Posts Tagged ‘Armand Assante’

” A Kapitany”, a novel. Chapter 18

December 6, 2012
Sometimes it helps to envision a character. This worked as Vadas for me.

Sometimes it helps to envision a character. This worked as Vadas for me.

Thank you WordPress for the snow falling on the blog!

“A Kapitany”, Chapter 18

The morning sun poured across the room where Vadas left the drapes open. Elizabeth awoke and fished around the bed for him. She wondered what time it was and rolled across the bed to the nightstand. It was already 9:20am. She rubbed her eyes and shook her head. A slight headache and a dry mouth were the remains of last night’s drinking. Calling out to Vadas, she got silence for her effort. Obviously he had left. Where he had gone she hadn’t a clue. She was too drunk last night to ask any questions about activities for today. Perhaps he left a note somewhere in the room. A shower would help. The thought of breakfast turned her stomach.

After dressing, Elizabeth went to the reception desk to see if there was a note for her, telling her where he was or what he was doing. Perhaps he expected her to meet him somewhere that morning.

“I am Elizabeth Kovacs from room 136. Is there a message for me?”

The young man behind the counter immediately answered.

“Mrs. Dohendy. Your husband said that you were to have a driver and car if you wanted to go out. May I order one for you now?”

Mrs. Dohendy. Elizabeth tried not to show her surprise. What a cock-sure man he was! He must have registered them as husband and wife, days before she turned up in Budapest. Days before he asked her to marry him. He was that sure of her answer? He had some nerve.

“No, thank you. I will walk. Is the National Hungarian Gallery close enough?”

“Oh, Mrs. Dohendy. It is, but it gets rather warm at midday and of course we are in a hilly region of Buda. Surely wouldn’t you rather have a car?”

“No, I would not. Just give me a map, if you would be so kind and I’ll find my way. And if you see Mr. Dohendy, please tell him I’ll be back sometime this afternoon.”

Elizabeth walked out, clutching her map. The young man at the desk gave general directions, but the names of streets were not at all familiar to her. She would make her own way and not be tied to Vadas’ agenda. She had enough of that over the past few months, enough to last a lifetime. She had been a fool not to put her foot down before, and Vadas had run all over her. Now that she knew his ‘intentions’ she felt a little more power. The beautiful bracelet signified those, but she didn’t completely believe him. There were too many unanswered questions right now.

Elizabeth had pulled on a light sweater, covering the bracelet. It was obviously an expensive piece of jewelry and of course, in any city you could get mugged. The removal of this bracelet could mean the removal of her hand. She had heard stories before of thieves who had sliced off the hands of old lady tourists in Egypt. This was Budapest, but still there was a risk. One never knew.

She sat down on a bench at the end of a park. Budapest seemed to be a combination of huge, Baroque stone buildings, denuded of greenery, and then parks thick with trees and flowers. She could see how it would be broiling at midday in the summer.

It took a while to make her way to the National Gallery, now in the old Buda Palace. An imposing Baroque stone building with sculpture flanking the entrance and the huge Magyar fountain at the front. According to the brochure she got upon entering, the building had been bombed in 1944 and again in 1945. It looked completely restored to her. She made her way to the galleries and then was faced with making a choice: genre paintings, history of Hungary paintings, warriors and saints, kings and queens, landscapes, portraits and self-portraits, the list seemed to be endless and certainly overwhelming. She settled on landscapes.

The vast majority of these were dark, heavy paintings of castles with rather bleak landscapes. Most of them were from the Victorian period, though she didn’t think the Hungarians called this period “Victorian”. She had trained herself in the lighter English landscape style, with a mixture of watercolors and oils, and these before her were very formal, dark and heavy paintings. Impressive, but obviously the influence of Impressionism hadn’t made the journey from France to Hungary. What she was seeing would be tagged as “Romanticism” and excepting a few canvases, these were all to a type. In these few exceptions, the brush strokes were more of an impasto application, and that stood forth from the blended strokes of the other paintings. In some, the colors were lightened, and this was more to the modern style, an advance certainly unusual to the regular tints and tones, so dark and moody were these other paintings.

