This story is an attempt at erotic historical fiction. In a broad sense, the history described in his story is accurate although, of course, the central characters and specific events describe are fictitious. Some real institutions and people are mentioned but, insofar as the author knows, none of them ever did the specific things ascribed to them in this story. Any similarities between any of the central characters in this story and any real persons, living or dead, are unintended and completely coincidental. I encourage comments on this story, both favorable and unfavorable. Thank you for reading.
I met Trudi Rothmann at a farmhouse in northern Virginia in July 1942. Trudi, I learned, was 25; two years younger than me. She was tall for a woman, only slightly shorter than my six feet. Much of her height appeared to be in her legs. I could only see part of her calves below the hem of her dress, but they were very promising. The dress was tight enough to show that Trudi had an excellent figure. The face framed by her shoulder-length blonde hair reminded me a little of the German actress Brigitte Helm. Trudi's fluent, educated English was delivered with a noticeable German accent.
The farm had been taken over for the duration by the new Office of Strategic Services. I had been summoned from my Army Signal Corps training in Davis, California. I wondered whether I had attracted the OSS's attention because I'd learned fluent German from my immigrant grandparents as a child growing up in Chicago or because I had been a young lawyer at Mr. Donovan's law firm in New York before I enlisted.
Trudi, I learned, was a Berlin native. Her father Hermann had owned a small publishing business there. Weimar Germany, and particularly Berlin, had become sexually liberated, if not licentious; a reaction, I think, to the prudery of the Hohenzollern monarchy which had led Germany to defeat in World War I. A substantial market had developed for erotica and pornography and that was much of what Herr Rothmann's firm produced and published. The open attitude towards sex was not only a business opportunity for Herr Rothmann. Hermann and his wife Jenna were part of a circle of successful Berliners who believed that sex existed for pleasure and that pleasure should be shared with one's friends. These folks exalted the human form and thought that nudity and sexual conduct should be open and exposed whenever possible.
Hermann Rothmann had understood that, while utterly immoral, the National Socialists would not tolerate the exultation of the self and of pleasure which were core values of his circle in Berlin. Hermann was able to liquidate his assets for a fair price. Using his American connections, Hermann had brought himself and his wife and daughter to the U.S. shortly after Hitler took power in 1933.
Trudi was 16 when her family emigrated and already spoke English. She finished secondary school here and went on to an elite East Coast college where she received her degree with a major in European history. I was struck that day by her upright carriage and graceful movements. She had also studied dance from childhood through college.
An OSS officer who identified himself only as "Hank" explained why we were there. The OSS knew about Hermann and Jenna Rothmann and suspected that their friends in Berlin probably did not support the Nazis. OSS wanted to infiltrate people into Berlin to contact people there with presumed anti-Nazi views. The idea was to use those people as intelligence sources, wittingly or unwittingly, and to assess any potential for an anti-Nazi coup. OSS wanted Trudi to contact the "libertines" who had been her parents' circle of friends.
I was curious why I had been summoned since this seemed to be a mission for Trudi. Hank explained that I was to go along to primarily to provide cover. Because Trudi had grown up in Berlin and her family had some prominence, there was risk that her true identity and German citizenship might be revealed. OSS thought that would be less likely if she went to Berlin in the guise of my wife. OSS also thought that the mission was a two-person job. I suspect that the sexism of that era was also a factor: a belief that a woman by herself could not complete a sensitive mission. Any man of the right age would have done. I was chosen because I was fluent in German and because Mr. Donovan remembered me.
As a cover, OSS had arranged for me to work in the Berlin office of a small but exclusive Zurich bank. Trudi and I would travel with genuine Swiss passports showing us as Herr and Frau Peter Mueller, my real name. Being surrounded by the Reich, Fascist Italy, and occupied France, Switzerland was overtly cooperative with the Germans. However, the Swiss realized that, if Hitler won the war, their country would disappear from the map. Less nobly, it may have been that the Swiss bankers appreciated that, if Germany lost the war, the massive, looted wealth which Nazi leaders had placed in their vaults would remain in their custody indefinitely.
