Frenchie: Love & Bullets

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Sat mooning over a Budweiser Captain Wertz reflected on the French girl who refused to give very much away. He had no idea of what she might have gone through under Nazi occupation. To have your family shot in front of you and then be r***d he could never conceive how terrifying that ordeal must have been. Then to determine to kill the bastard that carried out the crimes? Well there lay a magnificent story, and if not then a novel. Six hundred miles and nine months through autumn, winter and spring!

Nat, a colleague took the seat next to him. “Good day? Bad day? Indifferent day Captain?”

“I have fallen in love,” he imparted without the, I think.

“Oh yeah. Don’t tell the wife eh? So when did this monumental display of emotion fall about those rounded shoulders?”

“Today?” Nat asked not taking Mike seriously. “Fraulein?”

Mike nodded and shook his head.

“Right. Today and not a kraut. When did you meet her?”

“Today.”

“Nothing wrong with spontaneous. What’s her name?”

“No idea.”

“How old is she?”

“Refuses to say.”

“How many of them bottles have you had?”

“Not enough.”

“What do you know about her?”

“It’s not what I know. It’s what I see.”

“That’s not love Mikey. That’s lust.”

“Yeah. You could be right.”

“Best cure for love’s call is get plastered.”

“Can’t. I’m interviewing her tomorrow.”

“Now I’m interested.”

“I found her in the Russian zone in Berlin. She was just sitting on a pile of rubble staring at a corpse across the road. Turns out this Kraut killed her family.”

“So why did a Kraut kill Germans?”

“No. Back in France. In Reims. She’s French.”

“Sorry, maybe I’m thick. How did she get to Berlin?”

“According to her she fought with Walker’s XX Corps after they liberated Reims.”

Nat shrugged. “Can’t see it. But there again the whole f*****g war has been a shambles. Maybe she was a ghost soldier. There and unseen.”

“Yeah maybe. She had a Mauser sniper rifle when I found her. And the corpse had been expertly shot, so as not to immediately kill, with around ten shots. She wanted that fucker to go to hell the long way.”

“So to recap,” Nat summarised. “You are in love with a French hit woman. Who crossed a country at war to nail one bastard. She is something!” Nat cried banging his bottle down hard on the bar. “Marry her before she gets away. You will never have trouble with the neighbours.”

Mike went to sleep thinking on Frenchie and awoke with her still there. “Was it because of what she had been through, or because for all that she seemed vulnerable. Or because she looked like a Hollywood actress? He didn’t know.

She looked good in fatigues. In fact he felt she would have looked good in sack cloth. The combat trousers fitted her well, especially about the hips, emphasising a well-balanced nicely shaped behind. The tunic covered her modestly but only because there were no bras in the quarter master stores. That fact that she sat their braless, and as far as he knew pant less drove hormones into his prick like hot tacks. He had the greatest trouble keeping it down.

The fact that Frenchie knew he struggled didn’t help. An hour after he arrived he stood to get coffee a b***r compromising his stance.

Sympathetic, Frenchie without looking up offered. “We can do something about that Mike. You only have to say.”

Mike was thirty and though he wasn’t married he felt the gap between them too much. He didn’t see a romp just as a bit of fun, he saw it as the beginning of a relationship. That’s why permanent relationships eluded him, he came on too moralistic.

“Just ring Mike. They are paid to bring the f*****g coffee.”

The use of that swearword stopped him in his tracks. Women generally didn’t swear. But there again most didn’t survive the five years that Frenchie had. “Yeah. You’re right. Not used to this being waited on. I’ll ring room service.”

“How long you going to last?” she asked him.

“How do you mean?”

“You want me and I want you. We are grownups. We can f**k when we like.”

“But I don’t know how old you are Frenchie. You won’t tell me. It is important.”

“I’m eighteen, alright? Happy now? I am legally fuckable and beyond the laws against shagging. It’s no big deal.”

“Maybe that’s it Frenchie. You see it as a playtime romp. I see it as a commitment.”

“You want to though?”

“Any red blooded male would want to.”

“Tell you what Mike. I will sell you my story. One f**k a day.”

He ordered the coffee then sat opposite her, sinking into a comfortable armchair. “Can I think about it?”

“Non!”

“You worry if I am clean, don’t you? Who have I been with on the road to Berlin? Have I been selling my cunt so that I could eat? Is that it?”

“You’re putting me on the spot.”

