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Johann’s chest and spoke. In a man’s voice.
    Part of Johann’s brain registered something hadn’t been quite the usual even before she’d spoken, but there was no mistaking she had a man’s voice. She was a man, in a dress.
    He’d never seen such a thing in his life. Johann stared at her, having absolutely no idea in the world what was going on.
    Cornelius pushed the woman back with a saucy scolding and curled himself protectively against Johann’s chest, putting a proprietary hand on his hip. “ Il est à moi! ”
    He’s mine.
    Johann’s cock, which hadn’t entirely recovered from the earlier episode, surged back to life.
    Panicking, Johann tried to keep Cornelius from becoming aware of his condition, but Cornelius had already turned around. Drawing close to Johann’s side, he pulled down the brim of his hat and whispered into his ear, “I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I’m so sorry.”
    Then he placed a soft, lingering kiss right on Johann’s lips.
    The crowd crowed and clapped, but Cornelius didn’t smile and laugh with them. Under the brim of Johann’s hat, he looked intensely sad and terrified. “So sorry.” He plastered on a smile and took on the flirty voice again as he addressed the crowd of young men watching them.
    The young men who had all just watched Cornelius kiss him. And had cheered it on.
    Kissed him like a lover. The thought made Johann’s head spin. He couldn’t imagine such a thing in his village. True, he’d seen some men coupling in the camps—not often, because if an officer caught them, they would be dead—but he had always chalked that up to the desolation of war. There were no women present, after all. Here in the café, though, it seemed to be only men and the men-as-women, and everyone was flirting with everyone else. Several men sat in the laps of other men or leaned against them like lovers. It dawned on him that everyone in the café were men who could love men. Who wanted to.
    And I arrived with Cornelius, who has just kissed me .
    The café abruptly did not have enough air. Johann pushed to his feet, ready to bolt out of the building.
    Immediately, Cornelius stood before him. He took Johann’s face in his slender hands and drew his head down to whisper once more in his ear. “ Restez calme. It is all right. Faites comme si. ”
    Johann exhaled in a shudder. “ Sie…haben mich geküsst. ” He touched his lips in an attempt to translate.
    His cock was still hard. Harder, even, than it had been before. He might be unnerved by this turn of events, but his body seemed right at home.
    Cornelius touched Johann’s lips too, which helped nothing in the department of Johann’s trousers. “Valentin. He watches.”
    But why does that mean we have to kiss?
    And why do I wish you would do it again?
    Johann couldn’t work out for the life of him why he and Cornelius had to pretend to be lovers. Male lovers? It was indecent. It was scandalous.
    Or rather, it should have been.
    Johann was absolutely certain the priest in his village would say this was a sin. The mayor would turn red in the face. Decidedly his mother wouldn’t like it. His sergeant commander, either. Except evidently no one here cared what any of those people or their French counterparts would say. They appeared quite happy to be in each other’s arms. Johann did not understand the men-women, but…well, they seemed very happy too. Happier than he had ever remembered being, so who was he to say it was wrong for them to wear dresses and paint? They all carried on in full view of the windows, hugging and kissing and flirting and drinking from delicate, expensive cups. No one came in to arrest them. No one clutched their breast in horror.
    Johann did his best to write the whole thing off as Frankreich, mein Gott , but there was one stubborn problem with that dismissal, and that was his own misbehaving cock. It liked flirty Cornelius. It very much appreciated every brush of Cornelius’s bottom on his thigh,