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Message-ID: <40654asstr$1043982602@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: bradley_stoke@hushmail.com (Bradley Stoke)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: 30 Jan 2003 21:52:10 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} The Price of Prejudice (Bradley Stoke) (FF)
Date: Thu, 30 Jan 2003 22:10:02 -0500
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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Title: The Price of Prejudice
Author: Bradley Stoke
Keywords: FF
Short Summary: Love between schoolfriends in the Third Reich. 


Story: The Price of Prejudice (5,132 words)

It has not always been a truth universally acknowledged that one race 
is neither of greater nor lesser worth than another. In the dark days 
of German occupation this becomes evident to Tanneka as she discovers 
her love for Erika. 


For More : http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Bradley_Stoke/www
           


The Price of Prejudice
======================



Life was so different for Tanneka now since her parents had left her 
that tearful day, leaving her in the care of the Van Vliet family and 
their children. Not that she didn't appreciate her new guardians, and 
she knew that in the circumstances it was so much better this way. 
But, perhaps, one day in the future, she would be reunited with her 
parents, but for now it seemed so much more prudent to live with Herr 
and Frau Van Vliet and their infant children in this nondescript small 
town far away from the cities and the risk of British aeroplanes and 
their bombs. 

Still, her school wasn't a bad one, although the disruption caused by 
German occupation rather changed the atmosphere. The teachers were 
generally circumspect in their opinions and always avoided any 
questions about the war or the Germans or even the Nazi ideology that 
they were obliged to impart on their pupils. Well, most of them were. 
Clearly, some teachers actually embraced the new way of thinking; 
quite happy to relate just how evil was the Jewish Conspiracy and how 
necessary the strict discipline and guidance imposed by the jackboots 
and tanks of Nazi Germany.

This rather disturbed Tanneka. The stories of how evil and vile the 
Jews were and how the world would be so different without them 
seemed somewhat fantastical and totally unlike anything of which 
she'd ever had any experience. But anti-Semitism was just one new 
feature of her life which she found difficult to get used to. The 
inexorable march of  Nazi ideology, the curse of disability and sexual 
perversion, and the greater virtues of the Aryan race: all these new 
ways of thinking had to be understood and, at least outwardly, 
observed. It frightened her how several of her fellow pupils took to 
this new order with such enthusiasm. So many had enrolled in the 
Hitler youth, and were proud to sport swastika armbands and military 
style uniforms. She would sit silently in the classroom as day after day 
she would be reminded of the tenets of the new masters' views. 
Frightened to ever express an opinion which might earn her the 
disapprobation of her peers and her teachers. Or even worse.

However, in addition, school had for her all the trials of any school. 
Getting to know new friends, getting to find her way about unfamiliar 
streets and corridors, suffering the self-discovery and self-
consciousness of growing up that anyone anywhere would have to go 
through. At least, many of the other girls were just as new to the 
school as she was. The upheaval of war had caused so much 
dislocation that it seemed natural to her that almost every week a new 
girl would be introduced to the school and welcomed as another 
casualty of the realities of armed occupation in the seemingly 
unstoppable growth of the German lebensraum. She would gaze at the 
newly reissued map on the wall which showed the extent of the Third 
Reich - so deep into the depths of what used to be the Soviet Union, 
taking in Scandinavia, Greece, France and the Balkans. And to the top 
of the map was the British foe, whose tyrannical leaders would drop 
their bombs on innocent civilians and seek to thwart the onward march 
of History. And to the corner of the map was the malevolent gaze of 
Stalin, whom Tanneka could remember was once uneasily viewed as 
an ally of the New Order in its struggle for world domination.