“I will tell you Mike Wertz, Captain, that I am disease free and if you can’t trust me on that then there is no point in us going any further.”

“I wasn’t accusing you of anything Frenchie. It was you believing a man couldn’t ignore your obvious charms and not fall to his knees before you.”

“You think me the prima donna?”

“I think you are an extremely attractive and very sensual woman. I also think we have only just met and know nothing about each other.”

“I only knew René a short time before we nearly f****d by a campfire in the woods. I knew. He knew.

“Nearly?”

“He had second thoughts. I was game. He wasn’t. Said I was too naïve. He wouldn’t take advantage of me. Not that I was too young. And I am not naïve anymore.”

“So anyway, am I the slut in your eyes? And you never f****d or hoped to f**k a woman the very night you take her out?”

“Would you have tried to have s*x with René so soon if there had been no war?”

“So soon? See you have the time limit in your head. Why is it always too soon? Too late? Why does love have to have the clock on it?

“You loved René?”

“Oui. I believe so. I had no time for grief. I had to stay alive to fulfil my pledge to my dead family.”

“What happened to him?”

Frenchie shrugged. “Hard To keep tabs on people when they keep getting blown up.”

“What was his name?”

“What does it matter? He is no more.”

“I just thought I might be able to track him down for you.”

“René is no more. If I thought he was then I would not be trying to bed you.”

“Anymore to René? Like a surname.”

“Fortin.”

“Age?”

“Twenty five I think.”

“Why don’t you want to tell me about René?”

“Because you are pushing. I don’t like being pushed. If I am to do this then it will be in my own time. As I want to tell it and how much my heart pains me.”

“It’s your story,” he agreed. “But we have the General’s quarters. First class food and drink if you want it. All at your disposal. For a limited time.”

“What’s your billet like,” Frenchie asked, seeming to dodge the issue.

“Basic. Most of the time we eat out of tins, the food cold. We have a house with a piece missing. One upper room has a shell hole in it. Lucky it is warm at the moment. There are about twenty officers sharing. We all sleep on the floor. And we have a sink for all ablutions.”

“So how long since you bathe?”

Mike shrugged. “A month maybe. But I do wash every day in the sink.”

“Sorry to be the one to break it to you, but you smell, Captain Wertz. And I find it distracting. You soon pushed me into the bath tub.”

“You want me to take a bath?”

“There is a shower to.”

“And you will remain here and listen to the radio?”

“Give me pen and paper and I will make some notes.”

Uncertain, pondering on what Frenchie had in mind he took to the bathroom, locked the door, and ran the shower head. He then sat on the bath side for a few minutes to see if anything occurred. All remain quiescent.

Stepping into the tray, the blast of spray occupying his focus, he didn’t see the paper slide beneath the door or hear the rattle of Frenchie’s reclaimed blade in the lock. The tinkle of the key hitting the paper failed to attract his attention too. Frenchie slipped in and dropping her robe crept to the cubicle. The first Mike knew of her presence was when she slipped hands about his waist, her naked breasts touching the man’s back.

Mike glanced down, his response mixed. She fulfilled his fantasy but shattered a moral code. That trust between ? Between what exactly? Mike realised there was no real reason why he shouldn’t jump her. She wanted him and vice versa.

Her hands roamed up, presumably keeping the best to last. Fingers ran across soap laden pectorals, nails indenting before lightly clawing down. For the moment Wertz failed to react, he merely wallowed in her attention and the feel of her body brushing against his, plus the promise there in. Her breasts firm but yielding nudged against his back, her hips gently resting against his buttocks.

She seemed content to just hold him, seemingly enjoying the initial advance, the feel and hope of reciprocation. Neither wanted to break the magic, she desirous of affection, he of the path to intercourse.

Her full lips touched his shoulder, pecking. She moved progressively down and with a quiet giggle kissed his naked butt. “See where showering gets you Mike?”

Skin electric, every nerve on edge, he leant hands flat against the tiled wall, fingers spread and waited to see where she went next.

She cupped a buttock, then edged toward the gap between thighs. There she stroked fingers so close to the scrotum, digits moving down, before returning. Mike anticipated longing for her touch, her cupping of his balls. She lingered though, thus magnifying the suspense.

She left them unattended with the promise whispered in an ear. “I shall lick them later.” Both hands moved unexpectedly about his waist and with fingers delving his groin pushed to his erect p***s. Mike gasped with the conclusion, both hands gripping the hard.