The modeling of the skies, the clouds and the far backgrounds reminded her of Constable and Gainsborough. She didn’t recognize any of the Hungarian painters except Antal Ligati, and his was one of the more modern ones. Lighter in tone, somewhere he found a huge palm tree to paint posed in front of a hill.

After a few hours Elizabeth decided her eyes could not take any more, and then again, she was tired. She also was hungry and stopped in the gallery restaurant for something fast, and the food was bad. So she bought a fruit juice and started on the way back to the Gellert.

She stopped at the reception desk, but there was no message from Vadas. Entering their suite, she stripped to her bra and panties and slipped into bed. She was tired. Walking the hills of Buda had been quite an exercise. Within a few minutes she was asleep.

Elizabeth awoke to the smell of Vadas’ cigarette. Turning over, she saw him stretched out in a chair. Usually Vadas was a natty dresser, but today he was wearing jeans, boots and a sweatshirt. She noticed his boots were a bit muddy.

“So, you’re finally awake. Did you have a good walk?”

Elizabeth yawned, and stretched. “I went to the National Gallery. The exhibit I saw was of landscapes. Big, dark landscapes. Apparently the Hungarians have avoided meeting the Impressionists.”

“Why didn’t you take a car?”

“Vadas, I’ve not had much exercise since landing in Hungary. I need it if I am not to get fatter. All this rich food you Hungarians eat! Plus, the walking up and down hills did me good. I needed the air.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed your day. Have you had enough sleep? You were pretty drunk last night. Did you awake with a headache?” Vadas smirked at her.

“And where were you, Vadas? What did you do all day? I see mud on your boots so you couldn’t have been inside.”

“No, Elizabeth, I have been outside with friends, tromping around. This mud is honest mud.”

Elizabeth laughed. “So tell me, what is the difference between honest and dishonest mud?”

Vadas smiled and continued to puff on his cigarette.

“So, who are your friends?”

“Some men of my acquaintance, Elizabeth. Some men who may come in handy.”

“What is going on, Vadas? Why would you need men?”

“Ah, Elizabeth, you ask too many questions. But since you ask and it is something I can answer, I will tell you a little bit.”

Vadas smoked, looking up at the ceiling. He was trying to decide how much to tell her about his activities of the day. He didn’t want to alarm her, but perhaps she should be. Perhaps she should feel a bit uncomfortable. That would put her in her place, as she seemed to wiggle out of it lately.

“It is complicated with Miklos, Elizabeth. And we both have much on each other. Of course, this has been built up over the years, but he isn’t going to take my leaving the business easily. Miklos is a possessive man, and he doesn’t like changes he doesn’t control. And this one he won’t. Nor will he like it.”

Vadas puffed away at his cigarette, sending up a haze towards the ceiling.

“Miklos is also a violent man, or pushed to it, he will be. And I have to consider what I have that he wants and therefore what he values. I will have to buy my way out of his control. Perhaps that is the only way he will settle. Remember, Elizabeth, everything with Miklos is about power and control. It is the same between Miklos and me.”

“So, what would he want, Vadas? Would he want your vineyards, you money, what?”

Vadas looked at her without expression, but there was something in his face Elizabeth could not read.

“Miklos would want to destroy me. Plain and simple.”

“Why, Vadas, what are you saying? Isn’t money or something of value, say this bracelet, enough to get rid of Miklos?”

“I know where the bodies are buried, Elizabeth, to use a phrase. You see all of us, Alexandra, her brother, Soffia, me, many others, we are pawns in Miklos’ games and we all have benefited from him. Until we wake up and realize our lives have been short changed by our activities or we want out. Then the fun begins. And it will be a dangerous fun.”

Vadas puffed hard on his cigarette.

“When Miklos sees that bracelet on your wrist he will know your status has changed. And he will know I am serious enough to force his hand. It is time, Elizabeth.”

“Then take off this bracelet, Vadas, and he will know nothing.”

“No, Elizabeth, I have given it to you as a promise and I have no desire to change that, even to throw Miklos off the track.”

