CharmSnake
Super-Earth
- Joined
- Nov 8, 2013
- Location
- In the Grass
~ Innocence and the Enemy ~
Sweet Angel Jocelyn ~ CharmSnake
Sweet Angel Jocelyn ~ CharmSnake
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Innocence and the Enemy (Sweet Angel Jocelyn & CharmSnake)
- Thread starter CharmSnake
- Start date
OP
OP
CharmSnake
Super-Earth
- Joined
- Nov 8, 2013
- Location
- In the Grass
Why did he join the army? Two months they had been marching, through mud and muck, dust, horse dung and flies. From Poland into Lithuania, then eastward across the steppe. In Lithuania in June there were the rains. The ground was soupy mud and all the horses and carts got stuck. Men lost their boots. They marched on. July was hot and dry baking the rutty roads nearly to brick. Horses stumbled and broke their legs. Dust filled everyone's lungs. They marched on.
Now it was August, August the sixth 1812, a Thursday. He remembered it well. It was the day they stopped marching.
The order came to halt. They stopped in a cloud of yellow-grey dust. Beneath the miles of grime his Polish uniform breaches were green. His pompom cap was warm but it was necessary to shade the eyes. His shirt clung to greasy, dirty sweat that oozed down his back. It used to be white. It would never be again. His black boots were unrecognizable and he could feel the hot earth through the holes worn through the soles. Piles of green coats with black and red trim and copper buttons lay under thick dust, strapped to the cannon wagons pulled by the horse teams. He hadn't shaved since Sunday and the coating of dust that his face wore was a much lighter hue than his dark stubble. He was a mess. He looked better than most of the regiment.
The slight breeze had finally cleared the dust left from the infantry ahead and his six-foot stature allowed him to see over many of the other men. Up ahead Colonel Dodak wiped the sweat from his brow and redonned his shako as an officer on horseback lazily approached. Dodak saluted sharply and the blue-coated French Major conversed without dismounting. Perhaps a hundred yards down the road was a small village to which the infantry had dispersed within. The green crops on either side of the road were in the process of turning gold and waved gently in the wind. The major gestured towards some farm buildings another hundred yards to the left of the road. The conversation seemed to go on and on. In the army even the simplest things took forever. Finally Dodak nodded and saluted sharply once more. The major jerked the reins and his steed carried on lazily past the regiment to the next unit arear.
"Are we at Moscow?" someone asked naively.
"Yes and that barn must be St Basil's," Altmann joked to an outburst of laughter.
Another town taken without a fight, but this one was not burned like most of the others. It was an opportunity for provisions that they could not pass up. There could be a garden here, some eggs, some butter, some chicken. He started dreaming of a bath.
The battles had been easy. They fired cannons at the walls of Vilnius one morning in late June but other than that, every time they advanced, the Russians pulled up stakes and ran. They simply refused to engage Napoleon's Grande Armée head on. As easy as the victories were however, the spoils were few, for each time that the Russians retreated they burned their own, leaving nothing for the invaders to take.
Why did he join the army? He had been conscripted of course, but he went willingly. He asked himself this question several times a day, and every time he reminded himself of the alternative.
Dodak gave the order to march into the village and turn left. New dust kicked up in their steps. It stuck to his sweaty sunburned neck. His bayonetted rifle slung across his back over his pack. They entered the village and turned, boots stomping, horses huffing, carts clackering. There were about a dozen buildings, mostly stone and brick. All the windows were shut. None of the locals made themselves seen. Were there any even there? Briefly, he saw the tents of the French infantry setting up in a field to his right before the dust cloud obscured the scene.
Then he followed the boots of the man ahead as they turned left through a gate and onto lumpy grass. His feet savored the cool springy ground. They halted. Out of the dust he could see that they were in a farm yard. To the left was a neat garden, to the right a modest but well-kept barn. A small house stood ahead with a light stream of smoke escaping the chimney. Someone was either home or had fled in a hurry. Beyond were fields of wheat ripening in the August sun. To the south the rest of the columns marched through the main road from which they had come, thousands upon thousands of dust-covered men and horses with varying gaps between the regiments. The parade would likely continue until nightfall.
The order was given to set up camp. They were a small artillery unit, six cannons pulled by six four-horse teams crewed by a hundred men or thereabouts. Finally they had stopped marching. His feet wept with joy.
Now it was August, August the sixth 1812, a Thursday. He remembered it well. It was the day they stopped marching.
The order came to halt. They stopped in a cloud of yellow-grey dust. Beneath the miles of grime his Polish uniform breaches were green. His pompom cap was warm but it was necessary to shade the eyes. His shirt clung to greasy, dirty sweat that oozed down his back. It used to be white. It would never be again. His black boots were unrecognizable and he could feel the hot earth through the holes worn through the soles. Piles of green coats with black and red trim and copper buttons lay under thick dust, strapped to the cannon wagons pulled by the horse teams. He hadn't shaved since Sunday and the coating of dust that his face wore was a much lighter hue than his dark stubble. He was a mess. He looked better than most of the regiment.
The slight breeze had finally cleared the dust left from the infantry ahead and his six-foot stature allowed him to see over many of the other men. Up ahead Colonel Dodak wiped the sweat from his brow and redonned his shako as an officer on horseback lazily approached. Dodak saluted sharply and the blue-coated French Major conversed without dismounting. Perhaps a hundred yards down the road was a small village to which the infantry had dispersed within. The green crops on either side of the road were in the process of turning gold and waved gently in the wind. The major gestured towards some farm buildings another hundred yards to the left of the road. The conversation seemed to go on and on. In the army even the simplest things took forever. Finally Dodak nodded and saluted sharply once more. The major jerked the reins and his steed carried on lazily past the regiment to the next unit arear.
"Are we at Moscow?" someone asked naively.
"Yes and that barn must be St Basil's," Altmann joked to an outburst of laughter.
Another town taken without a fight, but this one was not burned like most of the others. It was an opportunity for provisions that they could not pass up. There could be a garden here, some eggs, some butter, some chicken. He started dreaming of a bath.
The battles had been easy. They fired cannons at the walls of Vilnius one morning in late June but other than that, every time they advanced, the Russians pulled up stakes and ran. They simply refused to engage Napoleon's Grande Armée head on. As easy as the victories were however, the spoils were few, for each time that the Russians retreated they burned their own, leaving nothing for the invaders to take.
Why did he join the army? He had been conscripted of course, but he went willingly. He asked himself this question several times a day, and every time he reminded himself of the alternative.
Dodak gave the order to march into the village and turn left. New dust kicked up in their steps. It stuck to his sweaty sunburned neck. His bayonetted rifle slung across his back over his pack. They entered the village and turned, boots stomping, horses huffing, carts clackering. There were about a dozen buildings, mostly stone and brick. All the windows were shut. None of the locals made themselves seen. Were there any even there? Briefly, he saw the tents of the French infantry setting up in a field to his right before the dust cloud obscured the scene.
Then he followed the boots of the man ahead as they turned left through a gate and onto lumpy grass. His feet savored the cool springy ground. They halted. Out of the dust he could see that they were in a farm yard. To the left was a neat garden, to the right a modest but well-kept barn. A small house stood ahead with a light stream of smoke escaping the chimney. Someone was either home or had fled in a hurry. Beyond were fields of wheat ripening in the August sun. To the south the rest of the columns marched through the main road from which they had come, thousands upon thousands of dust-covered men and horses with varying gaps between the regiments. The parade would likely continue until nightfall.
The order was given to set up camp. They were a small artillery unit, six cannons pulled by six four-horse teams crewed by a hundred men or thereabouts. Finally they had stopped marching. His feet wept with joy.
Sweet Angel Jocelyn
Supernova
- Joined
- Jun 3, 2010
- Location
- The Middle of Nowhere
Елизавета Андрейевна Рыжковa She had written it every day for sixteen years. It was her name. It was who she was. She was the daughter of Andrei Ryzhkov, Elizabeta. Everyone in the village knew her, she was the pretty blonde girl that would walk from the family farm and visit with friends. She was kind, and caring, she took care of people. If she had been a boy, like her brother Alexei, people would put her in line to be the next town doctor. But they knew one day she would make a good wife.
Young Elizabeta, seventeen years old, was a beauty. She had long blonde hair that fell down to her lower back, but she kept in a thick braid. Her eyes were wide and blue, her face heartshaped with a slightly upturned nose. She was a slight woman, standing only five-feet two inches tall with a slim waist and flat stomach. Her breasts were a fair size, to go along with her slightly flared hips to give her an hourglass look. She was exotic looking in her little village, full of dark haired, more burly women. The young woman stood out, she was different, but she was welcomed and loved in the village.
When the war started, women were warned to stay inside if there was word that soldiers were coming down the road. Men who had been without physical contact could be unpredictable, they could hurt a woman with their desires. There had been stories of women being taken captive by armies and held as a sexual prisoner, women had died that way, even from their own country's army. The stories were enough to scare anyone, especially a young, sick girl who didn't know anything about that sort of thing, her mind traveled to a million different possibilities.
The army came into their town that day, a farmer had seen them from a distance. Already the women were careful because a French army wasn't too far away, and suddenly even more were coming, straight into Rudnya. The atmosphere changed quickly from one that was careful but still moving around to one that was shut off completely.
Andrei Ryzhkov was furious as he watched one grouping position themselves on his farm land. He was reaching for a gun that he kept in the house, wanting to chase them off when his wife grabbed his hand and shook her head. Elizabeta sat with her older brother, Alexei as their mother pointed out that if he went out and confronted them he would be killed and there would be no one to protect their family, Alexei would be killed, the two women would be raped and who knows what would happen next. With a look at his daughter, he knew that he couldn't, but he wanted them as far away as possible.
