"Partisans" (closed)

[ToniTaylor]

"Partisans"

Closed​

Claire Clark smiled to the soldier as he opened his eyes for the first time since he'd been brought to her four days earlier. After he'd blinked them several times and appeared to be focused on her, she said with a slight Parisian accent, "Bonjour. Comment te sens-tu?"

He simply stared at her for a long moment, leading Claire to speak in what she presumed was his given language based upon his uniform, "Hello. How do you feel?"

Again, he simply stared at her in silence. Claire was used to men staring at her, of course. She had a natural beauty to her face, but it was her shapely figure about which when dreamed when they were alone with their dicks out.

"You were hurt," she began explaining his situation, trying to enunciate the words. "They brought you here, to my home."

Claire had been born and raised in a suburb of Paris before moving with her parents to the city of Chicago in the U.S. of A. at 13. She'd known a bit of English before leaving France and had learned considerably more during her 2 years in America. But sometimes -- particularly when she got excited or anxious -- the French flooded her brain and forced out the English, leaving her entirely unable to find the words she needed.

"You are American soldier, oui?" she went on when he still only stared at her quietly. She raised her hand and made a downward sweeping motion with her fingers splayed. "Soldat aéroporté ... um ... parachutiste ... come from sky ... sauter de l’avion ... jump from plane."

A toddler appeared and tugged at Claire, urging her to lean over to him. She did, listening to him whispering as he stared directly at the soldier. She giggled, looked to the American as well, and spoke to the boy in their shared language before he ran off.

"He wants know if you are good guy or bad guy," Claire explained. The boy returned again, much more slowly this time and -- with care and difficulty -- carrying a large bowl from which steam was rising. She chastised him politely for trying to handle the heavy bowl all alone, then shooed him away. Lifting a spoonful of hot liquid, she told the man, "Soup. You need eat."

 

[ManInTheLoft]

"Bonjour. Comment te sens-tu?"

Robert blinked his eyes some more until he was clearly seeing the French beauty before him. He was still disoriented enough to wonder whether or not this was a dream. His last memory was of being seconds away from jumping into France as part of an advance scouting mission. His next memory was the one he was making now, opening his eyes to see this angel hovering over him with the most welcoming of smiles.

What Robert couldn't have known was that the plane on which he and his squad of 11 others were on had been discovered and shot upon by a very lucky German anti-aircraft gunner. The first and only shot had fatally disabled the plane, as well as knocked Robert unconscious. He'd already been attached to the static line, and when his fellow uninjured, and quick thinking Airborne troops realized that the plane was nosing increasingly downward, they essentially shoved him out the door like a sack of potatoes.

"Hello. How do you feel?"

Again, Robert just stared at the young woman. She explained that he'd been injured, something he was figuring out because of the pain still ripping through his body. She explained that someone had brought him to her.

"You are American soldier, oui?" she asked, doing her best to indicate that she believed him to be a paratrooper.

He wanted to speak to her, to ask where he was, whether or not he was safe, where his comrades were, who she was, and more. But all he was able to get out before his head began to hurt was, "American, yes. Airborne. Paratrooper, oui."

A moment later, she was moving a large spoon of steaming soup up to his lips.
He accepted it eagerly; his stomach was aching from emptiness. It was weak in flavor and substantial content and desperately in need of salt, but Robert nodded when she asked him if he wanted more. He gently chewed up several chunks of potatoes and vegetables, but eventually noticed there was no meat. Robert asked for water, then for milk if she had any. The first was brought to him by the boy, but he was told there was none of the latter.

"I need to sit up, please," he told her, trying his best to rise up from the thin, uncomfortable mattress. She helped him, and the boy even tried to offer assistance. Once he was partially upright, he smiled to the boy, then looked to the young woman. Looking for information but, at the same time, wanting to compliment her and sound smooth, Robert said, "You don't look old enough to be this boy's mother. Are there others here?"

 

[ToniTaylor]

Claire smiled wider when the soldier confirmed, "American, yes. Airborne. Paratrooper, oui."

