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Primo's Tale

Primo Lorenz gazed out of the window of the Boeing 747 as it broke through the clouds. The lights of Berlin stretched out into the distance below. The weather was gloomy and vertical rain streaked across the plexiglass. Twelve hours ago, Primo had been standing on a sun kissed beach in Malibu posing for a photoshoot. The grey evening sky above Berlin cut a sharp contrast to the warm Californian weather, but inside, Primo felt relieved to be home.

The plane was buffeted by the wind and the cabin shook. Several passengers cursed and gripped their armrests, but Primo reclined in his first class seat and calmly sipped the last of his Sauvignon Blanc.

A Calico stewardess made her way down the aisle, ensuring everyone's seatbelts were fastened before taking Primo's empty glass. The engines whined as the plane descended towards Tempelhof Airport. Primo glanced down to see the ground rushing up to meet them. There was a dull thud as the tires hit the concrete followed by a roar as the pilot slammed the engines into reverse. The plane slowed and began taxying towards the terminal.

The seatbelt sign was deactivated with a shrill ping. Primo grabbed his jacket and joined the scrum to get to the cabin door.

He retrieved his suitcase and was met by his driver Lars, a dutiful Great Dane who insisted on carrying on carrying Primo's belongings. Lars led Primo out to a Mercedes limousine and held the door open for him.

They drove to the old quarter of the city where Primo's apartment was located. The apartment was housed in a classical, nineteenth century building on a tree-lined avenue. Despite Primo's protests, Lars followed him into the elevator and carried his suitcase up to the front door. Primo thanked him, but felt glad to be alone when the Great Dane finally left.

In contrast to the building's classical exterior, Primo's apartment was modern, open-plan and palatial. Abstract art jostled for space on the walls, the lounge area was dominated by a home cinema system and a white grand piano sat at the far end of the room.

Despite its opulence, the apartment did not feel lived in. The sofas were covered with dust sheets while the air smelt strongly of air fresher. Primo guessed that his housekeeper had done a thorough clean in anticipation for his arrival. However, he found the scent of the air freshener a little too pungent for his taste.

Primo set about removing the sheets and turned on all the lights. He pressed a few keys on the piano to amuse himself, switched on the television as background noise and trudged to the marble covered bathroom.

After splashing cold water into his face to rid the grimy feeling of long distance travel, Primo stood to examine his reflection in the mirror. He was a muscular White Shepherd with striking blue eyes. The fringe between his ears was styled in a trademark quiff. Despite his jet-set lifestyle as a rock star, Primo liked to take care of his appearance.

In the eyes of his fans, Primo was a canine who appeared to have it all. With his toned physique and luscious white fur, he made the ideal pin-up image. His face adorned the walls of teenager's bedrooms, concert posters and billboards around the world. Males of all breeds tried to mimic his hairstyle.

In an era of uncertainty, his music reached out to listeners of all species who were eager for a distraction from the troubling headlines on the television.

Primo had risen to popularity as the singer of the West German rock group Power Plant during the 1970s. His first solo single "Searching" had been rerecorded in English at the behest of his record company, and had become a surprise hit in America.

With its upbeat tune and catchy chorus, furs could enthusiastically sing along in their cars or at parties.

"I just wanna know Can you hear my voice? Can you see me? I'm still searching Always searching for you"

Soon enough, Primo was flown to Los Angeles to record a new studio album. He was given a private villa with plenty of female furs for company. His was introduced to his new American manager, a cigar chomping Brown Retriever by the name off Peyton. Peyton slapped Primo on the back, declaring that the Shepherd would become the biggest German export to America since the VW Beetle.

Primo's US album topped the charts and soon acting roles followed. He appeared as the villain in the blockbuster action movie Spent Force,_had a supporting role in the crime show _The Network, for which he wrote the theme tune, and became the face of an upscale Los Angeles fashion chain. _ _

Staged pictures in magazines showed him hanging out with A-list actors and singers on California's beaches.