"Elizabeta, Anyanka, to the loft, I do not want them to see you." He commanded of his wife and daughter as he put his gun away and straightened his clothing, prepared to meet with the men, to keep his family and farm safe. Her mother was quick going up the ladder and hiding high, while the blonde stood and peeked her face from the window for a brief moment to look at the army, before being summoned again and hurrying up, to hide out of sight. But while it was scare, it was also fascinating to know that there was someone else out there....
Young Elizabeta, seventeen years old, was a beauty. She had long blonde hair that fell down to her lower back, but she kept in a thick braid. Her eyes were wide and blue, her face heartshaped with a slightly upturned nose. She was a slight woman, standing only five-feet two inches tall with a slim waist and flat stomach. Her breasts were a fair size, to go along with her slightly flared hips to give her an hourglass look. She was exotic looking in her little village, full of dark haired, more burly women. The young woman stood out, she was different, but she was welcomed and loved in the village.
When the war started, women were warned to stay inside if there was word that soldiers were coming down the road. Men who had been without physical contact could be unpredictable, they could hurt a woman with their desires. There had been stories of women being taken captive by armies and held as a sexual prisoner, women had died that way, even from their own country's army. The stories were enough to scare anyone, especially a young, sick girl who didn't know anything about that sort of thing, her mind traveled to a million different possibilities.
The army came into their town that day, a farmer had seen them from a distance. Already the women were careful because a French army wasn't too far away, and suddenly even more were coming, straight into Rudnya. The atmosphere changed quickly from one that was careful but still moving around to one that was shut off completely.
Andrei Ryzhkov was furious as he watched one grouping position themselves on his farm land. He was reaching for a gun that he kept in the house, wanting to chase them off when his wife grabbed his hand and shook her head. Elizabeta sat with her older brother, Alexei as their mother pointed out that if he went out and confronted them he would be killed and there would be no one to protect their family, Alexei would be killed, the two women would be raped and who knows what would happen next. With a look at his daughter, he knew that he couldn't, but he wanted them as far away as possible.
"Elizabeta, Anyanka, to the loft, I do not want them to see you." He commanded of his wife and daughter as he put his gun away and straightened his clothing, prepared to meet with the men, to keep his family and farm safe. Her mother was quick going up the ladder and hiding high, while the blonde stood and peeked her face from the window for a brief moment to look at the army, before being summoned again and hurrying up, to hide out of sight. But while it was scare, it was also fascinating to know that there was someone else out there....
OP
OP
CharmSnake
Super-Earth
- Joined
- Nov 8, 2013
- Location
- In the Grass
Colonel Dodak had sent Fleiszer with a dozen men to go search the barn for surprises and to take stock of the resources. Then he took another half dozen men of his own to knock upon the door of the house.
The yard was filled with the sounds of the men's voices and the clacking of mallets on stakes as the unit unpacked and began erecting their tents. Some even set about the hedges for kindling to start cooking fires.
"It's only noon," Altmann observed with a smile. "We would not be stopping here if it were for only overnight. We will be here a while."
"True," he agreed as he sat unwrapping his boots. "Give my feet a chance to recover." He positioned himself cross-legged to examine them. The bottoms were red and blistered from being exposed to the hot earth for days.
Timo Altmann was the closest thing he had to a good friend since joining the army. His family was Austrian but he had gone to school in Krakow and enlisted there. They met when they were enrolled, marched together and were tent mates. In the evening sometimes they played cards. They even won some tobacco off a couple of French infantry playing bridge back in Lithuania.
"Gregorsz, get off your ass and help me with this canvas," Altmann smirked as he gestured towards the far corner.
He rose and savored the soft grass soothing his sore feet for a moment. Then he took off his soiled, sweaty shirt before kneeling to pull the sheet taut so that Altmann could peg the last stake. He was a bit thin from poor army rations but despite the fact that he had never been overly muscular, military life had kept him in good shape.
"I'd love to have a decent bath," he commented on the sorry state of his hygiene. "They must have a proper wash basin around here."
"And a good meal. There's cows in that barn. You can smell the shit," said Altmann. "Roast beef." he grinned. He gave the peg a couple more taps and was satisfied with the integrity of the structure.
"And clean clothes," said Gregorsz rising to his feet. "There's enough dirt on my breaches to grow onions. And the onions would improve how they smell."
If it would have been any later in the day he may not have noticed, as the front of the house facing to the east would have been in the shade, but in the final moments of the noon hour sun, a glint of gold in the attic window caught his eye. The vivid sheen gave away the fair hair of a young girl carefully eying the foreign soldiers that had just invaded her home. The tent was one of the closest ones to the house, perhaps twenty yards from the door where The Colonel was now knocking louder. At first he thought it was a child ducking low in the corner of the window's frame and he lost sight of her briefly in the shadow as she pulled back.
Dodak, in his shako and officer's tailcoat as grey as his mustache, now spoke with the reluctant owner of the house who stood guardedly behind the door half ajar.
Then she reappeared above craning her neck higher for a better perspective. She was young but it was clear that she was no child, and he could not deny that she was lovely with pale skin and a long braid of gold falling off her shoulder. Her hair shimmered in the sunlight like treasure. They did not make eye contact as her gaze was elsewhere at that particular moment, but he was fixated and suddenly became conscious of his own rough appearance, running his fingers through his thick dark hair and wiping his face with his forearm.
"And women."
Altmann's comment snapped him out of it. He looked over to see his friend's grinning face gesturing upwards to the attic window.
"See that?" the Austrian asked.
Gregorsz looked back up. She was gone.
The yard was filled with the sounds of the men's voices and the clacking of mallets on stakes as the unit unpacked and began erecting their tents. Some even set about the hedges for kindling to start cooking fires.
"It's only noon," Altmann observed with a smile. "We would not be stopping here if it were for only overnight. We will be here a while."
"True," he agreed as he sat unwrapping his boots. "Give my feet a chance to recover." He positioned himself cross-legged to examine them. The bottoms were red and blistered from being exposed to the hot earth for days.
Timo Altmann was the closest thing he had to a good friend since joining the army. His family was Austrian but he had gone to school in Krakow and enlisted there. They met when they were enrolled, marched together and were tent mates. In the evening sometimes they played cards. They even won some tobacco off a couple of French infantry playing bridge back in Lithuania.
"Gregorsz, get off your ass and help me with this canvas," Altmann smirked as he gestured towards the far corner.
He rose and savored the soft grass soothing his sore feet for a moment. Then he took off his soiled, sweaty shirt before kneeling to pull the sheet taut so that Altmann could peg the last stake. He was a bit thin from poor army rations but despite the fact that he had never been overly muscular, military life had kept him in good shape.
"I'd love to have a decent bath," he commented on the sorry state of his hygiene. "They must have a proper wash basin around here."
"And a good meal. There's cows in that barn. You can smell the shit," said Altmann. "Roast beef." he grinned. He gave the peg a couple more taps and was satisfied with the integrity of the structure.
"And clean clothes," said Gregorsz rising to his feet. "There's enough dirt on my breaches to grow onions. And the onions would improve how they smell."
If it would have been any later in the day he may not have noticed, as the front of the house facing to the east would have been in the shade, but in the final moments of the noon hour sun, a glint of gold in the attic window caught his eye. The vivid sheen gave away the fair hair of a young girl carefully eying the foreign soldiers that had just invaded her home. The tent was one of the closest ones to the house, perhaps twenty yards from the door where The Colonel was now knocking louder. At first he thought it was a child ducking low in the corner of the window's frame and he lost sight of her briefly in the shadow as she pulled back.
Dodak, in his shako and officer's tailcoat as grey as his mustache, now spoke with the reluctant owner of the house who stood guardedly behind the door half ajar.
Then she reappeared above craning her neck higher for a better perspective. She was young but it was clear that she was no child, and he could not deny that she was lovely with pale skin and a long braid of gold falling off her shoulder. Her hair shimmered in the sunlight like treasure. They did not make eye contact as her gaze was elsewhere at that particular moment, but he was fixated and suddenly became conscious of his own rough appearance, running his fingers through his thick dark hair and wiping his face with his forearm.
"And women."
Altmann's comment snapped him out of it. He looked over to see his friend's grinning face gesturing upwards to the attic window.
"See that?" the Austrian asked.
Gregorsz looked back up. She was gone.
Sweet Angel Jocelyn
Supernova
- Joined
- Jun 3, 2010
- Location
- The Middle of Nowhere
The loft was furnished with blankets and a pallet setup so that the young woman could sleep. There was a trunk of her clothing against the back wall while the rest of the area that wasn't bedding was unfinished wood. The family lived off of what they grew, and what they made, so it wasn't hard to imagine that they didn't have the very best of everything. And yet, the family was happy, they worked and lived for themselves. They weren't like the people who lived in town, the ones who cared about having the absolute best in life so that they could show off to their friends. Those people would never truly be happy.
"Elizabeta! People may be able to see you! Do not look out there." Anyanka, the attractive older woman chided, pulling her daughter away from the window. The soldiers were not going to stay to themselves for long, but the mother did not want her daughter to be seen before she was truly ready for what might come. How could either of them know that at least two of the soldiers had already seen her? Young Elizabeta wasn't used to concealing herself, and Anyanka did not know exactly where everyone was.