"Oui," she whispered, smiling even wider at his use of the French word. It had been a long time since she'd heard an American speak her native tongue.

She helped him rise taller in the bed, directing the boy to gather some more pillows to put behind his back. When the boy returned, he lofted one of the pillows and spoke in a rambling, childish French that even Claire had a hard time following. She laughed at him, helped him place the pillow, then sent him off with instructions to which he only nodded.

"You don't look old enough to be this boy's mother," the American said, asking, "Are there others here?"

The joy in Claire's face faded. She missed the compliment the soldier was giving her and only thought of the relationship -- or lack thereof -- between her and the boy. "Yes, others here. I not Beven's mère ... mother. Boy is named Beven, I am Claire. You are...?"

She smiled to the soldier as he introduced himself, then continued, "Beven's mother leave to get food one day but never return. Long ago ... four months ... five?"

Beven returned again, this time followed by another woman. She was a bit older and nearly as beautiful as Claire. Beven was carrying a set of sheets in his arms as if carrying firewood, smiling broadly at his accomplishment. The other woman, who was introduced as Emily, carried a set of blankets and pillow cases.

"Change bed," Claire said, explaining, "You sweat through fever yesterday. Need fresh."

She leaned over Robert and comically sniffed in some air before making a sour expression. "Stink."

Beven repeated the sniff and laughed, again speaking in childish French. The two women helped Robert carefully into a sitting position, working the soiled bedding out from under him, replacing it with fresh sheets and blankets, and then helping him back into bed. Claire looked into Robert's eyes for his reaction to finding himself in only a pair of boxers. He said nothing, and she only smiled, wondering what he was thinking about how he'd come to be practically naked.

"I will return," she told him once he was comfortable. She spoke to Beven, causing the boy to rush off, then return with a picture book. She sat him on a chair next to the bed and told Robert, "Beven likes me read him to sleep. He will read you to sleep."

And with a last smile, she turned and left the room as Beven began reading from the picture book. Oh, he couldn't actually read the words, of course, but he traced his fingers along the text as he shared his own interpretation of the pictures on the pages.



Some time later, Emily entered the room and sat on the bed next to the sleeping Robert. The jostling awoke him, and when he looked up, she was holding her finger to her lips. She whispered in a heavy Parisian accent, "Must silent."

At some point during the American's nap, Beven had crawled up onto the end of the bed to sleep as well. He'd been wrapped with a blanket and was soundly asleep. Emily had a very nervous expression on her face, which only became more so as the obvious sounds of sex began wafting in from another room. She looked to Robert and again held a finger to her lip.

The squeaking of bed springs, male grunting, and female crying intensified over a couple of minutes, culminating in a loud groan of male ecstasy. After another couple of minutes, there was murmured conversation that was indecipherable from this distance, and again Emily lifted her finger to her lips as she looked to Robert.

Eventually, the sounds of boots on the wood floor and a door closing indicated that someone -- the man, obviously -- had left the house. Emily rose, scooping the still sleeping Beven into her arms and taking him away. Several minutes passed before Claire returned to the room in which Robert was convalescing. She barely glanced at the American before looking away. She set a wooden box on a table, not explaining what was in it or how she'd come to have it. She didn't have to explain; Robert had to know.

"Dinner soon," she said, facing the soldier but not meeting his gaze. She added before leaving the room, "Lamb."

 

[ManInTheLoft]

"...I not Beven's mère ... mother," Claire confirmed, going on to talk about the disappearance of Beven's mother.

It was a tragedy, of course, but it didn't surprise Robert. The horrors the people of Europe had faced, particularly the women and children, had been spoken of often back in England during Robert's training. It was a relief, he thought, to see that Claire herself had not suffered as so many others had.

But later in the evening, Robert would come to realize that the French beauty hadn't gotten through it all unscathed. He'd fallen asleep to Beven's reading, just as Claire had expected, waking only when the second woman of the home sat down on the edge of the bed and told him to be silent.

Robert's first thought was that the Germans had found him. He had no knowledge about the attack on his airplane or on the fate of his comrades. He was sure, though, that the Krauts would be looking for him and the others if there was any chance they had survived.