Erika was another girl quite new to the school, but one who was 
already very much as one with the new ideology. And with her blond 
hair, tied back in plaits like Tanneka's own thick dark brown hair, and 
her sparklingly limpid blue eyes, so unlike Tanneka's dark brooding 
ones, she was so clearly of the Aryan model. One so unlike anyone of 
the leaders of the Third Reich whose pictures she saw when she went 
to the cinema with her guardians and their children. She was not as 
slim as Tanneka, but she was certainly not plump. Her round cheeks 
belied a healthy appetite. And her full young breasts pressed against 
the dark brown of her shirt, supported, as they had to be, by a bra 
which gave her an older appearance than the youth of her face might 
otherwise suggest.

Tanneka was fascinated by Erika. She was not the brightest girl in the 
class: that honour was Tanneka's own. But she was very popular, both 
with the other girls and with the teachers. But, in Tanneka's eyes, her 
worst fault, and why Tanneka did not feel very comfortable in Erika's 
presence, was her enthusiasm for National Socialism. She was fond of 
making cruel jokes about gypsies, Jews and the mentally ill. She even 
extended her jokes to Asians, Africans and Chinese; although 
solicitous to exclude Italians and Japanese from her scorn who, 
although not Aryan, were from similarly proud, superior races and 
were showing their worth as Allies in the great war. She was proud to 
wear her swastika on her sleeve, and unsympathetic to those who 
showed more reluctance than her to embrace the opinions of the great 
Adolf Hitler.

Erika's biggest regret, as she confided to Tanneka, was that she 
couldn't understand German well enough to fully comprehend the 
broadcasts of the F”rer on the radio. She rather envied Tanneka's 
rather better grasp of the natural language of the Third Reich, and 
befriended Tanneka in the hope that she might pass this facility onto 
her. Tanneka was rather less keen on Hitler's diatribes, or even those 
of his lieutenants like G"ring or Himmler. Her knowledge of German, 
though far from fluent, was quite sufficient for her to understand 
exactly what was being said, and it was, to her, even more frightening 
than what she would hear at school. These were the people who were 
running her country and ultimately her life. And they were so full of 
hatred and vitriol and disgust. It made her almost ill to think about it.

But, despite Erika's jibes about her lack of enthusiasm for National 
Socialism, Tanneka found herself becoming very fond of the girl. She 
was so very pretty. And she had such a sweet smile. And a twinkling 
laugh, which contrasted strangely with the coarseness of her 
observations. Her bright blue eyes. The smooth pale skin. That loose 
lock of blonde hair that detached itself from her plaits and fell onto her 
round cheeks. And, Tanneka was disturbed to realise, she loved the 
look of those firm breasts pressing against the buttons of her blouse, 
those slim ankles at the end of her shapely long legs, with such a fine 
fair down of hair that it would be almost a shame to shave it off. She 
became used to a curious shortness of breath whenever Erika came 
into the room, before she'd even greeted her. And she found her eyes 
would constantly wander towards Erika's, hypnotised by the pale blue 
gaze, framed by such long and luscious eyelashes. 

And, what was worse, she noticed that her strong feelings were shared 
by Erika. Despite her lack of zeal for the Nazi Party, her reluctance to 
join the Hitler Youth, or her refusal to join whole-heartedly in Erika's 
condemnation of non-Aryans, she could see that Erika was taking 
quite a strong interest in her. Indeed, she was sure of it. Erika's voice 
was always lower, more intimate, more polite, when with Tanneka 
than she was with her other friends. She smiled so readily, so 
beautifully, sparks of affection from her eyes illuminating her cheeks 
and her such white teeth. The very personification of the Aryan ideal. 
Tanneka was smitten. And she could see that Erika was also smitten 
by her. What did this mean? And what did this forebode?

