The Wall Crossers

Patrizia Keeping Me Safe

Olivia's perspective

The Next Day

The next day begins quietly, innocently enough. Someone brings me breakfast, then lunch. I am wearing Army fatigues and combat boots, locked inside my room, sicherer Raum zwei. Late in the afternoon, someone unlocks my door from the hallway and opens it. It is Franz. He still wears the same leather jacket, dark blue shirt, black jeans and black regulation Army boots as when I saw him last. I notice now his eyes are dark brown and his complexion is rough and face pocked with imperfections. He is not cleanly shaven. His hair is light and cut close in a crew cut. A tuft of hair protrudes from his black non-regulation t-shirt collar. His body is imposingly strong. His facial structure has prominent neanderthalish characteristics. He says in a low voice, "Kommen Sie (come with me)." Is he German? I can't tell. He still packs his Colt 45 pistol on his right hip.

I rise from my chair at the little table and softly walk to the door, not making eye contact, pause, and then step into the hall and stop. Franz leads me back to the room I was "interviewed" in yesterday. I step in. Patrizia is there, leaning against the wall, facing me, hands behind her back. Her countenance seems coy, or maybe cunning, and her tongue pushes against the inside of her cheek as she regards me, her shoulders back and chest thrust out. From the corner of my eye, I see Franz step to the end of the wall facing Patrizia. He removes his 45 pistol from its holster and seems to be turning it over in his hand, inspecting it absently, clearly listening and waiting.

Patrizia is wearing a striking very sexy Andrea Koerber mod-tastic mini dress with a pink, red, and orange hypnotic heart print throughout. I have seen this dress at KaDeWe and it is almost funny to imagine Patrizia actually shopping and browsing there! Maybe Franz does all her shopping? The dress really is so pretty and feminine. It seems crafted in some soft blend and has a white keyhole neckline that is centered by a faux red button while the darted bodice and waist is cinched with a back zipper I can see when she turns to come around the table and approach me. This tight-fitting dress gives Patrizia a spunky flattering fit. The fitted skirt has twin front pockets, adorned with the same faux buttons. She is wearing knee-high glaringly white polished go-go boots, ready for dancing. Her nails are painted red. This I can see as she brings her hands from her back to cross her arms. Blood red lipstick draws my eyes, and there is a small brownish red stone just in the eyehole of the dress neck below the button and above her ample breasts, the stone strung there on a fine silver chain.

Patrizia searches my eyes, then steps around the table, turns and leans half sitting against it, legs crossed at her ankles, facing me... assessing me? Finally she purrs, "Olivia," as a greeting. I say hoarsely, "Let me go, Patrizia. You have no right to keep me here like this. I..."

"Open the package, Olivia."

I scrunch up my face, confused. Then I flick my eyes to the tabletop and spot it. A brown paper package on the table I had not noticed before. I stare at it. Confused. Make no sign of moving to pick it up.

Franz sighs loudly, holsters his pistol, walks heavily to the table, picks up the package making a crinkly sound as his powerful hands squeeze it, turns, steps to me, and pushes it hard against my stomach, which audibly forces an "Ooof" of air from my mouth. It is like he almost punched me with the paper package. He returns to the wall, again removes his pistol, resumes toying with it.

I hold the package away from my body and begin ripping into it. All is quiet save the sounds of paper. I open it and pull out a garment. I take on a puzzled look, glance at Patrizia's eyes. She has a half-smile and her eyes seem strangely free of their earlier underlying cunning mood. I look back down at what I have opened, drop the paper to the floor, and hold up the contents with my two hands. It is... a dress, exactly like the one Patrizia wears. I feel a growing sense of confusion, shock.