Mothers and Daughters

The Streets of Berlin

Late Friday morning Pavlina went through her short mental list again. Clothing, toothbrush, AeB document, money. Earlier on Friday morning, Nate had bought both girls small duffle bags to put their sparse belongings in. Briana and Pavlina packed their things into their new duffle bags, and they retrieved the cash and AeB papers from the hotel room safe. Pavlina said she didn't want the black high heeled shoes Nate bought her, and she offered the pair to Briana, who tried them on, and said they didn't fit. Nate packed them in his suitcase.

Nate and the girls left the room together. At the lobby, Nate went to the front desk to collect his valuables and check out, while the girls went to the hotel restaurant for lunch. Nate put his camera in his suitcase, and checked the valise with the bellhop to pick up later, but Nate carried his laptop case with him. He found Pavlina and Briana at the restaurant. Each girl had their own duffle bag under the table.

"So," Pavlina asked in German for the third time, "I do not buy my own airplane ticket?' She was wearing her light blue tie-off shirt and black tube skirt. Briana was wearing her yellow dress again.

"Right," Nate answered in German. "Herr Brandt already did that for you. He has the ticket in his office now. You fly to Prague at 20 hours tonight," Nate recited what Brandt had already told them on the phone earlier this morning.

Pavlina ordered a goulash dish. Nate ordered veal strips in a tomato sauce, and Briana ordered an angel hair pasta. They chatted idly throughout lunch.

At one fifteen they walked to the Rodingsmarkt subway station, near the Starbucks where they first got their hotel room keys from Taggart's tall, blonde assistant. It was two blocks further than the Stadthausbrucke stop, next to the hotel, but Rodingsmarkt was on a more direct subway line. It was another warm July afternoon. They took the subway eastbound to the Uhlandstrasse station, and then walked two blocks to Thomas Brandt's office. They arrived just before two o'clock.

His office was nestled on the second floor of an old stone building. Several lawyers shared a common waiting room with a single receptionist. Nate announced himself to the receptionist, who checked a log of expected visitors, and then instructed them to enter office number B3.

The office was tiny. Thomas Brandt introduced himself as he firmly shook hands with Nate and both girls. He was tall, thin – almost gaunt, with receding straight grey hair and round wire-rim glasses. He wore a perfectly clean and pressed dark grey business suit and tie that looked like it was 30 years old. Nate guessed Brandt was in his early sixties.

The tiny office had room for only two small padded steel chairs, so Nate stood behind the chairs while Briana and Pavlina each took a seat. Thomas, seated in a simple office chair on the other side of the small desk, was unapologetic for the meagre accommodations. Nate guessed many of his clients could not afford the luxuries of leather furniture in a brightly lit corner office. Everything about the office screamed neatness and efficiency.

Thomas had prepared the final papers for Pavlina to sign. He apologized that they were in German – they were not allowed to be in any other language. Pavlina reviewed the first document, which seemed surprisingly clear and plain. It was a commitment and declaration to engage Thomas Brandt as her legal representative in the disposition of her Ausländer equitiable Behandlung status in the city state of Hamburg, Germany. The fee for an uncomplicated disposition was a flat rate of 1,200 euros, plus expenses.

She signed the contract in duplicate copies. Brandt put one signed copy in a drawer for later filing, and he folded the other copy into an envelope, which he handed to Pavlina. He then pulled out a file folder, and took the next fifteen minutes to walk Pavlina through the four documents that he would file with the Hamburg police on her behalf. She signed in no fewer than 17 places. Pavlina was beginning to understand the value of hiring someone like Brandt. Instead of just showing up with a wad of cash and hoping for the best, as most people do, Pavlina would be represented by experienced counsel who would present a brick of legal documents compelling the police to release Pavlina's passport and let her go on her way.

With Pavlina's documents out of the way, Brandt then turned his attention to Briana. He presented her with the same engagement contract, except hers was a minimum fee of 2,000 euros for the disposition of an AeB with conditions attached. The fee was unconditional, it could go higher, and would be collected even if the AeB case was not successfully resolved.

