Authors: Pierre Frei
Outside the cinema on one street corner, colourful posters and glossy stills from movies lured customers in. The film now showing was called The Sheikh, starring Rudolph Valentino, who looked unbelievably handsome. Two usherettes were chatting outside the door. Lene gazed in wonder at their red uniforms trimmed with gold braid. She'd like to be an usherette too. You could see the movies for free all the time, she thought.
At four o'clock she turned into Kantstrasse, and then right into Weimarerstrasse at the next corner. Number 28 was a four-storey building with an ornate facade and pot plants in the tall bay windows. The entrance hall was all marble and crystal, the brass of the folding grille over the lift gleamed. The back of the building wasn't so grand, but compared to Number 17 Riibenstrasse it was dreamy.
She rang the doorbell on the third floor beside the nameplate saying 'Wilke' three times. Fredie opened the door. He was wearing a long, silk dressing gown and smoking a Turkish cigarette in an almost equally long holder. 'Oh wow, you're pretty posh these days!' Lene couldn't help exclaiming.
'Come in.' His room was at the very back of the building. 'Here, sit down.' He pushed a chair in her direction. A Black Forest gateau covered with chocolate stood on the table. Whipped cream was piled above the rim of the dish beside it. 'Help yourself.' Fredie poured sweet wine into small glasses. She drank too fast and it went down the wrong way.
He watched with amusement as she devoured huge mouthfuls of gateau and heaped spoonfuls of cream. After the third helping he took her plate away. 'Otherwise you'll be throwing up on me in bed,' he said in a matter-offact tone. You can have more afterwards. Now, get undressed and wash.' There was a washstand in a niche and a longish, curved sort of basin beside it. 'What's that for?' Fredie poured warm water into the basin from a jug. 'That's for underneath you,' he told her. 'But not just yet.'
Five minutes later she climbed into bed with him. It seemed to her a perfectly fair arrangement, after he had given her so much cake and whipped cream, and the promise of more to come. All she ever got from Herr Pohl was a little longer to pay the rent. Fredie pulled the covers off and looked her up and down.
'You're very pretty,' he said, pleased, as his fingers slipped over her skin. A wonderful feeling went through her as the tip of his tongue made the tiny bud of her clitoris burst into flower. Little sighs rose in the air, culminating in a cry of delight.
That afternoon, young as she was, she experienced what most women didn't even venture to dream of. That was nice!' she said breathlessly as she tucked into more Black Forest gateau and whipped cream.
So for the first time in all those years, Lene rebelled when she was told, 'You go off to Herr Pohl now.'
'Go yourself!' she snapped at her mother, and ran down to the yard, where she kicked the garbage bins. Suddenly everything was different. Until now, the squalor had been hidden by the veil of familiarity. Now it showed its ugly, mocking face. She realized that she had to get out of there before it was too late.
When her mother set off for the Welfare Office with the little ones that afternoon, to beg for an extra loaf of bread, Lene tied her few possessions up in a cloth. She stuck the box containing Grandmother Mine's lace scarf under her arm. This time she marched right on without giving the shop windows a glance. She had to get out, that was her only thought.
Fredie took a long time before to open the door. He was unshaven and bleary-eyed. 'What d'you want?' He yawned. 'Well, come on in.' His room was untidy. A half-eaten slice of bread, on a plate smeared with egg yolk, lay on the table.
She looked at him critically. 'Hey, you don't look so good.'
'I went to bed late,' he said, which was far from the truth. He had gone to bed rather early, and the bed in question had belonged to the widow Deister in Neukolln. Fredie now specialized in mature ladies whom he approached in the Resi dance hall, where the pneumatic message service and telephones at the tables made chatting them up easier. The ladies often invited him home and showed their appreciation of his services. The number of his grateful clients was growing. 'Well, what do you want?' he repeated impatiently.
'I ran away.'
He pointed to her bundle. 'Yes, I can see you ran away. Now what?'
'Now I'm going to be an usherette and work in the flicks.'