“Big boy,” she praised handling him with care.

Mike chose then to face her, to satiate his curiosity and see if she was as good in the flesh as she was in fatigues. He stared at her consummate perfection, from her golden top to her toes she was unflawed.

“Do I pass muster?” she asked, arms about Mike once more.

“They would be just words Frenchie. You are so much more.”

He let his hands slip until they settled on her behind, Mike inhaling deep, everything about her sensual. He knew then there was only one way to settle their itch. There was no way he could ever walk away from her.

He met her pout with passion, while hands roamed, lightly squeezing a tit before dropping to the vee of blonde curls. He toyed with her below, index finger stroking her p***y lips. Mouths parting she said. “See, you just needed some encouragement.”

They heard a distant tap on the suite door Mike suggesting. “Don’t worry, Generals don’t knock. So must be coffee.”

Frenchie stepped out and wrapped a towel around her torso. “You, Captain. Stay.”

Mike saluted.

She came back two minutes later. “You know you said Generals don’t knock?”

Wertz froze.

“Probably right. It was the coffee.”

“Do you know if you weren’t so damn pretty, I’d put you over my knee.”

She intimidated. “Why have looks got anything to do with anything. Either I am naughty or I’m not.”

“And you have a delectable bottom.”

“That shouldn’t have any sway either.”

“Agreed, but it would make the correction a lot more enjoyable.”

“For you, yes. For me?” She pulled a face, corners of her mouth turned down.

Lightly slapping a buttock Mike took her in his muscular arms again, their mouths meeting, tongues exploring. Frenchie lifted a leg, her thigh against his. His hand cupped the limb as she raised the other. Both his hands employed in support he held her while she reached for his stiff. Caught and foreskin eased clear, she pressed the head to her p***y. Mike eased the length in, slowly, indulging in every inch until his groin touched hers. They worked together, both retreating and both advancing, the tempo slow at first, speeding up as they both sensed the advance of climax.

Frenchie clung to Mike for some minutes after orgasm, the girl’s head on his shoulder, he holding her light frame with ease.

Finally she told him. “I like you a bit more now Mike.”

“Me to like you Frenchie.”

“Are you good for one or many?” she asked.

“A drink and a cigarette and I should be okay to pleasure you again Goldilocks.”

“Frenchie, Mike. Always and only, Frenchie. And don’t I pleasure you too?”

“Beyond words.”

“Well say so! Tell me how much I please you.”

“More than anyone has ever done before.”

“Ah you talk such s**t,” she said leading him from the shower to the main bedroom.

She pushed him onto the bed and then sat astride her movements intended to incite, her breasts quivering provocatively. She leant forward dangling those firm unblemished orbs just above his face, Mike’s tongue taking advantage, kissing and licking the teats. Smiling, stealing his heart, laughing, joking, she made lust to him time and again, the position always different from the last. Finally, exhausted they fell asleep, Frenchie in Mike’s arms.

Misty eyed Frenchie didn’t take them off Mike’s face. “How many have you killed soldier?”

“Wasn’t my job to,” he replied lighting another two Lucky Strikes.

“You have a gun though.”

“Regulations” he told her handing over a ciggy.

“So do you leave the army with or without a conscience?”

“How so?”

“Do you feel guilty about not killing?”

“Why should I? I joined to bring back the news. Doesn’t mean I wasn’t in danger.”

“I do have some guilt,” she admitted.

“Not Klein though, surely.”

“No. Not Klein. The man that came with his hands up.”

“You shot someone surrendering?”

“No. I didn’t shoot a Russian that shot a German surrendering.”

“Right decision as far as I can see.”

“But I feel I should have done something.”

“The Jerry was the enemy the Russian an ally. So you made the right choice.”

“Was that in Berlin?”

“I broke from the Americans to follow Klein. Must have been South Berlin.”

“Do you want to tell me about Klein?”

“When I’m ready.”

“Drink?”

“When in Germany do as they do. Get me Schnapps.”

They lay naked on the bed the general would have used had he been coming back. “Don’t tell me if you don’t’ want to. Why did you go after Klein? What were you? Seventeen?”

“Age has no bearing. I would have gone after him in nappies if I had to. The fact is for no damn good reason that f**k took away everything I had. His reason. Because he couldn’t have what he wanted. So he destroyed it.”