Briana signed the contract in two copies, and again Brandt filed one and gave the other to her in an envelope. There were no other papers for Briana to sign, as Thomas would not draft the disposition documents until he knew the status of the London loan. He asked how the loan repayment was going, and Briana admitted she had not done anything yet. As it was Friday afternoon, everyone realized little progress could be made before Monday morning.

Next, Brandt had a document for Nate to sign, agreeing he would pay for Briana's and Pavlina's fees and expenses. Nate signed it in duplicate, and Brandt filed on for his own records, and handed the other signed copy to Nate. He filed it in his laptop case.

Thomas returned to Pavlina. "Do you have the money for the AeB payment?" Pavlina said she did, and fished out the wad of 100 euro bills from a zipped pocket in her duffle bag. Thomas asked her to count it out in front of him, which she did, and came to exactly 5,000 euros. Thomas told her to keep it. He explained he was not permitted to handle the money – she had to hand it to the police herself.

With all the paperwork complete, Thomas packed Pavlina's case files in his lawyer's attaché case, and Pavlina stuffed the money back into her duffle bag and zipped close the pocket. They all stood in his tiny office. Thomas ushered Pavlina, Briana, and Nate out the door, and he locked it behind him before shepherding them through the common reception area, and down the stairs to the street level. Briana and Pavlina each carried their duffle bags, Nate carried his laptop satchel, and Thomas carried his leather bound attorney case. They followed Thomas across the street to an indoor parking lot street entrance. "Here we say goodbye," Thomas said to Nate and Briana. "I will take Fraulein Kozak to the police station," Brandt explained, "and then see that she gets on the train to the airport."

Nate pulled out his wallet, and handed Pavlina 200 euros. "You're going to need some spending money," he offered.

Pavlina took his cash. "You're still an asshole," she said in German, and then kissed him gently on the cheek. Nate took that to mean thank you.

Pavlina looked at Briana. The dropped their duffle bags on the sidewalk and they hugged each other in a long embrace. They had been through more than either of them ever imagined possible, and while they weren't looking, they had developed a kindred bond. They vowed to keep in touch through Facebook. The girls finally pulled apart and picked up their respective duffle bags. Pavlina double checked she had the correct one with the cash in it, while Briana verified her AeB declaration document was still in her duffle bag. Thomas unlocked the steel and glass door to the parking lot with his electronic key card, and led Pavlina into the long entryway.

Nate and Briana watched the door close, and then stood alone in the street. "So," Nate said in English, with his computer bag strapped over his shoulder, "are you with me or on your own?"

"When do I have to decide?" Briana asked weakly.

"You have five seconds," Nate declared solemnly. Nate had given her over 24 hours to think it over. He was completely fine with either outcome. Briana stood paralyzed, unable to move or speak. She knew this moment was coming, but she had pushed it aside each time she thought about Nate's new conditions. Nate grew tired of waiting. "Okay," he said, turning away. "Good luck," and Nate walked down the sidewalk alone.

Briana watched his back as Nate walked away, and with each step he took, the walls of Briana's world collapsed around her. She was horrified of being imprisoned indefinitely as she watched her only means of paying the AeB and London fines escape down the sidewalk. And she was equally terrified she would perish in the streets at the hands of another knife welding rapist. But as she watched Nate walk away, Briana realized more than anything else, she was afraid of being alone.

Fierce panic swelled up Briana's throat. "Wait!" she croaked so weakly she wasn't sure he heard her. She ran after Nate in her high heels. "Nate!" she called out louder this time. "Stop!" Nate stopped and turned to face her.

Tears were streaming down her cheeks. "Nate, please don't do this to me," she begged. Nate huffed a smirk, and turned away again and started walking.

"Okay!" she screamed at this back. People all around the street stopped to survey the commotion. Nate stopped and turned toward her. "I'll do it," she yelled. Nate quickly closed the distance to Briana, and told her not to shout. "I will do it," Briana said again, quieter this time. Her flowing tears had stopped as she summoned a modicum of self-control.

"You say 'no' just one time," Nate cautioned her, "or refuse to do just one thing, and we are done. And even if you do everything right, you get no money until the end." She looked up at him with growing resolve, but she didn't respond. "Do you agree?" Briana nodded her head silently. "Repeat it all back to me so I know you understand," Nate ordered.

