She walked over to the bed, knowing that Strasser would be admiring her behind. It was his mouth she felt first, kissing the back of her neck. And then his hands on her breasts, caressing them roughly at first, and then pinching her nipples through the silk of her robe and the lace of her basque. She pressed her buttocks into his groin, feeling him getting hard.

Strasser didn’t say a word as Leni bent over the bed. Instead, she could hear him unbuttoning his breeches, and then the sound of them falling to the floor. She felt his hands on her buttocks, squeezing them, and then hitching up her robe. He pulled her panties to one side, and then forced himself inside her, gripping the fronts of her thighs, slamming her body onto his groin.

Within no longer than two or three minutes, he had come. Leni was glad. Now that he had done so, he would be more relaxed, more malleable. Besides, she couldn’t have faced a long-drawn-out session—it would have made her feel too guilty.

“I couldn’t stop myself,” he said.

“It doesn’t matter,” she smiled. “We’ve got all night. That was just an aperitif.”

Strasser laughed.

“Talking of aperitifs,” he said, “I might open that champagne.”

“Please do…. By the way—would you like a bath?”

“Why? Do I need one?”

Leni nodded slowly and coquettishly.

“Just a little hint of troop train.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be. I’ll run it for you.”

Leni walked into the bathroom and turned on the taps. She prayed to God that there was still some hot water. She held her hand under the tap for what felt like an age, but eventually it came, scaldingly hot, hissing and burbling.

“Do you want some bath salts in it?” she shouted through.

“Yes!”

She put in a healthy dose—that would make him even more relaxed. She went back into the bedroom to find Carl standing naked next to the table, piling meat into his mouth.

“You look starving!”

“I am,” he said with his mouth full. “Sorry, here’s your champagne.”

He passed her a glass, and she raised it to him.

“Here’s to our boys in Normandy,” she said.

Strasser looked surprised—he had expected Leni to toast something a little more intimate, a little more flippant perhaps.

“Our boys in Normandy,” he said. “And those in the east.”

“Those in the east,” said Leni, and took a mouthful.

Strasser picked up a piece of ham.

“This is delicious!” he said.

“Good. I’m glad you like it.”

“How can you afford to stay in a place like this anyway?”

“Some of my rather more high-ranking clients can be very generous.”

“Extremely generous. So who’s this on? Whose generosity am I abusing tonight?”

“Oh, a crusty old Wehrmacht general you’ve probably never heard of.”

“Try me. What’s his name?”

Leni walked over and kissed him.