But as he sat there in absolute silence, even controlling his breathing as best he could, Robert quickly recognized the unmistakable sound of two people going at it on an old metal spring bed. And, with Emily silencing him and Claire absent, it didn't take a genius to understand who the female half of the coupling pair was.

Robert suddenly found himself crushed. He'd only spent a couple of hours with Claire, and yet he'd found himself absolutely taken by her. And now she was in the next room over or possibly the room after that, flat on her back with some other man pounding his cock into her deep and fast. He'd asked her if the boy was her child, and Claire had said no. But it hadn't occurred to him to ask whether or not she had a beau.

He stared at the ceiling as the squeak, squeak, squeak of the bed combined with the soft cries coming from Claire and the grunts of mixed exertion and pleasure came from her lover. Robert tried not to picture the scene but failed; Claire's expressions of building, joyous ecstasy filled his mind, as did the horrid imagining of the other man's long, thick cock pummeling the French beauty's wet folds.

And then, with a deep grunt from the male, it was all over. Robert shifted his gaze to Emily, who again gestured him silent with a finger to her lips. He looked back to the ceiling and waited, listening to muted words in...

German? He looked to Emily again, and he saw something in her expression he hadn't noticed before. During the entire incident, Robert had wondered why the second woman was here in the room with him while Claire and her lover were just one or two walls away. Wouldn't it have been more appropriate for privacy's sake for Emily to leave the house for the few minutes that the encounter had consumed?

Now, though, it began to make more sense. Claire wasn't engaged in the most intense passion with a French lover; she was on her back, knees parted and high, with a Kraut rapist. That was the word that came to Robert's mind immediately, rapist. He couldn't believe that Claire was serving a German sexually out of love or even her own lust. She was being forced. Or, he suddenly considered with regret, she was being paid, compensated in some way.

After the door of the home had opened with a squeal of its rusty, metal hinges and then shut in much the same way, Emily departed with Beven in his hands. It was several minutes later before Claire entered the room again. Robert was unsure whether or not he could meet her eyes, but with the exception of one quick glance at the start, the French women didn't look toward him.

She placed a box on a table, then unloaded it. There was a partial block of cheese, a pair of sausages, a small bottle of milk, a sack of what appeared to be vegetables and fruits, and other small portions of food. There was also a small can of lamp oil and several candles, wrapped in a bowed string.

All told, when Robert thought about it later, he would estimate the value of the compensation to be about $20, maybe more in this time of war shortages and rationing. It wasn't much for what Claire had given up. But again later, when he had time to think about it, Robert wondered just how Claire, Emily, Beven, and the others he hadn't met would survive if his Angel hadn't been willing to tarnish her halo a bit.

"Dinner soon," she said after she'd finally turned to face Robert. She fetched a paper wrapped bundle, adding before she left, "Lamb."

Robert laid back into the bed, staring at the ceiling again. He was suddenly ashamed to realize that he was partially hardened down below. Did Emily see this? he wondered, gently pounding his forehead with the base of his palm several times.

Forget it, it never happened, Robert finally told himself, knowing that what Claire and the German had done was none of his business. He listened to the two women working in the next room for several minutes, then struggled against the pain to get himself out of the bed and onto his feet. He was unsteady at first, but eventually gained his balance. He ran his hands over his body in the search for injuries, finding none. His head ached like a son of a gun, so he figured the damage he'd suffered had been to his brain, one of those concussion injuries he'd been warned about during training.

Finding a cut tree limb in the wood box next to the hearth, Robert used it as a cane to steady a slow walk about the room. He paced around in a circle or two one way, turned and did the same in the opposite direction. It felt good to move around, both physically and mentally. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and looked to the doorway to find Beven smiling at him. The boy turned and rushed away, and a short time later he returned with an actual cane. Robert took it with thanks, walked with it a bit, then headed for the door with the boy behind him.

"How can I help?" he asked the two women as they caught sight of him and almost simultaneously began chastising him for being out of bed. He waved off their concerns, telling them, "I want to help, and I'm not helpless. Give me something to do, or I'll just be in your way doing something you'll likely not want me to do."

