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An Addict & His Heroin/e

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She was young, inexperienced, and in love. She was his muse; his fantasy; his drug; his heroine. He was an addict; and she became his addiction.

Romance / Drama
Age Rating:


"Tell me something, Heinrich. Your new assistant."

"Yes?" he asked without looking up from the plate of weißwurst he was currently sawing into with his knife.

"What's her story?"

"What do you mean? What are you looking for?"

Adolf crossed one leg over the other, folding his hands over his knee as he leaned back in his chair, observing the patterns in the plaster on the ceiling. "Anything. Where does she come from?"

"She's from right here in the city."

"I figured. I mean, what's her family like?"

He shrugged and shoved a piece of meat into his mouth. "Nothing too impressive. Her father's a school teacher, I think."

"What's she like? She pleasant?"

"Yeah," he slowly bobbed his head up and down, chewing viciously. He reached for his beer and took a long drink. "She's a good worker, learns quickly; does well with costumers; is generally in a pretty good mood. I'd say she's 'pleasant' to have around."

Adolf sighed. "Could you not eat like an primordial animal? For once?" Heinrich smiled and took another bite; and Adolf was silent for a moment. "She's pretty."

Heinrich looked up from his meal at his most prized client, wiping at his mouth. "Ach, I knew it. You're interested in her."

Adolf brought his hand up, curling his fingers into his palm to examine his fingernails. "She's your employee. I should probably know her to some degree since I'll obviously be seeing her frequently due to our business with one another."

"I know that's not why you're asking me these questions."

His eyes darted over to his photographer who was giving him a small grin. "Is she involved with anyone?"

Heinrich released a quick laugh, refocusing back on the food sitting before him. "How am I supposed to know? I really couldn't care less as long as it doesn't interfere with her work."

"You haven't noticed any boys hanging around after her shift is over? No one walking her home?"

"No." He gazed back up at him. "No boys hanging around here checking out my pretty little shop girl." He noticed Adolf try to suppress a smile, only to fail. Adolf looked away as the tip of his tongue darted across the bottom of his top teeth. "What are you planning?"

"I'm not planning anything."

"Fine. But I think she likes you," Heinrich said around another bite of the sausage.

"You don't say."

"I do say. She gets kind of giddy when I tell her you're due for a visit," he said, pointing at him with his fork.

"I've noticed that," Adolf murmured thoughtfully, his index finger lightly caressing his mustache.

"And once you leave she's all cloudy eyed. She makes me think of a baby deer or something."

His eyes snapped back onto him. "Let's not be comparing her to a fawn, now."

Heinrich nodded. "Oh, I see. It's too enticing, comparing her to a soft, innocent little thing, isn't it? Something you can-"

"You should stop running that tongue before someone catches it and cuts it off," Adolf said aggressively, smiling, his stare threatening.

"Hey, no worries, I understand. She's young, naïve." His eyebrows arched as he cocked his head. "Inexperienced."

Adolf's hand fell down onto the table and he turned his body toward Heinrich, his expression skeptical. "You can't know that. How could you know that?"

"She just strikes me as the type of girl who hasn't wandered too far down that road yet. Plus, I think she was enrolled in a convent school before she came to work here."

Pursing his lips, his fingers drumming rapidly across the wood surface, he asked "How old is she, exactly?"


"Young indeed," he said hesitantly, reflecting on the number within his mind.

"Yes, how unfortunate for you," Heinrich scoffed as he rose from his chair, plate in hand; muttering "Like that isn't every man's wet dream at some point or another," on his way into the kitchen.

Adolf's fingers stilled. "A bit of a risky wet dream," he said beneath his breath. It didn't fall upon Heinrich's ears.

"So, what are you going to do?" Heinrich asked over the sound of the water as he scrubbed at his hands.

"I'm not going to do anything."

"You are going to do something; we both know this. Just inform me ahead of time so I don't walk in on anything too explicit." His back turned toward his friend, he smiled to himself as he turned the faucet off and moved to dry his hands. "I have no objections, Adolf. Feel free to do whatever you want with her."

Fast-forward about a year or so.

He opened the door and stepped into the shop. Her head jerked up from what she was writing onto a slip of paper atop the front desk; and her eyes glowed, a full smile surfacing. "Good afternoon, Herr Hitler."