  The curfew that gripped all the territories of the Third Reich meant 
that the only way in which Tanneka and Erika could spend the evening 
assisting each other with their homework would require that one or the 
other girl would have to spend the night at the other girl's house. Frau 
Van Vliet was not at all happy with the idea of Erika staying overnight 
at their home. Her views of the traitors who invaded her country 
without even the courtesy of declaring war made it almost impossible 
for her to countenance the presence of someone who had taken the 
monstrous step too far of becoming a Hitler Youth. In fact, neither of 
her guardians were at all happy that she should have a friend who 
wore a swastika on her sleeve. Herr Van Vliet was no less pleased 
than his wife, but he took a practical attitude. He reasoned that young 
girls didn't really know the full meaning of what they were doing, and 
would hopefully grow out of the monstrous perversions of the Nazi 
fantasy. However, as he assured his wife grimly, there was no sense in 
making things worse and arousing suspicions of nonconformity by 
appearing uncooperative in such a small thing as letting young 
Tanneka spend the evening with her friend.

When Tanneka arrived with her satchel and books at Erika's home, 
she was first of all impressed by just how grand a property it was. 
Erika's father had done well out of his own sympathies for the Nazi 
cause. She was also quite grateful that she didn't have to spend any 
time with Erika's parents who were at a function in another town and 
wouldn't be expected back until the following day. Tanneka was led 
up the stairs to Erika's bedroom by her maidservant, Theresa, who as 
soon as the girls were together, scurried out of the house to get home 
before the curfew began.

Erika's bedroom was huge. There was a large double bed, a view out 
onto the dark unlit streets below and a desk where Erika sat in just a 
night-dress, her hair unplaited and cascading freely onto her shoulders. 
She turned her head as Tanneka was ushered in, a pencil in one hand 
with its tip in her mouth. She withdrew the pencil as the maidservant 
shut the door behind her and smiled deeply and warmly.

"I'm so glad you could make it," she announced. "I'm sorry that the 
room is such a mess, but tidiness isn't amongst my virtues."

Tanneka was hardly aware of any mess at all. Indeed, it would be quite 
difficult for any mess to be noticeable at all in such a large room. She 
was far more aware of Erika's relative state of undress. Not that 
Erika's dress was in any way immodest. It covered her arms, was tight 
to the waist and came down to her bare feet. And it was not of flimsy 
material, but Tanneka could see so clearly Erika's breasts pressed 
against the fabric of the night-dress and unsupported by a bra. She 
could see the impression of Erika's nipples through the cloth, and 
could observe the breasts swing at a slightly more ponderous pace than 
the rest of her, as she stood up to greet Tanneka.

"Guten abend meine freund," greeted Erika in her not especially good 
German accent. "Shall we study some 'Deutsch' together?"

"Yes, why not?" said Tanneka, trying to wrest her gaze away from the 
impression of Erika's breasts and onto much more wholesome matters. 
She knew that she was unlikely to improve Erika's German, nor 
indeed her Mathematics, Geography or History, but she was looking 
forward to them spending time so close together.

The two sat together on two hard-backed chairs by Erika's neat 
wooden desk, heads bent close near each other, the brush of night-
dress against Tanneka's bare arms in her short-sleeved blouse and 
against the knees of her dark navy-blue skirt. Occasionally, Tanneka 
caught sight of the two girls' reflection in the tall mirror that stood 
against the wall. There was Erika, her hair falling onto her face, 
occasionally brushing it off with a pale dimpled hand, her long white 
night-dress sparkling in the electric light like her equally white teeth 
and the white of her penetrating blue eyes. And there was Tanneka, 
with her unmanageable thick dark hair, tied unsatisfactorily back into 
plaits, her white blouse and the skirt which came down to her knees at 
just about the same point as her white socks reached up to them. Her 
slightly olive skin and lightly chiselled features were in such contrast 
to the soft, pale, round contours of Erika's face. She could also see 
that both of them had lively animated faces, as they laughed and 
giggled and chortled over aspects of German grammar that had never 
seemed quite so funny before. And Tanneka was even able to 
appreciate the explosion of Erika's coarse humour when, as was 
inevitable in an approved text book, there were derogatory comments 
in German about those from inferior races than that of the Aryan 
master race. 