I guess that, formally, I could have declined the assignment and gone back to the Signal Corps. Hank did not make that sound like a genuine option. As our briefing dragged on, Trudi began treating it as an established fact that she and I were going to infiltrate Hitler's capital city. I was always susceptible to a beautiful woman.
Our briefing had started at 10:00 a.m. Both Trudi and I raised many questions about how we were to carry out the mission, some of which Hank could answer and some which he could not. Around 6:00 p.m., someone I did not see came in and prepared a dinner for us. Hank brought a bottle of wine up from the cellar. Hank encouraged Trudi and me to tell each other our life stories. "You two will need to understand each other perfectly and be closer than most married couples for this to work," Hank explained. Left unsaid was that Trudi and I would be shot, or worse, if it did not work.
About 8:00 p.m., Hank led us upstairs. "Since your cover is as a married couple," Hank said, "we thought you'd only need one bedroom. We didn't make up the other. I'm sleeping downstairs." Hank went back down the steps. I turned to look at Trudi. She was smiling.
We walked into the room which had a double bed, a dresser, a floor lamp, and an overstuffed chair. I set my single bag on the floor. Trudi put her larger bag on the floor but put a smaller bag on the bed and opened it. She took out what appeared to be a thin photo album. "OSS spoke to my father first," she said, "so I came here with an idea of what they want us to do. I brought this along to help my partner on the mission understand me." She chuckled. "Hank called my parents and their friends 'libertines.' I don't think he meant that as a compliment. I do think of it as a compliment. I was too young to participate with my parents and their friends in Berlin, but I share my parents' attitudes. Here." She handed me the album. Trudi walked to the door and said, "I'll be back in a moment."
As Trudi went down the hall, I opened the album and was amazed at what I saw. The pictures, all black and white, were of Trudi. Based on how old Trudi looked, I guessed the pictures were all taken here in the States. A few appeared to be recent. The pictures all seemed to have been professionally done. Another thing all the pictures had in common was that, in every picture, Trudi was completely naked. Some pictures showed Trudi in dance moves, a jump or pirouette. In some of the pictures, Trudi was obviously posing for the camera. Several of the pictures showed Trudi fully exposed. The final thing I noticed that was common to all the pictures was that Trudi looked beautiful in the nude.
"Do you like my pictures?" Trudi asked. I hadn't heard her come back into the room. I looked up. Trudi was standing just inside the door, smiling. She was naked. "In case you didn't divine it out from my pictures," Trudi said, "I like being seen in the nude." I understood why. Trudi Rothmann was extremely beautiful with no clothes on and much better in person than in pictures.
"Since we are supposed to be a married couple," Trudi said, "I thought you should know that about me from the beginning. What about you Peter? Do you enjoy people seeing your nude body?"
"I, uh, well, uh, I've never thought about that," I stammered.
"Of course not," Trudi replied. "You're American. You Americans are fearful of the human body. If we're going to act like a married couple, I need to know whom I'm partnered with. Soldier, get that uniform off and present yourself properly!"
I hesitated but sensed that Trudi was inviting me into a different life than I'd known. I was curious. Also, when a nude woman as beautiful as Trudi Rothmann asks you to undress, undressing is the prudent course. I slowly took my uniform off and laid it carefully over the back of the chair. I hesitated again when I got down to my boxers.
"Peter," Trudi said, "this isn't going to work if you insist on being a prude. Remember, we're supposed to contact my parents' 'libertine' friends in Berlin. If we want them to trust us, we must act like they do. Now, please, get those shorts off and let me see what you really look like."
I pushed my boxers down and stepped out of them. It was arousing to strip in front of this beautiful, strong-willed woman. My dick began to get hard. Trudi stepped closer to me. We were almost touching. "Peter," she said, "you have no reason to feel shame about being naked. You are a handsome man, more so out of your uniform than in it." She reached down and wrapped her hand around my dick. "I especially like this part of you," she said. Trudi paused before adding, "another thing you should know is that I really enjoy sex. Married couples are supposed to have sex with each other, aren't they?"
Of course, I wanted to have sex with this beautiful, compelling, woman. But I also thought about what would happen if she got pregnant before we'd even started our mission. Trudi must have read my mind, something she has done with unsettling frequency throughout our relationship. "Don't worry Peter," she said, "I have a diaphragm." I knew diaphragms existed but thought that no one used them because they were expensive and required a doctor. Most doctors back then thought contraception was unethical and immoral.