He briefly glanced around the room, knowing it wasn't necessary; but he was going to put on the show for her anyway. She still wasn't aware he purposefully set up times in advance to be alone with her. She thought it was purely by chance Heinrich occasionally wasn't around when he "happened" to drop by; and that they had to hastily take advantage of the opportunity.

The fantasy was pleasant and fun so he didn't mind. It made her hot to think she might be caught doing these things with an older man, chiefly him. It made his blood race a little as well, especially if she succeeded in absorbing him so deeply into the fiction they were playing out that he found himself having short moments where he forgot himself he knew for certain when Heinrich would be back.

"Where is Herr Hoffmann?" he asked in harmless tone.

Her eyes fogged up a little and her lips parted, her body relaxing dramatically. "He left to run a quick errand." He could hear the subtle breathlessness in her voice.

He stared at her for a few seconds before inquiring "How long ago did he depart for his errand?"

"Ten minutes maybe? Not too long."

He reached behind him and locked the door, loud enough so she could hear it click. She bit into her bottom lip and brought her hands up to her chest, clasping them together beneath her chin.

"I suppose we should immediately get to it then, don't you agree?"

She grinned and quickly came out from behind the desk. She ran to him and flung her arms around his neck, swiftly bringing her mouth up to his. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into him; and he slipped his tongue into her mouth, inciting a gratified moan out of her.

She slid her hands under his coat and pushed it off his shoulders. He let it fall to the floor, forgotten. He gripped onto her hands and began to press her backwards until she was up against the desk without disrupting the movement of their lips.

He pressed his hips up against hers and she let her head fall back. He moved her head to the side so he would have access to her ear, lightly stroking the hypersensitive flesh of her earlobe with his teeth.

Her fingers lodged themselves within his shirt. She shifted one hand to his tie, slipping her fingers through the twined fabric, tugging it loose and undoing it. She tore it from out beneath his collar and threw it off to the side, discarding it somewhere she didn't know.

His hands found their way to the bottom of her skirt and slipped beneath her hemline. She felt his fingers graze the skin of her thighs and she took a hold of his wrists, halting his movements. He pulled back from her, his eyes darting back and forth between hers as his chest moved fast with his breath.

"What are you doing?" He could hardly find his voice. It was lodged somewhere in his throat.

She softly pushed him away from her without releasing his wrists. "It'll be safer in the backroom," she said, tugging at him to follow her; and he complied.

As soon as they had entered the room, she made sure to lock that door as well. She placed her back against the wall and yanked him up against her, repossessing his mouth. His fingers wound themselves tight into her hair, his other hand going to her neck as he kissed her hastily, his movements rough and intense.

She fleetingly wondered if her lips would be bruised the next day.

Her fingers fluttered down to his groin and she proceeded to gingerly tease his erection through his trousers with her nails. He grunted as he desperately thrust it further into her hold, her provocation working flawlessly. He moved one of his hands down to hers and pressed it harder against him, forcing her to increase the friction.

She giggled against his mouth and he pulled back, his eyes vivid, his lips slightly pulled back over his teeth. "You think your teasing is funny?" he said in low, husky voice.

He moved his hands back down to the bottom of her skirt, hooked his fingers beneath the hem line again and roughly yanked it up, gathering it around her hips. The muscles in her throat seized her breath as his fingers grazed the skin just below her belly button, smoothly sliding down her abdomen towards her own groin.

She watched as his hand descended achingly slow, her mouth open and her eyes half lidded; but she could still see him watching her, tracking and absorbing every second of her countenance that was flagrantly displaying her arousal and her helplessness to control it. Her desire to want it out of her control.

She whimpered as his hand went right past the top of her undergarments, refusing contact with her skin, simply trailing over the thin fabric. He delicately continued to travel downwards, softly pressing into her sex with his middle finger; and she broke. She grabbed his hand and attempted to thrust it into her panties but he was out of her grip in an instant.

Her eyes flew back up to his, a bit of panic flickering in her stomach. "No," he said, his tone firm, his gaze steady.

"Adolf-" she started to whine but he placed his hand over her mouth.

"Quiet now. We wouldn't want anyone to hear you, would we? That would be very bad for the both of us." Her eyes rolled in capitulation and she exhaled forcefully out through her nostrils. "Bite your tongue if you can't keep your voice in that beautiful mouth."

He slowly removed his hand, his fingers brushing across her lips. She watched as his eyes navigated their way down her neck and over her collarbone, landing on her rapidly rising and falling breasts. He moved his fingers to the little buttons of her blouse and gradually began to undo them, her bra quickly coming into view.