She looked at Erika with a strong affection as her friend struggled to 
write German sentences with that voluptuous looping handwriting of 
hers, which struggled to hold its place between the lines above and 
below, and came out with so much labour and effort, while Erika 
mouthed to herself each vowel and consonant she was writing. Her 
blonde hair fell over her shoulder and brushed against her elbow as 
she bent over to put as much weight and effort as she could in this 
struggle for self-expression in the language of her German masters. 

"There are so many words the same but sound different!" Erika 
exclaimed at one point. "And other words which look the same as in 
our language but mean something different as well."

"You mean, faux amis?" queried Tanneka.

"I'm sure you're right," said Erika, opening her German dictionary 
with a puzzled expression. "I've not heard that word before. How do 
you spell that?"

"It's French."

"Oh! Well, I can't be bothered with French words. The French can't 
even fight a good war. Why should I be bothered with their stupid 
language? They're just a bunch of stupid, garlic-eating, fat asses! And 
they smell, too!"

Tanneka didn't dare ask on what concrete evidence Erika based her 
comments. As far as she could see, Erika had hardly met anyone who 
was of any other nationality than her own, and, naturally, the 
Germans'. But Tanneka also knew that these opinions were not at all 
unusual, and were certain to be magnified in the retelling. She also 
reflected that although gypsies, Jews, Slavs, Arabs, and others were 
often compared to dogs, pigs and asses, in actual fact these nonhuman 
species were treated rather better than those considered to be of the 
same species but of an inferior race. Where was the justice in that?

"Do you want some wine?" asked Erika, perhaps sensing her friend's 
discomfort. "My father won't notice. He's got absolutely loads of the 
stuff."

"Well, I ." began Tanneka who'd never had any alcohol before, but 
too late before Erika was off and out of the room, returning with two 
bottles of white wine and two glasses. 

"It's best French wine," smiled Erika, as she unscrewed a cork with a 
bottle opener. "One thing we know the French are good at!"

"Indeed," agreed Tanneka, happy to see a softening, however slight, in 
her friend's generally derogatory opinion of other races. But she 
wasn't sure she really enjoyed the sharp taste of the sweet liquid as she 
sipped at it. Almost immediately, it made her feel ever so slightly 
peculiar. It was very much like the feeling she associated with getting 
giddy after spinning around. But it was a taste which she gradually 
came to enjoy more with each sip, although she'd have been more than 
happy with a cup of tea or strong coffee. 

As she sipped the sharp bright liquid, she regarded Erika who was 
drinking her glass rather faster than hers, and was all too soon onto a 
second glass which she poured slightly carelessly with a foolish grin 
on her face. 

"I know some French," giggled Erika proudly. "Je t'aime. Je t'aime."

"Yes. That's French," agreed Tanneka diplomatically, but feeling a 
sudden spurt of emotion in the pit of her stomach.

"And in German that's: Ich liebe dich. Ich liebe dich. That's right, 
isn't it?"

"It is," agreed Tanneka.

"You say it. Ich liebe dich."

Tanneka breathed in deeply, not sure whether it was the wine or the 
intent of the words that made her feel so horribly peculiar. "Ich liebe 
dich."

"And I love you too!" said Erika emphatically, quite suddenly 
grasping Tanneka around the back of her head with the hand that 
wasn't clasping a wine-glass, and drawing her lips against her own. 
Tanneka was startled, but she was totally unable to resist the pleasure 
and desire that erupted from deep within her and vomited itself into 
her consciousness.

This kiss was so liquid, so passionate, so strong. And so wonderful. 
Both girls abandoned their glasses and pressed their mouths and faces 
and lips together. Muscular tongue fought against tongue, teeth 
clashed clumsily against teeth, jarring the nerves at the very roots. It 
was so very slurpy and moist and Tanneka wanted more and more. Her 
mouth grappled, her jaw ached, as she and Erika pulled themselves 
together, somehow knowing exactly where to put their hands. And it 
seemed so natural as Erika guided Tanneka back onto her large bed, 
the soft sprung mattress enveloping the two girls in its capacious 
warmth as they fell on to it. And then, how it happened Tanneka 
wasn't sure, she found her hands were on Erika's bare flesh, the night-
dress thrown off. And Erika without clothes was even more beautiful 
than Erika dressed.

