The Furious Gymnast Ch. 01

This dramatized chronicle is based on real events and describes the remarkable love between a terrorized woman from the German Democratic Republic (GDR) and a somewhat peculiar Dutchman. To protect people's privacy, I've changed some names and facts without altering the essence of the story.

This chapter tells about the acquaintance of Barbara, an ex-gymnast who is in serious trouble, and Sven, an ex-command who does not fit well in our society. It's love at first sight. Irrepressible outdoor sex in public is ultimately the result.

§1.1 The Netherlands, a beautiful day at the end of April 1990.

The phone on my desk rang. Lost in thought and a little annoyed I took the telephone handset off the hook.

"Sven van Larwick," I said automatically.

"Hello, Barbara Bannaloni here," came cheerfully in German from the telephone receiver. "I am now in West Germany near the border with the Netherlands, where I visited family of mine. People I had never seen"

After a hesitation: "Could I come and stay with you for two or three nights?" Her voice now sounded a little nervous.

Who she was, what this was about and why she wanted to come was completely obscure to me. In my best German I repeated that I was Sven van Larwick and asked her if she had phoned a wrong number.

"No, no, no," she said. "We met at Meike's house. She gave me your number."

That was strange. Meike knew very well that I didn't want that. She would never do something like that. Who the hell was I talking to?

Suddenly it dawned on me. An adrenaline rush was injected into my blood vessels and my stomach tightened. How was it possible that I hadn't known who she was right away? For more than a year now, she had been occupying my mind day and night. The girl I was talking to, was Meike's furious and stunningly beautiful colleague from the GDR.

§1.2 GDR, February 1989.

It was a rainy evening. The tiled stove radiated a cozy warmth and the smell of burning lignite was detectable throughout the city. The room was lit by a simple pre-war hanging lamp. Meike, her husband Werner and I sat together at the table. She was a nurse and he was the manager of a sports complex. They both were friendly and attentive. Last week, I had stayed with them.

The next day, I had to go back to the Netherlands, even though I really preferred to stay a little longer myself. My visa would expire and I was absolutely no longer welcome in the GDR. Actually, I had never been welcome, but I had obtained a visa anyway. Corruption also has benefits.

I had been commissioned by a senior editor friend to write a piece about East German sports practices. She didn't care about my lyrics because they weren't brilliant. She needed my nose because I was able to smell smelly things. She wanted tidbits, facts and things that were not right. Facts that stank. I had managed to bring these facts to light before. People, especially women tend to tell me a lot without me asking. Sometimes, a smile and an encouraging look can be magical.

Before my trip to the GDR, I had a negative and unfavorable impression of East Germans: closed, hostile, everyone for themselves, and every fifth inhabitant was a traitor, recruited by the Stasi (the East German intelligence service). Yet the inhabitants, particularly the post-war youth, were nice, hospitable people who resented the Russian occupiers and the government of Erich Honecker.

After getting to know the country a bit, I understood why the people seemed so unpleasant. Every house was tapped. It was very important at that time not to say anything negative about the government. People who did so were punished with severe harassment or even imprisonment. No wonder that people behaved suspiciously and closed. Despite everything, you could still notice that the population was getting tired of the repression. Something was brewing.

The bell rang and Meike answered the door. Moments later, a dazzlingly beautiful woman, whirled into the room, with the grace of a ballerina. She looked insanely fit, not very tall, about 5.2 feet. Her Incredible strength and flexibility was clearly visible. She was about 25 years old, maybe a bit older. The beauty's appearance had a striking resemblance to that of Sofia Loren during her best years. Actually, she was even looking better.

(To have a better understanding of what happened to me that night, it would be beneficial to examine some photos of Sofia Loren from the 1950s).

Meike said to me: "This is Barbara, a colleague of mine. She came by to borrow an iron."

After that, she said to Barbara: "This is Sven, the Dutchman I told you about. Do you want a cup of coffee?"