Trudi quickly refocused my thoughts. She began stroking my dick with her right hand. With her left hand, she guided my hand between her legs. "Please get me ready Peter," she said. I began running my finger along her outer lips. After a few moments of that, I worked my index finger into Trudi. "Thank you," she said. She leaned forward and kissed me on the lips. Our mouths opened and our tongues met.
After a few moments, Trudi pulled back and said, "Peter, I really want a part of you other than your finger inside me." Keeping her hand around my dick, Trudi led me to the side of the bed. She let go and lay down on her back, legs spread. Of course, I'd been laid several times in college, law school, and as a young lawyer in New York. However, I had never seen a woman look as arousing and desirable as Trudi looked at that moment. I got on the bed between her legs, lowered myself down, and slid my dick into my OSS-chosen wife.
I was over eager, pushing inside Trudi hard and fast. "Peter," Trudi said, "relax. We have all night. Let's get to know each other." Chastened, I slowed down and became gentler. I started kissing Trudi's neck, then sucked an ear lobe. After a time, I moved my mouth to one of her nipples. I sucked it and then, carefully, ran my teeth over it.
While hunting for Trudi's erogenous zones, I maintained a slow, steady pace with my dick inside her. Unlike my previous lovers, Trudi seemed to have tremendous pelvic control. She could clamp down on my dick or relax and let me slide freely. When I looked at her face, Trudi had the look of someone genuinely enjoying herself.
I wasn't timing it, of course, but it seemed like Trudi and I spent a very long time fucking at a level not quite intense enough to push either of us over the edge. It was the most pleasurable thing I'd done up to that point in my life. Then, Trudi said, "Peter, lower your hips just a bit and aim for my front wall." I did as I was told. "A little deeper," Trudi said. I pushed deeper. "Oh yes! That's it," she said, "stay on that spot!"
I tried to keep thrusting the head of my dick against the exact same spot inside Trudi. She clamped down on my dick harder than before. That forced me to push much harder than I had, but also produced an incredible sensation on my dickhead and all along my shaft. Trudi soon began bucking her hips violently.
As Trudi began to gasp, I looked at her face. Words cannot describe what I saw. Bliss, beauty, wantonness, and something almost sacred. The look on Trudi's face, added to the intense sensations in my dick, sent me over the edge. I began to shoot so hard it hurt.
Just as my vision blacked out for a moment, I heard Trudi yell, "oh . . . my . . . GOD . . . PETER!" I felt her body spasm violently.
I lay on top of Trudi, trying to get my breath. Trudi's pulse and breathing were also extremely fast. After a long while of sucking air and looking into each other's eyes, Trudi finally said, "That was nice, wasn't it?"
"Better than nice," I replied.
"Peter," Trudi said, "I'm fucking with you. That was fantastic!"
I pulled out and rolled off Trudi. We lay side by side facing each other. We spoke few words but communicated deeply and unequivocally. I was surprised at how close I felt to this woman whom I'd only met hours ago. I understand "afterglow," but the connection between Trudi and me was more than that. I knew then that Trudi Rothmann was unique and that I had to do whatever it took to keep her in my life.
We fell asleep facing each other. Sometime in the early morning, I felt Trudi's hands stroking my balls and my dick. When she had me hard again, Trudi gently pushed me on my back, straddled me, and began to ride. The advantage for me from this position was that I could constantly watch Trudi's face. I saw beauty that morning like nothing I'd ever seen before.
Our second fuck was not the long, slow lovemaking we'd done earlier. This was much more energetic, intended to get us both off as soon as possible. As I felt myself ready to come, I put my arms around Trudi's shoulders and pulled her down to my chest. Trudi came just before me this time and bit my chest.
We went back to sleep with Trudi on top of me. That was surprisingly comfortable. It was light when we woke. After kissing a few minutes, Trudi got up and said, "come, there is a shower at the end of the hall." We walked to the bathroom nude, showered together, and toweled each other off. Hank was coming up the stairs as Trudi and I walked nude back to the bedroom. "I think you'll work well together," was Hank's only comment.