Those breasts, the object of so much unspoken silent desire, were as 
beautiful, and round, and firm as she'd imagined. Now freed from 
restraint, they seemed so natural swelling out from her chests, 
overhanging her ribs, with nipples firm and hard with a darker pinkish 
aureate ring. Her bare skin so pale and fleshy, but not too plump. 
Welcoming and inviting and so soft and warm. Her hands gripped 
Erika from behind, feeling the curve of her spine and almost not 
daring to, but having to, feel the larger curve of her buttocks, even 
softer and warmer and more welcoming than the folds of her breasts. 

And soon, with Erika's assistance, Tanneka herself was divested of 
her clothes, giggling and sighing as skirt, blouse, slip, shoes, socks and 
finally, after a moment of theatrical pause, her knickers were also off. 
And there she was as naked as Erika herself. All the while, as Erika 
busied herself on the buttons and straps that had secured Tanneka's 
modesty a beaming, smiling Erika displayed herself as a feast to 
Tanneka's eyes. Not just the breasts: so firm and welcoming. Not just 
the curve and line and firmness of flesh so much like the Aryan ideal. 
Not just that face and mouth and teeth and blue eyes that had already 
earned Tanneka's affection. But now, between the legs, a blonde 
triangle of hair, curling in amongst itself, and obscuring, but not 
hiding, a set of complex lips that hid the soul and virtue of a woman. 
Something which Tanneka had never expected to see except in a 
mirror, and now arched above her as Erika spreadeagled her waist and 
tossed her knickers to one side.

Tanneka, herself, was slim and dark: her breasts mere bumps in 
comparison to Erika's but with long, firm nipples on a much darker 
aureole than those others. Thighs and arms, slim, almost bony,. But 
like Erika, a secret revealed, folded and boldly naked, hidden more 
successfully under the heavy bush of dark hair in her crotch. She 
smiled up at Erika, trembling with excitement at the moment, at the 
pleasure of being with such a beautiful lover, at the passion of saliva 
and kisses. And then a sudden gasp as Erika's body collapsed on her, 
naked bosom against naked bosom, mouth once again on mouth, and a 
new feeling as she felt Erika's fingers stroke the dark thick hair of her 
crotch: the mere sensation tingling the core of her being and causing 
an aching empty feeling to open inside her, and forcing open her legs.

It was inevitable that after kissing and cuddling and stroking and even 
licking each other, that Erika's fingers should probe around the folds 
and features of Tanneka's vagina. And then, ooh! And again, ooh! 
Ooh! One of Erika's fingers slid so easily into the moist opening of it, 
while Erika's other hand guided one of Tanneka's hands and fingers 
towards her own crotch. 

And what a surprise that was too! It was so moist and sticky. Even 
though the hair around it was dry and straw-like in its composition. 
And so warm! Where did that warmth come from? Was it like the 
warmth and moistness that she felt sure she was emitting below, that 
ached so hard, that pressed even harder against her stomach? She let a 
finger probe inside the lips. Such a surprising warmth. And with 
surprising contours and shapes. What was this hard knob to the top of 
the vagina? Was it like the growth in her own that she'd sometimes 
thought to be a kind of warty infection? But she knew her own crotch 
from her few clumsy fumblings (often with unfocussed thoughts of 
Erika uppermost in her mind) that this was the same. A complicated 
growth hidden like a secret in special secret folds that she'd thought 
were only her own, and was never sure were like that of other people. 
She was pleased to realise that she was not the only one whose crotch 
was not as smooth and undifferentiated as the classical nude sculptures 
so beloved of the Third Reich aesthetic.

