Book 9: The Rhineland Papers
or Book Tricks (a novel)
An excerpt: Mel Molter tells her
lover Karl-Dorian (Kado) via e-mail how she memorizes their first sexual
The whole story revolves around the gold of the Nibelungen, which is in reality
Nazi gold. During a performance of Wagner's Rheingold opera at the German Corner
in Koblenz, hostage-takers blow open the entrance to the treasure in the
monument and escape for ever. Without knowing it, Dr. Plittner, a friend of Kado
Rotzner's, is involved in this case and is arrested by the police. The two
friends have to delve deep and long into the past to find an answer to the many
mysteries confronting them. A grandiose novel set in the romantic Rhineland and
displaying a lot of the charm of the Rhine, a novel which keeps taking the
protagonist back to the USA, a novel in a novel which is being worked on by the
members of a writers' workshop. With great skill, Claudia Zickler, an expert in
creative writing, tries to intertwine the people in real life, to sexually
entangle them, so that she ends up with her material. Kado is a member of her
workshop, her husband is the public prosecutor who puts Plittner behind bars. At
the end, however, they manage together to throw light on the dark.
What I wanted to tell you
jolly steamboat trip on the Rhine, on the "Goethe" to Rüdesheim
and back. When we fell into each other's arms, when we realised something had to
happen. The climax in the repertoire of all pairing games. Pairing itself! O,
it's just occured to me, my parents rode their scooter through the Rhine valley some time in the
fifties, they later moved here from the Ruhr area.
I still got some pictures of them in front of the Loreley rock, my mother in a
skirt and petticoat, slim she was, with an unbelievable slim waist and a
white blouse, and they look like they're really in love, they are not married
neither of them have the faintest idea of my future existence. Jesus,
are they in love! I'll scan the picture and mail it to you.
Well, in love. I realised that I
was in love with you when I started thinking about the how and where and
when we would make love for the first time. Scooter or no scooter. When a dog
jumped at us and made us fall to the ground, our dog! Our secret
agent of love.
My fancies of moments like
that used to be determined by pictures of TV series. Satin bedsheets and champagne in
a bowl, straps and red roses. After a wonderful evening with an excellent dinner,
the movies and all that. And of course with the promise of eternal love. Well,
no, our first time was supposed to be on the Loreley rock. Satin sheets and
champagne would have to wait a little. But when we reached the Loreley I began
to waver. The whole affair might turn out to be a flop. We would have to go back
to Koblenz, would have to get some blankets. I knew the site at the rock from
concerts. Was the site also fenced in when there was no concert? And what if
someone caught us in the act? Maybe the rock was teeming with couples, Japanese
couples in love, who saved their money over the years for the screw of their
life on the Loreley. Sighing all around us, love whispers in all tongues of the
mucuous membranes contacting mucuous membranes in all possible and impossible
ways, and it gave me the creeps. Yes, I was hot, hot like hell, yes I was, and I wanted
to fuck you, but I wanted to be alone with you, I wanted to hear only our own
only our own smacking noises of our own mucuous membranes, our own whining
"Is it so hard for you,
Mel?" you asked me.
And we looked in each other's
eyes und then we kissed and the Loreley disappeared, and all the people on the boat
disappeared, sunk into oblivion. I sank deep into your mouth, between your lips
and teeth my tongue and lips squirmed and writhed. We talked that other language
finally. All that mesmerizing, all that lovely playfulness and tender dallying,
our loving teasing and nibbling was gone with the wind, disappeared, dissolved.
What came now was demanding, hard, the language of the body, the
language of craving lust. Your tongue was an instrument of blackmail and
conquest. I myself was a pioneer and penetrated deeper and deeper, pushing
aside all reservations: I didn't mind exertion, I had no fear of diseases, no
fear of weakness and failure. I wanted it and I wanted it now, and you wanted it
right away on that very spot.
When our bodies came apart, my breasts detached from your
chest, our lips
parted and we began to
breath again, when the pressure of your penis on my pelvis was released and our hands
began opening clothes, I came to my senses and realised where we were.
"Not here, Kado, please, not
You looked around and I knew what
you had in mind. Some dark corner, which you would push me into, some bench where
you would sit, me astride you on your lap; but I wasn't wearing a skirt and I didn't
want anybody to get a view of my white buttocks, no one but you.
"Come", you said, took
my hand, kissed me once again so urgently, and I followed you. The air in the
bathroom was hot and steamy, quite a contrast to the fresh dusk on the open
deck. There was a smell of men's urine and engine oil and a fragrance of almonds
in bloom, an odd enough mixture, while the steam engine was gently stomping.
When you penetrated me I felt the lust of a carnivorous plant and I was close to
fainting, I was completely filled with you, I couldn't tell top from bottom, I
held my breath and released the air with a sigh and above us the captain let off
steam. A hot jet of steam hissed into the evening air coming from deep inside
steel, water, and flames. Only very old steamers are able to create such a long and
sweetly saturated sound, a profoundly modulated tone with almost inaudible high and fine
overtones. And then I heard the boat's bell ringing triumphantly. And within a radius of several miles people
the "Goethe" and some of her
passengers were coming.