The women quieted down immediately when their heard Andrei talking at the door. He was mad, but he wasn't going to be stupid enough to fight against the man at the door. They were going to be searching the house, already they were searching the barn, and they wanted to see everyone in the house. No one would be hurt, the man was told, if they did not cooperate, then his family may well be in danger. People had been killed before, women had been hurt
Even though Andrei was nervous about it, he was aware that there was a bigger chance that his wife and daughter, his son and even himself would be killed if they did not come down. So, though the two clutched each other over his head, scared that they were going to be violated, e called out from the door.
"Alexei, Anyanka, Elizabeta. Come line up in the kitchen." He commanded, not enjoying what he was being forced to do. He could only hope that the soldiers were gone quickly and that they wouldn't need to deal with them for long.
Stunned, mother and daughter descended the ladder. They were cautious. Mother came first, slowly making her way from top to bottom, then watched as her daughter entered, ensuring that she remained modest, that her skirts didn't show more than a glimpse of skin as she walked down. Then, the two women stood beside the younger male, eying the conversation nervously, not sure at all what was going to happen.
"Elizabeta! People may be able to see you! Do not look out there." Anyanka, the attractive older woman chided, pulling her daughter away from the window. The soldiers were not going to stay to themselves for long, but the mother did not want her daughter to be seen before she was truly ready for what might come. How could either of them know that at least two of the soldiers had already seen her? Young Elizabeta wasn't used to concealing herself, and Anyanka did not know exactly where everyone was.
The women quieted down immediately when their heard Andrei talking at the door. He was mad, but he wasn't going to be stupid enough to fight against the man at the door. They were going to be searching the house, already they were searching the barn, and they wanted to see everyone in the house. No one would be hurt, the man was told, if they did not cooperate, then his family may well be in danger. People had been killed before, women had been hurt
Even though Andrei was nervous about it, he was aware that there was a bigger chance that his wife and daughter, his son and even himself would be killed if they did not come down. So, though the two clutched each other over his head, scared that they were going to be violated, e called out from the door.
"Alexei, Anyanka, Elizabeta. Come line up in the kitchen." He commanded, not enjoying what he was being forced to do. He could only hope that the soldiers were gone quickly and that they wouldn't need to deal with them for long.
Stunned, mother and daughter descended the ladder. They were cautious. Mother came first, slowly making her way from top to bottom, then watched as her daughter entered, ensuring that she remained modest, that her skirts didn't show more than a glimpse of skin as she walked down. Then, the two women stood beside the younger male, eying the conversation nervously, not sure at all what was going to happen.
OP
OP
CharmSnake
Super-Earth
- Joined
- Nov 8, 2013
- Location
- In the Grass
He was relaxing with his head on his pack under the shade of the tent and nearly dozed off when Fleiszer came by and called him out.
"Wiecorek, get up. I have a job for you," he said. "There's a cart going 'round collecting the wash. Put your things on it and then go to the big tent behind the house. You're going to pump water for the laundry."
"Yes, sir."
He was already changed into his night pants, baggy and cream colored, drawn up with a waist string. He collected his uniform up and carried it around the back of the house, carefully avoiding the path and stepping on the grass. Perhaps fifty yards behind the house was a large walk-in tent closed on three sides with soldiers busy about setting things up. A wheelbarrow had just dumped a pile of uniforms on the ground next to three large wash tubs and was rolling back to the camp for more. He added his laundry to the collection. In the shade to the right of the tent several pails and buckets sat next to the well. It was brick lined and a small gable topped the pulley. Gregorsz began cranking and the rope started to uncoil. The well was deep as it took nearly a minute for the bucket to reach the bottom. It was much heavier on the way up and he had to put his muscles into it.
Once the first bucket was up he dipped his hand in to taste. It was a bit hard but it was cool to the touch. He splashed some onto his face and into his hair, then over his shoulders and down his back and felt somewhat refreshed. Then he poured the rest into one of the pails and carried it limping on his blistered feet into the tent, placing it into one of the tubs and went back out to repeat. The well was deep and it was fairly hard work. Raising the bucket required a braced stance with both arms pushing the crank over and pulling it back up. At least he was in the shade of the canvas.
"Wiecorek, get up. I have a job for you," he said. "There's a cart going 'round collecting the wash. Put your things on it and then go to the big tent behind the house. You're going to pump water for the laundry."
"Yes, sir."
He was already changed into his night pants, baggy and cream colored, drawn up with a waist string. He collected his uniform up and carried it around the back of the house, carefully avoiding the path and stepping on the grass. Perhaps fifty yards behind the house was a large walk-in tent closed on three sides with soldiers busy about setting things up. A wheelbarrow had just dumped a pile of uniforms on the ground next to three large wash tubs and was rolling back to the camp for more. He added his laundry to the collection. In the shade to the right of the tent several pails and buckets sat next to the well. It was brick lined and a small gable topped the pulley. Gregorsz began cranking and the rope started to uncoil. The well was deep as it took nearly a minute for the bucket to reach the bottom. It was much heavier on the way up and he had to put his muscles into it.
Once the first bucket was up he dipped his hand in to taste. It was a bit hard but it was cool to the touch. He splashed some onto his face and into his hair, then over his shoulders and down his back and felt somewhat refreshed. Then he poured the rest into one of the pails and carried it limping on his blistered feet into the tent, placing it into one of the tubs and went back out to repeat. The well was deep and it was fairly hard work. Raising the bucket required a braced stance with both arms pushing the crank over and pulling it back up. At least he was in the shade of the canvas.
Sweet Angel Jocelyn
Supernova
- Joined
- Jun 3, 2010
- Location
- The Middle of Nowhere
For Elizabeta, the experience was both terrifying and exciting. She wanted to know what the men were like, but there were all kinds of horror stories out there. The talk in her house at the moment was that her and her mother would take care of the laundry and the general 'housework' for the men. That would mean working fairly closely with the men who were taking over her land. The men with the bad reputation. The foreign men... It was so exciting.
Anyanka led her daughter from the house and into the field where there was a big tent set up to do the wash. Immediately she could smell the sweat and weeks of unwash coming from the clothing that was set out for them. True, there were times that they got dirtier than usual from working, but never had she smelled something like that. Elizabeta refrained from covering her nose to stop from offending the men.
"Come along, Beta. We must get to work, clear this stench." Anyanka said, gathering her skirts and walking forward. The young woman, feeling timid but strong, followed suit, gathering her skirts and walking quickly forward. She didn't want to be far from her mother while swarmed with men. She wanted to feel even a little safe. Men looked at her like she was a piece of meat and they hadn't eaten in a month. She could feel their eyes burning through her skirts, as if they were checking what she looked like without them. The nudged each other, they spoke about her behind her back. And she just tried not to look around, afraid she would draw even more attention to her.
"Where is the water?" Anyanka asked loudly in general, gathering command of the situation. "We need water to begin, where is it?"
Anyanka led her daughter from the house and into the field where there was a big tent set up to do the wash. Immediately she could smell the sweat and weeks of unwash coming from the clothing that was set out for them. True, there were times that they got dirtier than usual from working, but never had she smelled something like that. Elizabeta refrained from covering her nose to stop from offending the men.
"Come along, Beta. We must get to work, clear this stench." Anyanka said, gathering her skirts and walking forward. The young woman, feeling timid but strong, followed suit, gathering her skirts and walking quickly forward. She didn't want to be far from her mother while swarmed with men. She wanted to feel even a little safe. Men looked at her like she was a piece of meat and they hadn't eaten in a month. She could feel their eyes burning through her skirts, as if they were checking what she looked like without them. The nudged each other, they spoke about her behind her back. And she just tried not to look around, afraid she would draw even more attention to her.
"Where is the water?" Anyanka asked loudly in general, gathering command of the situation. "We need water to begin, where is it?"
OP
OP
CharmSnake
Super-Earth
- Joined
- Nov 8, 2013
- Location
- In the Grass
The laundry was becoming a not-so-minor operation with men coming and going. A small fire pit was ordered constructed next to the well to warm the pails of water as needed. The uniforms were excessively soiled. Normally some sort of rotating wash detail was carried out nightly but as long as the Russians were running, Napoleon was giving chase and that meant less camping and more marching. Gregorsz churned away at the crank, his lean muscles laboring amidst the commotion.
"Where is the water? "We need water to begin, where is it?"
He recognized some Russian dialect and deciphered a woman's call for water. Looking up he saw the matriarch of the household, her chin up defiantly as she tried to maintain some sense of authority over these invaders in her own home. He tipped the bucket into a fresh pail and placed it on the fire to warm. As he did so he saw the daughter in tow. He froze for a moment. It was her. The golden girl in the window, and she really was every bit as lovely as his imagination could have made her. She stood barely to her mother's chin as she stood close behind her shoulder and her peasant dress billowed over her bosom and flowed over her hips. Her wide innocent eyes of blue took in all the excitement and bustle. They took him in too and there was a pause.
"You," the mother snapped at him sternly. "Be a gentleman and keep your eyes to yourself." Then she stepped in front of her daughter to block the view. She spoke too quickly for him to understand but he got the gist.
He limped back to the well and with one hand began the easy part of the task, lowering the bucket downward. He gave it a couple of cranks and it started to spin on its own.
"Yes Gregorsz, do be a gentleman," Korchinski laughed as he walked up and patted him on the back. Some of the other men began to snicker as well. He shrugged Korchinski off.
"Come," she said to her daughter. "If we wait for it to warm we'll never be done," and the mother snatched the pail from the fire and stalked back towards the tent.
"You will have to bring back the empty pails to me," he called out unsure if they understood any Polish. The mother led the girl back into the tent and he started the tough part of the job, raising the full bucket.