Briana still looked up into Nate's eyes. "I will do everything you say," she surrendered. "I will not say no. I will not get any money until the end."

"Good," Nate nodded. "Now take your underpants off and put them in your duffle bag."

"Here!?" Briana stammered. "Now?" She looked around the street. Most people had returned to their own lives, but one or two people were still watching Briana and Nate.

"Right here," Nate ordered quietly, "right now, or start walking." He waited.

Briana closed her eyes and blew out a long breath with puffed cheeks. She swallowed hard, then reached under both sides of her yellow sundress, hooked her fingers around the elastic waist, and slipped her thong panties down her legs to her ankles. She stepped out of them, bent over, and picked up her underwear and put the discarded garment in her duffle bag. She wanted to look around to see if anyone was watching, but Briana thought that knowing might be worse, so she just stared at the ground and waited.

Nate reached his hand out. "Take my hand like a good girlfriend does," he said. She reached for his hand, they walked together. They took the subway back to the Baumwall station. Nate and Briana walked hand-in-hand down the stairs from the elevated train platform to the street level, and they walked like a real couple to his apartment.

"It looks cleaner than I remember it," Briana observed as she passed into the living room. Nate explained he had a cleaning lady who had come by twice already.

There were no messages left by his cleaning lady to suggest the police had been by to ask questions. He went into his office, and picked up the phone receiver, and checked the messages on his landline. Normally he uses the speakerphone to check messages, but he did not want Briana to overhear. There it was - Detective Visel, a woman's voice, of the Hamburg police, was investigating an incident near Nate's home, and could he return her call. The woman left her phone number. Nate checked the time stamp on the message - it was Thursday at 5:07 pm. It was probably the investigator's last call of the day before she went home.

Nate knew that, in the police's mind, he was a long shot. Chances were high the timing of his late meal was a mere coincidence, but the investigator had to rule it out as a legitimate lead. It was likely, therefore, that Detective Visel would not follow up with a second call until next week while she pursued more promising vectors.

Nate put the handset down and returned to the living room. Briana was standing in the living room, aiming the remote control at the TV. She surfed through the available broadcasts. "Do you want to watch TV?" She asked flatly, not having found anything interesting to watch.

"No," Nate replied, gently taking the remote control out of her hand. With his right hand he reached under her yellow dress and lightly took hold of her pubic hair, and tugged gently. "Go upstairs and shave your pussy completely bare."

"What?!" Briana snapped with widened eyes.

"You heard me," Nate warned her. "In thirty minutes you will present yourself for inspection," Nate commanded. "A very close inspection, I might expect," he added. "If there is even one tiny stubble of a pubic hair left, you will be punished." Nate waited, but Briana didn't move. "Up you go," he gestured to the stairs.

Briana had always criticized girls who modify their body to please their boyfriends. She had privately vowed long ago to never shave herself just to make a man feel better, but now she was trapped. Briana either did something she morally objected to, or she suffered catastrophic consequences.

Briana knew she was halfway down a slippery slope. If she acquiesced to this demand, she knew the next one would be worse, and the one after that worse still. But the cost of protest was too high. Briana wondered what she did to deserve this. She opened her mouth in protest, but closed it without a word.

Like a punished child, Briana's head sunk into her shoulders. She turned silently and climbed the stairs slowly, trying to delay the inevitable. Nate followed her upstairs, and into the bathroom. He pulled out a cordless electric razor from a vanity cabinet, and he showed her the beard trimming attachment. He explained she should use the beard trimmer first to shear all her pubic hairs down to a stubble, and then go over it all again with a razor. He retrieved a new disposable twin blade razor, and some shaving gel, and handed them to her. Nate declared her pussy should be as smooth and hair-free as her breasts. He reminded Briana she had half an hour, and then she must present herself for inspection. As he left the bathroom, Nate admonished Briana to clean up any mess she made. As an afterthought, Nate asked Briana if she had any questions.

"It's just that ..." Briana faltered. "I am not saying no, and I am not refusing, but I have never done this before," she explained. "I am just worried that I might ... you know ... make a mistake."

