Elia Mirca

Web of Secrets 1

Book 1:

Dawning Passion

Author: Elia Mirca

© 2012 EDITION ESAM®

Published by EDITION ESAM

All rights reserved, expressly the right for electronic, mechanical or photographic reproduction, storage and processing in electronic systems, reprint, filming or dramatization, broadcast via radio, television, Internet or video, also of individual parts of the text, of pictures, as well as the translation into other languages. Except for the quotation of small passages for the purpose of criticism or review, no part of this publication may be reproduced.

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Table of Contents

Juliane's Initiation

Beginning

Weekend

Professor Erich

Eagle

Beauty and Appearances

Semester Break

Little Red Riding Hood

Farewell in Frankfurt

Getting Ready

Grand Performance

Confusion

Temptation

An Offer You Can't Refuse

First Decision

Counterattack

Retreat

Hubris

Aftermath

Welcome to a New World

Jetlag

Barbecue

House inspection

Gentle thrillers

Weapons

One whiskey too much

Lieutenant Columbo

Freedom for sale

Side-job

Blackmailed

Book 2: Web of Secrets: Fallen from Grace

Juliane's Initiation

   It all began with a fling. There I lay in bed with Norman, the best friend of my husband Daniel, while my spouse himself was screwing another woman – so I thought.

   Daniel had allowed me to be unfaithful, so he could have his affair with Norman’s cousin Maria, a young teacher, who had also attended Norman’s party.

   Had I known at this time that this was the beginning of a mad story where at the end I myself became crazy, I’d not agreed to Daniel’s idea to stray.

   However, at that time I’d not been able to resist any of Daniel’s sometimes strange wishes.

   He’d changed considerably during our short marriage. Most of that only manifested slowly.

   Anyhow, the sum of events left me quite hurt, and it turned out to be a hard lesson. In the end, I grew stronger through this difficult time and I finally learned to begin taking care of myself.

We had been invited to Norman's place.  It was a marvelous summer day, almost 80 degrees in the evening, the air decidedly crisp.  This was unusual weather for Cologne, which is mostly rainy, mostly misty, cold, or a blend of all three.  Today, though, it was beautiful.  I was relishing the weather and looking forward to a relaxing evening with friends, fellow students, or whoever happened to be there.

I had begun my studies in psychology some time ago, and tonight I was on my way to a party at Norman's with my husband Daniel.  Norman was part of Daniel's crowd, they both studied electrical engineering.  A mindless subject, if you ask me.  I knew Norman casually; we had met three or four times in our apartment, when he came over to cram for his studies.  He was fiercely good-looking, a cocky type with broad shoulders, blonde hair and around 6 feet, 7 inches tall.   As a handball goalkeeper, he probably didn't need to do much more than stand leisurely in front of the goal.  Nobody was getting a ball past this guy.  I usually gave these types a wide berth, since I had the (justified) suspicion that they viewed women as nothing more than prey.

I had been married to Daniel for over a year already, and I had not felt in such high spirits for a long time as I did this evening.  I felt light, exhilarated, almost aroused, and like a kid, I took pleasure in the simplest things, like the warm breeze on my skin.

Daniel and I had a few problems in our brief marriage, and some time ago we had talked at length about how we could get a handle on them.  We had finally managed to put them behind us and could now open a new chapter on our marriage.

Daniel thought that a little freedom would do our relationship good, and so we agreed that he could venture out on a night of infidelity.  In exchange, I also had permission to stray once.  At first, I found the idea strange, but Daniel had never had sexual experiences with anyone but me, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing out on something.  So I agreed, but it made me uneasy.  Would things work out?  I loved him, and could easily imagine us growing old together.  But could this “escapade”, as he called it, really work?

Regardless, that was over a month ago, and now we were making our way happily up the street to Norman's apartment, where the party was being held. 

I hadn't dressed particularly chic for the occasion.  I had on flat shoes, a short low-cut summer dress, and no bra.  Still, I was presentable, and it was obvious that the men were looking at me.  Most of them anyway, since we were in Cologne after all and there were sure to be a couple of men checking out Daniel and his cute behind as well.

Norman's apartment was on the attic floor of a smallish house on the outskirts of the city, and as we arrived, we could already hear music blaring from the open attic window.  As he opened the entrance door for us, he informed us that his landlady was out this weekend, visiting with her daughter and grandchildren, which meant that we could be as loud as we wanted for as long as we wished. 

