She nodded and sat at the writing table. She lit a cigarette.
“Sir, I hope you are going south of the navel line, but to do so you’re going to need rinse your mouth as brandy and spirits sting my feminine charms.”
He smiled at the way Louise could be both lady-like and grossly carnal at the same time.
“Why don’t you have a quick shower so you’re fresh for me?”
He hesitated, but she read his mind,
“And here’s your big briefcase that you likely need to read why you’re showering,” she said as she lugged the travel-worn bag into the bathroom.
After the bathroom door closed, Louise stood up and unzipped her skirt at the back, stepped out, and placed the skirt neatly on the lounge chair beside the bed. This done, she resumed her seat and had her long legs crossed. Her garter belt was canary yellow, from Germany—the American ones were all so dowdy, either arc-light white or a sickly pinkish color. The stockings themselves were the palest possible yellow. While her hairs around her “charms” as she called them were wispy, she had dyed them to darken them to help them standout—she so envied girls with a large dark triangle of black hair, as she did not like her lower lips to show.
Major Sir quickly emerged from the bathroom and even without Louise’s little show was already heavily tumescent. Louise suspected that he had helped the process along in the shower—he wouldn’t be the first man to do so. Louise stood when he entered and turned around to show him the full cache.
He was a strong and crude lover, about the same size as Schneider, but with none of the skill and little of the attention of her boss. She gently added her teeth when he was in her mouth, and he was initially surprised—she assumed that for all the bluster he was actually fairly inexperienced with women. She could taste a little of his early juice as he got extremely excited and she was forced to curtail the sucking to prevent the much-feared 30-second man from raising its ugly head.
Her recommendation of her lying on her stomach on three of the pillows on the bed was happily accepted by the mildly surprised Major Sir.
“Whoa, this is kinda clever, ain’t it, Honey,” was his succinct comment.
Schneider had taught her this position and Louise immediately took to it as she did not have to kneel on all fours as in traditional chien. She could simply lie there relaxed, arms and legs outstretched, with her feet just grazing the carpet. Even better, the solid base of pillows meant the man du jour (or was it man de l’heure?) could get in far, far deeper—the traditional version of this position allowed for far too much movement, and the only corrective step was for the man to firmly grab Louise’s shoulders, but this was always limited in its effectiveness; “Schneider’s position,” as she called it, was effective, relaxing and, best of all, extremely arousing.
She enjoyed the crudity of the officer; he was simple, strong and had surprising stamina. And she liked the hardness. But she thought it best to relieve her tension sooner rather than later, so she concentrated on his animal grunting—the sounds a manmade were always the most exciting aspect of the act for her. Once in Berlin she had entertained a beautiful blond Adonis from the Berlin Ballet, chisel-face, glorious long blond hair; it was a total fiasco as he was mute as a mouse, she could not get aroused even as be pumped and pumped his milk inside her. She had to resort to the standard moaning and that-was-so-amazing lies.
The start of her quite genuine contractions had—as she expected—turned the soldier’s horse onto the home straight. But to be safe she completed most of her climax before starting her standard stream of “oh, I love your big cock,” “pump all that juice inside me,” and the never-fail “fuck me harder.” And he was—like her—clearly an aural animal. Her legerdemain worked as expected, and as commanded, he did indeed pump inside her, and she was—as a professional—impressed by his completion.
She said, “Well, now it’s my time to use the shower and I don’t need your briefcase.”
She had removed her jacket and standard-issue cream blouse before taking up the “Schneider Position.” Wearing only her brassiere and garter belt, she walked to the bathroom. She showered and reentered the suite to find the officer smoking the obligatory post-excitement cigarette. He lit one for her and they chatted for 10 minutes. It turned out that he was a nobody, in charge of soldier hygiene supplies. She dared not ask for any details. After her leisurely cigarette, she dressed and, with a peck on the cheek, left.
In the cab back to the embassy she was completely satiated—she leaned back completely relaxed; it was having three men in the one day—having two was exciting, but three in a day was satisfying beyond belief. Schneider was correct: the more she got, the even more voracious was her appetite.
8: The Urbane Gentleman
SCHNEIDER CALLED LOUISE into his office.
“I have an important assignment for you, Louise. Through an intermediary, I have arranged for you to be part of a dinner group that interviews one of the most important men in the country this evening at the Willard at 8 p.m. Henry Morgenthau is Roosevelt’s Treasury Secretary and as such is obviously extremely powerful. He is hosting a dinner for five European reporters and you. This man is one of the main forces behind Roosevelt’s New Deal program and I am very interested in you getting the details of his thinking and his current views on Roosevelt. Interestingly, he is Jewish and is actually only the second of that faith to be in an American administration. In spite of all the whining we hear about our Reich, the Americans don’t do much themselves. I want you prim and proper but still very feminine. I have prepared a list of questions I want you to ask Mr. Morgenthau. Spend one hour reading and memorizing these questions and then you can do a mock interview with me.”
With that Schneider gave Louise three pages of hand-written questions.
Louise took the questions and left and room and went to the embassy library.
One hour later, Louise returned and the tedious but valuable dress rehearsal started.
“The secret to these meetings is to be demure and in no way threatening. The other five reporters are all men, and they will all try to outshine each other early. I want you to simply smile and ask just the first two questions until desert is served. By that time, Mr. Morgenthau will be thoroughly sick of the men and with a little gentleness, Mr. Morgenthau can be shown you are his friend and not simply someone who desires to score points and to get some very printable quotes. You have a room booked for the evening at the hotel. It is extremely unlikely that Mr. Morgenthau will suggest anything—from all reports he is a very boring man. And this assignment is not one that requires your female charms, gorgeous and munificent though they are. If that does occur, then that is good, but it is neither required nor expected.”
Louise listened intently and understood.
At seven p.m., Louise checked into the hotel and after a quick review of the room, made her way to the bar. Her favorite, Peter, was on duty and she gave him a huge grin. Clearly, her appearance had made his evening. They chatted and Louise loosened herself with a single glass of champagne.
Early as always, Morgenthau appeared and was seated in the central table. No reporters appeared, and so Louise walked over and introduced herself. Mr. Morgenthau, for all his modesty, could not but happen to notice Louise’s smoky sexiness and her genuine charm.
“Well, the White House never told me I would be in the company of someone as lovely as you, my dear.”