Although Primo appeared to revel in his celebrity status, he kept himself to himself off stage, much to Peyton's consternation. When interviewers asked Primo if he had a female in his life, he would reply with a snarky comment, turn the question around and ask the journalist the same thing.

Primo had just completed a successful tour of the US and would soon be embarking on the European leg, starting with a symbolic concert in East Berlin.

Glancing through the curtains, Primo saw that the limousine had left. There was something he had been desperate to do during his time away. Tonight would be his only chance before preparations for the next series of concerts began.

Grabbing his keys and a coat, Primo made his way down to the basement carpark. His red Maserati was waiting for him like a faithful companion.

Primo drove across the city. Most furs had retired home for the evening and the streets were empty. He enjoyed driving through the old quarter. The cobblestones were illuminated by small pools of light and timber framed houses looked enchanting. Even the dull winter couldn't dampen the sight. The scene could have come straight from the pages of the fairy tale novels his mother had read to him as a pup.

As Primo continued driving, the streets grew narrower and the timber framed houses were replaced by characterless, concrete blocks.

Eventually, Primo reached the Kreuzberg district and pulled the car into a deserted side street. He switched off the radio and the sound of David Bowie's "Modern Love" died. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and stepped out into the night. A light but cold rain was falling.

Primo turned his collar up to the damp as he walked down the dimly lit street. Kruezberg had seen better days. The buildings were crumbling and neglected while the store fronts were empty. Only a few lights burned behind grimy windows. Furs with expensive cars would avoid parking here if they could, but Primo made a special journey down to the district whenever he could.

Part of his mind told him to stop doing this, to move on with his life, but he could not bring himself to end this melancholic pilgrimage.

Primo rounded a corner and saw the wall towering up before him. It was a concrete monstrosity, tall and hulking. The bottom half was covered in lurid graffiti that stood out against the gloom. Primo touched his paw against the wall and felt its cold, unforgiving texture. His cool exterior vanished and he suddenly felt like a pup again as the memories came flooding back.

Primo's glamourous lifestyle was a far cry from his upbringing. This dank, industrial quarter of the city was where he had spent his childhood.

Primo Lorenz had been born Peter Schmidt. His upbringing was blighted by food shortages, power cuts and no indoor heating. His father had worked in a car plant and his mother was a homemaker. However, Primo made a friend at school who would leave a lasting impact upon his life.

Primo first met Abel at the age of fifteen. Abel was a Doberman Pinscher who lived in an apartment block two streets away. Since day one, Primo was aware that he had been drawn to Abel's looks; his deep brown eyes, sleek coat and firm jaw-line. Abel was soft yet tough, both in appearance and personality. He could easily hold his own in a fight and had an edgy attitude, but he would always put his arm around Primo to make him feel safe.

Primo was the only White Shepherd in the area. All the other Shepherds he knew were black and tan. Other canines at his school soon began picking on him, asking why his fur was a weird colour or threatening that they were going beat him outside the school gates. Abel fought them off and told Primo that they were jealous of his looks. At the time, Primo found this a strangely comforting thing to say.

Abel also taught Primo how to fight, as well as the tricks behind winning an argument. "If someone tries to mock you by asking a weird question, turn it round onto them" he had explained.

They walked to school together and Primo would cycle to Abel's place at weekends. He weaved his bike around the lines of soldiers that marched up and down Abel's street. American Labrador GI's on one side, Russian Huskies on the other.

The pair would sit at the kitchen window of Abel' apartment, watching the American and Soviet tanks rumble past. Sometimes, the tanks would ominously turn their turrets to face each other down. Primo and Abel would hold a debate over which side would win if they started shooting. Abel's mother overheard and scolded them, saying that was an awful thing to discuss.

As they turned eighteen, the two canines sought adventures outside the city. They would catch the train out to the country and go on walks, taking a picnic and smuggling a bottle of beer to share.

Primo took to crafting poems about their weekly walks and decided that he wanted to become a writer once he left school. He hid the idea from his parents, knowing that they would disapprove. However, Abel encouraged him to pursue his ambition. "You shouldn't care about what anyone else says. Happiness lies in being able to do what you want_"_ the Doberman had told him.

