Edge of Tomorrow Page 50

  “You’re just being a woman! Look, we both have sexual histories—those are in the past. Even Elizabeth. Maybe it will help give you some closure on this subject if we meet with her and you can watch me tell her our sexual … meetings are over. Besides, I really need a fencing lesson! What if someone challenges me to a duel? I don’t want to be rusty!”

  “If some one challenges you, first, just tell them to fuck off. This is not the 18th century. Second, if you must accept, choose pistols. You can out-shoot anyone.”

  “Where is your flair for romance and danger? You don’t see me as a Don Juan or D’Artagnon? Slashing my way to glory and defending the honor of my lady?”

  “You’re trying to change the subject, aren’t you? I feel like a shit for bringing up the countess,” moaned Syd. “I promise to act like an adult from now on! I guess I’m just jealous of all the women who have known you so much longer than I have!”

  “I’m not in love with any of them—never have been. I’m marrying you, not any of them. How about we go upstairs and discuss our dinner plans while I kiss every inch of your fabulous body?”

  “Every inch?”

  “Yes. Some parts more than others, though.”

  “What parts are those?”

  “I think we’ll agree on them! If not, you can make a request.”

  • • •

  Back in Hatch’s quarters, Syd went to the armoire that contained a CD player and shuffled through the CDs there. She selected one and started it playing. It was one with selections from Phantom sung by Michael Crawford and Sarah Brightman. She then treated Hatch to a slow strip tease to the music as she shed her clothes, singing along in harmony at times. The next three hours was packed with the most intense sex Hatch had ever experienced. After his first climax, she coaxed him to a new erection using her hands, her mouth, and sexy dialog. Then she mounted him again and resumed the heated coupling. At the end, he was so sexually spent and sated, the thought that she had been more aggressive than ever before never entered his mind. She, of course, had been determined to erase all other sexual partners from his memory. Her multiple orgasms—a first for her—had left her completely exhausted and trembling as she collapsed in his arms at the finish.

  They fell asleep that way, her head on his chest, his arm over her shoulders.

  Fuck you, Countess! was her last thought as she slipped into darkness.

  • • •

  When Syd awoke at 6:30 P.M., she rolled over onto her back and stretched. As she recalled the earlier events, she inspected her body. Her nipples were swollen and sore from Hatch’s sucking and chewing. She could remember herself yelling, “Harder! Bite harder!” What had she been thinking of? Her breasts and inner thighs were chafed red from his beard. Nevertheless, she smiled as she remembered how she had cajoled him to continue servicing her long after they would have normally quit. For some reason, after she had experienced her first orgasm, instead of being sated as she usually was, she had been lifted to a higher sexual plane and desired more, as if she had an itch that needed more scratching.

  She felt completely fulfilled now, and except for her throbbing, aching nipples, was very comfortable and at ease.

  God, I hope he doesn’t think I’ve turned into a sex maniac! I just couldn’t stop myself! It isn’t like me to behave like that! It sure was fantastic though!

  • • •

  Hatch stirred next to her and began to wake up. He rolled over onto his right side, propped himself up on his elbow, hand against his right cheek, and peered at Syd.

  “Wow!” he said with a crooked grin.

  She turned her head toward him, and with a weak smile replied, “‘Wow’ is right! Professor Steppe has left the building! Hatch, I …”

  “Don’t say a word! I just hope you enjoyed it as much as I did, but I don’t think I’m up to a return match right now!”

  “Me either! I don’t know what possessed me! It was just …”

  “My God, don’t apologize! You can do me that way everyday, if you want! What’s wrong with your nipples? Did I do that?”

  “Don’t feel bad! I asked for it, remember?” she laughed as she put her hands under her breasts and lifted them gently to inspect them again.

  “I still shouldn’t have been that rough!”

  “I enjoyed it at the time, but they’re sore as hell now,” she giggled. “My scabbard is pretty used up, too! We had quite a romp!”

  “More like an orgy for two! Why don’t I treat my fabulous lover to a nice meal in Vienna? We’ll do some singing, some dancing. I know a great place not far from the Bermuda Triangle—over on Baeckerstrasse. They even let me play the piano there.”