We went up to the third floor, where 20-odd people were already mingling under the pitched roof, most of them doubtless students, or around that age.  Daniel asked Norman where his girlfriend was. 

“It's over between us,” he said, without batting an eyelash, “we talked it over and decided that we're not meant for each other.”  This probably meant he had dumped her.

Be that as it may, the wine was good, the music even better and the summer breeze brought light banter and laughs, a lot of fun and some new acquaintances.  Not all those present were students.  Some were craftsmen or worked for the government, played handball with Norman and Daniel, or had met Norman in other circumstances.  I danced with several men as the evening unfolded, some of whom wanted to “get to know me better.”  I brushed them off.  Daniel, too, danced with various women, but never with me.  Later, I found out that he had danced at length with a slim brunette.  I approached Norman and asked him who the girl was.  It was his cousin, who’s a teacher.  I see.

Daniel had evidently chosen his “escapade.”  During a break in the dancing, I approached him about her.  Yes, he said, this woman might interest him.  I felt the jealousy rise in my stomach.  But we had already agreed. 

Later that evening the room had emptied visibly, and around 11 o'clock there were, surprisingly, only a handful of people still around.  I was dancing alone when Norman approached me from the kitchen.  He had been using the kitchen as a lounge the entire evening.  Now he wanted to dance with me, and I accepted.  After all, I had everything under control and knew exactly what I wanted.  And I knew I didn't want Norman.

He wrapped his arm around me and led the way. He was evidently a man who could lead in a dance.  To be sure, rap and heavy metal was not our thing.  Rock 'n roll, disco fox and similar things were playing this evening. 

He danced exceptionally well, and I actually felt safe in his hands.  There were no wrong moves, missteps, or anything of the kind.

His hand rested on my back, and I noticed it slowly wandering up and down along my back.    The dress was low-cut in the back.  Then his warm hand was on my bare skin.  My first instinct was to resist by pushing him away.  But I thought of Daniel, who had danced with Norman's cousin, and might already be lying on top of her.  Suddenly I didn't care anymore, and I took pleasure in Norman's movements, and as I felt his fingers at the nape of my neck, my legs went weak.  His fingers stroked my neck in a spot that struck at the very core of me!  I noticed my knees beginning to quiver, and I felt my belly grow warm. 

His mouth was now close to my shoulder, his lips brushing up the side of my neck.  His gentle fingers fondled the nape.  His other hand slid downward suddenly into the cut of my dress and caressed my back.  How did he know the spots that got me hot? 

“I've been watching you the whole evening,” he whispered in my ear.  He wasn't holding me this close to him before, was he?

“You turn me on, like no other woman has ever done.  Why don't we get out of here and take advantage of the rest of the evening with a little intimacy?”

At this point it was an enticing offer, I have to admit.  To put it another way, I was already so aroused that I forgot my entire hesitance and the decisions I’d made before. I was drawn to the guy. 

Even so, I was married and had learned not to let myself go like this.  I wanted to turn him down, and to his surprise, and to mine, I said:

“OK, but I have to ask Daniel first. Without his permission, it's not happening.”

Then I asked myself what the point of that was.  Either yes or no, but don't dither.

Puzzled, Norman replied:

“Alright, I'll wait here.”

I looked for Daniel and found him in the hallway talking to two other guys I didn't know.  I pulled him aside and whispered to him that I wanted to sleep with Norman.  If I had expected indignation, I was wrong. 

“Fine,” he said. “Have fun.”

Now I was the one perplexed. Fair enough, so he had probably already charmed that bimbo I saw earlier and would likely spend the rest of the night with her.

I went back to where I had left Norman.  He got himself out of the conversation he had with another guest, who evidently was saying goodbye because he proceeded to make his way out of the entrance door and closed it behind him.

I looked at Norman and nodded briefly.  We were now alone in the small room that appeared to serve as both an office and a lounge.  Books with odd titles lined the shelves, a desk (Ikea's finest), an old couch.  This is where we were going to do it? I thought.  He must have seen the flicker of doubt in my eyes and said:

“Let's go upstairs.”

I was surprised that there might be another apartment above this one and followed him cautiously around a corner behind the bookshelf, where a spiral staircase led up toward the roof.  The staircase ended under a gable in an attic.  A small corridor led to a door, which he opened and stood aside to let me in first.  It was a bedroom. 

