Stories from the darkness - Episode 5: Berlin

What happened so far:

 

Journalist Lutz Brandt was in Saint Petersburg for an investigative research, where he met a femme fatale. Mysterious and beautiful, he was enthralled by her openness. They met further times in Paris and Venice and she asked him to publish a story for her. As absurd as it sounded, this one was about vampires. However, because he extremely enjoyed her presence and sexual escapades, he went along with it and decided to listen to the story, knowing that his CvD (english: editor in chief) and publisher would never print it anyway.

 

Episode 5:

 

We met in Berlin - unsurprisingly after dark - right in one of those hip rooftop bars. It was one of those bars where affluent spoiled rich kids sat uncomfortably on wooden pallets or upturned beer crates, feeling daring and adventurous as a result, and were therefore willing to pay double the price for over-staged drinks. In short, it was one of those places that made me hate Berlin. A world of self-dramatization and adulation, where people proudly showed that they had spent too much money on ugly clothes just because they had a designer's name on them.

 

I don't know how Ekaterina came up with exactly this bar as a meeting place. She had instructed me to dress as somber and dark as possible, meaning leather pants. So as not to attract attention unnecessarily, as she said. She wore a dark blue trench coat, which fine mesh fishnet stockings connected with irresistibly high sandals. She looked pleased. "Forget about all these self-absorbed sheep, focus on the sushi," she said. "Sushi? From a Korean?", I asked, looking at the name of the little establishment. I didn't know much about Asian languages, except that the characters, though they included circles, were not Chinese or Japanese, respectively, but Korean. She raised an eyebrow. "Am I interested in where the chef is from if he makes the best sushi on the continent?" Point taken, I thought, and picked up the chopsticks. "If you're so in the know," she teased, "you should really know that maki is eaten with your fingers." She grinned, took a maki between her thumb and forefinger, and shoved it into her mouth with relish and equal delight - I didn't know until then that eating sushi could make you look erotic.

 

I realized I couldn't win this game and changed the subject. "I checked your story. It wasn't easy, especially since I'm actually working on other stories, but I was actually able to verify the names from your story and the movements of the characters so from France to Germany.", "I knew my big journalist was a little Sherlock," she said, satisfied. "I just don't know where you're going with these historical people and implications," I said, even though I knew. It would boil down to the fact that she was this Katarina from her fairy tale. I was also able to verify her story - in handwritten diaries of the Countess and thanks to online translators.

 

There was indeed a maid named Katarina Dubois in the noblewoman's entourage who disappeared one day without a trace. The only reason why the Countess wrote down the disappearance of the maid at all was in connection with a strange event that took place a few months later. The captain did not show up for duty one day. When they went to check, they found him and his men scattered around the house. The eyewitnesses spoke of how the whole floor of the hut was covered with blood and not a single stone could be seen. The strange thing was that, however, apparently no weapons were used for cutting off the limbs. It seemed much more as if an extremely aggressive bear had torn the men apart. Possibly a bear with rabies? My research had shown that bears can indeed get rabies. In any case, the Countess guiltily wrote that the men probably deserved it, knowing where she sent Katarina before she disappeared.

 

"I know you know what I'm getting at. You know why I know?" it was a rhetorical question. "Because you're my little Sherlock, so I know you've combined by now that it's my story, even if you understandably don't believe me yet," she grinned. "Tonight I'm going to show you a vampire club. It's something pretty exclusive, you don't see it every day," I frowned. Was she serious?

 

We took the U5. "Where we need to go, I can't take you in my car," she said before swinging onto my lap and kissing me stormily on the subway. I was a little embarrassed, but at the same time I enjoyed being kissed by such a stunning woman in a subway full of people.

 

Unter den Linden (name of a subway station) she let go of me, we had kissed so passionately that I had the impression my lips were numb. She pulled me out the train, took me by the hand, led me along the platform to one of those inconspicuous doors that you find in subway stations and about whose meaning you rarely think. She opened them. Weren't these doors locked? We walked through as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Behind it was a small room with metal shelves full of boxes, "Beware of slipping hazard" signs leaning against the wall. We walked through the room to another door that led into an unadorned, monotonously lit hallway that we walked down. It ended in another door, beyond which was a similar room, but much more untidy and apparently unused for some time. Once through, we stood on another platform. This time, however, the station was the run-down hellish doomed version of the previous station. Panels were missing from the ceiling, there was rubble, debris, construction site fencing on the platform and tracks. The eerie ghost station was illuminated by a few flickering bulbs in construction site spotlights. At this point, at the latest, it became clear to me: our destination was not one of the big Berlin clubs where people threw themselves into their fanciest fetish outfits and then took coke, MDMA and ketamine alternately or even simultaneously.