Elizabeth had thought of the bracelet all afternoon. Where had it come from? Was she wearing stolen goods?

“Vadas, I have to ask. Where did this beautiful bracelet come from?”

Vadas exhaled straight at her. This was a trick he had when he wanted to annoy her, and it always worked.

“Ah, so you suppose that it is a piece of stolen jewelry? Let me tell you the truth. I gave it to Marta when we married. It came from my grandmother. There is also, somewhere, probably in a vault either here in Budapest or in Eger, a pair of earrings and a necklace. I haven’t checked for over 20 years. In fact, I forgot about it. Tonight Elizabeth, when those bitches Alexandra and Soffia see that piece on your arm, they will howl like jackals.”

Vadas laughed, but it was bitter.

Elizabeth felt embarrassed. She didn’t know what to say.

“I am sorry if my question insulted you. This is not the way I want things to go between us. But you have to know, after what you told me about your business with Miklos, well, it would raise some questions.”

Vadas didn’t answer and continued to smoke and look at the ceiling. Elizabeth thought perhaps he was put off by her question.
Vadas was thinking. This woman is no fool. If she was an opportunist, she wouldn’t question where the bracelet came from. She would just take it.

“Vadas, you still haven’t answered my first question. Who are these men and why do you need them?”

Vadas snubbed out his cigarette and considered his answer. Perhaps he should be honest with her.

“I don’t know how Miklos will take what I have to say to him tonight. But one thing I do know. Miklos will not be happy and he is unpredictable, Elizabeth. Today I have been with my men out in the woods. We have been discussing the possibilities of Miklos’ reaction. What I was doing was seeking advice from friends. Men stuff, Elizabeth.”

What Vadas didn’t say was he and the others, men he trusted and knew for decades, were an hour north of Budapest, where Miklos had his country home. Vadas had been there many times over the years, but this time was different. These handful of men would be watching the house and would react to any alarm. Vadas had his men, but Miklos certainly would have his. And both of them knew it.

Vadas looked at Elizabeth stretched out under the sheet. He didn’t tell her Miklos would probably want not only the bracelet on Elizabeth’s arm, but Elizabeth. She was a desirable little thing, and anything he had, Miklos was sure to want. This had been a game between them for four decades. He knew Miklos had wanted Marta, but her dying so early in their marriage had stopped him. He also knew of Miklos’ sexual proclivities and he didn’t want Elizabeth to suffer those. Miklos was a sexual sadist and that was something Elizabeth would not survive. At least not mentally. And perhaps not physically.

Vadas rose and came to the bed. Elizabeth watched him with half closed eyes. Sitting on the side of the bed he removed his boots. He lay down and took her in his arms. She turned to him and he placed his chin on the top of her head, thinking. Elizabeth rubbed her hand across his crotch and threw her leg over his hip. Vadas tightened his arms around her and felt her relax. Within a few minutes she was asleep, gently snoring.

Vadas didn’t sleep. He had a long night ahead, and possibly a dangerous one. Perhaps the threat was more to Elizabeth, but right now, he needed to consider all angles. Miklos could not be taken for granted. He played life like a chess game, and he usually won.

Jane Kohut-Bartels
Copyrighted, 2007-2012

“A Kapitany”, Chapter 2 (“The Master” in Hungarian)

May 16, 2011

Armand Assante, the model for Vadas Dohenhy in “A Kapitany”



I probably will have reason to regret this, but so what.  Life is made up of lots of regrets.  Luckily other things balance it out.

In 2007 I started the above novel.  It was a strange one, being of a definite bdsm nature, and I was totally out of the loop.  I had no experience or knowledge about this hidden (to me) world. I was a member of an erotica writing site and figured I could always ask questions.  Frankly, I didn’t know what questions to ask.  I did learn that you have to be very careful where  you ask for advice. That all advice isn’t equal and some of it downright dangerous.

But over the year I did learn something, enough to fashion what information I picked up into a novel.  I stopped writing around Chapter 18, then rather queered by the whole topic, but the other day, reading over it, I decided what the hell:  it’s a good story and I will finish it.