And then a fumbling, and an awkward rearrangement of roles, as Erika 
lowered herself down the line of Tanneka's body, while she gazed up 
at the cream plastered ceiling, surrendering herself to the sensation of 
Tanneka's hands and tongue on her breasts, her ribs, her stomach, and 
then, and then. It was a new sensation again. Even more liquid and 
potent than with mouth to mouth. Erika's tongue was lapping and 
lapping and licking at Tanneka's crotch, inside and outside the folds, 
nibbling her clitoris, which was now hard and exposed, rubbing and 
tweaking the raw sensuous inner lips. And then, from deep inside her, 
with no thought, no intention, and as shocking to herself as it was to 
Erika, she gave vent to a long low sigh and then a gasp. And then 
another gasp. Louder. Longer. More guttural. More animal. More 
passionate. And then longer again.

The passion gripped her with urgency. In the next few heated 
moments, she was conscious of little other than heat and trails of 
sweat from her stomach and streaming down her forehead, salting her 
eyes and sweet on her tongue. The two girls grappled and fought 
together, bare flesh on bare flesh. Tanneka's mouth on Erika's crotch, 
licking and tasting and enjoying the strong smells which were 
intoxicating her, which were driving her mad with passion and 
ecstasy. And all the while, she would hear herself moaning and 
yelling, as distant from her consciousness as those yells and moans 
which Erika was also releasing. And all the while it seemed natural. 
So natural. So obviously the right thing. To wrestle and grapple and 
lick. To have strands of pubic hair caught between the teeth. To have 
sticky sweaty slippery skin sliding against each other. To have 
cascades of juice from inside burst with flavour and viscosity into the 
mouth. To be reduced to animal grunts and gasps and the occasional 
full throaty cry.

And then to collapse. Two girls together. Head on shoulder. Arm 
around each other. Panting and gasping. Sweat and vaginal fluids 
caking in the dusty gloom of the electric light. And to sip again from 
the glasses of sweet white wine that Erika had poured out. Their faces 
shone with the gleam of passion and satisfaction. Heat radiating from 
each other, so hot that it almost burned. And to exchange sips of wine 
with kisses to the lips with nibbles around the ears. And all the while 
hands clasped so tightly together, as if ensuring that this perfect 
moment should never end. To hope that it could never end. It was so 
perfect. So right. So natural. How could it ever end?

Tanneka recollected the last occasion when she had had any intimacy 
with someone else, though necessarily of a much more innocent kind, 
which was when she last saw her mother. She recalled her mother's 
abject sadness, aware more than Tanneka was dimly able, that this 
could be their last ever hug and their last ever kiss. Tanneka squeezed 
Erika closer to her and rested her head on her shoulder.

Erika felt the tears drip over Tanneka's cheeks and onto the bare flesh 
of her upper arm. "What's wrong, my dear?" she asked tenderly.

"I was just thinking of my mother."

"Frau Van Vliet? She seems fine. What's wrong with her?"

"No, not her. My real mother. I was thinking of the last time we met. 
When she and my father had to leave the country. Because of the 
Germans."

"Why did they have to leave?"

"Because they're Jews," replied Tanneka before she could guard her 
tongue.

Erika squeezed Tanneka's hand tight and looked close into her eyes. 
She ran a free hand up and down the long contours of her naked body. 
"So that means you're Jewish?"

Tanneka frowned. Bizarrely enough, this quite obvious connection 
hadn't really occurred to her before. "I suppose it does."

Erika was quite silent, but she gripped Tanneka's hand even more 
tightly than before. She took a sip from her wine, while Tanneka lay 
slumped on her, head against shoulder and arm sprawled over her 
stomach. She took another longer sip, while admiring the portrait of 
Adolf Hitler which was framed in a high position just above her desk. 
His stern, unamused face glared accusingly down on her.

"I suppose you may never see your parents again?" mused Erika.

