Copyright 2004, All rights reserved
This is a spin-off from the story of Karen and her grandmother's Ring, as described in other files in Literotica. Several readers have asked the writer to report on what became of Hans, the 24-year-old German tourist and Katherine, his 19-year-old former neighbor. As readers of the Zephyr series will recall, they were separately on their way to ski vacations at Winter Park, when they were brought together by a coincidence-- or did it grow out of magic?
The information here was assembled by myself, from later contacts with the people involved, and I have written it from my notes. Therefore, I apologize for the way that the point of view and tenses keep shifting around.
- Professor Richard W. (formerly of ____________ )
Katherine and Hans were in the lower level of Sophia's coach. The German students had found one of the coach doorway windows open, and were un-Germanically breaking the rules by riding in the entry vestibule, enjoying the racket and a cold, fresh breeze. As they embraced, they did not see Richard and Sophia pass [see ZEPHYR]. Hans' arms held tight to his hometown discovery. He caressed her bottom, as her soft lips played music over his mouth. Richard and Sophia kept going, but the thought occurred to them that it was a good thing that the young couple was so near the well-upholstered unisex dressing room.
That thought had not yet occurred to Hans. He and Katherine were so preoccupied with catching up on old times, combined with the lust that had snared them, that he had not planned ahead. Methodical in nature, he had always tried to anticipate needs, even with sex. His girlfriend in the university had learned that he would always be ready with a condom, that he bought the appropriate flowers, had arranged for his roommate to be gone when she came back to his place, etc. He always called the next morning, like clockwork.
Katherine was enjoying her older neighbor's caresses too much to plan ahead. She had watched him growing up, and had been frustrated by being apparently doomed to lag behind him.
Once, unknown to Hans, she had heard giggling behind the wall of his Zehlendorf home's garden, while his parents were off in Mallorca. She had stepped like one of Karl May's Indians over to the low chink in the bricks, where she knelt and peeked through from her yard.
She had watched as Hans and that Elisabeth had laughed and talked together. They were sharing a Weisse out of a big glass. The blonde, intelligent-looking Elisabeth seemed to be an English-speaker, perhaps an American student. Hans was switching back and forth between German and English with her.
Elisabeth took off her sunglasses, revealing sparkling blue eyes. She looked cute without the glasses on. Katherine was disgusted. When Elisabeth's back was turned, she saw how Hans had circumspectly pulled a wrapped condom from his pants' pocket, checked it and replaced it carefully, to be as organized as possible. She had seen how they embraced and then walked into the house, arm in arm, laughing and kissing.
Katherine had rushed to her room. From her window, she could see Hans' house. In her mind, she visualized what was happening. She locked her door, in case Mutti came by. Mutti surely wouldn't understand! Picturing Hans, and blotting out the foreigner, she imagined undressing him. In her T-shirt and shorts, her hand imitated what she thought his was doing, stroking, caressing. When she touched herself, she found that her moistness allowed her fingers to create an exciting sensation.
Now Hans was in Katherine's arms. And she felt his excitement growing as he held her against the bulkhead. The vibration of the train rumbled through them. She found herself hoping for more than his kisses. Ever since that scene in the garden, and the many days and nights that had followed in her bedroom, she had yearned to possess golden Hans.
At that instant, their near-violent passion in the vestibule was cut short by the voice of authority.
"Ahemmmm." It was the Zugfuhrer, they both realized.
"You can't stay here. Safety rules." The conductor wondered if they understood him, as they stood rooted to the spot.
Drawing on 20-year-ancient GI German, he told them in his best version of the bahnpolizei:
"Hier sie kann nicht stand. Das ist eine sicherheitsordnung!"
Actually, they understood his English perfectly, but it was their circumstances that slowed their response to his order.
"Where can we go?" Katherine asked.
"Hmmmmmmmmm." The conductor was amused; he hadn't been young so long ago. Scraping together some more German, he advised, "Moeglich den ankleidungszimmer?" He gestured toward the restrooms.
Katherine made a face, but Hans remembered something.
"Yes!" he said. One room there was a changing room, it had carpeted walls, no windows, a small bench along one side, and clothing hooks. And it latched from inside.
With a twinkle in his eye, the conductor left the vestibule and headed upstairs, not wanting to know what happened next.
Hans embraced Katherine with renewed gusto, and whispered in her ear. (Actually , he shouted over the noise, but his manner suggested a whisper.) They rushed into the corridor, reading the signs on the door of each cabin.
Now, dear reader, if you read the long story of Karen in the "Zephyr" series, you will recall that there was a couple underneath a beach blanket in the coach section of the train, too.
They were students headed back to Hastings College, doomed to get off in that small town in the middle of the night. More interestingly, only one was the white-bread American you might expect. Yes, Jack was an Iowan, from an Ida Grove family. His dad worked in the heavy machinery factory there. His friend, however, was from Nimes, far off in France (in more ways than just geography). Marie was from a family not much different than his, but her Frenchness made her seem exotic to him. He knew middle American girls as well as anyone his age, but he did not know quite how to approach Marie.
Under the beach blanket, they had snuggled for some shut-eye. They were on their way back from a speech meet in Wheaton, where she had noticed that he had more than a slim frame and strong hands, when the team he captained took a blue ribbon in debate. She knew that he had gone out a lot with another student named Maribeth, and the rumor was that they had been intimate. Now, however, Maribeth seemed to have faded away.
Marie had enjoyed the effect that the night's closeness had on Jack. She had pretended to sleep, while letting his accidental touch grow into tentative explorations. They were already on good terms, but she wondered how far he would go.
Just the thought of her being French was a turn-on to Jack. His mom sure wouldn't approve. Her perfume was perfect-- his mom probably would have thought it too expensive. Probably, he mused, under the sweatshirt and jeans Marie was wearing lacy, tautly-stretched lingerie from some expensive label.
He did not realize that Marie was beginning to think of how strong this American was, and that she was wondering if the things that she had heard about American lovers were true. Would he be too fast, too rough in bed, but tender and generous? Just having a cheeseburger and a milkshake with him that noon had made her feel like a character in a Hollywood film.