"That's a nice bit that one," Korchinski winked as he patted him on the shoulder. "Could take her into the barn while Dodak isn't watching and have a little fun, eh?"
"She's just a young girl," Gregorsz replied with a look of disgust.
"She's Russian. Who cares?" Korchinski shrugged. "And in a few weeks we'll be in Moscow and she will be long gone behind." The next full bucket appeared and Korchinski helped himself to a slosh of water. "Besides, I think she likes you."
Gregorsz elbowed him away and filled the next pail. The thought of violating the locals repulsed him, but he could not deny that the sweet embrace of this golden beauty was terribly enticing.
"The mother's not bad either," said Korchinski as he dumped a load of kindling and left.
"Fuck off."
Korchinski shook his head and laughed.
"Where is the water? "We need water to begin, where is it?"
He recognized some Russian dialect and deciphered a woman's call for water. Looking up he saw the matriarch of the household, her chin up defiantly as she tried to maintain some sense of authority over these invaders in her own home. He tipped the bucket into a fresh pail and placed it on the fire to warm. As he did so he saw the daughter in tow. He froze for a moment. It was her. The golden girl in the window, and she really was every bit as lovely as his imagination could have made her. She stood barely to her mother's chin as she stood close behind her shoulder and her peasant dress billowed over her bosom and flowed over her hips. Her wide innocent eyes of blue took in all the excitement and bustle. They took him in too and there was a pause.
"You," the mother snapped at him sternly. "Be a gentleman and keep your eyes to yourself." Then she stepped in front of her daughter to block the view. She spoke too quickly for him to understand but he got the gist.
He limped back to the well and with one hand began the easy part of the task, lowering the bucket downward. He gave it a couple of cranks and it started to spin on its own.
"Yes Gregorsz, do be a gentleman," Korchinski laughed as he walked up and patted him on the back. Some of the other men began to snicker as well. He shrugged Korchinski off.
"Come," she said to her daughter. "If we wait for it to warm we'll never be done," and the mother snatched the pail from the fire and stalked back towards the tent.
"You will have to bring back the empty pails to me," he called out unsure if they understood any Polish. The mother led the girl back into the tent and he started the tough part of the job, raising the full bucket.
"That's a nice bit that one," Korchinski winked as he patted him on the shoulder. "Could take her into the barn while Dodak isn't watching and have a little fun, eh?"
"She's just a young girl," Gregorsz replied with a look of disgust.
"She's Russian. Who cares?" Korchinski shrugged. "And in a few weeks we'll be in Moscow and she will be long gone behind." The next full bucket appeared and Korchinski helped himself to a slosh of water. "Besides, I think she likes you."
Gregorsz elbowed him away and filled the next pail. The thought of violating the locals repulsed him, but he could not deny that the sweet embrace of this golden beauty was terribly enticing.
"The mother's not bad either," said Korchinski as he dumped a load of kindling and left.
"Fuck off."
Korchinski shook his head and laughed.
Sweet Angel Jocelyn
Supernova
- Joined
- Jun 3, 2010
- Location
- The Middle of Nowhere
"Those men." Anyanka spat as she took to preparing her work station. The two had been washing clothing together for years, it was like there was a set rhythm between the two of them. While Anyanka prepared the pot she would be scrubbing the clothing, Elizabeta strung a line to hang the clothing up. The two barely said a word until the mother spat out about the men.
"Mama, they are just doing what they will. They haven't seen a woman in weeks probably." The young woman tried to defend as she lifted a pile of clothing and dumped it into the water.
"Yes, and that's where troubles come from. That man was looking at you far too closely. You be careful around them." Her mother warned as she began to scrub the cloth, bringing up bubbles and foam with every motion on the board.
"I doubt I will go anywhere near those men when I'm alone." She assured her mother, grinning to herself. In actuality she was wondering if she could get a little closer to that soldier her mother was talking about. He'd been cute. A few years older than her, but tall, and very much not Russian. Those things were appealing to her. He had appeared to have some attention for her. But she didn't want to get caught alone with one of the other men, she didn't want to find out what would happen if she were to refuse advances from one of them.
After a few loads, the bucket was dumped and the young woman grabbed it. "I will get another bucket of water." She told her mother. "You go ahead and hang the clothing."
"Watch your back! You will never know what will happen when you are alone." Her mother warned as she grabbed some clothing and pins to hold them up.
Elizabeta walked from her area to the tent where the men were working at heating up the water. "Excuse me." She spoke up in her shaky Polish, she'd gathered that at least one spoke the language and she knew a few words. "Water." She said, holding the bucket up, then switched back to her native tongue. "we need more hot water for your clothing." She said.
"Mama, they are just doing what they will. They haven't seen a woman in weeks probably." The young woman tried to defend as she lifted a pile of clothing and dumped it into the water.
"Yes, and that's where troubles come from. That man was looking at you far too closely. You be careful around them." Her mother warned as she began to scrub the cloth, bringing up bubbles and foam with every motion on the board.
"I doubt I will go anywhere near those men when I'm alone." She assured her mother, grinning to herself. In actuality she was wondering if she could get a little closer to that soldier her mother was talking about. He'd been cute. A few years older than her, but tall, and very much not Russian. Those things were appealing to her. He had appeared to have some attention for her. But she didn't want to get caught alone with one of the other men, she didn't want to find out what would happen if she were to refuse advances from one of them.
After a few loads, the bucket was dumped and the young woman grabbed it. "I will get another bucket of water." She told her mother. "You go ahead and hang the clothing."
"Watch your back! You will never know what will happen when you are alone." Her mother warned as she grabbed some clothing and pins to hold them up.
Elizabeta walked from her area to the tent where the men were working at heating up the water. "Excuse me." She spoke up in her shaky Polish, she'd gathered that at least one spoke the language and she knew a few words. "Water." She said, holding the bucket up, then switched back to her native tongue. "we need more hot water for your clothing." She said.
OP
OP
CharmSnake
Super-Earth
- Joined
- Nov 8, 2013
- Location
- In the Grass
Gregorsz filled another pail from the well. There were three already warming on the fire and a few more on the ground. A stick had been made available and he used it to slip under the hot handles of the pails to avoid burning his hands. Then he placed the three pails on the ground and put three new ones on the fire.
Taking a moment to himself, he stood up straight and inhaled deeply. The field rippled in the breeze and across the waves of wheat to the north was a line of dense green foliage indicating the banks of some sort of stream. The shade was inviting and he imagined the sound of trickling water that he always found so soothing.
"Water."
She had snuck up on him. The word was in Polish, which surprised him, but the rest of what she said sounded Russian. He turned around sharply, caught off guard. He could see her now, so closely, flawed and real. There was a hollowness to her look, with deep set eyes and slender neck. Her sleeves pushed up to do the wash revealed slim forearms and wrists. Her peasant dress fit well at the neck but other than that looked big on her. If she didn't have such energy and bright disposition he'd think that she was not well. His heart fluttered a moment and he longed to take her gently in his arms and hold her body against his until the army packed up and left them alone.
"Water." he answered and reached down to take the stick by both ends, lifting the three pails still hanging by their handles. Stepping towards her, Gregorsz winced from his blistered feet and stopped. There was something sharp in the grass, a dry piece of straw. He put the pails down and sat, examining his left foot. The blister had been torn open and pus was oozing out. He was dirty, tired, sore and embarrassed in front of her.
Taking a moment to himself, he stood up straight and inhaled deeply. The field rippled in the breeze and across the waves of wheat to the north was a line of dense green foliage indicating the banks of some sort of stream. The shade was inviting and he imagined the sound of trickling water that he always found so soothing.
"Water."
She had snuck up on him. The word was in Polish, which surprised him, but the rest of what she said sounded Russian. He turned around sharply, caught off guard. He could see her now, so closely, flawed and real. There was a hollowness to her look, with deep set eyes and slender neck. Her sleeves pushed up to do the wash revealed slim forearms and wrists. Her peasant dress fit well at the neck but other than that looked big on her. If she didn't have such energy and bright disposition he'd think that she was not well. His heart fluttered a moment and he longed to take her gently in his arms and hold her body against his until the army packed up and left them alone.
"Water." he answered and reached down to take the stick by both ends, lifting the three pails still hanging by their handles. Stepping towards her, Gregorsz winced from his blistered feet and stopped. There was something sharp in the grass, a dry piece of straw. He put the pails down and sat, examining his left foot. The blister had been torn open and pus was oozing out. He was dirty, tired, sore and embarrassed in front of her.
Sweet Angel Jocelyn
Supernova
- Joined
- Jun 3, 2010
- Location
- The Middle of Nowhere
The young woman dropped her empty bucket of water and watched the handsome Polish soldier gathering more for them. She knew the task ahead would be a tough one, they would be working day and into the night, there was a lot of clothing, a lot of men. She was going to be working far more than she was used to, and she worked constantly on the farm, but this was way more.
She was reaching for the waters when the man dropped to the ground and looked at his foot. She could see that it was torn open and draining. She sighed as she sat herself down, looking closely at his foot. "This is not nice looking." She told him, her words broken by using a language she wasn't completely familiar with. Polish was a hard language to master, but she knew that he probably knew as much if not only a bit more Russian.
Quickly, she tore a bit of the fabric of her skirt off with her hands and put it in the water for a minute. The warm cloth came up and she folded the fabric into a thick square and pressed it to the open wound on his foot.
"All that walking must ruin more than one foot." She muttered to herself in Russian. If they wouldn't try to take over other places they wouldn't be walking so much and everyone would be happy. But instead this man and others were ruining themselves and other around them.