The picture at top is of the American actor, Armand Assante.  The main male character, Vadas Dohenhy in “A Kapitany” is  physically modeled after Assante.  Sometimes a physical nudge will create a story, and in this case, it did.  I have only seen two movies of Assante, but the physical movements and the face fit what I envisioned with Vadas.  This name in Hungarian means “The Hunter”, and Vadas fits this description. (Actually today, I was told by someone who speaks Hungarian far better than I do,  that “Vadas” means something more like ‘Warren”, whereas Vadasz is “Hunter”…Be that it may, I’ll holding onto Vadas)  He had turned 60, was a successful art thief, lived in Paris and Budapest and was bored.  He was, in bdsm parlance, a “Dom”. 

Some of this novel has been serialized on a site in England.  It also has been referenced in Dan Holloway’s novel in England.  I am going to float a chapter here and if there is any further interest, perhaps a few more.  I am going to finish it this summer and publish it.  The story intrigues me and I think now I can tackle it.  Perhaps it’s the pollen, the Spring fever, an interest in erotica again, I don’t know.  But I do know it’s a good story.  But it comes with a warning:  Don’t read if you are easily offended with sexual portrayals.  I have cut this chapter short because the sex becomes explicit further in the chapter.  I’m in enough trouble with family members due to the pointed nose of one female (probably more) relative and I am sure she will be clucking her thin lips when she reads this.  On the other hand, perhaps she will loosen up.  Could happen.

Lady Nyo


Part of Chapter Two, “A Kapitany” 

The night before I was dismissed with a kiss on the forehead.  His car and driver took me home, but before leaving, Vadas Dohenhy told me I was to return here in two night’s time.  He didn’t ask me, it was more of a command.  His car would call for me and we were to dine in his suite.

I wondered at my lack of response to him.  What kept me from acting offended by his behavior? What kind of man demanded such stuff? At first, I thought it was the shock of being handled in such a fashion, but then again, I didn’t have a clue.

Perhaps that I was going to do exactly as he ordered said more about me.  But at that moment, I was deeply intrigued, and more than a little aroused at his control of the field.

The sexual handling played into some deep secrets, then again there was something not quite ‘right’ about the whole scene. I knew I was over my head, feet not touching the bottom, and at this point I was willing to let Vadas Dohenhy pull me around the water.  He was something new and different. I was ready for a change.

Precisely at seven I was picked up by his driver, a hard-looking man who made no attempts at small talk.  I was nervous, and sucked at my bottom lip until I had to reapply lipstick before getting out of the car.  Knocking at Vadas’ door, he opened it almost immediately, but was talking on his cellphone in rapid Hungarian as he pulled me into the room.  Still occupied, he stripped me of my jacket and taking my elbow, led me to the sofa, gesturing me to sit.  He turned and walked to the window, where he continued in rapid- fire Hungarian, too fast for me to pick up anything except “egam” and “nem”.  Yes and no. 

“Excuse me, Elizabeth, that was unexpected but important.”  He had flipped the phone shut, threw it on his desk.  His pronunciation of “Elizabeth” was very Hungarian, more like “A-liss-a-bet” to my ears.  I made a mental note to ask how he had learned my name.

Without further comment, he turned to the console and poured two glasses of  wine.  Crossing the room, he handed me a glass and sat down on the sofa.

“This is a good Tokay.  You are familiar with our national wine?”  He sipped from his glass, his eyes on me.

The only times I had tasted Tokay, I found it coy, too sweet.  “I am, a bit.  But those times did not like it at all.”

“Ah! Then you had a bad Tokay, too common.  Perhaps a blended dessert Tokay.”

This, my Elizabeth, is the famous “Essence”.  It is fabled and rarest of all, from the first run of the Aszu grapes.  It is very sweet, but not like sugar.  It is like honeyed velvet.”

I raised the glass to swallow, and Vadas spoke sharply, startling me.

“No, no, Elizabeth!” He put out his hand to stop me.  “First, smell the wine, let it get into your nose.  Breathe deeply the grapes. Smell the warm sun, the cool rain. Smell the soil of this region of Hungary, at the foothills of the mountains. Think of the black soil that supports the growth of these beautiful, black grapes.  You know the Essence will restore the dead to the living.”

