From Schönbrunn to Saturn
Genre: Romantic Erotica – with a touch of modern science and classic daemons.
by Doris Dawn
Copyright © 2013, Doris Dawn – DDHSIM – www.dorisdawn.com
“Finding a good mate is hard. But it’s worth the time, trouble, and travail, because a
man is only half a man until he has a good, supportive, loyal mate. Such women exist
and have been the pride of men for centuries. A good woman is the crown of a man’s
life. A bad one is his worst nightmare.”
1. The Museum
Laying on my back in bed, I open my eyes to see the stylish white stuccoed ceiling.
Shy beams of light defeat the shades through the folds of the blueish velvet curtains.
Outside, under the scorching sun, flocks of people clump to form an ever growing
crowd, gathering right in front of the majestic windows. I can barely hear the humming
of their voices. From time to time, a sharp noise, a scream or an exclamation breaks
through only to die a whisper’s death against the light blue silks on the wall behind me.
I feel a pleasant and refreshing breeze on my naked skin. Am I waking up to my
senses? What am I doing in this vastly soft and white bed? Oh, it’s a double bed, built
out of massive mahogany hardwood. I keep turning my eyes. The more I open them, the
more I surprise my still sleepy mind. Mild aches knock and press and poke inside my
head, but I can’t feel any pain. Strange… Raising my chest, I prop myself on the elbows
and look around. Yes, once more!
As expected, I find myself completely nude on the golden blanket. Beneath my
shoulders, the white silky sheets, bending over, wrap the plushy pillows up under my
head. Red stripes of my long hair bring a crisp contrast against the white on the bed,
teasing all immaculate thoughts away.
All? Why all? Not my thoughts, definitely! I wish to spend a continuous lazy
morning like this, dreaming of Eve’s lost Paradise. What words did she told to her man
Adam before she went walking along the treks of that Garden to meet the deceiving
one? How did she wake up in that morning? Sniffing the musky scent of her man’s chest
hair? Or did she get up alone, like me here? Or was it musky? – her man’s scent…
I pray for an answer and expect the unreal to grab me back over to the realm of my
sweet forsaken dreams. But this won’t happen today, not anymore. I hear the door’s knob
turning left with a slight creak. Someone is coming in! I don’t even know where I am.
Naked! On this bed! What a perfect prey! What to do? Run? Where? Why leave this
comfortable bed? No! I’d rather stay and see who’s coming, what will happen to me…
Thrilling mystery… I don’t even bother to hide my nudity under the sheets.
* * *
The door opens with a sharp noise, this because he forced it in order to allow his
hasty appearance. Then he locks it back as his right hand grabs a chair to reinforce the
“Don, what are you doing here? Who’s chasing you? Why do you hide?”
“Good morning to you too, Doris! I wandered a bit through those fancy rooms,
looking for a balcony to take some fresh air. But the tourist mobs were just released into
the palace. I hide because I’m a naked intruder, like you, can’t you see?”
Naked, yes, I can see now that we are both naked. But intruders, we? In the palace?
“Don? What palace are we intruding in?”
“Come on, Doris. Don’t add amnesia to your panic attacks. Don’t tell me that you
can’t remember what we did here last night.” He sounds assertive. It’s a natural
occurrence in his voice. Just like the many uncertainties wandering through my mind.
I stretch to grab the sheets from beneath and try to cover my body with them. And I
ask him: “Didn’t we have one of our crazy stand up love-making sessions in the garage?”
“And didn’t we turn on the triangle of modules around us while we were at it?”
“Oh my, oh my! Yes, now I remember.”
“Good. Then it’s about time you tell me what sort of girlie princess movies have you
dreamed of while riding my dick. Because look, here we are, in your fairy universe.”
He looks a bit upset but I know him too well. He’s more like excited than angry.
Gathering my confidence, along with my memories, I tell my husband that… “We spent
the night in The bedroom of Emperor Franz Joseph I and Empress Elisabeth, at the
Schönbrunn Spring Palace in Vienna.”