"Feel good?" She asked in her broken Polish, pressing softly against the foot as she examined him carefully.
She was reaching for the waters when the man dropped to the ground and looked at his foot. She could see that it was torn open and draining. She sighed as she sat herself down, looking closely at his foot. "This is not nice looking." She told him, her words broken by using a language she wasn't completely familiar with. Polish was a hard language to master, but she knew that he probably knew as much if not only a bit more Russian.
Quickly, she tore a bit of the fabric of her skirt off with her hands and put it in the water for a minute. The warm cloth came up and she folded the fabric into a thick square and pressed it to the open wound on his foot.
"All that walking must ruin more than one foot." She muttered to herself in Russian. If they wouldn't try to take over other places they wouldn't be walking so much and everyone would be happy. But instead this man and others were ruining themselves and other around them.
"Feel good?" She asked in her broken Polish, pressing softly against the foot as she examined him carefully.
OP
OP
CharmSnake
Super-Earth
- Joined
- Nov 8, 2013
- Location
- In the Grass
As if instinctively she sat before him and examined his foot. This shouldn't have been happening, yet it was. He went to pull away but her sympathetic sigh softened him into powerlessness.
She muttered something completely incoherent as she fussed, tearing off a shred of her hem and soaking it to dab him carefully, but the sound of her voice was disarmingly soothing and her touch sent chills up his spine.
"Feel good?"
He finally realized that she was trying to speak Polish, and rather badly at that, and he found her efforts rather endearing even if her accent was quite humorous forcing him to fight off a smile. It felt amazing. The wound was the wound, an open blister that stung, but just her touch was something else. She was so gentle and caring he felt that he might be able to suffer any ailment or injury so long as she was the one to soothe him.
"Da," he answered. It felt good. It could have been the biggest understatement that he'd ever made.
If anyone important saw them they could be in serious trouble and Gregorsz was heavily torn between cutting this moment short and making it last as long as it could. He couldn't let it end without arranging to see her somehow. It would be difficult. They spoke different languages after all.
"What is there?" he asked in Polish, not knowing the equivalent Russian phrase, and nodded over his shoulder to the thick row of trees across the field. "It looks like a nice place," he said hoping desperately that he had dropped a big enough hint and that she was not too naive to catch it.
She muttered something completely incoherent as she fussed, tearing off a shred of her hem and soaking it to dab him carefully, but the sound of her voice was disarmingly soothing and her touch sent chills up his spine.
"Feel good?"
He finally realized that she was trying to speak Polish, and rather badly at that, and he found her efforts rather endearing even if her accent was quite humorous forcing him to fight off a smile. It felt amazing. The wound was the wound, an open blister that stung, but just her touch was something else. She was so gentle and caring he felt that he might be able to suffer any ailment or injury so long as she was the one to soothe him.
"Da," he answered. It felt good. It could have been the biggest understatement that he'd ever made.
If anyone important saw them they could be in serious trouble and Gregorsz was heavily torn between cutting this moment short and making it last as long as it could. He couldn't let it end without arranging to see her somehow. It would be difficult. They spoke different languages after all.
"What is there?" he asked in Polish, not knowing the equivalent Russian phrase, and nodded over his shoulder to the thick row of trees across the field. "It looks like a nice place," he said hoping desperately that he had dropped a big enough hint and that she was not too naive to catch it.
Sweet Angel Jocelyn
Supernova
- Joined
- Jun 3, 2010
- Location
- The Middle of Nowhere
Elizabetta was working to care for the wound. After he told her that it did feel good, she removed the cloth, smiling at him as she dipped the cloth into the water again. He indicated the small forest beside the fields with the nod of his head, she couldn't fully understand his words, she didn't know enough Polish to hold a full conversation with someone. But his actions told her that he was curious about the wooded area.
"The woods. It is very nice." She told him, flashing him a quick smile. Her hands worked quickly unfolding the cloth and wrapped it around his foot. "I could show it to you when your foot is feeling better." She offered, patting his foot sympathetically.
"My mother is waiting for me." She told him, standing. "Maybe... Night?" She offered, flashing him a smile, the last word the closest to her meaning that she could find 'tonight'.
"The woods. It is very nice." She told him, flashing him a quick smile. Her hands worked quickly unfolding the cloth and wrapped it around his foot. "I could show it to you when your foot is feeling better." She offered, patting his foot sympathetically.
"My mother is waiting for me." She told him, standing. "Maybe... Night?" She offered, flashing him a smile, the last word the closest to her meaning that she could find 'tonight'.
OP
OP
CharmSnake
Super-Earth
- Joined
- Nov 8, 2013
- Location
- In the Grass
She just kept smiling at him as she tended his foot, a ray of sunshine in this drudgery that he'd gotten himself into. Perhaps she was so young that she did not comprehend the danger involved in their contact. Still she seemed to care for him fully with complete disregard for the unapproving eyes of both her mother and the Colonel.
She tied the rag around his foot with pure compassion more than actual skill (though it seemed to stay in place well enough for now), while she mentioned something about the woods that he did not understand. Just as she finished speaking with that same innocent smile he heard soldiers approaching and he had to divert his attention. Hopping to his feet he grabbed one end of the stick which held the pails of warm water and gestured that she take the other end, suggesting that they carry it back to the tent together.
Around the house came a half dozen men bringing two more basins. Fleiszer instructed them to set them up next to the others and the soldiers would join in the chores. There was just too much to expect the women to do it all themselves. It would be inhuman.
"Wiecorek!" Fleiszer called him.
"Yes sir?"
"Take a break," he ordered. "Go around front. The mess is ready for you."
"Yes sir."
"And there's a wash station set up so clean yourself. You look terrible." Some of the men laughed at his expense.
"Yes sir."
Gregorsz didn't want to leave her but food and a bath sounded like a welcome idea. The men were looking at he and the girl carrying the water together with teasing grins. Fleiszer ordered Korchinski to relieve him and Gregorsz put the stick down. The urge to look back at her was strong but he resisted as he walked away, not daring to risk anything happening to her.
She tied the rag around his foot with pure compassion more than actual skill (though it seemed to stay in place well enough for now), while she mentioned something about the woods that he did not understand. Just as she finished speaking with that same innocent smile he heard soldiers approaching and he had to divert his attention. Hopping to his feet he grabbed one end of the stick which held the pails of warm water and gestured that she take the other end, suggesting that they carry it back to the tent together.
Around the house came a half dozen men bringing two more basins. Fleiszer instructed them to set them up next to the others and the soldiers would join in the chores. There was just too much to expect the women to do it all themselves. It would be inhuman.
"Wiecorek!" Fleiszer called him.
"Yes sir?"
"Take a break," he ordered. "Go around front. The mess is ready for you."
"Yes sir."
"And there's a wash station set up so clean yourself. You look terrible." Some of the men laughed at his expense.
"Yes sir."
Gregorsz didn't want to leave her but food and a bath sounded like a welcome idea. The men were looking at he and the girl carrying the water together with teasing grins. Fleiszer ordered Korchinski to relieve him and Gregorsz put the stick down. The urge to look back at her was strong but he resisted as he walked away, not daring to risk anything happening to her.
Sweet Angel Jocelyn
Supernova
- Joined
- Jun 3, 2010
- Location
- The Middle of Nowhere
Elizabetta stood and grabbed one side of the stick in an attempt to help the man. She was a weaker bread, certainly, but she very rarely let that stop her. So, she hefted the buckets and walked forward, working hard to keep herself from buckling under the weight of the water. But, when there were so many men around, unfamiliar and dangerous, she couldn't afford for them to think of her as easy prey, ripe for the picking.
Suddenly, a man started to speak to the one who was helping her carry the buckets and he had to stop. He put the stick down and she quickly did the same.
"But what about getting the water to my mother?" She asked, speaking quickly, and loudly as he started to walk away. She hated it, but she felt helpless. If she were forced to carry them on her own, everyone would know exactly how weak she was. She would be at the mercy of the men all around her.
Another man came and lifted a part of the stick, and she went back to her own hold. Together, they walked to her mother's tent, without a word said between them, though the man glanced at her on occasion.
"Put it down." Anyanka growled when she saw her daughter finally returning with a ma. Elizabetta indicated that it was time to do it by slowly putting her side down and the soldier got the hint by watching her, releasing his own side. He tipped his head in her direction, then offered a respectful signal to Anyanka before walking off. "You were alone too long with those men, Elizabetta. They will try to take advantage of you if linger." She lectured, and Elizabetta nodded her head and looked down, taking the speech with a grain of salt. She doubted that she would be around all of them too much, but she knew she'd be sneaking out to go to the forest area that night.
Suddenly, a man started to speak to the one who was helping her carry the buckets and he had to stop. He put the stick down and she quickly did the same.
"But what about getting the water to my mother?" She asked, speaking quickly, and loudly as he started to walk away. She hated it, but she felt helpless. If she were forced to carry them on her own, everyone would know exactly how weak she was. She would be at the mercy of the men all around her.
Another man came and lifted a part of the stick, and she went back to her own hold. Together, they walked to her mother's tent, without a word said between them, though the man glanced at her on occasion.
"Put it down." Anyanka growled when she saw her daughter finally returning with a ma. Elizabetta indicated that it was time to do it by slowly putting her side down and the soldier got the hint by watching her, releasing his own side. He tipped his head in her direction, then offered a respectful signal to Anyanka before walking off. "You were alone too long with those men, Elizabetta. They will try to take advantage of you if linger." She lectured, and Elizabetta nodded her head and looked down, taking the speech with a grain of salt. She doubted that she would be around all of them too much, but she knew she'd be sneaking out to go to the forest area that night.
