It was the day I asked Dawn to marry me. It started with us lying together in bed. We faced one another on top of the sheets. Her soft hand rested on my bare hip. It is nice when she puts her hands on me, especially when I take the initiative, because I can feel her reaction in her squeezes and her grabs. Dawn lay still while I traced my fingertips as lightly as possible around the edges of her lips. She has ticklish spots near the corners of her mouth, and she twitched and smiled whenever I touched them just right. I stroked her lips a little harder, and she closed her eyes and her mouth parted just the tiniest amount. Her soft breath wafted across my fingers, and her palm pressed harder against my hip. I cradled her lovely face in both hands. Dawn’s cheeks are sprinkled with the softest down, and I stroked across the soft hair with my thumbs. Her eyes sparkled in the dim light, and I kissed her brow. Her skin felt warm on my lips. Her hand ran up and down my hip, sliding down. I had felt relatively safe because I had kept a low profile in Berlin but I knew the informers in the neighborhood of empty Jewish houses had been reporting my contacts with the Polish females from the munitions factories and that I had had been seen giving food and other suspect assistance to random females wearing a yellow star. That was not yet a crime but to house them without reporting it to a block commander was a crime and I took care to not be seen doing anything of the sort.Bremerhaven was a port city and it was more like a boom town of economic upswings and constant labor shortages to move the supplies to all the fronts of the newly established Third Reich.I had to share a small hotel room with a union boss that always had a bottle of British whiskey near at hand to refill his glass that had seen better days. I don’t know where he got the stuff and how it seemed to magically appear along with cigars and other perks of his union leadership role. He constantly had visitors.
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