The Lady of the Evening

A Story by Here Beyond

A story about a young German wife's life starting to go to hell. There may be more stories added on. Mentions sex, language.

The woman glanced out of the apartment window at the street below as she sliced an onion in half. A bitter wind swept through, catching in people's hair and coats and tugging them about. Snow swirled around them, making them even more difficult to see. The woman wondered how thin their coats were, then how thin hers and her husband's were. She made a face, thinking of how furious he would be if it had a hole in it. Not that he wasn't always vexed about something these days.
Things had been tense between the two for months now and the winter wasn't making anything better. The young woman did what she could to please her husband, but try as she might, he was generally sullen. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of what may have been her husband coming down the street at a good clip. She hurriedly went back to cutting the onion, berating herself briefly for not focusing. Three minutes passed without anyone arriving, so she allowed herself to relax again. Glancing out onto the Berlin street, she examined the people hurrying by. "Where to?" She wondered, the pace of her knife slowing. "Perhaps out for a drink, or," her expression darkened,"give to their families." Her knife came down with a loud bang on the cutting board. Reflexively, she withdrew her hand, although if she were going to be cut, the damage would have already been done.
She started again as the door gave a click and creak as it opened. A tall, dark man walked in, brushing the snow from the shoulders of his overcoat. "Good evening, Cefirina," he said, removing his coat.
"Good evening, darling," said Cefirina, our young woman, flashing her husband a smile. He did not return it and instead paced to the window. "Supper will be ready soon," Cefirina offered, scraping the onions into a put of stew.
"Good." He removed his hat and paced to the table, not even looking at his wife.
Cefirina bit her lip uncomfortably. "It's stew, Friedrich," she continued, trying to take the edge off of the awkwardness. "It isn't much, but it will do nicely."
"Damn it, woman," Friedrich snapped, turning to face her. "What do you mean it isn't much?" Without acknowledging the started retort from his wife, he continued,"I work all day for you to try to keep you in this house. I work all day to pay for your damn hospital bill and here you sit not able to make something decent!"
"It isn't my fault." Cefirina turned around, her hand clenched so tightly around her knife that her knuckles turned white. "I do everything that I can here. I've practically given up smoking for you. And here you sit accusing me--"
Friedrich cut her off. "If you hadn't wasted my money on drink--"
"If you showed me a little more compassion...!"
Friedrich raised his hand and Cefirina stepped back afraid of being hit. "I try to support you every way I possibly can, you ungrateful s**t, and you can't do anything in return. Not a child--"
In that moment, Cefirina could see herself raising the knife and plunging it repeatedly into Friedrich's chest. She could almost feel the blood spray onto her face and hands, practically see his expression of shock and pain add his hands went to the wounds on his chest. It might have given her some satisfaction, but she managed to suppress the urge. "I didn't lose the baby intentionally," she interrupted. "I want children as much as you do. At least you can still sire one!" She threw the knife down and charged to the door.
"Cefirina!" Friedrich went after her and sized her arm to wheel her around. Perhaps he was going to apologize, perhaps there would have been a homicide, but the world will never know.
Cefirina wrenched her arm away shouting, "Let go of me, you b*****d!" She snatched up her hat and fairly sprinted out, slamming the door behind her and passing that her husband's fingers were caught in the door.
The young woman hardly noticed anything until she wad a few streets away and the cold started to get to her. She slowed to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk, people continuing their lives around her. It was all so unfair. Unbidden tears rolled down her cheeks, at first hot, but then turning bitterly cold.
It was about then that she was approached by Herr Klein. He was a whale of a man, perhaps as wide as he was tall. That want true. He was a tall man. He was clean shaven, although who knows what happened between his chins, and he was a womanizer. "Good evening, Frau Zeller," he greeted Cefirina.
The woman stood still except for her hands, which were wringing her hat. "Good evening, Herr Klein."
He gave Cefirina a once over, blatantly leering at her. "You must be cold. Would you like to come to my apartment with me?"
Then Cefirina said one of the most painful things I've heard from her: "I would like that very much."
She knew that she would sleep with him. She was thinking to herself, "If it's a s**t he wants, then it's a s**t he'll get." I hate to see people become so bitter and spiteful. It's one of the saddest things to happen, especially when you know how to help them if you could.
So the pair went back to Herr Klein's apartment where they had a smoke and a drink and...fornicated. I'll spare you the details, but I will tell you that she was able to get the equivalent of ten American dollars for her pride.
When they had finished, Herr Klein got up and got dressed. "I'm going out for a drink. See yourself out." And with that, he left Cefirina lying naked on his bed. Slowly, she sat up and felt tears sting her eyes again. "What have I done?" She choked, her voice breaking into a sob. The poor girl put her head in her hands and cried until there were no tears left.
Some might call her a w***e for what she did and what she would do because of this, but I prefer something a bit more elegant. Perhaps a courtesan or a lady of the evening. Yes, those sound better. Frau Cefirina Zeller: lady of the evening.