle Époque buildings that radiated money. I thought to myself, "She is richer than her friends." That didn't improve my confidence.

Gas was at a premium. So, the Parisians trotted out a fin du siècle solution. Meaning, once we reached the 8th we flagged down a horse drawn Hansom. Bernadette turned and looked at me questioningly. She saw what I was thinking. So, she addressed the pachyderm sitting between us.

She said, "Yes, my father is a hereditary Marquis and I am noble. It doesn't matter in the slightest. I know what sort of person you are; kind, gentle and brave, and stronger than any man."

I said, "But, what would your parents think if you hooked up with a street mutt like me?"

She laughed merrily and said, "Who cares. We're in the middle of a war. Everything's changed. My wealth and status mean nothing to the Germans. Except perhaps it makes me a person who can be exploited."

Bernadette's apartment must have originally belonged to her parents. It had the look and feel of a place that had been furnished by somebody much older. There was a refined mixture of couches for comfort and Louis Quatorze antiques for show. She sat on a big silk-covered couch, which was so sumptuous that it could easily pass for a daybed.

She looked at me inquiringly. I walked over and almost literally fell into her huge hypnotic eyes. There was nothing but pure lust behind them. Although we had fucked not more than a half hour ago, she wanted me again; BADLY!!

Her eyes were irresistible. I sat on the couch, took her in my arms and kissed her eager lips. She gave a long, low, sexual moan and threw her arms around my neck, wrapping one leg over my thigh in the process. Then her mouth opened wide and she tried to swallow my tongue.

I eased us back so that we were lying flat on the couch, with Bernadette on top of me. She was dry humping my leg like an eager Jack Russell Terrier. As her body temperature rose, she gave off an erotic cloud of very expensive perfume. It was so sexually stimulating that it made my heart hurt.

My little partner was locked in a frenzy of desire. She gave me one of her patented penetrating stares, and said with desperation in her voice, "You have to fuck me now!!"

That was good news. But we were both fully clothed. Bernadette hopped off me, moaning with the loss of contact and shed her skirt, blouse, and underwear like they were on fire. I shucked my pants and shirt in the same fashion. I wasn't wearing underwear. I'd been in France long enough to go native.

The first time we had made love was in the street in the middle of a bombing raid. So, I never really had the opportunity to appreciate Bernadette's body. I almost couldn't believe what she now revealed. I knew she had a womanly figure. But, with her clothes on she seemed slim, almost skinny. In reality, Bernadette simply had a very tiny frame.

She was a flawless little doll. Her breasts were much larger and more well-formed than I thought. They were perfect upturned teardrops, with brown nipples and huge almost silver dollar sized aureoles. Her hips were round and fruitful, her legs and thighs were fully muscled and gorgeous, her waist and stomach were rock hard and there was not an ounce of fat on her anywhere.

But it was her magnificent eyes, which were currently stoned with lust, that provided the foundation for her sexuality. They were as haunting and mysterious as the catacombs of Paris and they had a sexual savagery in them that was almost intimidating.

She walked back to where I was sitting, looking intimidatingly hungry, fell to her knees and proceeded to give my cock a sucking that was like an art form. The odd part was that Bernadette appeared to enjoy the act more than I did. I always had difficulty getting girls to blow me. But, Bernadette treated it like an appetizer.

I was about to shoot when she pulled off me, grabbed my cock at the base and squeezed hard. That stopped my impending orgasm in its tracks. Then she mounted me, and I felt my cock slide up into her tight, hot and wet pussy. I had been in Bernadette less than an hour ago. But there were distractions then. Now, I knew how special she really was.

We both groaned loudly as I reached the top. She sat there for a second not moving, nipping and pulling at me with her passage. Then she began to move. Her movements started out slowly, but they quickly built to an uncanny rhythm. She was emitting little shrieks as I humped up into her.

Then her sex clamped on me with the grip of a gorilla and began to yell, "AHHH YESSS FUCK ME!! FUCK ME HARDER!!" I pounded her for all I was worth, and she collapsed bonelessly, sideways on the pillows that were lining the back of the couch. That gave me the opportunity I was looking for.

Up to that point Bernadette had been the one who was controlling the action. It was obvious that she liked to manage the initial part of the engagement. But then, when she got far enough along she wanted to be underneath, not on top.

She had definitely released the beast. I attacked the space between her widely upraised legs like a wild animal. I was growling and grunting as I fucked her. She was taking me to the hilt, while moaning and emitting loud shrieks of sensation.

Finally, she began yelling again, "OH, OH, GODDDD, I'MMMM COMMMMMING AGAIN!" and her pussy erupted in a chaos of milking. That was too much for me and I came in her like I would never stop.

We lay in each other's arms for a relative eternity. I was beginning to fear for her silk couch.

