"Sorry Fräulein Pfennig," the bartender said. "Klaus has already gone home."
Gretchen thanked the bartender and left. She'd hoped to catch Klaus at work. He was the brewmaster for the Neu Bavaria Brewery, the brewpub on Main Street in Fredericksburg.
It was a short drive to Klaus' little house on Creek Street. She was almost sorry to see his pickup in the driveway. Part of her wanted to drive away, but that would just postpone the inevitable explosion.
He must have heard her pull up, because the porch light went on as she was getting out of the car.
The front door opened before she could knock. "Good evening, Darling," he said in German. Klaus insisted on German when they were together. It was pretentious and old-fashioned. Most people in Fredericksburg didn't speak German any more, but she and Klaus were from old families and had learned their archaic Texas German from their parents and grandparents. She'd taken modern German in school, along with Spanish.
"Hello Klaus," she answered in English. "This has to end."
"Come inside and we'll talk." His German was harsh and he had whisky on his breath.
"Do you want a drink?" Klaus walked through the small living room to the kitchen and took a heavy glass tumbler out of a cabinet.
"Yes. But beer. Not whiskey."
"Was ist das?"
Gretchen sighed and repeated it in German. Klaus was such a prick—about German and most everything else.
He poured her a beer and splashed Jim Beam into a broad tumbler for himself. "Prost." He drank the whisky in one gulp and reached for the bottle.
"Klaus, you drink too much." She took a sip of beer and set her glass on the counter.
"Is that why you came?" He lifted the glass, then lowered it again without drinking. "To lecture me about my drinking?"
"No, Klaus. I came to tell you I can't take it any more. Not the drinking, or the jealousy, or the other women—"
"Lies! There are no other women. It is you alone I love."
"Klaus, I saw you in the back room with that waitress."
"Just a harmless kiss—"
"She had her hand in your pants. And Elise—"
"She means nothing to me."
"And what am I? A convenient piece of ass who'll speak German for you?"
"You are everything to me." He looked down at the glass in his hand, then dumped the whisky in the sink. "That's not important to me." He set the glass down and took a step toward her. "The women are in the past."
"You always make the promises." Gretchen backed away until she bumped into the counter. "Nothing ever changes."
"But—" He moved closer.
She held out her hand, stopping him at arm's length. "Klaus, I didn't come here to argue."
"I know why you came here." He pushed her arm aside, stepped forward, and kissed her full on the lips. She tried to resist but . . . damn, the man knew how to kiss, with the right tongue, the right body contact, the right touch . . .
"Klaus, stop it!" She pushed him away roughly and started for the door to the living room.
He blocked her. "No. Don't leave so soon." He hesitated, then added "Please."
Gretchen glanced at the wood knife block on the counter. They were fine German-made knives with super-sharp blades, ranging in size from a tiny paring knife to a big butcher knife. She looked back at Klaus, glaring. "Get out of the way. You will not make me your prisoner."
Klaus stepped away from the door. "I'm sorry. You can leave whenever you like. But I beg you to stay."
"I'll stay long enough to say this. It's over between us. The drinking, the women, the insane jealousy, all of it . . . you have a sickness in your soul. I can't cure it and I won't stay and let it tear me apart."
"It's that man," Klaus said. "The Norwegian-looking guy at the pool hall. I saw the way you were looking at him. Now, he's fucking you so hard you can't think straight."
"Oh Klaus. Again with the jealousy. Yes, I'm sleeping with Andy. He's sweet and tender. Not like you."
"There's NOBODY like me." He backed Gretchen against the counter and slid a hand between her thighs. She wished she'd driven the twenty miles to her parents' ranch and changed into blue jeans before coming to see him. "Nobody for you is nearly as good as I am." He slid his finger up and down her pussy slit through her rapidly-moistening panties.
"Klaus, no!" She hated the way he could ignite an irresistible fire in her body. "Please stop. Now."
"Stop?" He pushed her panties aside and slid his index finger into her pussy, curling it to rub THAT spot while gently rubbing her clit with his thumb. "That's not what you really want."
"Enough Klaus. The sex is good, but—"
"Just good?" He tore a button lose while he unbuttoned her business casual blouse, then pulled her bra down, exposing her big breasts. "Ha! Your nipples hard already are."
"Gott, Klaus! You know I don't want—"
"I know what you DO want." He unfastened her long dark skirt and it fell around her ankles. "You can't deny it."
He pulled her panties down, then turned her around and bent her over the counter. "Take your panties off and open your legs. Otherwise, you're getting it up your ass."
If she went along, he'd fuck her and come, then it'd be over and she could go. "All right, Klaus." She kicked her office shoes off, then stepped out of the panties. "Have your way. But no Arsch ficken."
"Good girl!" Klaus patted her ass, then bent her over the counter with her legs spread. "We'll save your asshole for another time." He slid a finger into her pussy. "By Jesus! Your cunt is ready for my big hard Bavarian cock."
"Klaus, you're a bastard!"
He laughed. "YOUR bastard, my love." She heard him unfasten his belt and unzip his jeans. "The bastard who fucks your hot tight cunt." He took her with one rough thrust. "And leaves you screaming for more."
Klaus gripped Gretchen's hips and fucked her with long steady strokes. She thrust back, taking his big stiff Teutonic cock deep into her pussy. "Your body tells the truth, my love," Klaus gasped. "But I want to hear you say it. Say it now!"
"Oh Gott, Klaus." She couldn't hold back. "Fuck me! Fuck me hard!"
"Yes, my love." He fucked her violently, drawing back and then slamming home.
She kneaded her breasts and rolled her swollen nipples between her thumbs and index fingers as he pounded her pussy, pushing her closer to orgasm with each hammer blow. "Oh God! Oh God!" she cried, bucking and shaking as she came.
Gretchen's climax ran its course and she collapsed onto the counter with her face buried in her arms. Her ragged breathing and racing heart gradually returned to normal. She felt the warmth and contentment that always followed an intense orgasm, mixed with seething anger. Verdammt! The Arschloch had done it again. Him and her treacherous body.