Meike's colleague floated towards me, and I stood up. The girl stopped right in front of me, came down to earth, and gave me a firm handshake. With a confident look, without any embarrassment, I was examined by her. She had radiant, extremely clear amber eyes. The eyes of Mona Lisa weren't even close to match hers. They captured my own eyes and looking away, or even blinking, was impossible. Her appearance made a crushing impression. Everything was right to perfection. What a radiance and what a terrible pity that I had to leave tomorrow with no chance of ever seeing her again.

Barbara asked me where I lived, if I was married and if I had children. I said that I had a wife, but no children.

"What is your reason for being in the GDR and how did you manage to enter the country?"

She looked at me questioningly with a ravishing and interested look. Was she flirting with me? She was obviously interested in me without me realizing it at the time. I am quite naive in such matters.

"At the border, I bribed a customs officer to get a visa. Your government wouldn't let me into the country because I wrote a piece last year, concerning the scandalous policy with which the GDR smeared sport: "athletes who are drugged and win medals through state interference in an unsportsmanlike way", I said very softly (we were overheard).

Maybe I didn't phrase it very well, because my German is not very good. Anyway, Barbara stamped her feet on the floor, her face got red-hot with anger, steam was almost coming out of her ears, and she smelled, I can't put it any other way, ferociously erotic. A strange kind of attraction arose between us. With her arms taut at her sides, she clenched her fists. She froze while still gazing right into my eyes. She wore a smile like a loaded gun and her furious bright brown eyes shot lightning bolts. She could attack me at any time. I was perplexed.

The lightning bolts struck me, and at that moment, I fell madly in love without even realizing it. It was clear to me that I would never forget the fierce beauty of the sparkling eyes on her gorgeous face. What a temperament!

A colossal hard on grew in my pants. Very briefly, a mysterious smile appeared on her face and immediately afterwards tears welled up in her eyes. She flinched, turned abruptly, and disappeared like a hurt panther through the door, slamming it shut behind her. Gone she was. :-(

The atmosphere in the room cooled. Meike said almost hostilely that Barbara was a very nice girl, her best friend.

"What did you say?" Werner and Meike looked at me searchingly.

Completely taken aback and upset, I stammered, still very softly, that I expressed my disapproval of the doping use and sportsmanship of the GDR selection for the Olympic games. The atmosphere cleared up a bit.

"Please tell me what's going on," I said very unhappily.

"Barbara was kicked out of our national Olympic gymnastics team eleven years ago. It did hurt her terribly. I don't want to talk about it any further," Meike said.

The next day Werner and Meike took me to the station. Outside we were not overheard, and Meike was a lot more talkative than yesterday. She said that Barbara had been training since she was eight years old and that her whole life was now being ruined by harassing officials. She was not allowed to study, she was constantly monitored and if she had to visit a competent authority or wanted to buy something special, there were always problems.

As an example, Meike told me that Babara's iron broke down a few weeks ago. She had gone to the store to buy a new one. The salesman stated that there were no more irons. Nevertheless, they were clearly visible laying on the shelf behind him. Meike also had been approached by an unfamiliar, extremely unpleasant woman, who had strongly advised her to distance herself from Barbara. Everyone in the neighborhood liked Barbara, but she was avoided like the plague.

Barbara's marriage was not going well either. Meike didn't quite understand why. Her husband was very nice and was willing to do anything for her. They had known each other all their lives. Meike had asked about it often enough. Barbara always said it wasn't his fault. She had been invariably self-absorbed for hours afterwards.

After what Meike had told me, I was upset and felt pretty lousy. Barbara was not allowed to leave the country and I was not allowed back in. It was clear that I would never see her again, so I asked Meike if she would pass on my apologies, because I really had not wanted to hurt her feelings.

§1.3 The Netherlands, end of April 1990, back to the telephone conversation.

"Have you forgotten about me Sven? Meike was quite sure that you would remember me," Barbara's voice sounded out of the phone.

"Of course I remember you. Your call took me by surprise. I never expected to hear from you again," I said in German and continued: "Things are not going well between me and my wife. It is not certain that she will allow you to come and stay, but I will surely find an address for you to go to. Call me again tonight after eight, then I've arranged it. How are you and Meike and her husband?"