She opened her eyes and looked at me with focused intensity. She said, "I am not always like this. But, I was overwhelmed by passion because my love for you consumes me. There is only one person in my world now. We are like one soul together."

She added questioningly, "Do you understand now? I have never felt like this with any man in my life. I know you feel the same way. You were willing to go on this risky venture, simply to protect me. It never crossed your mind to do otherwise."

She was right, of course. I realized, without thinking, that Bernadette was utterly dear to me. That was why I had wanted to keep her out of harm's way. Still, attachment to a woman was a novel concept to me. The life of a bartender is communal in nature. You HAVE to socialize. There is always somebody to talk to. So, you never get lonely in the conventional sense.

The fact that I was, nothing BUT a bartender hadn't escaped me. But really, who cares? My personal life was solitary by choice. I mean, seriously! who needs a woman? On any given night I would eventually meet every woman in the bar. Hence, the sex was various and frequent. Women were just a source of pleasure.

Then this beautiful and strong-willed little creature came along, and I saw what I was missing. Life isn't easy. But it is a whole lot easier if you have one special person to share its joys and sorrows. That was what Bernadette was to me.

I was aware of our class difference. In normal times that would be an insurmountable barrier. But in this case, we had the same goal and we needed each other. She needed me for protection and I needed her... Well, I just NEEDED her. The odd part was that I had no sense of why we had transitioned from partners to lovers.

Then, the answer hit me. It was astonishing. I was a better man now, because Bernadette saw me that way. I wanted to do the right thing because of her. More important, I trusted her!!

I said, "It was never a question of how I felt. You are beautiful. But, you are also smart and fearless and more importantly I trust you, like I have trusted nobody else in my life. I have lived a meaningless existence up to this point. I now realize that it has meaning with you in it."

Her look of joy was all the reward I needed.

It's odd how reality shifts. Two years ago, Bernadette was a Marquis's daughter and I was a bartender. And, life continued as it had been in France since the time of Napoleon. I don't think either of us would have even noticed the other one, much less be lying on a couch in each other's arms.

That world was turned upside down and the new reality was harsh and brutal. It boiled life down to its essentials, where the smart, strong and brave survived. But, that didn't mean it was morally proper to just stand by and watch the helpless being exploited.

So, because of my love for Bernadette, I was compelled to walk into the furnace of Nazi injustice to retrieve her friend.

*****

We did some serious plotting. That is, after I had called Harry's. I needed to talk to Boggsy, just to make sure that things were on an even keel. In occupied Paris, losing a job that the Germans gave you was not like being fired back in the States.

Boggsy cheerfully told me that my presence was not necessary. Since, he was making far too much headway in my absence.

We knew two things. Robert was the entrance to the rabbit hole. And the people who had entered there, were never heard from again. Our plan was simple enough. The Bloch family were Jews. We wanted to find out what had happened to them. Hence, we would put ourselves in the same shoes.

I still had a bad feeling about venturing into an unknown situation with Bernadette. I'm more likely to GIVE hurt, than GET hurt. But Bernadette was a different matter entirely.

I knew that she had a fiery soul. But she was a civilized Parisian woman, protected by her wealth and status. She had never been in a fight in her life. Courage alone wouldn't keep her safe from the denizens of the dark side.

That created the classic paradox. I finally had somebody too precious to lose, yet I had to risk her because she wasn't going to let me go into this thing by myself. She said that she had taken the unprecedented step of fucking me in the middle of a bombing raid, because my hesitation proved I loved her. She recognized that fact before I did.

It was a conundrum that I couldn't solve. I just had to play the hand as it was dealt...

*****

The following day, I was sitting with Bernadette at the same table in the boite. There is less activity around Pigalle in the morning, especially after a major raid. The ruins of the railyard were still smoking. I saw Robert scuttle furtively out of a nearby alley. I truly expected him to emerge from a sewer grating.

I was dressed in a workingman's outfit; chambray shirt, heavy cloth coat, pants and brogues. My brass knuckles, which are my weapon of choice, were inside the removable soles.

Since Bernadette was providing the money she thought that she ought to play the part. Thus, she was much more fashionably dressed. But she was still wearing a pair of walking shoes.

The first thing Robert did, after he lit an omnipresent Gauloises, was say, "The money first Monsieur." I reached into the little valise and laid two thick stacks of francs in front of him. His eyes lit up with feral delight.

He said, "Are you prepared for the trip? What belongings are you taking?"

I said, "Only this valise and the lady's case," and indicated the small suitcase sitting next to Bernadette.

He reached for the money. I grabbed his paw and squeezed it hard. His eyes went glassy with pain. God! I was going to have to wash my hands after touching him. I said with emphasis, "I want to know EXACTLY how you are going to get us to England."