Fredie went out of the apartment without a word, and came back via the kitchen with a jug of hot water. I told Frau Wilke you're my sister, so you can stay.' He disappeared behind the curtain. Lene heard water splashing and gurgling sounds. He reappeared with his wet hair combed, wiping the last traces of shaving foam from his face. Standing in front of the wardrobe mirror, he put on his collar and carefully arranged his tie. Next came his waistcoat, jacket, and pale felt hat.
'You look really smart now. So?'
'So we're going to get you something to wear yourself.' They took the tram to Tauentzienstrasse, where Fredie withdrew money from one of his savings accounts. In the big Kaufhaus des Westens department store Lene happily tried on a dozen off-the-peg dresses, and chose one with a flowery pattern. Rayon stockings and medium-heeled strap shoes completed the ensemble, although Fredie wouldn't let her put on the fashionable cloche hat until the store hairdresser had set her blonde hair in the latest style and helped with her make-up.
'No one would know you.' said Fredie, satisfied. 'Your parents won't believe their eyes.'
'You're not getting me back there,' she told him.
'You'll hold your tongue and do as I say. I know what's good for you. OK?'
'OK,' she reluctantly conceded.
Egon and Anna Kaschke were speechless when they saw their daughter. Fredie made good use of their astonishment. 'I found Marlene a job as nursemaid with Dr and Frau Schluter. She'll get ten marks wages.' He took a five-mark piece out of his waistcoat pocket and threw it on the table, where it clinked. 'Here's a first instalment. Marlene will give you the same every week because she can't go to see Pohl any more. I'll drop the money in every Friday.'
Lene was bowled over. No one had ever called her Marlene before. She wanted to say something, wanted to promise her mother and father that she'd be sure to come home when she had time off. Fredie urged her, 'Hurry up, girl, your employers are waiting.'
'I thought you were taking me to those people with the kids?' Lene said in surprise when they arrived back in Fredie's room.
'Look, Frau Wilke is asking five marks more a week because you're staying with me. Then there's five for your mother and father, so they won't make any trouble. . .'
'That comes to ten a week. There won't be any left over.'
'You're quick. Listen, darling. There's a man I know, he feels lonesome, he'd love to meet a nice girl. He'd be happy with just an hour, and he says he wouldn't be mean. So I take you to him, you're nice to him, and we're thirty marks better off.'
Lene was no fool. 'You want me to go to bed with some guy I never met before in my life? Not likely!'
'Then put your old clothes on and get out.' He flung them at her. 'You're not so choosy when it comes to Pohl.'
'I'm not a tart!' she defended herself for the last time.
He drew her close. 'Nobody says you are,' he whispered in her ear. 'You're a sweet little thing.' His lips moved down her throat as his hand wandered between her thighs.
She pushed him away in order to take her dress off. 'So it won't get creased.' She was a practical girl.
She cried out with pleasure under his thrusts, and experienced another firework display of heavenly orgasms. Soon she'd be craving it like an addict, but she didn't know that yet. She cuddled up to him as the sensations died away. 'It's lovely with you,' she murmured drowsily.
'You'll help us get that dough, won't you, darling?' he whispered in her ear.
She didn't answer, but moved slightly away from him. Narrowing her eyes, she thought hard for a minute or so. Then she sat up abruptly. 'Right, then. So where's this bloke who's a friend of yours live?'
'Herr Hildebrand - Fraulein Kaschke,' Fredie introduced them at the door, and made himself scarce. Herr Hildebrand was a coal merchant. 'Wholesale,' he liked to emphasize.
His men delivered fuel from the warehouse beneath the arches of the S-Bahn station to the entire west of the capital. The central heating systems of the blocks where the gentry lived in their grand apartments devoured coke by the ton. Hildebrand was forty, neatly dressed, with sparse hair. He hid his shyness behind a stiffly waxed moustache and a punctilious, genteel manner.
'Delighted to meet you, Fraulein Kaschke, do come right in.' Hildebrand ushered her into the drawing room, where they sat on hard chairs in silence. May I offer you some refreshment?' he finally managed to say.