Vadas was smiling but something in his manner told me he believed it all.

I took a deep sniff of the wine, its heady scent rising up the glass into my nose.  It was a strong, warm smell, and I could only think of how it must taste.  I sipped a bit and let it sit in my mouth.  It was warm and sweet and broad, as it swept my mouth like a piece of velvet.  I looked up at him, my eyes showing my surprise.

“Ah! You see?  It is the essence of life, of beauty, of seduction!”  Vadas face was excited, I supposed, by the poetry of his words.   I could agree and took another sip of the Tokay, now completely warming my mouth.   It was, as he said, a very seductive wine.

“Do you like music, Elizabeth?”  His voice cut into my thoughts of the wine, now slipping down my throat.

“Very much, Vadas.  My father played French horn.  I grew up with a lot of German music.  He played in an orchestra before I was born.”

“Ah! Then you know Strauss?” Vadas eyes gleamed as mine mellowed with the wine.

“Yes, especially “The Last Four Songs” and his very last, “Malven”.  Also some of his lieder.”  I didn’t think it right to mention I had worked to death “Going to Sleep” the third of the “ Last Four”. That was, after all, a lifetime away.

Vadas eyes registered his surprise at my words.  “Those are pretty sophisticated pieces of music for an American woman.  You do know that Strauss was in the Nazi Party?”

I did, but thought Vadas’ question might reflect that he was a Jew. “I think many musicians and artists joined because of the pressure, and they were after all, artists. Elisabeth Schwarzkopf  was one.”

“Ah! Betty Blackhead!”  Vadas chuckled and I laughed, thinking that a particularly American joke.

“It took a long while to pry her clamshell open.” Vadas continued.  “I don’t believe she admitted her membership until only a few years before her death, and by then, who would touch her?”  Vadas’ eyes shone, his chest heaving with gentle laughter.

“Would you like to listen to “Elisabeth”, Elizabeth?  I nodded my assent, delighted he would have this music available.

Vadas placed his wine glass on a side table and walked to his desk.  Picking up a large remote, he aimed it at the console, and pressed some buttons. A door opened and within moments the first strains of  “Spring” sounded and by the time the fourth song started, I knew this was a big mistake.  How foolish of me!  Those glorious suspended strains of music cut to my soul and so much buried sadness came bubbling to the surface.  Schwarzkopf’s ability, only possible in a German singer singing German music, of creating the absolute lyricism of linking word to word in such a weave tore at my heart.  Tears had collected in my eyes I knew would spill down my face and wash away my makeup. I took a hurried sip of my wine to hide the turmoil that must be showing and the knot in my throat grew with the glory of the wine in my mouth.  Too fast to hide, tears spilled over lower lids and I felt Vadas lean over and put his hand on my chin, turning my now-wet face to his.

“Elizabeth, Elizabeth, why so sad?  What memory is attached to this music?”

*Ah, Vadas, I thought, do not show me any mercy! That will only encourage my weeping. Take me in your arms and bite my lips with your teeth, detour the pain of my heart to some other place! *

My cheeks were wet, mascara staining my skin.   I must look like a raccoon to Vadas.  He moved closer, but the bastard did not turn off the music. Ah, he was cruel and knew I was putty.  He did pull out a white handkerchief and gently wiped my cheeks, blotting up the mascara running like black blood from my bottom lids.  He even held it to my nose, but I wrenched it from his hand with an attempt at some dignity.  Blowing strongly, I tried to regain some composure.

“I am sorry, Vadas.  Perhaps I should leave.  This music is hard on the memories.”

“No, no, Elizabeth.  Do not leave. I have invited you to dinner, and you understand how we Hungarians feel about food refused.”

I laughed.  Yes, I did know.  It was a gross insult, and something I had learned in my childhood.