 

Katarina pointed to the other side of the station with an elegant hand gesture and her perfectly manicured long fingernail. "That's where it continues. Will you be so kind and carry me across the tracks? I don't want to ruin my shoes and especially my stockings." My heart beat faster, like a child who was trusted with a new task. Yes, I dared to carry her over the tracks. I jumped onto the tracks, stretched out my arms and she let herself slide onto them, hugging me, kind of like how grooms carry brides into the house in romantic movies. Carefully, step by step, I began to walk forward on the rough ground. Katarina cared little for the rough terrain. She threw kisses at me, gently bit my lip. Somehow the coat slipped to the side, possibly because she had lifted her foot discreetly. Without much thought, my hand slid from the back of her knee up her thigh, probed a skirt of thin latex, and pushed deeper until my fingers surprisingly touched her labia. She was not wearing panties. She looked into my eyes expectantly and challengingly. So I let my fingers circle over, dipped carefully between her labia, felt her getting wet and started fingering her. She began to moan softly, biting her lips.

 

After she came, we continued on our way as if nothing had happened. She led me to another door that opened into another tunnel, at the end of which was a long vertical shaft that we descended by a ladder. It was much better lit than the ghost station. She allowed me to step out, which gave me an excellent view of her exposed vagina as we climbed. Moreover, I was once again impressed by how naturally Katarina moved in heels. The long ladder didn't even give her a second thought.

 

How far were we under the capital by now? 50 meters? 100 meters? 200 meters? I couldn't tell, but it was quite warm and stuffy and smelled musty. We walked for a few more minutes through sometimes lighter and sometimes dimmer corridors, past mysterious doors, thick sewer grates, cables and pipes, until we came to a very dark large room lit only by an eerie red light that seemed to come from a locked door. In the darkness I thought I could make out gigantic turbines and pipes. In the red light, I saw a powerful silhouette outside the door. Katarina walked purposefully toward the figure. My God, this man - judging by his physique - had to be at least 2.30 meters tall. I kept a few steps behind Katarina. The tall man hugged her in greeting, but said nothing. She whispered some things in his ear, he just nodded or shook his head. Then he stepped aside and cleared the way to the door. I followed Katarina. The giant nodded briefly at me with a petrified face. The moment was incredibly eerie. To meet a man in the gloom under Berlin who could probably rip my head off with his bare hands.

 

I was relieved when we stepped through the door into a large machine room. Loud bass boomed from speakers, and a bar was installed under a turbine where people in PVC and leather ordered drinks. Others danced in the neon light of the spotlights. Katarina turned to me, looked at me triumphantly and joyfully, and yelled over the bass, "Well, did I promise you too much?" I imagined I saw pointed teeth at the corner of her mouth. She began to let the music carry her and sway to the beat. It was much too loud for further conversation. So far I was not really enthusiastic about the place. The journey was very complicated and long, goth kids, fetishists and vampire fans dancing to petty darkwave were also easier to find in Berlin.

 

After a while, we had danced close together and kissed, she pulled me off the dance floor and yelled something at me. I thought I heard something about vampires and pointing. She maneuvered me into a secluded corner of the club. There were men and women, some exposed, literally falling over each other and yes, they seemed to be biting each other as well. Had I gotten into a very consistent live action group here? Somehow this was all ridiculous after all. Katarina seemed to read my mind because her facial expression seemed disappointed. In the background, a woman was making a fuss over an apparently unconscious man. I was considering whether to intervene when a strong hand took me by the shoulder and pushed me away. Katarina immediately pushed herself energetically in front of me and started hissing at the guy. Little did I understand. The man must have been one of Katarina's exes or someone who desired her, in any case he seemed jealous. "No fucking way, I'm not some mortal's cunt right now and even if I was, you and your cold cock couldn't give a shit because you're not going to shove your ridiculous ice beater inside me anyway. Not in any dimension you can imagine!" The guy shook his fist in my direction and yelled something in a language I didn't understand. Katarina yelled something back. I had never heard the language before. It didn't sound like a familiar language either and seemed to contain completely unfamiliar sounds. Anyway, it seemed to have an effect, because the guy angrily took a few steps to the side and started dancing on top of me.