"I've run out of coins. When I'm with you, we'll talk further. I'll call again at eight," Barbara's voice was heard on the phone. Click, beep, beep.

Should I let her come to stay with us? Our first and also last meeting had been very short and did not end well. She was very hurt by me. Why did she want to see me at all?

In all fairness I really couldn't refuse Barbara, because I still owed her an apology. Moreover, I was particularly curious about Barbara. The image of her enraged, brilliant, clear amber eyes and the memory of her wildly erotic scent still came back to my mind every day. She was truly blood curdling beautiful. No, I definitely had not forgotten her. On the contrary. She was rock solid in my head and heart, but I didn't realize that at the time.

My wife turned out to be in a great mood and is always up for meeting other people. She wanted to get acquainted and staying over was absolutely no problem. Barbara called again at eight o'clock.

"You are welcome and you can stay at our house," I said and asked when she wanted to come. "I'll be there in ten minutes," said Barbara.

It felt a bit strange to suddenly have someone staying over at your home you don't know, and with whom the relationship is not amicable. Fortunately, my wife always manages to break the ice. She immediately started a conversation. I only had to listen.

Barbara was going through a divorce and now that the wall had fallen, she could leave the GDR. She had more or less fled. Apart from Meike, she had no friends. Where could she go? After a few days, her family in West Germany thought that her visit had lasted long enough, and the Netherlands had always attracted her. The Dutch were so very relaxed and easy going. She never had forgotten our meeting. There was more to it, I clearly felt that, but what? My wife didn't notice, and I didn't ask.

The next morning Barbara wanted to check out some shops. My wife had to go to work so the two of us went into town. It was a feast for the eyes to see how gracefully Barbara moved. She moved through the crowds like a little boat in a small stream, and if if she came across a sturdy handrail or a bench, she jumped on it to perform some balancing stunts. Enthusiastically as a child.

After a while, she asked if we could walk arm in arm, she liked that better. I absolutely wouldn't refuse anything like that to a woman anyway and certainly not in her case. What man wouldn't want to have such a stunningly beautiful woman by his side? We talked about everything, but I was afraid to ask genuine questions. After all, I didn't want her to get mad at me again. Barbara must have been aware that the situation was a bit strange, but she didn't bring it up.

In the afternoon I had to go to a hockey tournament to write an article for a local newspaper. Barbara wanted to come along. Sport naturally interested her, and she knew that hockey was played at a high level in the Netherlands. By the end of the afternoon it had cooled down considerably and she said she was getting cold. Her hard nipples were pressed against the fabric of her thin and rather short summer dress. After my comment that I saw that she was cold, I immediately bit my tongue. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Barbara looked at me with an endearing smile. She said nothing.

"It will take about another half an hour," I said and handed her my heavy leather jacket, which she immediately put on. She drowned in it and looked very touching.

After the tournament was over we hurried home. We were with my bicycle. She sat on the luggage rack with her arms around my belly while tightly grasping me. Every time Barbara touched me or even looked at me I got an erection. Now as well. Her hands were pressurizing on my dick, through my pants. I believed she was very cold because she shivered a little.

§1.4 Some background about myself.

You can't see that I'm particularly strong. My appearance is average: nearly 6'3" tall, slim, not particularly muscular, bright light blue eyes, blond hair, and a not-too-tall cock in a flaccid state. That dick can grow into a sturdy pile, of almost 8" long. Not very extreme, but big enough.

When I still had to go to school, originality or talent was hardly appreciated in our country. People mainly looked at what you couldn't. At the time, the lessons consisted of fourteen courses. I was extremely talented in science subjects, but received very poor grades in Dutch, French, German and English. The school management thought I was lazy and stupid. It signified the end of my education. However, I never stopped learning. I am self-taught.

I don't know much, but I know more than those who don't know that they don't know much (based on a quote from Socrates, I think). Anyway: I am different and in our society there is really no place for people like me.

After my school days, I had to go into service and eventually ended up with the special forces. It was a great time.

You can't get a good job without a degree, so I started working freelance as a problem solver: a kind of "handyman" for technical, legal and security problems, it didn't matter to me. My customers were very satisfied, but didn't have a problem to solve every day. It was difficult to make a living.