OP
OP
CharmSnake
Super-Earth
- Joined
- Nov 8, 2013
- Location
- In the Grass
He came back around the front of the house to the smell of chicken and borscht. His mouth salivated and his stomach yearned. Three large wash basins were set up and men gathered around, some half naked, some fully, scrubbing their backs underarms and all other places and sloshing themselves with water.
The camp was a hive of activity with men moving about, bringing their plates up to the mess line, heading back to their tents or other shady spots to eat, washing up, tending to horses, reporting to the officers. Gregorsz wasn't sure what he wanted more, a meal or a bath, but if being in the army taught him one thing it was that if you got a chance to eat, take it.
Retrieving his tin dish and his spoon from his pack in the tent he stood in line as the mess was dished out. He couldn't get his mind off of her. Closing his eyes a moment he hung on to the memory of her touch, trying to keep it as fresh as possible, fearing the thought that it may fade. He wanted to give her a name. Could it be one of those exotic Russian names like Valentyna or Tatiana, or perhaps the simple beauty of Anna or Petra? His mind went back and forth on it, never settling. Then the image of her doing the laundry took over, carrying the water with that asshole Korchinski. At least he knew that nothing would happen to her today. Perhaps after a time and the authority in the camp became more lax the men could get away with more, but for the next few days all the locals would be quite safe. Of that he was very certain.
A nudging elbow snapped him out of it. His dish was ladled full with a purple stewy broth of beets, onion, large chunks of potato and some sparse bits of chicken. He returned to the tent and ate. It was the best thing he'd had in weeks.
Altmann had a small fire going and was heating a small pot of water.
"Help yourself, brother," he said.
Gregorsz went into his pack and took out a rag, his razor and a glass. The water was warm enough that vapor was visibly rising from it. He dipped the rag in and held it to his beard, the steam loosening up his skin. He held it there for a minute, then dipped it in again and repeated.
"Hot enough," he said and took the pot off the fire. Then he dunked the blade of the razor into the water and carefully began to shave. Every couple of minutes when his beard dried and cooled he would resoften it with the hot rag. He took his time, eying his work in the small glass propped against his pack. When he finished, his face felt new and refreshed. He put his kit away and headed to scrub and wash himself like the others, rigorously mopping his dark hair with the rag.
When he was done Major Kordic came around and shouted orders that Gun 6 go check their gun. Gun 6 was Gregorsz team. It was daily maintenance.
Everything had to be checked, the gun itself, the barrel, the chamber, the wicking, the loading broom. Everything was cleaned. The cart was looked over and the axles greased. All the horses had returned from watering at the slough and were undressed, groomed and redressed. All the ammunition was counted and checked, the straight shot and the mortar, and all the gunpowder was counted and inspected, safely stored in the cases and kept dry. All this had to be done and approved by either Kordic or Fleiszer. It helped kill the time and kept the girl off his mind for a while.
By the time that this was all completed the uniforms were starting to come down from the line. Gregorsz eagerly went round the house to retrieve his laundry, hopeful to make some sort of contact with her again. On the outside he showed nothing but in the inside his spirit was trying to leap out of his body with anticipation. She wasn't there. The tent was empty. The pails sat next to the well. The soldiers pulled their green coats and breaches down from the lines. The back door of the house was closed. There was no trace. He took his uniform back to the tent and dressed himself.
Colonel Dodak had the entire unit assemble next to the barn for a final inspection. It was routine and did not last long. It was late in the day and the cloudless western sky was turning orange. The east was fading into indigo. Dodak ordered Gun team 1 to stand first watch and Gun 2 to relieve them at midnight. The rest of them were dismissed.
His sliver of freedom had come. He was anxious, elated and scared. Slowly his feet wandered past the garden, quietly separating him from the crowd, and found the creekside path into the grove. He was a passenger of his own footsteps. What were the chances that she would be there? How long would he have to wait if she wasn't? How long could he wait? Would anyone else see him.
The camp was a hive of activity with men moving about, bringing their plates up to the mess line, heading back to their tents or other shady spots to eat, washing up, tending to horses, reporting to the officers. Gregorsz wasn't sure what he wanted more, a meal or a bath, but if being in the army taught him one thing it was that if you got a chance to eat, take it.
Retrieving his tin dish and his spoon from his pack in the tent he stood in line as the mess was dished out. He couldn't get his mind off of her. Closing his eyes a moment he hung on to the memory of her touch, trying to keep it as fresh as possible, fearing the thought that it may fade. He wanted to give her a name. Could it be one of those exotic Russian names like Valentyna or Tatiana, or perhaps the simple beauty of Anna or Petra? His mind went back and forth on it, never settling. Then the image of her doing the laundry took over, carrying the water with that asshole Korchinski. At least he knew that nothing would happen to her today. Perhaps after a time and the authority in the camp became more lax the men could get away with more, but for the next few days all the locals would be quite safe. Of that he was very certain.
A nudging elbow snapped him out of it. His dish was ladled full with a purple stewy broth of beets, onion, large chunks of potato and some sparse bits of chicken. He returned to the tent and ate. It was the best thing he'd had in weeks.
Altmann had a small fire going and was heating a small pot of water.
"Help yourself, brother," he said.
Gregorsz went into his pack and took out a rag, his razor and a glass. The water was warm enough that vapor was visibly rising from it. He dipped the rag in and held it to his beard, the steam loosening up his skin. He held it there for a minute, then dipped it in again and repeated.
"Hot enough," he said and took the pot off the fire. Then he dunked the blade of the razor into the water and carefully began to shave. Every couple of minutes when his beard dried and cooled he would resoften it with the hot rag. He took his time, eying his work in the small glass propped against his pack. When he finished, his face felt new and refreshed. He put his kit away and headed to scrub and wash himself like the others, rigorously mopping his dark hair with the rag.
When he was done Major Kordic came around and shouted orders that Gun 6 go check their gun. Gun 6 was Gregorsz team. It was daily maintenance.
Everything had to be checked, the gun itself, the barrel, the chamber, the wicking, the loading broom. Everything was cleaned. The cart was looked over and the axles greased. All the horses had returned from watering at the slough and were undressed, groomed and redressed. All the ammunition was counted and checked, the straight shot and the mortar, and all the gunpowder was counted and inspected, safely stored in the cases and kept dry. All this had to be done and approved by either Kordic or Fleiszer. It helped kill the time and kept the girl off his mind for a while.
By the time that this was all completed the uniforms were starting to come down from the line. Gregorsz eagerly went round the house to retrieve his laundry, hopeful to make some sort of contact with her again. On the outside he showed nothing but in the inside his spirit was trying to leap out of his body with anticipation. She wasn't there. The tent was empty. The pails sat next to the well. The soldiers pulled their green coats and breaches down from the lines. The back door of the house was closed. There was no trace. He took his uniform back to the tent and dressed himself.
Colonel Dodak had the entire unit assemble next to the barn for a final inspection. It was routine and did not last long. It was late in the day and the cloudless western sky was turning orange. The east was fading into indigo. Dodak ordered Gun team 1 to stand first watch and Gun 2 to relieve them at midnight. The rest of them were dismissed.
His sliver of freedom had come. He was anxious, elated and scared. Slowly his feet wandered past the garden, quietly separating him from the crowd, and found the creekside path into the grove. He was a passenger of his own footsteps. What were the chances that she would be there? How long would he have to wait if she wasn't? How long could he wait? Would anyone else see him.
Sweet Angel Jocelyn
Supernova
- Joined
- Jun 3, 2010
- Location
- The Middle of Nowhere
Washing the many, many uniforms was tiresome work for the duo. Their work seemed never ending, as they finished one load of work they only saw more hands bringing another load of uniforms for them to take care of. With all of that cleaning, she had to wonder if they would get their own cleaning done. There were so many men, all of them wearing the uniforms and dirtying them every day. Her own family would most likely never see such cleanliness while the group was around, maybe even as long as the war went.
Finally, after what felt like a day, their work was done for the night. Mother and daughter quickly departed the tent, though they both felt eyes on them the entire time. They hurried from there into the house and quickly shut the door. Working with them all day hadn't done a thing to calm their nerves. While mother was concerned that someone would be sneaking in in the night to do something to her little girl, daughter was thinking about the woods, her eyes out the window as she looked for signs of her soldier.
She knew it was not allowed, she shouldn't have even spoken to him for more than a moment to get the water. But there was just something about that man. He was different, better. He seemed to be different from the others, as if he could actually understand her soul, without her speaking.
Oh, there was a good possibility that she could be wrong. She was taking a big chance by agreeing to meet the man after dark in such a private location. But she was excited.
It was late, the sun had set and everyone was settled in for the night by the time to young woman had finally left her home, sneaking from the stairs, out the front door. there were some men still wandering about, watching the pretty girl hurry across the yard, knowing that they should keep their hands to themselves, but wishing desperately they didn't have to.
Once inside of the wooded area, though it was dark, the young woman called out. "Hello?" She looked, attempting to find a face in the darkness.
Finally, after what felt like a day, their work was done for the night. Mother and daughter quickly departed the tent, though they both felt eyes on them the entire time. They hurried from there into the house and quickly shut the door. Working with them all day hadn't done a thing to calm their nerves. While mother was concerned that someone would be sneaking in in the night to do something to her little girl, daughter was thinking about the woods, her eyes out the window as she looked for signs of her soldier.