Katarina turned to me, yelling an "I'm sorry." "It's just, those damn bloodsuckers always get so jealous as soon as they see a female vampire with a mortal." I looked uncomprehending. "Well, our body temperature is lower. About thirty-two degrees. Haven't you ever noticed that?" Yes I did, it explained the exciting tingling sensation when she blew or we kissed. "Anyway, it's pretty horny for a vampire woman to have a hot human cock like yours inside us, and pretty unhorny for a cold vampire cock like that to come in. This is also true for human women. They sometimes even faint when a vampire penetrates. That pretty much cracks the bloodsuckers' self-esteem." We danced a bit more, but Katarina's expression didn't brighten. "You still don't believe me, do you?" she asked, disappointed. I tried to make an apologetic expression with my facial expressions. Her face darkened. "You know what? The evening is ruined for me anyway, now be a at least a good puppy and get on your knees" she hissed at me. I couldn't help but obey her.

 

She held out her foot to me. I immediately understood and began without even a hint of control over my body to lick her sandals, embarrassed not to wet her stockings and clean only the patent leather and the heel.

 

I don't know how long I lay like that in the dust in front of her, but believed that a group of onlookers had formed around us. When I looked up once, her foot whizzed over me and carefully but firmly pushed me back down until my cheek touched the bare concrete floor. So I began to lick her second shoe still clean.

 

Eventually it seemed enough for her, as I could tell by her foot position that I was now allowed to lift my head. With a point of her finger she pointed to her pussy. I sat up, began to lick her gently. She slung her right leg over my shoulder, angled it, and thus began to push my head further toward her vagina. After I licked her - surrounded by spectators - for some time, she began to fuck my face. I didn't even know that was possible. Her nails clawed into my hair and she began to glide stormily over my nose.

 

When she'd had enough and my face was awash in her juices, she pulled me up, grinned and said, "Let's go. It's a shitty place anyway."

 

We began the arduous climb, but turned down another corridor at the ghost station. Soon everything seemed brighter and more real again, we passed a public restroom where I washed off her pussy juice in a makeshift manner. "Sorry! Gojko, that disgusting cretin, just ruined my mood. I needed that now for my self-confidence." I didn't argue. After all, she had given me what I needed the last few times without me knowing I needed it. It felt like I could give something back to her, and it had been extremely exciting for me, too. Unbelievable how remote I had felt, how horniness and shame prevailed in me at the same time. It had been a fascinating experience. Katarina's mood seemed to get better with every step. We entered a subway station where Early Birds on their way to work and the party people of Berlin on their way home shuffled past each other.

 

She said she couldn't spend the day with me, she still had some things to do. She kissed me again passionately and breathed into my ear, "Next time we'll see each other at the premiere of the new production of Abduction from the Seraglio in Vienna. Bring a tuxedo." She winked, kissed me left and right, as I already knew from the Austrians, turned around and disappeared into the dawn.

Metatalk:

Something happened here that I find very beautiful in writing: The characters have taken on a life of their own. I had planned that Katarina and Lutz go to a goth club, but that she then gets grumpy and dominates him, because she is just really pissed, was not planned that way. It just happened while I was writing and I love it when that happens because it turns me from creator to observer and the characters come to life. Otherwise, the story obviously continues to be shaped by motifs such as power, domination, and undefeat, probably not always with clear consensus either. Therefore, keep in mind: I tell fairy tales here, which want and should have nothing to do with reality. Briefly as "Making Of" info and thoughts: The more characters on a picture, the more laborious it becomes for the computer. That means, the first picture - which, if I would post it alone, would probably hardly get any attention, because too big a scene, too few direct boobies, was by far the most elaborate in this episode. But because I hate it when render images, especially in visual novels, are always so deserted, I took the trouble here and put as many people as possible on the roof. So that my poor computer wouldn't die, I actually rendered only three or four characters at a time and then stitched the image together in post-production.