Email:
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Larra’s
Mayan Adventure
Schroeder arrived promptly at
“I have a favorite little nightspot
of mine that I think you will find enchanting,” said Schroeder once
they were in the car. “It
is a little Bohemian, but I think you will find it quite
delightful.”
The ride to the nightclub was
uneventful. Larra was surprised
to discover that it was called Klub
The inside of the club was poorly
lit and heavy with the stench of tobacco smoke.
In the background someone was
tinkling rather tunelessly on a piano, while a saxophone wailed
accompaniment. “Not exactly
my type of place,” Larra mused.
Schroeder handed the maitre de, if
that is what the ratty individual who sidled up to them could be called,
a large bill. The weasely little
individual showed them to a table near the
stage. The light was better there,
but the air was just as stuffy.
Schroeder pulled out a chair for
Larra. Two other SS officers
had accompanied them into the club.
One of them did the same for Amy, and then everyone sat
down. A rather scruffy waiter
appeared and Schroeder ordered
Larra
smiled. She and Amy had deliberately
dressed rather conservatively for the night
out. Both women were wearing
high cut dresses that left their arms
bare. Nonetheless, all of the
men present found them unbelievably
attractive.
The waiter returned with the
Eventually the waiter arrived with
a cartload of German delicacies, from schnitzel to
sauerbraten. It was all good
wholesome German fare that seemed to go down well with the
Larra drank
sparingly. She was not used to
alcohol, and wanted to keep her wits about her in any case in order to glean
as much information from Schroeder as
possible.
A few minutes after the
The conversation at the table, such
as it was, turned around nothing.
Larra found that she was not gleaning even a minute bit of
information. Not only that, she
found that she was getting rather drowsy.
“I better go to the ladies’ room,” she thought, hazily
and she tried to get up.
“Funny,” she thought, dreamily,
“my legs don’t seem to be working.”
The room began to swirl about her,
and she was dimly aware that Schroeder was helping her from the
table. “Come, Larra,”
he said, suddenly dropping his formal method of addressing her.
Larra stumbled through the
club. She had no idea where Schroeder
was taking her, but she no longer seemed to
care. Vaguely she was aware that
she was in a back room in the club.
The light in the room was quite dim and with the door closed it was
much quieter. Schroeder was half
walking, half carrying her over to a bed away from the
door. “Lie here my
Valkyrie,” Schroeder whispered, his mouth very close to her
ear.
Larra felt herself being lowered
to the bed. She felt completely
enervated. She closed her
eyes. Maybe a little sleep would
help.
Slap! Larra felt her head snap to the
side. “Oh no, my beauty,”
Schroeder commanded, “I want you
awake.”
Slap! Schroeder’s hand snapped her
head back the other way.
The two bruising blows snapped Larra
back to consciousness, but she still felt no sense of
alarm. She was still in a trance-like
state. She was awake, but without
any feeling of apprehension. What
Schroeder was doing seemed perfectly normal and
acceptable.
Schroeder’s fingers were now
at the nape of Larra’s neck.
She felt him lift her slightly with his other arm and heard a zipping
sound as he slowly pulled the zipper at the back of her dress down to her
waist.
“Mmmmm,” Larra
moaned. Schroeder had pulled
the front of her gown down to her hips, exposing the most beautiful torso
he had ever seen.
“Gott in
Himmel!!” exclaimed
the heavy-set German. Never before
had he set eyes on such perfection.
Larra’s beautiful rose-tipped breasts quivered only slightly
as he exposed her bosom. Holding
his breath, Schroeder reached down and placed his hands on either side of
her cantaloupe sized breasts.
Gently, he squeezed them together, watching in excited fascination
as the nipples began to swell under the
pressure. Her breasts were
pillow-soft yet as firm as those of a
fourteen-year-old. They
held their shape, settling only slightly to either side under the pressure
of gravity.
“Aaahhh!” Larra sighed, as Schroeder began to massage
her gorgeous bosom. She arched
her back slightly, pushing her pelvis against Schroeder’s leg, which
was now between hers, as he straddled her
body.
“Oh,” exclaimed Schroeder,
“this is going to be
fantastic.” He leaned forward
to take her left nipple between his teeth.
Crash!! Schroeder jumped as the door burst
open. “What the hell?”
he shouted.
Suddenly the room was crowded with
club personnel. Behind them was
Amy Price. She was shouting in
English and German: “Quickly, quickly,
schnell,
schnell!
Schroeder found himself pushed aside
as a dozen people crowded around the bed.
The men in the crowd halted, momentarily stunned by the semi-nude
beauty on the bed, but Amy pulled up Larra’s dress and lifted her under
the arms. “Help me!”
she commanded. Immediately several
willing hands lifted the semi-conscious woman from the bed and carried her
out into the club. The infuriated
and astounded Schroeder could only look on
impotently. Within a minute Larra
was carried out into the street and dumped into a
taxi.
Larra closed her eyes and tried to
sleep. Amy slapped her
awake. “Not yet
Larra. Here drink
this.” Amy forced a decanter
of coffee to Larra’s lips.
“Ah!” The coffee was almost scalding
hot. Larra jerked her head back,
but Amy was insistent. She continued
to pour the hot fluid into the dazed woman, spilling as much down her chest
as she got into her mouth. But
it seemed to work. Larra snapped
out of her dreamlike state.
“What happened?’ she
moaned. Now that she was waking
up her head hurt like hell.
“You were drugged,” Amy
replied. “Schroeder or one
of his friends put something in your
Larra flushed, her skin turning the
deepest shade of crimson. “I
remember some of that now,” she
said. “How were you able
to get me out of there?”
“I managed to distract
Schroeder’s flunkies by pretending to be
sick. No man wants to be near
a woman who is about to vomit. Then
I told the club staff that the world famous archaeologist
“Thanks,” Larra grimaced,
“I deserve that. It was
stupid of me to get us into such a dangerous
situation. My God, how my head
hurts!”
“We’ll have to see if we
can get you some ice back at the hotel,” replied
Amy.
“How did you manage to avoid
being drugged?” asked Larra, as Amy gently massaged the back of her
neck.
“I don’t
drink. I had a very strict
upbringing. Alcohol was the
Devil’s work. While our
escorts were watching the show I dumped my drink into the potted palm next
to the table. I did it because
I didn’t want to insult our hosts.
Turns out to have been a pretty good move.”
Larra smiled at the radiant
redhead. “Amy you are a
gem,” she said.
Amy smiled
back. In the company of anyone
else but
Amy’s luxuriant red hair was
slightly beyond shoulder length.
She usually wore it long, but for the occasion of tonight’s outing
had piled it high on her head. In
keeping with her fair complexion her skin was sprinkled with freckles, especially
on her tanned face and arms as befitted her South African
heritage. A pert straight nose
and the most intriguing emerald green eyes set off her lovely
face. A wide full mouth and a
strong chin rounded out a picture that was capable of arousing a powerful
sense of desire in any man.
The taxi had arrived at the
hotel. Amy got out, but Larra
stayed in the car. “I
don’t think we will stick around any longer than we have to,” she
said. “You go upstairs and
get Sara and James. Don’t
worry about our things; there is nothing there that cannot be
replaced. We are leaving
Amy hurried up the front steps of
the hotel. A few minutes later
she emerged with Sara, who was carrying the sleeping
James.
Larra turned to the driver: “How
would you like to make a thousand marks tonight?” she
asked. A few seconds later the
cab sped off, heading for the outskirts of
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