A futon lay on the ground; there was a small closet and a wooden floor so that every step creaked.  Below, we heard soft music playing as the front door shut again. There was a cheap lamp hanging from the ceiling, another work from Ikea no doubt.

I stood before him, my shoulders sagging.  What now?  He looked at me, towering from his imposing height, and took me in his arms.  A deep kiss ensued.  I felt his tongue, and again his right hand began fondling my neck.  If with the first kiss I still had reservations, now I surrendered entirely.

The next hours flew by in a frenzy.  I must have lost my senses for a while because all I can remember is touching each other; his broad hairy chest; fingers on my whole body, gentle strokes along my back and my thighs.

There was a mirror above his bed, which I realized later in the night.  What it was for was unclear to me, since we could not see each other in it while having sex. 

But as I sat upright, I saw someone.  Or rather, I saw the silhouette of somebody's belly, since the candles on the floor illuminated only a small portion of the room, waist-high.  The bedroom door was ajar and before it stood a man.  That much was clear. His pants were rolled up to his calves and he was barefoot.

He was one of the last guests who was obviously watching us have sex.  For a fleeting moment I was taken aback, shocked.  But my shock turned instantly to keen arousal.  I was going to give him his money's worth!  I winked at him through the mirror and hoped he had seen that I was onto him. I was now sitting high up on top of Norman and peered into the mirror before me.  I never once took my eyes off the peeper behind us.

We put on a wild show.  Or rather, I put on the show, as Norman had no idea we were being watched. When we’d finished, the peeper vanished silently.

I was beyond satisfied.  I spent the rest of the night sleeping blissfully in Norman's arms, a night interspersed with tender kisses and touches.

I awoke at around 11 o'clock the next morning. As we made our way downstairs at noon, Daniel was sitting in the kitchen with a cup of coffee.  I hoped that he had spent an equally wonderful night with Norman's cousin, because I suddenly felt my conscience returning.  He was my husband, after all.

On the way home Daniel and I spoke little and when we did, it was of trivial matters. 

Then I asked him briefly:

“So how did it go?” And he replied, “It was nice.”  That was all I needed to know for the moment.  He had obviously gotten his money's worth with that woman. I hated her.  All the way back to his apartment, which was about 20 minutes away from Norman's, we held hands.  We were like kids looking for a little security. 

The farther we drove from Norman's apartment, the stronger was my sense that I had done something that I should have avoided.  How would Daniel react were I to tell him all that had happened?  We had promised to tell each other everything after the fling, in order to preserve our trust in one another.  Well then, I would give him a watered-down version from my end.  Something like: I It wasn't all that great; I was clearly just a sex toy for him and I felt a little used. Or something along those lines would suffice. 

We got home and had a coffee.  We did so in silence.  I watched Daniel peer absently into his coffee cup.  I wanted him to say something.  My arousal was slowly turning into jealousy and feelings of guilt.  I loved him, and now I felt afraid I might lose him.  Or was this the fear of losing myself to Norman? 

“Tell me, how did it go with Norman's cousin?” I inquired timidly through the thick veil of our awkward silence.  Somehow, I wanted to chase the stifling tension out of our kitchen. 

“It was a total flop,” he finally exclaimed. “She was gone by 11, blowing me off after having teased me to no end while we danced.”

Oops, I felt panic rising in my stomach.  Something inside me began to cramp. He hadn't even fooled around with her?  No fling?  While I was busy with Norman...?

“So what did you do then?” I asked, a little thrown.

“I went to lie down on the couch in his room and fell asleep.” What a relief, I thought, that probably meant that he didn't get wind of my orgy upstairs. 

“Why didn't you come and find me?” I asked, probing further. 

“You were busy with Norman,” he burst out. “What was I supposed to do, drag you out of his bed?”

I winced. 

“You gave me permission,” I said defensively.  And suddenly I felt weak and guilty.  Poor guy!   Wait, what was this, a motherly instinct on my part?  Why did I feel like I should be the one consoling him? 

‘Right, that's all I need now, I heard my pride pipe up.  He's the one who got us into this, claiming he wanted his 'freedom.'  I just went along with it.’  Granted, I had played my part in alluring Norman.  Dancing more with him than with the others, a few enticing looks in his direction when he was dancing with somebody. I had tempted him as well. 

“Anyway, not much happened,” I said.  There was some petting, and then I gave him...”