He pushed the fabric back, revealing the front of her upper body to him. He shifted his eyes back to hers as he reached around behind her and unclasped her bra. He then moved his hands to the cups of her bra and swiftly raised them above her breasts, completely exposing them.

He took them securely in his hands and eliminated the gap between their mouths once again. Using one hand to grip onto his shoulder, she relocated the other back to his erection, applying more pressure than she had previously.

He released her lips, whispering "My lovely girl," before reclaiming them again. His thumbs gently swept over her sensitive nipples and she opened her mouth to gasp. He used it as an opportunity to slip his tongue back in.

They were panting hotly into each other's mouths, her nails sinking into his shoulder as his fingers resolutely encouraged her nipples into full solute. His lips soon moved to her neck and followed the same path his eyes had taken moments before, traveling across her chest until he found what he was looking for.

He drew her nipple into his mouth, gently sucking on the little rose bud until his teeth softly grazed it and she couldn't help but cry out, her head falling back against the wall behind her. He released her breast and moved to kiss her. "I thought I told you to hush?" he asked, laughing lightly; and kissed her again.

She smiled and gazed up at him adoringly, holding his face in her hands, breathing unsteadily. "Come with me to the couch," she said and faintly pressed her lips to his. She pulled him over to the couch and playfully shoved him onto the cushions, placing her knees on either side of him and straddling his waist.

One of his hands firmly clasped her thigh as the other went to the back of her neck, immediately guiding her back to his mouth. She hastily removed her blouse and slid the straps to her bra down her arms, tossing it away. Her hands went down to his belt and gripped it tightly as she pulled herself up against him as close as she could.

Her fingers searching and fumbling, she hastily attempted to unfasten it so she could get at his trousers; but he stopped her. Gripping her wrist and her shoulder, he pushed her down onto her back on the couch. She fell with a huff, giggling as he hovered over her with a devious smile. "You're so anxious today."

"I'm feeling needy," she said quietly, her cheeks heated. Her tongue raced across her lips. "And you look so yummy."

His smile widened. "Really?" he said rhetorically. She cautiously moved her fingers to the zipper of her skirt and halted, afraid he was going to stop her; but he simply looked at her expectantly, his eyebrows raised, waiting for her to continue.

She lowered the zipper and the fabric split apart at the side, gradually revealing her panties and the unblemished skin hiding beneath. She hooked her thumbs beneath the cotton and began to push it down over her hips. He took over once she arrived at just above her knees, gliding it down the rest of her legs until her feet slipped through and he relinquished it to the floorboards.

He studied her nearly naked form intensely. She had never removed virtually all her clothing before; they had made due with only opening her blouse and him simply slipping his fingers up beneath her skirt.

His fingers delicately traveled down between her bare breasts and across her abdomen, stopping just before he arrived at the top of her panties. She sighed deeply and made a show of biting onto her tongue for him.

He slipped the tips of his fingers beneath the waistband. "Tell me what you want, Fräulein."

She closed her eyes and groaned. He always did this in an effort to build her frustration to a level she couldn't sanely handle; and she hated it because he always succeeded. "I want you to touch me, Herr Hitler. That's what I want."

"Show me where."

Without missing a beat she shoved his hand further into her panties until his fingers made direct contact with her burning flesh.

Her hips thrust up as she called out, accidentally cursing. Her hands flew to her mouth as she gazed at him, somewhat embarrassed and snickering giddily. Endorphins were gallivanting wildly through her veins and submerging her brain, making her feel weightless and manic. Her chest wasn't a large enough playpen for her heart.

"That wasn't very lady-like," he insincerely scolded.

"Well, this isn't very gentlemanly," she said dizzily.

"Excuse me?"

She gestured lazily to her exposed body, then looked about the room. "You're taking advantage of me." There was no strength behind her voice.

"It may be hard for you to recall in your aroused state but you were the one who dragged me back here."

She continued on as if he hadn't said anything. "And you're doing it so meanly."

He sadistically drew two fingers up between the lips of her sensitive, eager sex. "You're right," he said as she choked on the air, unable to make a sound. He slid them back down, increasing the pressure. "I have no counter argument for that one."

A moment of silence passed before she noticed his fingers had stopped moving. Her pupils expanded as she realized they had fixed themselves precisely outside of her opening.

He licked his lips, his pupils as dilated as hers, translating the madness between them. "You win."