Soon enough, Robert found himself washing his hands and cutting up vegetables and fresh herbs. He helped a struggling Beven up into a chair, and the boy watched with a never fading smile, occasionally speaking to Robert as if he believed the man understood every word. Emily tried to translate, but her English was limited and, quite honestly, Robert didn't always understand her any better than he did the boy.

What Robert wanted was to once again converse with Claire. They had very little conversation prior to the incident with the unseen German, but it had been very endearing to him. He missed it and feared it would not return.

"I was on a plane with eleven men," he said toward Claire at one point. She glanced to him but only for an instant. "There were two pilots, too. Fourteen men in all. Do you know anything about them, these men? Claire, please. Can you tell me anything about my Squad, about the plane?"

Robert was desperate to know about his comrades in arms, the two British pilots and the mix of twelve soldiers, which had included Americans, British, and even French troopers. He was also desperate to once again be speaking with another person, any other person, and in particular, this beautiful French woman who had looked into his eyes so lovingly earlier. Or, had he imagined all of that?

 

[ToniTaylor]

"Why are you out of bed?" Claire snapped without even thinking at the sight of Robert standing in the bedroom doorway, leaning on her grandfather's cane. "Go back to bed!"

While her friend hadn't moved during her chastising, Emily had hurried over to Robert, fearful that the gently swaying man might fall. She, too, chastised the soldier, though more softly, less angrily, and in French.

"How can I help?" he asked, stressing that he wasn't helpless.

Emily looked to Claire, who glared menacingly for a moment before nodding her head toward the table on which many of the dinner's ingredients were scattered. She spoke to Emily in their shared language, and the older woman helped Robert to a seat.

Claire rarely looked to Robert, and when she did it was only for a moment and only at his chopping and dicing hands, never at his observant eyes. She simply couldn't meet his gaze after what she'd done earlier. She didn't want to part her thighs to the German Major obviously. He was the enemy, his country's forces were occupying Claire's country, and -- very likely -- men from his Battalion, the force holding this section of Paris, were responsible for the disappearance and presumed deaths of her parents.

But she had to feed herself and later feed Beven, for whom she'd taken responsibility. For a short time after the occupation of Paris, Claire had been able to continue working in the market, until it closed for a lack of goods to sell. She survived for a while by doing chores and cooking for French neighbors who could afford to pay her. When that no longer supported her and the newest occupants of her home -- Emily, Emily's sister Lorraine, and their grandfather, who had since passed -- Claire began doing laundry for a German Military Police Unit that had been charged with providing safety and security in the neighborhood.

Then came the day when the Commander of the police unit stopped by to personally deliver his dirty uniforms for washing and pressing. The German Major had been told of Claire's beauty and apparent lack of a supporting male partner, be it husband or otherwise. His gifts to her on his second visit -- wine, cheeses, meats, and more -- as well as his suggestive compliments of her and comments about how hard could be for a woman alone with a child led to what was between them now.

Claire had cried almost entirely through their first love making session, and not only for the obvious reason. She'd been a virgin at that point, and if the horror of satisfying the enemy's lust hadn't been bad enough, the pain of having him thrusting with abandon deep inside her would have lead to the tears and sobs on its own.

But she'd survived it, and she'd continued the relationship. The Major's duties brought him to the neighborhood nearly every week, and on those weeks when they didn't, an Adjutant delivered a box of food and other goods to ensure that Claire didn't go without.

She was deep in thought about her situation and about how the American's presence here might change that when she flinched out of her reverie at Robert saying, "I was on a plane with eleven men."

He explained about the plane, its crew, and his fellow soldiers, and when he finished, Claire turned to face him for the first time since before another man had been deep inside her. She studied him for a moment before informing him, "Your friends from the plane did not survive. I am sorry, Robert."

She watched for his reaction before giving him the details she'd been given by the men who'd brought Robert to her. "Your plane, it crashed in the woods outside Bonneval. You were in a tree, your..."

She made a gesture with both hands, trying to describe a parachute, then continued, "In canopée ... limbs? They bring you down, then bring me."

