This story may be reposted/archived to FREE adult access provided my name and this notice are included in the message text. This story is fictional and any resemblance to actual persons or events is strictly unintended.
Copyright 2005 Caroline Hunter. All Rights Reserved.
I sat on the narrow bar in the bus shelter and looked through the glass across the road to the entrance to the barracks.I knew that Olivier was working there but I'd been waiting off and on for several afternoons and he hadn't come out. I'd been in Berlin for three weeks now and was sure that Olivier was here - he knew very well from what I had told him before he left that morning that our show was on its way to Berlin, where he was about to be posted, and that we were playing in the Flohmarkt cafe every evening. But he hadn't shown up and there was only a few days to go before the Berlin run ended, the girls took a holiday and my turn with the group came to its end - Beate had now recovered from her leg break and would be back in the show when they went back on tour in several weeks time.
Had he forgotten about me? Possible, but I doubted it, he had been so intense and enthralled when we were together. No, something must have happened to keep him away, I wanted to catch him to ask him about it and whether I could help. Ever since we had spent that magic night together I had been walking on air, feeling so confident and happy in my new life as a woman. He had touched a part of me I didn't know existed but didn't want to lose ever again. I knew in my heart of hearts that my destiny was to become a woman and to love a man who loved me.
But as the weeks went by I started to have doubts. The girls told me to forget him - men are no good for us, they said, we only complicate their lives, they always get guilty and go back to their wives or girlfriends. Heidi had conforted me one night in bed when i was weeping and we had ended up kissing and cuddling like lesbians - but the thoughts of Olivier had not gone away. I worked hard during rehearsal and during the show itself to keep up my standards and to forget about him and was praised by Renate, who promised to help me find work after I left her group if I wanted to stay in the drag business. I was also getting increasing attention from the audience - a rich glamorous German woman had come to the show for the past few nights and had asked me each night to her table - last night she had asked me if I wanted to come to her flat and I had resisted but said I would give her my answer tonight.
Suddenly I caught a glimpse of Olivier - he had left the barracks in his track suit and was running along the road. I left the bus shelter and ran after him, staying on my side of the road. He hadn't spotted me as far as I could see, I thought I would let him run for a bit to get away from the barracks before shouting after him. Luckily I was wearing my jeans and trainers, only my handbag slowed me down, I kept him in sight even though he was drawing away from me. We ran for a couple of blocks, then Olivier crossed the road, here was my chance, I shouted after him "Olivier, c'est moi, attends!" He looked round, smiled briefly but then as I ran up to him his attitude changed and he looked crestfallen, angry even.
"Olivier mon cheri, qu'est-ce que tu as? Why the sour face? Aren't you happy to see me?" He turned, looked away, looked back at me and said "Caro, why are you here, please go away." "I can't", I said, I love you, I want to be with you." "Non, c'est pas possible, laisse moi tranquile." I went to touch him but he pushed me away, I pushed back, he slapped me hard on the cheek and ran away. I crumpled to the pavement and started to cry...
"Fraulein, was ist los, kann ich dir helfen" said a passer by, a kind looking German lady. "Forget these French soldiers, they are all the same" she said, "they have no respect for us" She helped me to stand up, took me into a nearby cafe and waited while I freshed myself up in the Ladies toilet. She then helped me sit down and asked the barman to serve me a coffee and schnapps, then left after wishing me a good recovery.
I sat and tried to come to terms with what had happened. Was that night together just a passing phase, I thought he had said it was the best thing that had happened to him? Did he not know that we were made for each other? I was feeling desparate when a guy at the bar came over to me and said in bad french accentuated German "You know, Olivier has had a bad scare, it seems that he fell for a travesti when he was In Baden Baden and is up on a charge. His wife has heard about it and is giving him hell. Leave him alone M'mselle, you'll only regret it...."
That night passed in a blur. I tried to blot out memories of what had happened in the afternoon by concetrating all my efforts on my performance. I took the leading role now in the Charles Aznavour show and had tears falling down my cheeks by the end, to rapturous applause from the audience. Brigitte, the German lady, smiled rapturously at me after the show, bought a bottle of champagne for us to share and gave me a gift of a beautiful gold necklace and matching earrings. By the time she asked me to go home with her I was tipsy and desparate for anything that would help me forget what had happended that afternoon.
Brigitte was a kind and tender lover. She knew I was upset but took care to treat me well and to take her time. The early part of the night we lay in each others arms, her stroking me from tip to toe. I must have fallen asleep, when I woke up Brigitte was straddling me and was rising and falling gently on my erect cock. She kept going in a slow entrancing rocking movement for what seemed like hours before we reached orgasm together in a tremendous burst of joy. When we awoke in the morning she brought me juice and coffee and said I could sleep all morning, she would come back to see me after going to work in the morning and we would go shopping together for a new long dress for me in KaDeWe in the afternoon. The following night was my rest night and we would go out together to the opera in our ball gowns and jewelery....
25 years on I look back on that summer in Germany and wonder what might have been. Where is Olivier now? and Brigitte? and Renate, Heidi and the girls, what are they doing? I then look at myself in the toilet mirror as I apply my lipstick and see a mature, but still pretty, woman, still full of the dreams and desires that transfixed me that summer. I smile at my reflection, sigh quietly to myself and get ready to face my students again....