“Good, you laugh and it is like the sun comes out at midnight!”  Vadas chuckled and came closer. I lifted up my head towards him and felt his arms encircle me, pulling me to him.  His eyes searched mine, an unexpected tender expression on his face and I closed my eyes with a sigh. His lips brushed mine and then press down in earnest.  Vadas of the long kisses!  I was relaxing into his embrace when there was a knock at the door.  It was room service with our dinner.

Vadas broke off his kiss, and looked at me regretfully.  If there was one time in my life that I could have gone without food, this was it.

Room service left after arranging covered platters on the large table that was obviously used for purposes other than eating.  Stacks of folders and loose papers were moved by Vadas from the table and then he held out my chair to sit.  He poured more wine, this time taking another bottle of Tokay from the wine cooler.  I was curious as to what food Vadas had ordered and surprised when he removed my cover and I had a large salad.  A lovely salad, but still a salad.  Vadas though had a large steak, potatoes and vegetables.  I looked pointed at his plate and then at mine and raised my eyes to him. 

“Ah! Women should not eat meat. It is too heavy for their systems.  Better they dine on light foods, maybe with a little fish, a little fowl,  but never meat.”  He was serious!

I smiled and started to eat my salad, watching him cut his steak.   With a laugh, he held out a piece to me and insisted on placing it in my mouth.

“I will feed you like a baby bird, but only from my hands will you eat meat. Understand? Men eat meat, it is good for the blood, but too much taints a woman’s nature.” 

I had no choice, but there was a nice piece of salmon under another cover.

Vadas enjoyed his steak, talking between swallows.  “You remember I told you I make the choices now?  You did agree to my words as I remember.”

“Yes, Vadas, as long as you don’t attempt to starve me.”

“Ah, Elizabeth, you will not starve in my presence.  A man takes care of a woman, whether his or another’s.”  His wit did not interrupt his attention to his food. He had a good appetite.

“Here, you don’t drink enough wine.  This is a different Tokay, but in America they always serve it too cold.  We will let it warm up, breathe, and finish off this bottle of Essence.”

He would get me drunk, and then starve me!  I laughed, for the wine was very good and went well with the salad.  He told me to drink only water with the salmon.   The next bottle of Tokay would be for our dessert.

Dinner over, he proposed we dance a bit, as they do in Hungary after a meal.  He played around with the remote, and some music came from the console. I was not familiar with this, but it was slow music, and rather nice.  Vadas reached out his hand and pulled me up to him, and led me to the middle of the floor where we could dance.  He was much taller, but more so, a large man, built solid.  There was something powerful about Vadas that went beyond his stature.  Perhaps it was his confidence, his ability to control the situation.  I was not used to such a man, and frankly, was a bit unsettled by his behavior.  It was strikingly different and alien.

He held me lightly, not crushing me to his body, but respectfully like a man would in public.  Every once in a while he would pull back and look at me, smile, and just the feel of his body, close enough for me to be very aware of his masculinity, was alluring.  He didn’t seem to be in any hurry to bed me, and I had toned down my expectations. This seemed to be what he wanted– a long, slow seduction.

A few more dances and I had to excuse myself.  When I returned, Vadas was sitting on the sofa, and he patted the seat beside him.  I started to sit down, when he pulled me over into his lap, cradling me in his arms.  He busied himself with unbuttoning my blouse, and laying both sides open he saw my black lace bra.

“Ah, Elizabeth, Elizabeth , what am I going to do to you?”

I thought those rather strange words from Vadas.  “What am I going to do with you” would have made more sense, but then again, Vadas was rather strange.

“You have beautiful Hungarian breasts, Elizabeth, large and shapely.”

I laughed, lying in his lap like a child, half exposed.   “Is everything Hungarian good, Vadas?”

“No, not everything.  Bureaucrats, government, police, most laws that don’t let me do what I want.  But I am looking at half- Hungarian breasts, and they are beautiful enough.”

“You are a romantic, Vadas.”

“Don’t confuse your American ideas of romanticism with mine, my dear Elizabeth.  You would be rather surprised.”