Nate searched around the vanity until he retrieved a round mirror with a handle left over from a former girlfriend. "Use this," he said, handing her Briana the mirror. "Use the electric shaver on dry skin," he offered, "but have a hot bath before you use the razor. And stroke the razor down the hair – not up the hairs or across the grain," he added. "And pull the skin gently. Don't stretch it too tight." Briana looked at him quizzically. "My last girlfriend shaved her pussy all the time," he answered her unspoken question. Nate turned and left Briana alone in the bathroom.

Briana stared at the shaving equipment for a while. Finally, she pulled her dress over her head, and pressed off her shoes. She stood naked in the dry bathtub, and raised her right foot and placed it on the side of the tub. Briana turned on the cordless shaver, and lowered the buzzing beard trimmer attachment between her legs. The front part was easy, and Briana watched mounds of pubic hair fall gently into the bathtub as the razor carved her thick bush down to a stubble.

The electric shaver proved easier than she anticipated until Briana reached the tender skin beside her vagina. After several uncomfortable attempts, Briana lay down in the cold, empty tub, and spread her legs apart, resting her feet on the sides of the tub. She pulled the skin tight to the right of her slit, and ran the beard trimmer over her delicate skin. She reached for the mirror, and inspected the results. There was a small patch between her pussy and her anus that still had longer hair, so she trimmed that with the shaver. Another inspection satisfied Briana the first pass was done.

Briana stood up and started the shower, and rinsed the shaved pubic hair down the drain, except it didn't wash down the drain. It gathered in a loose ball and circled around the drain. She picked up the bulk of it and threw it in the garbage. Briana plugged the drain, and filled the tub a quarter full with warm bathwater. She took the shaving gel and the disposable razor, and lay down in the hot water. Briana spread the gel over the front of her pubic area, and shaved it quite easily. Again, the hard part was beside her vagina. With her legs spread again, she applied the gel, and then with one hand she stretched the skin taught, and carefully pulled the razor with her other hand. Several checks with the mirror confirmed the stubble was completely gone without any injuries. She did the same to the left side of her pussy, and finally the patch between her pussy and asshole. Briana winced as she felt a sharp twinge, and she checked with the mirror – she was bleeding. Not badly, but enough to rattle her. She stepped out of the tub, dripping on the floor, and found a Kleenex and applied it to the wound, and stopped the bleeding in a few minutes. A more thorough review with the mirror revealed several rough patches where stubble still remained. Mindful of her final inspection, Briana re-applied gel to each patch, and went over it again with the razor.

Briana showered herself off. There was still some original shorn pubic hair stuck in the drain, and she dug it out with her finger and tossed it in the garbage. She used the shower to rinse the bathtub clean, and with that, Briana was finished. In all, she had to admit the effort was not as difficult as she expected.

Just as Briana was toweling herself dry, the door swung open, startling Briana. Nate entered. "Time for inspection," he announced, and waited at the open door. Briana finished toweling off, then used the towel to dry the tile floor, and then walked naked to the bedroom, following Nate.

"Stand with your feet wide apart," Nate ordered, and Briana set her feet to shoulder width. "No, wider," Nate corrected, and Briana opened her legs even more until they felt uncomfortably wide. "Now, put your hands behind your head," he ordered. She folded her fingers together behind her head. "Pull you elbows back, chest out, tummy in," Nate barked, and Briana complied the best she could. The effect jutted her breasts outward, amplifying their already decent size.

"This is your inspection position," Nate explained. "When I tell you to stand for inspection, this is how you stand. Do you understand?" Briana nodded. "Say you understand."

"I understand," Briana declared, just above a whisper.

"When I tell you to go into your inspection position," Nate further explained, "you stay in your inspection position until I release you. Do you understand?"

"I understand," Briana repeated sullenly. Nate opened his right hand palm up, and brought it to the bottom of her left breast. Then he lifted her breast up, and then released it, letting it fall back into place with a series of harmonic jiggles. Then he did the same to her right breast, as if he was comparing them for freshness in a grocery store. Nate slapped her left breast lightly with his open palm, and Briana squeaked a little cry. It wasn't at all painful, but the violent imagery surprised Briana. Instinctively, without thinking, Briana lowered her arms in front of her body, with her hands clasped in front of her throat and her elbows squeezed together to shield her naked breasts.