“Wow! Triple wow! You dreamed that you were Lissi… Haaa ha ha ha…”
“No. I didn’t dream that I was Lissi, or Sissi as many still call her. I never dream to
be someone else because, if I’m certain of something in my life, it is that I’m just me
being your wife.”
“Okay then, how did you take us to Vienna?”
“I dreamed about Lissi’s merry years, about her love story with the young Emperor,
about her romantic epoch, and about this Palace.”
“Nice dream you had, Doris. Only thing is that we slept too much after fucking your
fantasies out of you. And here we are, trapped in a museum, with the fully dressed moral
enemies at the gates.”
“These people are not our enemies, Don. They are just tourists. Why do you call
them moral enemies?”
“Because they are pious tourists. They have paid a ticket to see the pinnacle of an
era, to revere and wonder at a subtle and tasteful opulence. This morning, they prepared
their souls like for going to a church or something, expecting to learn about high morals.
Now look at us: naked, freshly fucked, you still laying in the bed of Her Imperial
Highness. Oh my indeed!”
* * *
Someone tries to turn the knob on the opposite side but the door wouldn’t open. Then
silence. “He’s coming to the other door!” Exclaims Don with a jump to grab a new chair,
running to secure the other entrance to the room. Alas time is too short for him and I can
see a calm curator opening it, making a discrete high brows face mimic when he noticed
the chair blocking the knob of the door that he tried to open with no success, and
articulating his paces in that direction, to remove it.
Don stands naked in front of this curator who doesn’t seem to care much, if at all,
about his perplexity. Don stares at me, numbed. Then he smiles, mischievously looking
back at the curator. Oh my, what’s he up to? As I try to follow the scene from the scared
corners of my mind (and from beneath the blanket), he runs a round with that chair in
hand, to block the curator’s way with it. His guessing is correct: the employee of the
museum walks undisturbed THROUGH the chair!
“We’re in a parallel reality, my bunny. They can’t see us, they can’t even touch us!”
“Don, wait! The chair is from their reality, not from ours. How did it happen that he
walked through it?”
“Good question, darling. Guess that the chair was still in my hands when he crossed
it. Oh, it still is. Now look here. I’ll put it on the carpet, leave it there and walk away to
join you in bed.”
Meticulously, he jumps on the Franz-side of the double bed, leaping towards me like
a monkey. The curator rearranges the first chair to its predetermined place, opens the
door to see how it works and, content about his success, he turns around. Stupor!
Another chair sits in the center of the bedroom. The curator, freezing for a long minute,
eventually takes the brave decision to return, grab and reassign this other chair to its
initial position. Then he leaves the room, making sure that both doors are wide open.
“The tourists may come…” I sigh, not without a mild amazement.
“So we can offer them a helluva porn movie. Free of charge. He he!”
“You pig! How dare you?”
“Nothing special, honey. Why do you behave like this? Would it be a new thing for
you? We often talked about fucking in public. Remember when Mister Johannson caught
us? You were swallowing my sperm, eh?”
“You animal! That was in our private garden, not in a public place. Mr. Johannson
climbed his ladder to peep over the fence as the good ole voyeur he happens to be. Why
do you try your best to ruin my romantic dreams about love-making, about our fantastic
“Sperm swallowing is part of MY romance, remember?”
“Yes, how could I forget…” I sigh longer enough to notice the cold depression
nearing her ugly head and crawling under the blanket, coming like a mist, from beneath
the bed. And I don’t want back, roaming over the barren fields of panic. The only way to
escape is by joining Don in his follies. “Lay back, my prince,” I tell him while gently
grabbing his loosely hanging dick in my right hand. “Relax and let me ride you while all
these tourists will visit the bedroom and stare at us.”
“Hey, they only can see the bed. Not us!”
“What a shame, Don. What a shame…”
* * *