"Oh! Don't say that! I hope I do. I hope I can see them again."

Erika sighed. "There's another game we can play," she said 
swallowing the whole of her glass of wine in one gulp. "It's different 
from the ones we've played already, but I'm told it can be fun."

She detached herself from Tanneka and walked over to her desk, 
where she poured herself another glass of wine and drank almost all of 
it in one long gulp, her throat jogging as it sank down.

"What game is that?" asked Tanneka, who had rather enjoyed the last 
one.

"Come into the bathroom with me," Erika commanded.

This game, Tanneka found, was really not as pleasant as their earlier 
lovemaking. Erika bade her lie down in the hard enamelled bath. It 
was a particularly large bath, supported on four cast-iron legs and 
quite big enough for the two of them. Tanneka half-expected Erika to 
turn on the taps so that the two girls could bathe together. After all, 
both of them were smelling quite strongly of the odour of sex. She 
watched as Erika got into the bath and stood right above her, one leg 
on either side of her, the feet between Tanneka's arms and her sides. 
Tanneka looked up to gaze at the gash of Erika's vagina, where so 
recently she had been licking and fingering with such pleasure.

And then. Oooh! Tanneka didn't expect that! Erika let loose a stream 
of urine facilitated by the alcohol and it spurted straight into 
Tanneka's face and her hair. Uuggh! That was not nice at all! And it 
didn't stop with one stream. Tanneka looked up in alarm as Erika 
emitted a longer, fuller, more ferocious stream of urine which went 
straight into her eyes, into her nose and some of it into her mouth. It 
tasted very strange. Very sour. Quite unpleasant. She coughed and 
splattered while Erika continued to let loose more and more of the 
liquid, getting gradually less urgent as her bladder emptied. This was 
one game that Tanneka hoped that she wouldn't have to play again!

After this ordeal, the two girls had baths. But not together. Tanneka 
had hers in the bath, immediately after Erika deemed herself satisfied, 
who waited until Tanneka was thoroughly clean and the polluted water 
had wholly disappeared down the plug hole before running a bath for 
herself. She sipped wine in the bath, while Tanneka scrubbed her back 
from above. All the while, Erika was relatively quiet. Somehow, she 
was happier to express herself by touch and kiss rather than verbally. 
Although Tanneka was sure that this was not how it should be. She 
herself was bursting with things to say, but Erika just did not seem so 
receptive now.

The two girls slept together, naked flesh against naked flesh. 
Occasionally, they would exchange kisses and hugs, but the passion of 
earlier in the evening just didn't happen again. Tanneka reflected that 
perhaps this was because of the enormity of the discovery of their love 
for each other. After all, it certainly gave her a great deal to think 
about.

However, as Tanneka was to find out the following evening, it wasn't 
Erika's love for Tanneka which had silenced her. The curfew had long 
since began and Erika was ready to go to bed in her night-dress while 
Frau and Herr Van Vliet were settling down in front of the radio to 
tune into the BBC. She had been feeling disorientated all day and was 
looking forward to an early night in which she could adjust her 
thoughts and reflect on her new status as someone who had made love 
to her schoolfriend. Not that she'd ever tell anyone, of course.

It was then, as she prepared herself for bed, that the German soldiers 
arrived, bashing on the door and shouting "Juden! Juden!" Within 
minutes, her life and those of the Van Vliet family were to be forever 
changed. She was singled out for especial attention as the German 
soldiers punched and kicked her, until she vomited blood out of her 
mouth. The rest of the Van Vliet family were also slapped about, but 
with rather less hatred than that reserved for the Judenfrau. 

The last glimpse she had of the Van Vliet family was through a veil of 
blood and tears, before she was bundled on the train to a concentration 
camp in the Eastern occupied territories. She now knew Erika's 
priorities when faced with conflict between love and ideology . This 
was the price Tanneka had to pay for Erika's prejudice.




For More : http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Bradley_Stoke/www

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