“Just some petting?” Daniel cried out.  “Not from where I was standing.”  His face was flushed, hot red. 

Now it was my turn to be shocked:

“You watched us?” My voice was barely a squeak. 

“Don't be coy, you even winked at me.”

Silence.  My brain surged.  I burst out without thinking:

“Well then, it looks like you really had some fun spying.”  Ouch, I hadn't meant to say it like that.  My stomach began to churn.  Again, there was silence.

“You're right,” he said.

I was stunned. 

“I had lots of fun, and I have to admit, I have never been as horny as I was last night, watching you.”

“Ok.”  I couldn't think of anything else to say.  I was speechless.  And in my case, that's saying a lot; I'm rarely at a loss for words. 

We spent the rest of that afternoon strolling around together.  We talked about all kinds of things, but never touched on what had happened the previous night.  We discussed our past, our plans for the future, just as if nothing had ever happened. 

That evening we went to bed early. Together, of course. I wore my pajamas, a soft yellow pair with a floral design, and he wore his dark blue ones. For the first time, it dawned on me how conservative we were.  Sex in the dark (not always, but most often), pajamas, even our marriage seemed to serve as a necessary frame for our relationship. 

As we climbed into bed, I felt inwardly at odds.  I would never be able to forget the previous night that much was clear.  I felt torn between that which I perceived as my love for Daniel on one hand, and the recurring feelings of lust on the other.  I wanted to belong to Daniel.  I was safer here.  But, at the same time, I longed for the thrilling sensations, the freedom and the electrifying moments with Norman.  Granted, I was sensible enough to know that even with Norman, the daily routine was bound to set in pretty quickly.  I was likely already an item to be checked off on his list of conquests, which reminded me that I had left his place without wearing any underwear.  I hadn't been able to find them in the morning, and ultimately I didn't really care.  So I had left without.  I felt a slight tingle across my belly, as I recalled how a light breeze had found its way under my dress on the way home and had lifted it slightly. 

A muted sigh made its way out of my stomach and into my throat, without wishing to rouse my voice, and then sank back into my chest; there, it triggered a swell of long-forgotten melancholy.  It was a sentiment whose source I couldn't place.  And with this melancholy came a sense of helplessness and vulnerability, and the longing to be held.

At that very moment, Daniel turned to me and asked me if I wanted to sleep with him.  Of course I did!  The fool, didn't he see how much I needed him?  My eyes welled up. 

The sex between us, if I can still refer to the occasional activities we engaged now in in light of the previous night as sex, was more or less a proof of trust, a guarantee, which said: I belong here, I am at home here; here is where I feel secure. 

And so, the evening ended with an exchange of intimacies and a climax for him.  It didn't happen for me, so, for the first time in our marriage (honestly!), I faked an orgasm. 

In the following days, Daniel and I spoke a few more times about that fateful summer night.  To my relief, I found out that he hadn't witnessed the entire thing, but had only watched for an hour.  This left me with a small memory of my own to cherish like a secret, hidden treasure.

Beginning

In my final year of high school in my home town I had a special boyfriend. My previous relationships had been more or less superficial affairs. Mostly they revolved around sex.

Sure, there were infatuations, but the longing for a deeper, more enduring relationship was not something my affairs gave rise to, regardless of whether it was a grown man or a boy.

With Timo, my boyfriend at the time, I thought (at least at first), that things might be different. But with him sex, too, was foremost on his mind, as I discovered one day to my disappointment. All he wanted was sex, sex and more sex. This was a common pattern when I was young and sometimes my life seemed to be about nothing else. More than once Id wished that men would see me as the longing girl I was, rather than a beautiful toy.

I had my first experience at the age of 16. That was during a holiday with my parents. We had gone to spend it at a farm in Austria, as we had done for 10 years. The farmer would rent a spacious holiday apartment to Piefkes like us, a more or less derisive term for Germans, like Krauts for the British. My sister and I were allowed to help out in the stables and the farm. I always had the feeling that we were a part of his family, and my parents trusted the owner, who managed the estate together with his wife and mother. At the time of our first holiday there, the farmer's son, now a young farmer himself, also lived on the estate, and was around six or seven years old. That meant that he was now around 17.

That year things were a little different. My parents went on their hikes as always, and it was up to us kids to decide whether we wanted to stay on the secluded estate or tag along with them. That worked out fine for us. Sometimes we went along; later we tended to stay back on the farm.

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!