He entered her effortlessly and she whined, reaching out and fiercely taking a hold of his shirt. He leaned down and kissed her, their lips wet and gliding against each other like silk as his fingers steadily worked at provoking euphoria within her.

He unexpectedly felt her other hand back on his belt, desperately tugging at the leather. He pushed her hand away and he sensed her body react with frustration; until she heard the faint sound of metal clinking against metal and realized he was only moving her away so he could undo it himself.

He found her hand and keenly pressed it back to where it had been, allowing her newly confident and nimble fingers to do the rest of the work.

He didn't realize how swiftly she had succeeded with it until he suddenly felt her hand firmly sliding down his length, making him hiss and accidentally bite into her lip. She nipped back at him and he tasted the thin tang of blood and felt her muscles sharply contract around his driving fingers.

It swiftly became a competition, a race to determine who could force the other into hysterical bliss first.

His mind was being drawn in too many different directions: too many nerves were crying out for his attention, the synapses in his brain saturated with too many neurons to focus on any one thing. Every fiber in his skin felt alive. He was being dragged down into pure sensation, his mind voluntarily, enthusiastically, drowning itself in ecstasy.

He was genuinely afraid for a moment he was going to lose until her hand suddenly stopped manipulating him and he was sure she was about to succumb.

But then she sat up, his fingers slipping out of her, and he looked at her with perplexity. Her hands went to her hips, her thumbs slipping beneath the sides of her panties, and she proceeded to slip them off easily, confidently.

She pushed him back and crawled onto his lap, facing him. Her hand slid down between the two of them and she went back to leisurely stroking him. "I'm ready," she purred and kissed him.

"What do you mean?" His words were forced and strained. And unnecessary.

"I'm ready to give myself to you," she said softly by his ear, her lips starting to wander down the side of his neck. Then she took a hold of his face and kissed the tip of his nose. Her eyes were bright and clear, presenting a deep certainty that both excited and panicked him. "I want you to make love to me."

He watched, stupefied, as she shifted her weight from his lap onto her knees, raising her hips up and widening her stance. With one hand sturdily clasping onto his shoulder she reached down with the other to line him up with her body. His hands mechanically moved to her hips, the muscles prepared to thrust her down onto him at the first moment of contact.

Until he actually felt her press him against her slippery flesh.

"Stop," he said and pushed her hips back. There was hardly any blood left in his head to work his brain. It had all migrated south. Something else was trying to override his mind.

Her mouth opened but he beat her to her words. "This isn't right."

"It's not?" Her head titled and her eyebrows pinched together. "What's not right?" He was looking into her eyes but she knew he wasn't seeing her.

"This isn't the right place for that," he murmured, his mind distancing itself from his current situation. There was something else tugging at his attention, something lingering in the back of his mind that he knew was the source of this sudden mystifying unwillingness. "The timing isn't right."

He knew the reasons he was delivering to her were truth; he just didn't know out why. He understood why he would have preferred a different venue, that wasn't what was bothering him.

What was his problem with the timing? Even the thought of moving this to the weekend made him feel uneasy. He couldn't see himself doing this. He couldn't envision it even though he had been doing just that for the past few months.

Something was holding him back from crossing this line now that it had become his reality.

She could see his thoughts clashing together behind his eyes. She could see him trying to force them into synchronization and she could see he was having difficulty. She softly placed a hand onto his cheek. "Adolf, what's wrong?"

She waited for him to respond; then realized the confusion that was rapidly fogging up his head wasn't going to allow him that ability.

"This is what I want," she said quietly. "I really am ready… for you."

He moved his hand to hers and took a firm hold of it, turning in and speaking against her palm. "I don't think I'm ready," he said, his words on the edge of silence.

He saw the shock run across her face and he gently moved her off of him and back onto the couch. He stood and quickly reorganized his clothing as she watched him, dumbfounded. She could feel the pressing discomfort of rejection surfacing from the bottom of her stomach as she suddenly realized how wholly exposed she was.

"I have to go," he said, placing the last few errant strands of his hair back into their place. Then he left the room, placidly closing the door behind him, leaving her to the company of her bewilderment.

He walked into the front room, swiftly picking his coat up off the floor and slipping it on. He grabbed his discarded tie and stuffed it into his pocket before he stepped out into the warm, unfolding evening.

And the fresh air hurled it at him like a brick.


What he was ailing from was guilt.

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