Claire looked to Emily, and the pair of them talked in barely above a whisper for almost two minutes. The conversation began to become a bit heated, with Emily obviously not agreeing with what the other woman was wanting to say. Finally, though, Claire looked to Robert and admitted, "We are part of the Résistance ... we are Les partisans ... fighting for a Free France and the expulsion of the German's from our country ... from our cities and our homes."

 

[ManInTheLoft]

"Your friends from the plane did not survive," Claire told him. "I am sorry, Robert."

He was, of course, disappointed, crushed. But Robert wasn't surprised. He and the others had known that if the small troop plane he'd been in took a direct or otherwise serious hit, they'd all likely die. The likelihood of getting out of a disabled plane was small. The fact that the strike had been sufficient to immediately knock him unconscious had not been a good sign.

"Your plane, it crashed in the woods outside Bonneval," Claire went on. "You were in a tree, your..."

"Where?" he asked with a tone of confusion. Bonneval? he thought, trying to remember the names on the training map. If he was correct, Bonneval was more than a dozen miles to the east of the flight path the plane should have been on. "Where was I? Where did they find me?"

"In canopée..." Claire answered, misunderstanding the question. She attempted to clarify, "... limbs? They bring you down, then bring me."

Robert wanted to ask more about the location of where he'd been found, but his head was pounding and he let it go for the moment.

Then, Claire shocked him by admitting, "We are part of the Résistance..."

His eyes widened at this news, and he listened to every word intently, despite the building headache. Emily saw the strain in Robert's face and came to sit by him as she talked to Claire. Robert told them as he stood, "I need to lay down, I think."

They helped him back to his bed, and he told them he'd rest while they finished dinner. He laid there for a long while contemplating this turn of events. Robert's squad had been on a mission to connect up with a French Resistance cell in south of Loches, which itself was south of Tours. Even though he was only one man and was injured and, to the best of his knowledge, had lost all of his gear, Robert suddenly began to wonder if perhaps his mission wasn't entirely a failure after all.



He didn't wake until deep into the night, and he only woke then because he needed to take a wicked piss. He reached to a tiny lamp on a makeshift table near his bed, turning it up enough to see the room better. Claire was soundly sleeping in an old, ragged chair against the far wall.

Again, she looked like an angel to Robert: perfect hair, perfect face, perfect lips, and laying as she was in a button up blouse that gave a hint at a young, pert breast, perfect tits. He struggled to get to his feet, finding it still painful but easier than it had this morning.

This room, which he didn't think was originally a bedroom, had a door to the outside. Robert used the cane to make his way quietly to the door, cringed a bit as he opened it and heard a metallic squeak, then crept slowly away from the house toward the nearest tree. He'd been given back his trousers and boots, of course, still refraining from asking who'd taken him out of them, and at the tree he worked the zipper down, whipped out his cock, drew a deep breath, and moaned at the pleasurable relief as his bladder began emptying.

A sound to his left drew his eyes, and Robert's eyes opened wide at the sight of a man pointing a rifle at his head. Sound from the other direction led him to spin his head halfway round; he found a second armed man threatening him with a firearm.

Robert was about to explain that he'd only needed to pee when he thought better of it. They didn't know he was an American, did they? Then he considered his trousers and boots, both of which were obviously military issue. As he finished wetting the trunk of and ground around the tree, Robert returned his cock to its rightful place and zipped up. Then, he just waited to see what would happen next.

 

[ToniTaylor]

"Attendre!" a female voice called from the house, followed quickly by, "Il est l’Américain!"

Emily hurried out to stand next to Robert, telling the men that he was the paratrooper that had been brought to the house for convalescence. A moment later, Claire came running out with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, confirmed to the men what Emily had said, then turned Robert back toward the house with a bit more force and eagerness than was due his injured state.

"Tu es un idiot," she said as she ushered Robert through the dark. She thought she noted his understanding of her last word, yet nevertheless repeated it to him in English, "Idiot!"