She knew it was not allowed, she shouldn't have even spoken to him for more than a moment to get the water. But there was just something about that man. He was different, better. He seemed to be different from the others, as if he could actually understand her soul, without her speaking.
Oh, there was a good possibility that she could be wrong. She was taking a big chance by agreeing to meet the man after dark in such a private location. But she was excited.
It was late, the sun had set and everyone was settled in for the night by the time to young woman had finally left her home, sneaking from the stairs, out the front door. there were some men still wandering about, watching the pretty girl hurry across the yard, knowing that they should keep their hands to themselves, but wishing desperately they didn't have to.
Once inside of the wooded area, though it was dark, the young woman called out. "Hello?" She looked, attempting to find a face in the darkness.
OP
OP
CharmSnake
Super-Earth
- Joined
- Nov 8, 2013
- Location
- In the Grass
Following the path through tall old trees, he heard the trickle of the creek that ran parallel to his right hidden by the brush. Kept in the shade, the cart ruts in the road were softer than the baked mud he had marched upon for days on end. Grass grew up on either side of the path and along a strip down the middle. There were many minor dips and bends but the road headed in a generally straight direction. He heard the trickle grow louder and the next bend wandered to the creek bank. The sun, very low in the sky, reflected orange on the water. The current was casual but steady and being late in a dry summer, the level was low exposing wide muddy banks and some clean round stones. A boulder sat in the middle of the stream parting the flow and causing the trickling sound. Birds chirped idly. There was no wind.
Not much further along Gregorsz saw a small alcove in the bush with an old dead heavy log felled across, obviously well used as place of rest. A small circle of stones for fire a pit full of old black ashes sat in the dirt.
He wandered along slowly just trying to calm his nerves. She might not even come. He tried to think of a song to occupy his mind and recalled one that his mother used to sing about watering flowers while waiting for the return of a lover. It was a pretty tune with a definite shade of forlorn. Gregorsz whistled it to himself as he ambled on.
After some ways, the path came to the edge of the wheat field to his left. The sky was deep dark blue with the stars coming out to play and trying to outshine a thumbnail of a moon. Only an orange band low in the sky backdropped the black silhouette of distant trees. He had gone far enough and decided to turn back.
His foot was still tender but the feel of the bandage wrapped around it inside his sock warmed his heart with her memory. It was a sweet feeling but was quickly followed by the emptiness of her absence. He resumed whistling the old tune as the faint moonlight glistened off the leaves of the trees and shrubs. He stayed on the path by following the blackness between them. Soon he was passing the trickling rock. He knew that he was almost back where he started when he could hear the sounds of the camp in the distance, voices and laughter, a harmonica warbling to the rhythm of handclaps, a horse whinnying. He had not encountered a soul on the path.
Turning about face, he repeated the trek, each footstep on his blisters reminding him of her. He let out a sigh and whistled softly again as the sounds of the camp faded away. Passing the trickling rock, he stopped to sit on the log. The sound of the creek was soothing and eased his nerves if only a little. To be in the sweet embrace of that young girl was all he wanted at that moment. She could make everything else go away.
Eventually he couldn't sit still and walked on again whistling softly until he reached the same clearing to the field and turned back once more. Gregorsz began to realize that this could go on all night. He couldn't walk any slower to waste any more time. That was all he was doing, wasting time until he could see her.
Sensing futility, he returned to the log near the trickling boulder and sat. What was he doing here in the middle of the Russian steppe, hundreds of miles from what was once home? Had life really fallen apart that badly? He was numb from everything that had happened since the spring when all had crashed around him. Gregorsz had hardened himself and was realizing that seeing her in that window was the first strong emotion he had allowed himself to feel in months. He rested his head on his palm, took a deep breath and sighed. Then he whistled the first bars of the old tune to keep from shedding a tear.
"Hello?"
He froze. It was a girl's voice, speaking in Russian. He stood up seeing nothing in the darkness. His heart started to race and he tried to keep calm by breathing evenly. Gregorsz stepped forward to the edge of the path and reached to straighten his hat before remembering that he had left it at the tent. At least his uniform was clean, thanks to her. Hearing a footfall, he looked and found a shadow stop not far before him, although it was impossible to make out a face.
"Privet," he said quietly. It was one of the few words of his limited Russian vocabulary.
She was so close that he could hear her breathing. It had to be her. Who else could it be? He stepped forward again and reached out.
Not much further along Gregorsz saw a small alcove in the bush with an old dead heavy log felled across, obviously well used as place of rest. A small circle of stones for fire a pit full of old black ashes sat in the dirt.
He wandered along slowly just trying to calm his nerves. She might not even come. He tried to think of a song to occupy his mind and recalled one that his mother used to sing about watering flowers while waiting for the return of a lover. It was a pretty tune with a definite shade of forlorn. Gregorsz whistled it to himself as he ambled on.
After some ways, the path came to the edge of the wheat field to his left. The sky was deep dark blue with the stars coming out to play and trying to outshine a thumbnail of a moon. Only an orange band low in the sky backdropped the black silhouette of distant trees. He had gone far enough and decided to turn back.
His foot was still tender but the feel of the bandage wrapped around it inside his sock warmed his heart with her memory. It was a sweet feeling but was quickly followed by the emptiness of her absence. He resumed whistling the old tune as the faint moonlight glistened off the leaves of the trees and shrubs. He stayed on the path by following the blackness between them. Soon he was passing the trickling rock. He knew that he was almost back where he started when he could hear the sounds of the camp in the distance, voices and laughter, a harmonica warbling to the rhythm of handclaps, a horse whinnying. He had not encountered a soul on the path.
Turning about face, he repeated the trek, each footstep on his blisters reminding him of her. He let out a sigh and whistled softly again as the sounds of the camp faded away. Passing the trickling rock, he stopped to sit on the log. The sound of the creek was soothing and eased his nerves if only a little. To be in the sweet embrace of that young girl was all he wanted at that moment. She could make everything else go away.
Eventually he couldn't sit still and walked on again whistling softly until he reached the same clearing to the field and turned back once more. Gregorsz began to realize that this could go on all night. He couldn't walk any slower to waste any more time. That was all he was doing, wasting time until he could see her.
Sensing futility, he returned to the log near the trickling boulder and sat. What was he doing here in the middle of the Russian steppe, hundreds of miles from what was once home? Had life really fallen apart that badly? He was numb from everything that had happened since the spring when all had crashed around him. Gregorsz had hardened himself and was realizing that seeing her in that window was the first strong emotion he had allowed himself to feel in months. He rested his head on his palm, took a deep breath and sighed. Then he whistled the first bars of the old tune to keep from shedding a tear.
"Hello?"
He froze. It was a girl's voice, speaking in Russian. He stood up seeing nothing in the darkness. His heart started to race and he tried to keep calm by breathing evenly. Gregorsz stepped forward to the edge of the path and reached to straighten his hat before remembering that he had left it at the tent. At least his uniform was clean, thanks to her. Hearing a footfall, he looked and found a shadow stop not far before him, although it was impossible to make out a face.
"Privet," he said quietly. It was one of the few words of his limited Russian vocabulary.
She was so close that he could hear her breathing. It had to be her. Who else could it be? He stepped forward again and reached out.
Sweet Angel Jocelyn
Supernova
- Joined
- Jun 3, 2010
- Location
- The Middle of Nowhere
The young woman walked into the woods and took in the quiet, the peace that was all around. She used to love walking through there during the days when the work was done. It would be virtually impossible to do that, alone, with the army there, but maybe if she and this soldier got along she would find her way in there a few times.
She heard the words and the footsteps coming toward her as she walked. Her was there. She recognized the voice because he had been the only one she'd spoken to at all. If she would have been cornered by one of the others, she wasn't sure what she would do.
His outreached hand brushed along the top of her chest, making her pause quickly. "Here." She spoke, though of course she didn't know too very much of his language.
Since she knew their joint language skills were minimal, she knew that their meeting wasn't about words. Her own hand reached out to slide up his arm, letting him know that she really was there. And it felt nice to her, nice to touch someone who didn't look at her like some child, or someone that might fall ill at any moment. Her mother didn't even like having her outside for long. This time, he was just a man who seemed to want to know her.
She heard the words and the footsteps coming toward her as she walked. Her was there. She recognized the voice because he had been the only one she'd spoken to at all. If she would have been cornered by one of the others, she wasn't sure what she would do.
His outreached hand brushed along the top of her chest, making her pause quickly. "Here." She spoke, though of course she didn't know too very much of his language.
Since she knew their joint language skills were minimal, she knew that their meeting wasn't about words. Her own hand reached out to slide up his arm, letting him know that she really was there. And it felt nice to her, nice to touch someone who didn't look at her like some child, or someone that might fall ill at any moment. Her mother didn't even like having her outside for long. This time, he was just a man who seemed to want to know her.
OP
OP
CharmSnake
Super-Earth
- Joined
- Nov 8, 2013
- Location
- In the Grass
Perception of depth compromised, she was closer than he thought and he withdrew his hand quickly when he felt the fabric of her dress, only to feel her own hand take his and caress its way to his elbow. He could not resist the invite and pulled her close, embracing her gently, pressing her cheek to his chest, tension billowing out of his body and into the night air like steam. He let out a deep exhale and swayed on his feet with her.
When the initial energy subsided and the moment came to release, he took in another breath and only regripped her, slightly tighter but beginning to feel the crush of her breasts took caution not to be overly sexual. At this time he could hear a devil in one ear telling him to lie her down in the soft grass and an angel in the other reminding him that she had a heart and feelings and that the touch that she possessed was at least equal if not more from her spirit and emotion than of her body and flesh.