There was a little threat in those words that should have made me uneasy, but the Tokay interfered with my senses. Regardless how much Vadas drank of the wine, his remained clear.  He unzipped my skirt from the side, and pulled it down my legs, leaving me dressed only in my underwear and stockings.  I must have made an impression, for his dark eyes dilated and he sucked in his breath.  He pinched my nipples through the lace of the bra and then stroked my crotch with his strong fingers.  I was getting very aroused. Suddenly Vadas picked me up in his arms and set me vertical to his lap, my legs straddling him, my breasts at his mouth.  With a flick of his hand, he released the hook and pulled my bra from my shoulders.  He took one breast in his mouth and sucked and swirled his tongue around my nipple.  I threw back my head and groaned, grinding my hips into his lap.

Suddenly Vadas threw me across his lap, with my buttocks in the air, and slapped me hard with his left hand. I screamed out, yet he ignored my cries and continued to slap hard on my rump.  He stopped and stuck his hand between the cloth of my panties and into my flesh. 

“So, Elizabeth, you must like this rough play.  You are wet like a river. Now, dear Elizabeth, I want you to kneel before me. I want you to excite yourself with your hands.”

Vadas pushed me off his lap, I rolling onto the carpet beneath his feet. Looking up at him with great anger, my hair obstructing my face, I addressed him as sharply as I was able.

“No, I will not do that, and you will not treat me like a child.  I am a woman, you remember that, not a child to be spanked.”  I rose to my knees, my fists clenched tightly, for at that moment, I could have flown at him and pummeled him with all my strength.

He was smiling down at me, but his eyes were hard. “Elizabeth, perhaps you forget what we agreed.”  His voice was very low, and I strained to catch what he was saying.

Vadas rose from the sofa and stood over me.  “Stand up, Elizabeth.”  He extended his hand to help me rise. As I stood, Vadas pulled me into his arms, holding me where my feet could not touch ground.  I knew he appeared powerful, but holding me to him, my entire body pressed against his, made me realize that I was not in control of the situation.  Vadas was, enjoying my almost naked body against his, even my struggling to be released.

“Vadas, put me down, right now!  I demand you put me down!”

“Ah! You demand I do your bidding?  Well, I am the man and you are the woman, and I have the upper hand.  And will continue to have.  You, Elizabeth, remember our agreement.”

I was ticklish, and Vadas realized this.  Holding me to him with one powerful arm, he poked at my ribs until I was squirming and laughing in spite of my anger.  Suddenly, Vadas threw me on the sofa and I realized from my position that he had an erection.  I struggled to raise myself on my arms, looking at him through hair that now covered my face.  I was aroused, too, with our struggle, and glad to see it had moved Vadas in the same way.  He seemed less forbidding now, only a man.

Vadas saw were my eyes fell, gave a grin and lay down on top of me, his erection poking me where it was most desired.  Supporting his upper body with his arms, he attempted to sweep my hair out of my face.

“Elizabeth, you are such a little slut, but I can’t resist you.  You don’t know the rules yet, and I, who do, violate them this one time.  You bring my bull’s blood up.”

I laughed underneath him, my chest and belly heaving.  “Bulls Blood” was a Hungarian table wine, common, not elegant like the fabled “Essence”.  It was the difference between pennies and pounds.

Vadas kissed me tenderly, stood up, extending his hand to me.  I rose, and in one smooth gesture, Vadas had me in his arms, this time carrying me towards two closed doors.  Without dropping me, we entered his bedroom.  In the middle was a large poster bed, rather old fashioned in taste.  Vadas dropped me on the side of the bed and I looked up at him, my eyes studying his figure.  With a smile, Vadas started to unbutton his dress shirt.  I sat up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed, stopping him with my hand.  Sitting there, with him close by the side of the bed, I reached up and unbuttoned his shirt, kissing his bare stomach.  I slipped my arms around his torso, and stretched to lay my head on his chest, comforting myself with this intimacy.  Vadas had a hairy chest, something I was not used to. It felt strange to my face, tickled my nose. I breathed in his scented skin. Vadas threw off his shirt, his torso broad, a man of substance, not a boy before me, but a man in all the glory of his masculinity.

Part of Chapter Two, “Az Kapitany”

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted 2007-2011

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