Behind them, the two men were speaking to Emily, a conversation that was muted but obviously tense. By the time Claire got Robert back into his bed, the other three French citizens were also coming in through the doors. A tense conversation ensued, obviously in French, with the two men looking from either or both of the women to Robert and back repeatedly.

Finally, speaking in English, Claire addressed Robert. "Ces hommes sont dans la Résistance ... they are Resistance. They say you must leave here. Not safe. Dangereux ... for me, for Beven and Emily, for others. They take you to coast, where can be on boat to England."

Although she didn't mean for it to happen, Claire's face showed the disappointment in having to tell Robert this. She, like him, had quickly taken an interest, and honestly, her interest had become more intense because she'd cared for him during four days of unconsciousness. But she understood why Robert couldn't stay. If the Germans found him here, he would be sent to a POW camp and Claire and Emily would be executed in the streets.

 

[ManInTheLoft]

"Il est l’Américain!"

Robert may not have known much French, but he understood the last word Emily called out to the two armed men as she rushed out to apparently prevent him from being shot. A bit later, as he was being escorted back into the house by Claire, he understood the word she spoke as well, idiot.

"I needed to piss," he said softly in his own defense, adding, "I didn't know it was an executable offense in France."

Inside again, he listened to what was becoming a heated argument between Claire and the men, followed with by the good news that these two men were part of the beauty's French Resistance cell. Then came the bad news: "They say you must leave here. Not safe. Dangereux ... for me, for Beven and Emily, for others. They take you to coast, where can be on boat to England."

Robert should have been happy to hear this: he was going home. But he wasn't. Going back to England meant leaving France, or more specifically leaving Claire. He barely knew her, and yet he'd taken a fancy to her as his mother might have described it. She'd risked her life to keep Robert alive by taking him into her home. That right there was enough for him to want to stay behind. To thank her in some way he hadn't yet discovered.

And, of course, there was the whole beautiful, exotic French Angel thing. Robert honestly didn't think he'd ever met a more incredible woman in his life. He'd been having fantasies about being with her almost from the moment he'd opened his eyes this morning.

There was one other reason for remaining with here with Claire, too: the German. Robert hated this man, and he hadn't even met him. He hated that Claire had to give herself to this man simply to put food on the table for herself, Beven, and Emily. Robert was desperate to find a way to bring this exchange of services to an end. And he suddenly realized that he might have a way to see that done.

"I was sent to France to connect up with the Resistance, with you," Robert said, looking between the two men. He didn't know whether or not they spoke English, so he hesitated to see whether or not Claire would interpret for him. Whether she did or not, he continued, "My name is Robert Carter. Sergeant Robert Carter, of the United States Army, based out of Eastleigh, England."

He hesitated, then continued, "My Squad's plane was shot down, and I may be the only survivor, I'm not sure. Whether or not the others survived, I still have a mission, to connect up with the French Resistance and aid them in fighting the German occupation of their country."

Robert waited for a response, and when none came he reached his left hand up to his chest with his thumb and its nearest two fingers extended, the rest being curled underneath. Tapping his digits to his chest, he said with all seriousness, "Cock-a-doodle-do."

One of the men smiled wide in humor at Robert's strange gesture and words, but the other donned an expression of recognition. He studied Robert, then asked in heavily accented English that was clearer than even Claire's, "Who is your contact?
Name and location."

"Monsieur Lawrence Black," Robert answered. "I kinda figure that's not his real name, right? Loches, southeast of Tour. That's where we were supposed to be dropped."

He was going to be more specific, but Robert didn't know whether he could trust these two men. The Resistance was broken up into cells that were only barely aware of one another at times, to protect the larger network should one of its members be caught by the Germans and harshly interrogated.

"Is that enough for you to make contact, to verify what I'm telling you?" Robert asked. The two men spoke quietly in French, then the English-speaking man spoke to Claire a moment. When he looked back and nodded, Robert smiled. "Good. Then, I'll stay here until you do that. No trip to the coast or boat to England, oui?"

"For now," the man said. He studied Robert another few seconds before stepping forward, offering his hand, and saying, "You can call me Louis. You can, how did you say it, kinda figure that is not my real name, too, oui?"