  Syd looked at the bedside clock and said, “It’s already 6:30. Isn’t it too late?” she queried.

  “I don’t think so. They’re in the same time zone, so it’s 6:30 there, too. I figure an hour for us to shower, dress, and take the chopper to the airport. It’s about 475 miles from Rome to Vienna, so say no more than an hour and 10 minutes in the GS-V, including takeoff and landing. We grab a taxi into town—the Wien-Schwechat Airport is about 12 miles from downtown—and we’ll be at the Strausshaus around nine o’clock. The place doesn’t start jumping until eleven o’clock, so we’ll have time to eat a nice dinner,” he explained, “before we start partying!”

  She sat up and swung her long legs over the side of the bed.

  “What’s the dress code?” she asked.

  “Casual to the nth. You can wear your jeans if you like.”

  “Good! I wasn’t looking forward to pantyhose, and I’ll never get my boobs into a bra tonight!” she laughed in reply. “I can wear a loose-fitting tee shirt, but my headlights will definitely be on high beam! You should enjoy that!”

  “Everyone will,” he chuckled. “You’ll own the room!”

  • • •

  When Syd entered the GS-V, she asked Hatch, “You had some maintenance underway, didn’t you? It’s all done, I hope!”

  “Yes, it is. Come take a look,” he answered as they walked past the lounge and toward the rear of the aircraft.

  Janet greeted them as they continued toward the rear. The interior of the aircraft had been remodeled, and the aft section was now blocked off by a wall with a door in it. Hatch opened the door and motioned for Syd to enter.

  She gasped, “Wow! A private bedroom! It’s simply fantastic!”

  There was a bed on one wall and a small table with two seats along the other. The bed was just big enough for two people if they did not mind being very cozy. It was the perfect place for an airborne tryst.

  “You said you needed a private, comfortable place for …”

  He stopped speaking when Janet approached them and told them the pilots were going to start the engines. Syd bounced on the bed, took one last look around the “love nest,” then she and Hatch made their way back to the lounge area and took seats and buckled up.

  Syd mused in a whisper, “Too bad I didn’t know about the new bedroom. We could have saved something so we could christen it!”

  He whispered back, “The night is young!”

  • • •

  After they cleared customs, and Hatch had exchanged some dollars for some schillings, they hailed a cab, and Syd asked Hatch, “By the way, who are you here? Are you still a German aristocrat? Or a Nepalese salesman? Or what?”

  “It’s a mixed bag, actually. I’ve been going to Strausshaus, and other places in Austria, since my Bob Hatcher days. I used a German alias usually, so at Strausshaus I am known as Hans von Hüber, or as the old-timers call me, the Baron. I chose that name at random, but Hans means Johnny, and Hüber derives from ‘Lord of a feudal castle.’ Elizabeth knew me by that name in the old days, but she knew it was an alias because of my dealings with her husband. I didn’t tell her who I really was until later, about 1987. That’s when I started a regular sexual thing with her. My fencing maestro now knows that I am Van Lincoln, but he still calls me Hans, because all of his students think I am B
aron von Hüber. It gives the school some prestige to have a Baron taking instruction there.”

  As Syd climbed into the taxi and scooted over to make room for Hatch, she remarked, “How do you remember who you are? Do you ever screw up?”

  “I’ve had years of practice, dear,” he laughed as he got in and closed the door.

  • • •

  The Strausshaus was in an old brick building that had somehow escaped the destruction of World War II. The business had been there since 1917, and had been passed down from one family member to another, so it had been operated by a Zimmerman for 84 years. The current owner and operator was 60-year-old Kurt Zimmerman, and he had known Hatch—Hans—since 1982. He thought, of course, that Hatch was a German aristocrat who enjoyed rubbing elbows with the hoi polloi. Hans von Hüber had picked up many women here and taken them to his hotel. Zimmerman twisted the end of his long, gray mustache as he saw the Baron enter his pub with a tall, gorgeous woman on his arm. He noticed she was dressed in blue denim jeans, a denim jacket, and a light blue cotton tee shirt. He also noticed that her nipples were prominent against her shirt as her breasts jiggled nicely. She was obviously braless.