Once July arrived, the pair began to spend weekends camping in the Grunewald forest. They would sit at a secluded spot by the lakeside and watch the sun set over the water. It was a beautiful location to escape the drudgery of the bleak city centre. Primo was amazed by the different colours brought out by the sun; a rich emerald as it shone through the green branches followed by a brilliant shade of red as it disappeared over the horizon.

Primo would brush his tail into Abel while teasing the Doberman that he only had a "stump". Abel would reply indignantly that it was a "nub", but suppressed a grin as he said it.

Soon enough, both canines took to swimming in the lake. Primo couldn't help but marvel at Abel's fine body as the Doberman waded into the water. He was captivated at the sight of the water running down Abel's muscular chest and his brown eyes as they reflected the sunlight. After a swim, they would shake themselves dry and sit shirtless by the water.

As each weekend passed, they would sit closer and hold paws. Primo felt a growing urge to kiss Abel as they basked in the face of the sunsets.

One evening in August, Primo could no longer resist. He touched his muzzle to Abel's and gently kissed the Doberman. Abel didn't show any hint of surprise. He kissed Primo back and slipped his tongue into the Shepherd's mouth.

They had retreated into the tent as the sun disappeared. Abel removed Primo's shorts and dug his paws through the Shepherd's luscious fur. Primo lay back and smiled with contentment. At that point in time, nothing could compare to the feeling of Abel's paws as they gently scritched his chest.

Primo had then closed his eyes and breathed heavily as he felt Abel's rough tongue lap against his balls. Abel then licked Primo's sheath until the Shepherd's pink member had fully emerged. Primo had moaned with pleasure as he felt Abel's paw wrap around his cock. Abel's motions were quick and his paw-pads clamped tightly around Primo's member. Primo had felt a surging sensation and gasped as warm cum spurted from his cock. It splashed over his stomach and Abel's paws. Abel tried licking some strands off his paw and Primo's chest. He pulled a face in reaction to the taste, but continued licking until his paw was almost clean.

The canines had washed themselves in the lake before returning to the tent.

Rather than sleep separately, the pair climbed under the same blanket. Abel continued to hold Primo, kissing and licking at his muzzle. They vowed that no matter what, they would stay together and one day become mated.

At first, Primo thought the idea was absurd or even dangerous. Not so long ago, males who liked other males had faced threats to their lives, but as they lay close, his determination to stay with Abel grew.

They made plans to go around the world, starting in Paris, followed by London and New York City. In his care-free mind, Primo thought they would be together for the rest of their lives.

If only it could have been that way.

The winter arrived, bringing a cold snap over the city. The leaves on the trees died and the colours of summer faded to a monochrome grey. The swimming in the lake came to an end, but Abel devised other activities for them to spend time together.

They had made plans to go fishing on the morning that it happened.

Primo packed his bag with sandwiches and a raincoat. It was cloudy outside, but the prospect of bad weather did not diminish his enthusiasm to see the Doberman. He slung his backpack on and began cycling in the direction of Abel's block.

Primo rounded the corner to see soldiers lining the street. Onlookers were gazing in shock at something. Primo followed their eyes and saw to his amazement that a wall was being built. It ran right across the street, cutting off his side from Abel's.

He watched in horror as it grew higher. Abel appeared on the other side, pushing his way through the crowd.

"Peter! Peter!" he called, his eyes wide with alarm. The Husky guards were roughly pushing everyone back and Abel disappeared.

Primo tried to run forwards, but a Labrador GI grabbed hold of him. "They'll shoot if you get too close!" the soldier shouted above the chaos. Primo struggled and kicked, but the soldier held him back.

Primo as if all the air had been sucked from his lungs. He collapsed to his knees, raised his head and howled in anguish.

Around him, the furs continued to watch as the wall was finished and a stretch of barbed wire was placed on the top.