He wanted to say something but was at a complete loss for words. Even if he could formulate a thought, he had to make sure that it was not lost in translation. The creek trickled away soothingly in the dark. Gregorsz did not want to spoil the moment.
Finally he released the embrace, keeping her close by the elbows. Her moonlit strays of hair formed a silhouette halo in the dark and the petite end of her nose shone faintly silver. Her arms were thin in his grasp and the fabric of her dress was soft on his fingers. The feel of her body against his, as gentle as it was, was enough for him to realize the substance of her round full breasts. She was all too feminine. What had he found? What treasure had found him?
She was irresistible. He took her close a third time, wrapping his arms sweetly around her, feeling the knot of her braid as he cupped the back of her head in his palm to the sound of the water babbling past the boulder in the brook. She was heaven.
When the initial energy subsided and the moment came to release, he took in another breath and only regripped her, slightly tighter but beginning to feel the crush of her breasts took caution not to be overly sexual. At this time he could hear a devil in one ear telling him to lie her down in the soft grass and an angel in the other reminding him that she had a heart and feelings and that the touch that she possessed was at least equal if not more from her spirit and emotion than of her body and flesh.
He wanted to say something but was at a complete loss for words. Even if he could formulate a thought, he had to make sure that it was not lost in translation. The creek trickled away soothingly in the dark. Gregorsz did not want to spoil the moment.
Finally he released the embrace, keeping her close by the elbows. Her moonlit strays of hair formed a silhouette halo in the dark and the petite end of her nose shone faintly silver. Her arms were thin in his grasp and the fabric of her dress was soft on his fingers. The feel of her body against his, as gentle as it was, was enough for him to realize the substance of her round full breasts. She was all too feminine. What had he found? What treasure had found him?
She was irresistible. He took her close a third time, wrapping his arms sweetly around her, feeling the knot of her braid as he cupped the back of her head in his palm to the sound of the water babbling past the boulder in the brook. She was heaven.
Sweet Angel Jocelyn
Supernova
- Joined
- Jun 3, 2010
- Location
- The Middle of Nowhere
For the young woman, the feeling of being in a man's arms was so very new and exciting. She could tell in the way he held her that he wanted her close, possibly wanted more of her. This wasn't something that she would forget, even if she tried the memory of his touch would be forever etched in her mind.
Elizabeta looked up, trying to see the man when he pulled back and held her by the elbows, as if he were looking at her. The air pushed stray tendrils of her hair around, though it wasn't an action he could see.
Before she knew it, and not soon enough for her liking, she was pulled into his embrace again. This time she lifted her arms and wrapped them around his shoulders, putting herself closer to him, allowing her to feel the muscles that corded his neck and shoulders, her fingers lightly grazing the nape of his neck, caressing him without trying. It forced her to stand on her tiptoes, pressed against him so very nicely.
Elizabeta looked up, trying to see the man when he pulled back and held her by the elbows, as if he were looking at her. The air pushed stray tendrils of her hair around, though it wasn't an action he could see.
Before she knew it, and not soon enough for her liking, she was pulled into his embrace again. This time she lifted her arms and wrapped them around his shoulders, putting herself closer to him, allowing her to feel the muscles that corded his neck and shoulders, her fingers lightly grazing the nape of his neck, caressing him without trying. It forced her to stand on her tiptoes, pressed against him so very nicely.
OP
OP
CharmSnake
Super-Earth
- Joined
- Nov 8, 2013
- Location
- In the Grass
He had not realized the depth of his tension until her arms wrapped around his shoulders, and even then the bottom could not be discerned. He was in sweet freefall. Tingling ripples soothed up the back of his neck and down his back and arms as she embraced him and a soft sigh escaped with a long exhale. There were no words but her body was saying yes and emphatically so, so much that the angel of conscience on his shoulder had no choice but to relent and allow the the crush of the young girl's bosom. Gregorsz couldn't help but extend his arms fully around the hollow of her back, lifting her to her toes and pressing her breasts flat against him. Even through his coat he could not ignore them nor the arousal that they caused. He felt the urge to pull back so that he could remove his coat and feel her closer but could not bring himself to break off the embrace.
They stood in the moonlight cheek to cheek. Between her young soft skin and his recent shave the contact was blissfully smooth. He drew back slowly until the corners of their lips touched. Then sliding is fingers into her hair to cradle her head he planted the softest kiss upon her mouth.
They stood in the moonlight cheek to cheek. Between her young soft skin and his recent shave the contact was blissfully smooth. He drew back slowly until the corners of their lips touched. Then sliding is fingers into her hair to cradle her head he planted the softest kiss upon her mouth.
Sweet Angel Jocelyn
Supernova
- Joined
- Jun 3, 2010
- Location
- The Middle of Nowhere
The young woman relished in the feeling of being in the man's arms. Never before had she been held like he held her then. He didn't fear that she would break at the tiniest bit of pressure, he seemed to keep her close as if he needed her very touch to survive, and she felt positive that she needed his. She wanted to stay close to him, to feel him, skin to skin. But she knew that he wasn't for her to keep, they could share passion, but not forever.
When he pulled back, Elizabetta turned her head toward his, her eyes searching for his face. Before she could even catch a glimpse, his mouth landed on hers in her first kiss. Her breath caught in her throat and her arms tightened a bit more around his shoulders. Her lips returned the kiss, pressing against his softly, savoring the moment before she pulled back.
"I've never... That was nice." She said, fully aware that he couldn't understand all that she said, but unable to think of anything else. She wanted to kiss him again, wanted him to continue holding and kissing her.
When he pulled back, Elizabetta turned her head toward his, her eyes searching for his face. Before she could even catch a glimpse, his mouth landed on hers in her first kiss. Her breath caught in her throat and her arms tightened a bit more around his shoulders. Her lips returned the kiss, pressing against his softly, savoring the moment before she pulled back.
"I've never... That was nice." She said, fully aware that he couldn't understand all that she said, but unable to think of anything else. She wanted to kiss him again, wanted him to continue holding and kissing her.
OP
OP
CharmSnake
Super-Earth
- Joined
- Nov 8, 2013
- Location
- In the Grass
Her lips pressed to his own and her embrace tightened, accepting his affections. He wanted to taste her but then he felt her release. His hands dropped to her elbows, keeping her at arms length and feeling her soft breath on his neck.
Gregorsz did not catch what she was trying to say but could tell by her tone that she was approving. He turned and led her slowly off the path and back to the fallen log. Reaching down to find it in the blackness, he sat, taking her by the waist and easing her down next to himself.
A splish in the creek caught his attention. He held still for a moment and listened. There was nothing more. It must have been a fish feeding on a bug or perhaps a small frog going for a swim.
It was a warm summer night and with his heart pumping the way that it was he felt the need to remove his coat and lay it next to him over the log. His right arm returned about her waist, while his left hand found her jaw and gently turn her head towards him, although even less moonlight made its way through the shadows off the path.
"You are the most beautiful thing that I can ever recall seeing," he told her as he caressed her cheek. The language barrier made it pointless to say anything more. Passion took over and his fingers traced down her slender neck to her collar. His tongue parted her lips.
Gregorsz did not catch what she was trying to say but could tell by her tone that she was approving. He turned and led her slowly off the path and back to the fallen log. Reaching down to find it in the blackness, he sat, taking her by the waist and easing her down next to himself.
A splish in the creek caught his attention. He held still for a moment and listened. There was nothing more. It must have been a fish feeding on a bug or perhaps a small frog going for a swim.
It was a warm summer night and with his heart pumping the way that it was he felt the need to remove his coat and lay it next to him over the log. His right arm returned about her waist, while his left hand found her jaw and gently turn her head towards him, although even less moonlight made its way through the shadows off the path.
"You are the most beautiful thing that I can ever recall seeing," he told her as he caressed her cheek. The language barrier made it pointless to say anything more. Passion took over and his fingers traced down her slender neck to her collar. His tongue parted her lips.
Sweet Angel Jocelyn
Supernova
- Joined
- Jun 3, 2010
- Location
- The Middle of Nowhere
Being with this soldier was something very strange to her, but it was amazing. He kissed her, he touched her so nicely. He didn't push her to the floor and molest her, like she'd been warned of her entire life. The thought crossed her mind that if she didn't do as she was, he'd be doing that. But she didn't dwell on that, they were just enjoying each other's presence.
When he sat them down, she looked around the black area, unable to really make anything out. The young woman had lived there her entire life, but right then everything was new to her right then. Maybe it was the feelings that washed over her that made it all seem new.
He spoke, but she didn't know what he was saying. Beautiful was one that she knew. She'd learned Beautiful in quite a few different languages when hse was younger, dreaming that some foreign man would come and fall in love with her. She wished that this could end like that, but knew better.
When he pulled her in for a kiss, the young woman moaned into his mouth, her lips parting and her tongue coming out to move along his, touching his, tasting him. She pressed closer to him, arms reaching up for him.
When he sat them down, she looked around the black area, unable to really make anything out. The young woman had lived there her entire life, but right then everything was new to her right then. Maybe it was the feelings that washed over her that made it all seem new.
He spoke, but she didn't know what he was saying. Beautiful was one that she knew. She'd learned Beautiful in quite a few different languages when hse was younger, dreaming that some foreign man would come and fall in love with her. She wished that this could end like that, but knew better.
When he pulled her in for a kiss, the young woman moaned into his mouth, her lips parting and her tongue coming out to move along his, touching his, tasting him. She pressed closer to him, arms reaching up for him.