  The Baron sure knows how to pick them! he thought as he approached the couple to greet them. Festen bruste! Wunderschön! Firm tits! So attractive and beautiful!

  Hatch and Kurt acknowledged each other boisterously in German, then Hatch introduced Syd to him as his fiancée.

  Kurt switched to accented English and said to her, “Well, my dear, I hope you know what you are doing! The Baron is quite accomplished in mischief making!”

  Syd could tell by the glint in Kurt’s eye that he really liked Hatch and was spoofing her.

  She laughed as she shook Kurt’s hand with a strong grip and said, “That is part of the Baron’s charm, Herr Zimmerman! As the women here can no doubt attest!”

  “I choose not to comment further on that subject, Fräulein Steppe! Come, let me get you a table near the piano. Perhaps we can persuade the Baron to play for us later,” roared Kurt as he led them through the crowded, smoke-filled room to a table for two with a “Reserved” sign on it. They both ordered frosty mugs of dark Austrian beer.

  Syd asked Hatch, “Did you call ahead? This table was reserved.”

  “I didn’t call. We must have bumped somebody. I am Baron von Hüber!” he chuckled as he sipped some cold beer. “How do you like it here?”

  Syd had scanned the place quickly, noticing its numerous tables and chairs; the 15' by 15' well-worn dance floor full of couples dancing to a polka being played by a man with an accordion; the long, ancient bar along one wall with its hand-carved posts and backdrop; and the framed original oil paintings on every wall. She loved the place!

  “It’s awesome, Baron!” she said, meaning it, “but I probably should have worn a skirt.”

  “Nonsense! At least half the women here are in pants! You look just great!”

  “You’re prejudiced! This menu is enormous! I’ll let you order for me,” Syd said.

  They both had wiener schnitzel with sweet and sour red cabbage and German potato pancakes. They both cleaned their plates.

  Syd commented, “I was really hungry! Must have been the exercise earlier. That was the best veal I’ve ever had! It melted in my mouth!”

  “Everything here is good. They’re quite famous for their food, as well as their atmosphere and entertainment. If you look carefully, you’ll see many non-locals and tourists in here.”

  The place was filled with smoke from all the smokers, and the noise was quite loud from the crowd singing along with the accordion player. Hatch fished out a cigarette and lit it.

  Syd said, “Since they say secondhand smoke is worse for you than firsthand, I’ll have one of those, please.”

  “I’m sorry, dear, I should have asked you if you wanted one. Here you go,” Hatch said as he gave her a cigarette and lit it for her. They smoked and watched the dancers and the crowd for a few moments. Syd made a game out of trying to pick out tourists.

  Ten minutes later, as a waitress brought them two new mugs of beer, Hatch happened to glance toward the entry door and saw a small, thin woman enter the establishment accompanied by a man about his own size.

  He did a double take, then said under his breath, “Shit!”

  “What?” asked Syd.

  “Elizabeth just came in the door! I was going to call her tomorrow! This won’t be pleasant!”

  “Relax, dear! We might as well get this over with now,” purred Syd.

  “That big guy with her is Karl Schmidt, her driver/bodyguard, and he’s always armed—we, of course, are not,” mused Hatch.

  “You expect that kind of trouble? Don’t worry, if it comes to that, I’ll lift my shirt and flash my tits at him, and while he’s distracted, you can use your Nepalese Kung Fu on him,” laughed Syd as the two approached their table.

  “Be serious, Syd!” he hissed.

  Underneath her facade, Syd was being serious. She checked out the big man and determined that his gun was under his left armpit. Then she focused on the countess. She was about 5 feet 5 inches tall, thin with slender hips, and small breasts that were on high beam. She wore a long, black dress that reached the ankles of her booted feet. Her hair was dark auburn and reached her shoulders, and her makeup was exquisite. What really set her off in this place was the diamond choker around her neck and the diamond bracelet on her right wrist. Her eyes were emerald green, and they flashed when they landed on Syd.

  You are gorgeous, Countess, I’ll give you that! In a bony sort of way. But you would be. Hatch has very good taste! I can’t blame Hatch for being attracted to you, but your days of fucking Hatch are a thing of the past!

  Hatch stood up when they got to the table and said, “Elizabeth! What a surprise! I was going to call you tomorrow and set up a meeting.”