Eventually, Primo's mother came looking for him. She was scared that he had been trapped on the other side and hugged him with relief. Primo showed no reaction to his mother's embrace, it was as if he had lost the will to live. He also felt no emotion when he got home to learn that his father has lost his job. The plant lay in the section of the city that had been cut off. His father soon got a new job and they moved to a house further away from the wall.

Primo spent the remainder of his school days and conscripted six months in the army devising a plan to find Abel.

Although Primo's stint in the army moulded him into the muscular and confident Shepherd that his fans would idolise, he realised with a heavy heart that if war were to break out, he would be fighting against Abel. The memory of their discussions about tank battles no longer seemed funny.

Primo poured his emotions into writing poetry in a notebook he had surreptitiously taken from school. The words and prose were filled with his memories of their trips to the lake, followed by his anger at how Abel had been taken for him. He called his first poem "Searching" and hid it under his mattress in the army barracks.

After his discharge, Primo gained an English degree and took a respectable job in the sales office for a car manufacturer, ironically the same company that had employed his father. However, Primo found that he preferred performing his poems as songs in his spare time.

Heeding Abel's advice, he purchased a guitar and began playing them in bars and clubs, mostly to drunken furs who paid him little attention. He left "Searching" off his set list, feeling at the time that it was too personal to sing in public.

His musical career took off when the other members of Power Plant stumbled across one of his performances. The band's manager told Primo to change his name. "I can't picture anyone going into a store and asking for the latest Peter Schmidt record" he had explained. Primo reluctantly complied and picked the stage name "Primo Lorenz" by browsing through a telephone directory. He grudgingly accepted that the manager's prediction was correct, as his journey to stardom began soon after.

Primo toured Paris, London and New York City before beginning his solo career in Los Angeles. No matter how exciting or exotic the locations were, he continue to feel an awful, hollow reminder that Abel was not with him.

Despite the entourage of female furs who surrounded Primo, it was Abel's naked form emerging from the lake that he dreamed about at night.

As the decade progressed, the crossings through the wall became more relaxed.

Primo took a trip to the East and searched for Abel. He visited Abel's apartment block but found it was now inhabited by a middle aged male Schnauzer. The view out of the window was taunting. It looked right over the wall to the other side of the city. Primo realised that he could stand at the exact spot where he had last seen Abel. After returning home, he began his habit of travelling to that section of the wall whenever he could. The heavy sense of sadness returned, but was quickly replaced by seething anger.

He wanted to do something to get back at those who had taken Abel away from him.

He finally brought "Searching" to the attention of his manager. The lyrics were altered and the track was too overproduced for Primo's liking, but he felt it was a way of potentially getting his message out to Abel.

Primo then requested permission to perform a concert in East Berlin. The East German government's responses were slow, but after a year of persisting and bureaucratic wrangling, he was granted permission so long as the songs were vetted. At face value, there was nothing that seemed harmful to the Eastern regime, so he was allowed to perform the set uncensored.

Primo was brought back to the present as a gust of cold wind blew into his face.

He sniffed at the air, hoping to catch Abel's scent. There was nothing.

Primo turned away and walked back down the dark street. He decided that he would get a good night's sleep before his trip to East Berlin tomorrow morning.

He paused and gazed at himself in a store window. The rain had flattened his quiff and his designer jeans were clinging unpleasantly to his legs. With his glamorous appearance dulled, Primo felt like his younger and more vulnerable self once again. He sighed and continued walking.

High above, in an apartment on the other side of the wall, a Doberman was gazing out the window.

Abel watched as the distant figure of the White Shepherd disappeared into the gloom, before turning and making his way to the kitchen.

Abel had purchased the place back from the Schnauzer after he left his parent's home. The apartment was not salubrious. The paint was peeling, the floor was covered by a thinning rug and walls were lined with exposed, rusting pipes. The heating was broken so Abel had swaddled himself in a thick coat.

There was a brown package on the kitchen counter. Abel picked it up and the ghost of a smile spread across his muzzle. A ticket to Primo's concert was sitting inside.