“Hauptman Klein had been a bully since he arrived to control our section of Reims. My sister was older than me by a few years. She was very attractive. Klein took a fancy to her. And at first Josée led him on, and eventually after avoiding his s****l advances she dumped him. She was silly. She should have known that Klein wasn’t right in the head. So for a while things were taut between us as a family, and he. After D Day his attitude worsened. I suppose he saw the f*****g Third Reich going down the pan big time, and thus the end of his barbarous rule.

The Americans were virtually knocking at the front door of Reims when Klein decided he would use the back door, probably before a French patriot shot the arsehole. He stopped by on the way and demanded that Josée go with him. There was her refusal, my father’s remonstration after he discovered he did have some balls, and my mother who attacked Klein. He shot her first.

The lights were off because of the shelling and bombing raids. There were four flashes like lightning and four rolls of thunder as my family hit the floorboards, one by one.

Then he pointed that Walther pistol at me. I thought I was dead. Part of me wanted to be. The gun didn’t fire. It was empty. Unarmed as he was and the rage I found myself in I attacked him, clawing and slapping and punching. He dropped the pistol and I kicked it under a chair. He was off his head. Maybe the constant bombing had driven him mad, I don’t know. I knew what he intended so I tried to run. That just worsened things. He grabbed me and punched me several times in the head and face. Then he tore my blouse apart, his hand grabbing a breast. There was only violence in him. He pulled the bra above my t**s and then pushed me onto a table, our dining table. There I quickly lost my pants and then my virginity. After he squirted he left. I expected him back to finish the business but, those bastards were so f*****g arrogant. He seemed to think he had a right to murder and r**e. I found his gun and hid it in case he did come back.”

“You know Mike, I couldn’t let it go. I couldn’t let him get away with such a monstrous thing. He didn’t come back because the Americans had taken the town.

I went upstairs and changed. I dressed in what I thought was suitable. I contacted the local reverend and asked him to bury my family. I said I would be back to pay him. I then went after Klein. I knew his regiment so all I had to do was follow that. Well that was what I thought. It proved impossible. They just fragmented. On the outskirts of Reims I found a dying soldier and I took his Mauser rifle off of him, before I helped him on his way. Bullets were plentiful from the pouches of the prisoners alone let alone the dead.

So Mike. That is how and why. Can we f**k again now?”

“The vicar. What did he have to say?”

“Not much. He was up in the air what with the German withdrawal and the destruction. So he wished me well and I assume carried out my request.”

“You still have a home in Reims then?”

“I couldn’t live there.”

“But you could sell and live someplace else?”

“I was on that road for eight and a half months. I had one thing on my mind. Then suddenly it’s done. My family are gone. What’s left Mike?”

“The future Frenchie. That’s what’s left.”

“Killing fucktards was a good distraction. Now I only have you.”

“What would you have done if I hadn’t happened along?”

“I have no idea. Sat on that pile of rubble until something happened that I couldn’t ignore, I suppose.”

“Those notches on the rifle butt. Did you carve them?”

“Oui.”

“Thirty seven dead men?”

“Non.”

“You didn’t kill thirty seven German soldiers?”

“I killed a whole lot more. That was just the officers. The ones that mattered.”

“So how many then? Total?”

“You men have this fixation for numbers, don’t you? How many this. How many that. What size are your t**s? How wide is your arse? How many fingers can you get in your fanny? If it looks good why does it matter what size it is? I don’t ask you how big is your prick? How big is it when it’s all deflated and teeny weeny? Or how thick is it? Eh? What’s the diameter of your balls Mike? They squirt at the right moment. That’s all that matters isn’t it?”

“You heard of Lyudmila Pavlichenko?” Frenchie continued.

“Can’t say I have.”

“You will. Russian sniper with three hundred and nine confirmed kills. Mine will never be confirmed.”

“You killed more?”

“I’ve no idea. I didn’t keep a check. They got in my way so I shot them. They ceased to be human. So I exterminated them. And in a way I ceased to be human too.”

“I found it easy to kill. Perhaps in that there is something wrong with me.”

“You are not alone there. Half the army feel the same. It will be hard for many to settle to civilian life again. Hitler has destroyed millions of lives one way or another. For that I hope there is a hell.”

“I’m counting on there not being one,” Frenchie joked.

“They don’t send angels to hell,” Mike advised.

“How about you take me to America, Captain? I’d like to see your country.”

“We will sort something,” Mike promised.