  Elizabeth was cool on the outside, but seething on the inside. Kurt Zimmerman was there immediately and pulled a chair up from another table and the countess sat in it.

  Hatch said, “Elizabeth, I would like you to meet Sydney Steppe. Syd, Countess von Braten.”

  Syd was waiting for “my fiancée,” but Hatch didn’t say it, so she offered the countess her right hand to shake as she moved her left hand to a position where her ring could not be missed.

  “Pleased to meet you, Countess. I’ve heard so much about you,” meowed Syd—at least, in her mind it sounded catty.

  Elizabeth touched Syd’s right hand, then put her hands in her lap. Without looking at Kurt, she said, “A glass of Grüner Veltliner, Herr Zimmerman, if you please.”

  The wine she had ordered was a refreshing, dry, greenish white wine preferred by many Austrians.

  Kurt bowed and said, “Yes, Countess, right away!”

  Syd shrugged and said, “We did come here especially to see you, Liz.”

  The countess frowned when Syd said “Liz.”

  Syd continued, ignoring the frown, “Hatch wanted to tell you face to face that he is engaged—to me.”

  Elizabeth gave Hatch a vicious glare, then looked at the ring on Syd’s finger. Syd moved her hand closer so the countess could get a good look at it.

  “Well! I suppose congratulations are in order!” spat Elizabeth.

  Syd smiled, “Now, Hatch will be married, just like you are.”

  Hatch struggled with what to say. If he let Syd keep talking, things would get worse than they already were. He finally said, “Well, Elizabeth, how did you know I was here?”

  “When you didn’t show up on your regular schedule, I had my people watch the airport for your plane. The taxi driver who brought you here called Karl,” she replied with a nod toward her bodyguard. “I could not wait to see you, so I rushed right over. I see it is a mistake!”

  Then Elizabeth switched to German and she and Hatch had a heated exchange that Syd did not understand. Syd took a sip of her beer as Kurt Zimmerman delivered the white wine for the countess, then retreated.

  Syd though
t, I don’t know why I’m so pissed off at her! If I had been fucking someone for over 15 years and lost him, I’d be upset, too! I guess I shouldn’t be so harsh on her. She needs some time to get used to the idea.

  Syd picked up Hatch’s pack of cigarettes and fished one out. She lit it with his trusty Zippo and blew a stream of smoke toward the ceiling where it joined the cloud being slowly stirred around by a lazy fan. It reminded her of smog over L.A. in the heat of summer. Elizabeth now had tears in the corners of her eyes as she pled her case.

  “Hey, people,” Syd finally said, “you’re ignoring me! I would like to take part in this conversation.”

  Hatch and Elizabeth stopped talking and looked at Syd.

  Hatch said, “I’m sorry, Syd. That was rude of us, but Elizabeth is leaving now. There is nothing more that needs saying.”

  Syd replied sweetly, “That’s too bad. Perhaps we can talk some other time, Countess.”

  Elizabeth stood and said, “Perhaps, perhaps not. Good night.”

  She spun and headed for the door with Karl in tow. She never looked back.

  “Well, she’s really pissed!” said Syd. “I guess I can’t really blame her.”

  “She’ll get over it. It’s not like I’m the only one she’s screwing. She’s been a good friend. I’d hoped we could part, but still be friends. I guess not,” mused Hatch sadly. “She didn’t care if I got married as long as I kept up our affair. That’s what the argument was about.”

  “I don’t think I could go for that part,” smiled Syd. “I guess I’m not royalty.”

  “You’re a queen to me! That outranks a countess any time!” chuckled Hatch. “How about a dance?”

  “Love to! I hope it doesn’t go like that with all your other women!”

  • • •

  About a half hour later, Kurt Zimmerman announced to the crowd that they were in for a treat: the Baron von Hüber had consented to play the piano for them. The regulars led the applause as Hatch took a seat at the piano. Syd was surprised when Hatch started playing Opus 354, Vienna Life, by Johann Strauss instead of one of his usual show tunes. The audience went completely silent as he played, and Syd was astonished! She knew he was a good piano player, but had not realized that he was accomplished enough to play the classics. She learned something new about him every day!