NSFW Snippet: Behind the Iron Cross

You’ve been such sweethearts, and I’ve been slaving away on this all weekend, so I thought I’d treat you to the opening scene from the current WIP, Behind The Iron Cross. 1920’s Berlin, BDSM, and MMF menáges — oh my!

Berlin, 1923

The colonel paused at the door to the nightclub, taking a deep breath of the night air to steady his nerves. It was a mistake, as the scent of alcohol and cigarette smoke from the club hung in the air, teasing a hunger for both. He breathed in again, holding onto the stale traces with the greediness of a child. It had been so long since he’d been able to indulge in a decent glass of schnapps, smoke a cigarette not fished from the gutter, know himself to be a respectable man.

The air whooshed out of his lungs as he sighed. That was the past; he had to accept the present and what was now expected of him. And right now, what was expected of him was to step inside the nightclub and start his new profession. His uniform was inspection-ready, from his Iron Cross on display at the rounded collar to his mirror-polished boots. Underneath the uniform, he was scrubbed from head to toe, hair neatly combed, and Lilli had even managed to scrounge up a bit of lemon rind for him to use for scent.

He grimaced when he remembered her hopeful face. She thought he was going out to have dinner with a potential employer, had accepted the transparent lie wholeheartedly. He wouldn’t — couldn’t — tell her the truth.There was only one way for someone like him to earn money without turning to the Ringvereine, the criminal gangs that practically ran the city.

And so tonight he would let strangers approach him, talk to him about things that no decent person should ever mention in conversation, and make an offer for his services. His very private, very personal services.

Tonight, he would become a whore.

He swallowed hard, fighting the revulsion that threatened to bring up the meager meal in his stomach. He would have to get used to such things, if he wanted Lilli and Rudi to survive. To do that, he would accept the best offer that came to him, and follow his customer to one of the rooms over the club, take off his clothes, climb onto a bed, and do whatever was requested of him. Touch himself, intimately. Open his mouth, his thighs, his body to a stranger.

And in return for providing these services to a rich foreigner who wanted to explore sexual desires that were forbidden back home, he would be paid one American dollar. It sounded like so little, but compared to the millions of German marks it took simply to buy a few slices of bread, an American dollar was a small windfall. It would feed his family for a week, perhaps even two if they scrimped and saved.

In a way, he was lucky; his family was so small compared to others. The war had winnowed the German population like an overeager farmer; his parents, his brother, his wife were all dead now, killed in combat or by illness. His sister-in-law and her infant son were the only family he had left. He closed his eyes in shame, imagining what Lilli would say if she knew where he was.

She will never know. After what had happened to her — no. His pride was nothing. He would provide for her, one way or the other.

Taking a deep breath, he straightened, putting on his best aristocratic look. If the rich foreigners inside the club wanted their whores clean and smelling nice, then he would fit the bill. Now he only had to find a customer.

About nicolacameronwrites

Nicola Cameron has had some interesting adventures in her life -- ask her sometime about dressing up as Tietania, Queen of the Bondage Fairies. When not writing, she wrangles cats, makes dolls of dubious and questionable identity, and thanks almighty Cthulhu that she doesn’t have to work for a major telecommunications company any more (because there’s BDSM, and then there’s just plain torture...).

Posted on September 24, 2012, in Behind the Iron Cross, WIP, Writing. Bookmark the permalink. Comments Off on NSFW Snippet: Behind the Iron Cross.

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