Trudi and I spent nine days at the OSS safehouse in Virginia. Hank told us about the two people at the Zurich bank whom we could trust and through whom we would communicate to the OSS office in Switzerland. There was no emergency channel. If we lost contact with both Zurich bankers, we were on our own and best of luck to us. Hank instructed us in a code in which words commonly used by bankers were given other meanings known only to us.
We also had to wait for our Swiss-made clothes, shoes, wallet, watches, handbag, and all the other detritus people carry with them. "You cannot have anything American-made with you when you leave here," Hank told us. "Screwing that up could be your death sentence."
Our route to Zurich was circuitous. First, we flew to Brazil. We went by boat to Portugal and by train from Lisbon to Barcelona. From Barcelona we flew to Zurich, with a stop in occupied France. Our first encounter with German officials in France was unnerving and I'm not sure we carried it off well. Fortunately, 1942 was long before those officials could have typed a message into a computer network alerting the entire Nazi security system that we were suspicious and should be watched.
We arrived in Zurich at the beginning of August and stayed for a month. During that time, we were educated in our back stories, which included visits to the Swiss towns where each of us would claim to have been born. I was taught some banking so I could credibly pretend to work in the bank's Berlin office. The Berlin office staff, all Swiss nationals, would be told only that I was a Swiss agent. Most importantly, Trudi and I were both instructed in Schweizerdeutsch, the Swiss version of the German language. We would mostly not be using that routinely in Berlin, but we had to be prepared when we met genuine Swiss. We also had to eliminate, or at least mute, the Berlin accent and idiom Trudi used when speaking German.
We boarded the train to Berlin on September 1, 1942, the third anniversary of the start of the war. The trip was long and stressful. Apparently, the OSS had done a good job with our documents because they were inspected closely several times. The German police and border guards scared everyone. That was their intent but it meant that our evident anxiety did not distinguish us from anyone else.
Berlin had yet to be heavily bombed when Trudi and I arrived. The Zurich bank had gotten us an apartment in the western part of the city. I settled in to acting like a banker while Trudi went to work locating her parents' friends.
Some of the Rothmanns' old friends had disappeared into the night and fog. Some refused to talk to Trudi. However, Trudi was able to find two of her parents' closet friends, Horst and Eva Schuhmaier. "They still have their big house in Grunewald," Trudi told me. "Eva invited us to come out a week from Saturday. First, we need to see this Doctor Dortch." I raised my eyebrows questioningly. "Silly," Trudi said, "they want to be sure we have no disease. That only makes sense."
As instructed, we called the Doctor's office and asked for Grete. When she came on the line and heard we'd been referred by the Schuhmaiers, she said "We will have to see you after normal hours. Please be here at 18:30 tomorrow."
Grete let us in when we rang the bell at the Doctor's office the next night. She seemed younger than us with a slightly plump body, reddish hair, and a cute face. Once we were inside the Doctor's suite, Grete said, "please remove all your clothing." I looked at Trudi, who just smiled. We stripped and followed Grete into the Doctor's presence.
Dr. Dortch (I never learned his first name or Grete's last name) was gray-haired. However, apart from a weathered face, he looked quite fit. He had Trudi get on an exam table and gave her a pelvic exam while Grete examined my penis and checked my prostate. Grete drew blood from both of us. Dr. Dortch said, "we should have the results from your blood by next Monday. I'll telephone them to Eva." Trudi made an appointment for the following night for a new diaphragm.
Eva Schuhmaier called Trudi the following Tuesday to report that we were both disease free. Public transit still worked well enough then that we could take it to within a few blocks of the Schuhmaier home that Saturday evening. We walked the rest of the way.
The Schuhmaiers lived in what seemed to me a small mansion on a wooded lot back from the road. Trudi told me that Horst had, for years, owned a small firm that manufactured complicated electrical parts. It apparently provided a good living, even in the era of National Socialism.
Eva Schuhmaier was an attractive brunette who looked to be in her early 50s. Horst Schuhmaier looked at least ten years older than his wife. They both looked fit and were quite friendly from the start. Eva and Horst greeted Trudi warmly. "Trudi," Evan exclaimed, "it has been so long since we've seen you! How you've grown!"