Robert chuckled, taking the man's hand for a firm shake. "Louis works for me."

The man returned the smile, then turned and gestured for Claire to join him as he exited the house; he gave an instruction to the other man, who hadn't been introduced, and that man remained inside, keeping an eye on Robert. Emily came over to Robert, insisting on helping him back into his bed and under the covers, telling him, "You sleep. Sleep now."

Robert did as he was told, and after he was relatively comfortably back in bed, Emily crossed the room to chat in whisper with the second Resistance man. Several minutes later, Claire returned.

 

[ToniTaylor]

"I was sent to France to connect up with the Resistance, with you."

Claire's eyes widened at Robert's confession. She had told him that she was part of la Français résistance, and yet he hadn't said anything to her about his mission to link up with her organization. Surprise wasn't the only emotion she was feeling, though, as she was becoming angry as well. Why had Robert held back this information until now? Did he feel she wasn't worthy of being his first contact? Did he not trust her? Was it because she was a mere woman maybe?

She thought back to earlier in the day, when she was flat on her back with a rutting Kraut ramming his cock deep inside of her until he finally grunted out and filled her with his seed. Was that the only operation she was capable of performing for The Cause?

It wasn't as if she was consorting with the Major simply for herself, parting her thighs to the enemy only to gain a crate of food to feed herself, Beven, Emily, and a few others when possible, sure. Claire had also been gleaning information from the Major when he visited her. He nearly always told Claire when next he would visit, and with that information -- as well as info from other Resistance members -- Claire's contact, the man Robert had met tonight, was able to anticipate such things as German sweeps for Partisans, general police actions against the French citizenry, alterations in the Brigade's positioning, and more.

Still, if she'd been given the choice and opportunity, she would have preferred to fight for her people and her country with a gun in her hand, as opposed to a cock in her pussy.

"My name is Robert Carter..." the American continued. Robert spoke about his squad, his plane, their destination, and their mission. Then he made a funny gesture and said, "Cock-a-doodle-do."

Claire could see in Louis's reaction that this was known to him. She knew, of course, that the Resistance used codes to verify identifications, within the organization and when contacting foreigners, until now only the British, Belgians, and Dutch.

"Who is your contact? Louis asked. "Name and location."

Claire listened to the conversation between the two, and when Louis asked her if what he was hearing sounded legitimate to her, she nodded. In French, she told her contact, "I have no reason to doubt the Sergeant."

She'd called the American Sergeant as opposed to Robert or even Monsieur Carter in an effort to not seem too personally connected to him. But as the conversation between Louis and Robert continued, Claire couldn't help but wonder whether she'd done that to reassure Louis of her professionalism in her role or to put distance between herself and the American.

"For now," Louis said regarding Robert's request to remain in Claire's care.

Again, Claire was conflicted. She'd taken to Robert as quickly but even earlier than he had to her, mostly because he'd spent those first four days unconscious. But after he'd held back that he was here to meet up with her organization and yet didn't tell her, she was still a bit hurt. It was unprofessional of her to feel that way, and yet...

"Claire...?" Louis said as he turned for the door, encouraging her to join him outside. She looked to Robert and smiled, and as soon as she did she realized that she was indeed happy he was staying. Outside, she began a conversation in French with Louis. "The Major will be back in four days."

"And...?"

"He has asked to see me each of the three days he will be here."

Louis looked off into the darkness as he thought. "We've heard they are bringing in another two more Companies, reorganizing the occupation of this region. He must be coming here to supervise. Good. Good to know."

He turned and looked back through the open doors at Robert, then looked to Claire. "What have you learned from the Sergeant...? About himself? About the mission? Has he said anything about--"

Claire cut Louis off with a bit of anger in her voice, "He's said nothing to me. I didn't even know why he was here in France until he told you."

Louis studied the woman who was half his age for a moment. "If you are too close to him, I can have him moved."

"You had him brought here because you wanted me to get close to him," she growled at him.