'Ooh, yes,' Lene graciously agreed, and was given a seltzer water with lemon, which she sucked up noisily through a straw.
A fine day,' said Hildebrand, trying to keep the conversation going. Lene replied with a nod as she went on sucking through the straw with rapt concentration, wondering how he would broach the subject. 'Such a nice day for sunbathing,' Hildebrand continued. 'Would you like to see?'
'See the sun?' Lene was puzzled.
'My balcony.' Hildebrand opened the glass doors. 'South-facing, Fraulein Kaschke. And not overlooked at all.'
Lene went out. A half-lowered awning, a sun lounger, both of them in red-striped fabric ... gradually it dawned on her. Herr Hildebrand fancied doing it in the open air. 'Then I guess I'll undress and sunbathe,' she announced, and lay down. Herr Hildebrand's eyes followed her, delighted. 'Suppose you undressed too, then we could both sunbathe,' she encouraged him.
Herr Hildebrand withdrew and came back in a dressing gown. Lene spluttered. He had protected his Wilhelm the Second moustache against immoderate outbursts of passion with a broad tape to hold it in place. 'Come here, darling,' she called from the lounger, spreading her thighs.
Herr Hildebrand reached his goal with deliberate, measured movements. The whole business was not unpleasant to her, but she felt nothing at all. He wrapped the dressing gown around his arms, legs and torso and hurried off to get dressed. Lene made herself respectable too.
'With your permission, a little present, Fraulein Kaschke, in the hope that I shall see you again soon.' Hildebrand indicated the small table in the sitting room. Four ten-mark notes lay beside the empty lemonade glass. She put them in her bag, stuffing one down so deep that it wouldn't come to light even when she counted them out for Fredie, who was waiting downstairs.
`Thirty marks, not bad for a start.' Fredie was pleased. 'One of the tens is for you, one for me, the rest for our payments. What will you do with your money?'
Lene was quick at sums. 'Save nine-seventy, buy thirty-pfennigs worth of ground beef with the rest.'
A little more Beluga. my dear?' Eulenfels dipped the silver spoon into the crystal bowl and piled gleaming grey caviar on Marlene's plate.
'Thank you, Ferdinand.' The downy fair hair on her bare arms shimmered seductively in the candlelight. Eighteen-year-old Marlene smiled at him. She knew the effect she had on men.
'Do you know, they're making a talkie of Dr Mann's novel! That raises an interesting question of copyright, since the movie is based on a book. I shall have to discuss it with our legal experts. The actors will speak and sing just like actors on stage. By the way, the leading lady is called Marlene, like you.'
Ferdinand Eulenfels liked delivering little monologues on subjects related to his profession as a publisher. He owned the most important newspapers and magazines of Berlin, but his real love was books. His authors included several great names and many lesser ones. Eulenfels had invented the idea of the 'One-Mark Book', and was very successful in selling works of light entertainment.
Marlene looked out of the window. Moonlight glittered on the snowladen trees. The publisher's hunting lodge lay an hour's drive east of Berlin. Eulenfels used it for discreet rendezvous. She had stumbled into his arms at the press ball at the Esplanade, spilling a little champagne on his starched shirt-front, a scene cleverly staged by Fredie. His mature widows were a thing of the past; he now devoted himself entirely to promoting his protegee. He had taught her to speak educated German and eat properly with a knife and fork. Marlene was a good pupil, and lapsed into the language of Riibenstrasse only when she was upset or taken by surprise. French and English were on her educational programme too, and her pretty, youthful looks did the rest.
She quickly understood what was wanted by her clients, rich men in the prime of life who paid generously for the satisfaction of their usually modest desires. Fredie used those desires to finance their apartment in the new Westend district and good clothes for both of them. 'You don't get anywhere without white tie and tails these days,' he had said.
'You mean actors can really speak and sing on screen?' Marlene asked Eulenfels in amazement.
'Yes, indeed. Although I don't really know what the point of it is.' Eulenfels poured more champagne.