Women are crazy about me. At school, the girls always came up to me giggling. They cut my hair and I was always invited to their parties. Women really do everything for me. Still. What do they see in me anyway? I really have no clue. I'm complete moron in such matters. Strong, intelligent women drive me completely nuts. They are irresistible. Of course, I don't want to hurt my own wife. To avoid problems, I keep contacts with other women as superficial as possible.

At the time this story takes place, I was 37 years old and I was not doing very well personally. My wife had to pay all the bills and I was not happy. My wife was fed up. Sometimes she called me an unemployed schlemiel or a parasite. At times, she wouldn't want to pay for my food, so she only bought food for herself. Her respect for me was completely gone.

If both parties really want it, then a marriage can almost always be saved, but if the respect for each other is gone, then the marriage is lost. Despite my better judgment, I still loved my wife, but I knew then that we had to divorce. The problem was that I had a house and no money and my wife had a job but no house. Due to the housing shortage, she would not be able to find another home quickly. We were stuck with each other and a divorce wouldn't solve anything. I had put off the problem for quite some time.

§1.5 The Netherlands, end of April 1990, back to the story.

The next day was the first day of the year that the weather would be really beautiful. I suggested to make a canoe trip in the area. Barbara was thrilled.

"Barbara," I said. "You have to take into account that you can get wet. I don't wear much myself, because then I'm dry again quickly."

Barbara didn't have a lot of luggage with her and was wearing the same short summer dress as yesterday. A shirt with a simple and thin boxershort was all I wore. I took a waterproof bag, two warm vests, a very large bath towel, lemonade, and some sandwiches with me.

Behind my house was a narrow canal in which lay my canoe, a spacious Canadian.

"I've never been in a canoe before," said Barbara.

"Can you swim? Be careful getting in, such a canoe is not very stable," I shouted.

Too late. She already sat.

Barbara was incredibly limber and fast. The self-control and balance she possessed surprised me every time. Later that day I would come across another example of that. Barbara impressed me enormously and I immediately felt that in my sports shorts. It was embarrassing and I hoped she wouldn't see it.

It was understandable that I desired an erotic adventure since it had been a while since my wife and I had sex. However, it wouldn't be proper to use Babara for something like that.

Barbara looked at me and smiled endearingly, just as she did yesterday. This worsened the situation further. Those stunningly beautiful, bright, amber eyes! Swiftly I got in. It would have been better if I had put on a little more, I thought.

Barbara grabbed a paddle and I pushed off. Explanation was unnecessary. The paddling seemed to come naturally to her. I had seen before that Barbara was quite muscular, and I noticed that too. The canoe shot through the water at great speed. I needed to do almost nothing myself. That such a slender girl had so much strength and energy was truly amazing.

Barbara was beaming and happy, she loved our trip and so did I. Canoeing with such a wonderful woman. Something like this only happens once in your life (if you're very lucky).

After a while, she asked if I minded her being so quiet.

"Not at all, I replied. Talking just to dispel the silence is not necessary. You shouldn't feel compelled to say anything. I'm not much of a talker myself. Silence in such a beautiful setting is self-evident."

"The Netherlands is so beautiful," she said. "The clouds are so white, the sky and water are so tremendously blue and the grass is so overwhelmingly green. I have never seen such intense colors before."

I had never thought about this, but indeed, in Germany and certainly in the GDR everything was much duller and grayer. I almost made a comment about her intense eyes. Fortunately, I was able to shut up myself in time. Such a flirty remark would be inappropriate and I didn't want her to feel uncomfortable.

"At home I read in the encyclopedia that Holland is the most populous country in the world, but I don't see them, all those Dutch people. Where are they?"

"Most of the Dutch are all huddled together in the province of Holland, but here we are not in Holland. Holland is just a small part of the Netherlands", I explained.

The fascination with Barbara was overwhelming, far greater than any other woman I had ever had a crush on. That there was so much fire and dynamite in me and that my passion could be so fierce, was a new sensation for me and yet I was not very young anymore. My habit of always keeping my distance to women was under great pressure.