Louis knew men liked Claire, and more importantly that they opened up to her when she showed them kindness, with or without her panties on. And yes, it was the reason Robert had been brought to her, although -- unknown to Claire -- it hadn't been Louis who'd made the decision to park Robert with her.

"I need you to get a message to the Major," Louis ordered. "Tell him that four days from now is inconvenient ... lady problems ... and you want to know if he will come in 8 days instead."

"Why?" Claire asked with a confused tone. "It won't be my time."

"Whether he postpones or still comes, knowing that he won't be ... partaking of your hospitality," Louis said, again glancing back at and contemplating their new American friend, "we will learn more about the Major's involvement in the upcoming troop reinforcements."

"Oui, I'll send the message," Claire confirmed. Following the man's gaze to Robert, she asked, "And what about the Sergeant?"

Louis looked to Claire, reached out to softly touch her cheek -- as he often did back when they were lovers -- and told her, "Keep him healthy, happy, and here."

Louis and his companion departed, and Claire returned to speak quietly with Emily in another room for a moment. When she returned to the bedroom to speak to Robert, she found him once again soundly asleep. She returned to the big, deep chair, wrapped herself in a blanket, and was herself once again asleep within a couple of minutes.



The next morning, she was once again sitting on the edge of Robert's bed when he awoke. She smiled, offered him a cup of coffee and a boost up against the bed's headboard, and told him, "You begin walking, each day, more and more. Must get strength, um ... mobilité...? Mobility...? But must stay in house. Go outside, get shot ... oui?"

She looked for understanding, then told Robert breakfast would be ready soon as she stood to leave the room.

 

[ManInTheLoft]

Robert awoke yet again to the smile of the beautiful French woman. This time, instead of simply staring at her in silence, he returned the smile and said, "Good morning, Claire. Bonjour, oui?"

She told him he would begin exercising, to get his strength back. Robert made a sour face for fun, but then gave Claire a playful salute when she made it clear this was not an option.

They had a nice breakfast of eggs, sausage, and homemade bread. Robert tried not to think about the fact that the ingredients to this incredible mean had been earned by Claire through a demeaning act. They chatted a bit, and Robert engaged in some learning of French words with Beven such as food, water, plate, and more. It was an enjoyable time, and by the end of it they were all laughing and having a generally good time.

Robert did, indeed, get some exercise. The little home sat in a line of other small homes on a narrow street. It was a two story structure with an attic, not that Robert would be climbing the steep stairs any time soon to check out the rest of it.
It had a fenced-in back yard, where Claire kept rabbits in a hutch and chickens in a coop; the latter were running all about a spring garden searching and scratching for bugs and seeds.

If one didn't know better, you might not have even realized there was a war going on.

Emily stopped by in the afternoon with civilian dress for Robert. They wrapped up and boxed his uniform, even his US Army issue underwear, and buried them in the garden. His dog tags went into the crook of a tree in the corner of the backyard for quick access should they need them for some reason.

Standing in front of a cracked, full length mirror, Robert looked himself over. He looked to Claire, asking, "Will I pass for a Frenchman?"

She responded, and he asked, "What's my story? I mean, if someone comes knocking on the door and I must reveal myself, who am I? Why am I hear? Why is my French so atrocious? And how do you say atrocious in French?"

There wasn't much for Robert to do since he couldn't leave the house except to go to the backyard. Even that wasn't advised as the yard was accessible by the neighbors or the Germans via a gate that didn't lock. Besides, anyone could peek through the multitude of gaps in the rotting, decrepit barrier.

Robert had no experience with young children. But he did what he could to keep Beven entertained. The boy was near or on Robert almost constantly. Claire must have seen Robert becoming exhausted with the boy at one point; she put him down for a nap in his new favorite spot, Robert's bed.

In the late afternoon, as she cooked and he simply watched on, Robert simply couldn't keep it in any longer. He asked Claire to please sit, then with a hesitant tone, asked, "Will you tell me about the German who paid you a visit yesterday? Claire, I'm not trying to pry. And I am certainly not judging you. War is hell on men and women both, and in very different ways. I just, I just need to know where there is anything I need to know. Or, anything you want to tell me. I promise, I'll understand."