She sat precariously on the wonky table, her long legs swinging as she soaked up the sunshine and smoked a cigarette.
The house was quiet during the day. They'd probably have a couple of hours more peace before they began arriving in droves with their flashing white smiles, shining blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Don't her wrong; she didn't mind them. She liked their arousal when they looked at her, liked how solid and muscular they were beneath her fingers. It was just some of them were so boring. If they were going to come then they could at least try for more than a quick fumble and release. There were some however, those hidden gems, who would let her give as good as she got. They were the ones with the feral look in their summer blue eyes and the arrogant smiles. She liked to think that they were the men who had fathered two of her children. They were all just poor substitutes for the man she really wanted though. She was nineteen and already a mother of three pure blood children for the Fatherland.
She flicked her cigarette against the side of the table and then returned it to her lips. It was hot and she longed to slip out of her flimsy summer dress and take a bath. Instead she consented to undo the top three buttons, displaying the black lace on her brassiere and enough smooth skinned cleavage to make even the holiest of men's mouth water.
She wasn't particularly beautiful. Striking was usually the word men used to describe her. Exotic. Ethereal. Even celestial as one officer had gasped as he rammed into her, his large fingers bruising the pale skin along her shoulders with handprints.
She had a petite nose and generous lips, a long swans neck and graceful limbs. Her skin was porcelain fine like a china doll's and was a soft as silk, still firm despite her pregnancies.
She tugged at the neckline of her dress again and kicked off her sandals, trying to ignore the trickle of sweat sliding down her back. All the other girls had stayed inside. Probably to protect their creamy complexions, she thought wryly as she took a drag on her dwindling cigarette and blew it out slowly.
Closing her iridescent eyes she tilted her face up to the sun and then was disturbed by someone calling her name. Sighing she stumped out the remains of the cigarette on the table and then flicked it onto the weed infested path. She hopped of the table and padded inside. "It's your turn," the girl on the desk said distractedly from behind her magazine. "He's downstairs."
Making sure her hair was hanging straight she walked with anticipated steps down to 'the cells', basically a set of underground rooms that were used in summer as it was cooler.
She knew how to make an entrance. With her corn blonde hair swinging hypnotically down her back to her hips in a plait and her eyes demurely downcast she could tempt the most devoted husband into adultery with one upward flick of her thickly lashed eyes if she so chose.
There was no such need with this guest however. She had barely gotten through the door when her wrists were pinned above her head and she was pressed against a wall, her mouth being assaulted by another's lips and teeth and tongue. She responded in kind, her blood roaring and almost screamed in frustration when he drew back, grinning sadistically at her impatience. "You haven't changed a bit," he said, pressing himself against her.
She growled, glaring at him and his smile became lazy. She wanted to run her fingers through that thick blond hair, feel the muscles slid along his back as he moved but she couldn't because he was pinning her damn hands down.
He slid a hand down her arm and slipped it behind her head, cradling her neck. She strained forwards, trying to fuse their lips back together but he just laughed. "You really haven't changed a bit sweetheart," he murmured appreciatively as his hand travelled downwards again, stroking her breasts. "Not one little bit," he whispered and he crashed his lips back down to hers, releasing her hands.
"How've you been?" he asked, lighting the end of her cigarette.
"As well as can be expected," she replied, taking a drag and then putting it to his lips. "I've had two children since you've been gone."
He gave low whistle, trying to pretend it didn't matter to him. "You have been busy."
In a flash she was straddling him, the sheets tangling about them as she thumped his chest. "What else could I do?" she snarled, down at him, her gold hair floating around her face and cascading down her shoulders. "You left me."
Unable to control his arousal he pushed her off and sat on the edge of the bed. "I didn't want to leave," he muttered, taking a long drag on the cigarette. He heard a rustle of sheets and then felt the soft brush of her breasts against his back before her arms came around him.
For several minutes they just sat like that, trying to regain some measure of all the months they had been separated for.
"I don't like living like this," she murmured, resting her chin on his shoulder.
"There's nothing else I can do though."
"I love you."
"I love you too."
"When will you be back again?"
"I have this week and then who knows?"
She knew he was avoiding telling her. "How long?" she repeated.
"Twenty-four months. I'm being sent to Egypt." There was silence behind him and then she said:
"Will you stay here this week?"
"If you want me to."
He twisted his head around and sought her lips. "I don't want to leave you again," he told her.
"I know," she murmured as her lips travelled down his neck and she took the cigarette from him, tossing it in the ashtray on the bedside table. "Come back to bed."