“I have no choice but to put my life in your hands,” she said softly and more than a little dramatically.
She rehearsed that line! Gottverdammt Hure thinks she can play me the way she played those fools in the Hotel Am Zoo!
He slapped her again, this time in genuine anger.
“Your life has been in my hands since I sent you over here,” he said. “What is he doing in Paraguay?”
“May I try to explain?” she said. “Please.”
He glowered at her, then nodded.
“Make it quick,” he said coldly.
“Herr Brigadeführer,” she said, looking up at him, “I know about the confidential special fund.”
What the hell does she mean by that? Of course she knows about that.
But, my God, she’s not supposed to know anything about it! I made it very clear to that degenerate husband of hers that he was to tell her nothing about it; that if I ever learned she knew anything about it, he wouldn’t live long enough to be transported to Sachsenhausen.
“You know about what?” he asked icily.
“The confidential special fund.”
“Your husband told you something about—what did you say?—a ‘confi dential fund’?”
“He didn’t tell me. I found out.”
“You found out what?”
Why is she looking at my stomach?
My God, I have an erection! That’s what she’s looking at!
“Everything,” she said. “I knew he was doing more than his work for Operation Phoenix, and I wanted to know what.”
“And?”
“And I found out. Everything.”
He didn’t reply immediately.
“That happens to me, too,” she said softly.
“What?”
“When you slap me, it excites me, too.”
She raised her hand and ran the tips of her fingers along his penis.
“Tell me,” she said in an excited whisper.
“Tell you what?”
“Order me,” Inge said huskily. “Order me to take it in my mouth.”
When he had recovered his breath, von Deitzberg turned his head and looked at Inge. Her blouse was open and her brassiere had been pushed off her breasts. Her skirt had been raised over her hips.
God alone knows what happened to her underpants!