touching his glass to hers. "Un- til tonight, dear Denise. I'll call for you at eight."

Denise parted her pink lips, wrapped her long-nailed fingers around her glass and nodded quickly. Over Langer's shoulder, Jody Atwater was glaring once more at Denise.

* * *

"Chaplin asked for a secur- ity check on you," said Richard Simons. His shirt was open, tie lowered, as he nursed a highball glass.

"And he got the prepared story?" Denise asked. She pulled up her long, flowing skirt to show her shapely legs. She sat on the edge of her bed and drew on her silk stockings, smoothing and adjusting the silk over her shaved calves and thighs before attach-- ing on the garters. As she leaned forward, her silvery earrings and blonde hair fell onto her bare shoulders.

―

Simons sipped his highball as he watched Denise go through her feminine routine. He was aware that the display was for him to show him what he had done to mess up the life of Ken- neth Gerlitz. "Yeah," he mum- bled at last. "As far as he knows, you've got minimum clearance, just as if you'd been a straight courier."

Denise picked up silver high heels and slipped them on her feet. She stood, lowered her skirts and twirled on her heels. She smiled at Simons. "You're not supposed to be here," she said, picking up a silver evening purse. She was heavily made up for her evening out, her eyelids dark with eye shadow while her lips were a bright scarlet. As she got near to Simons, he could smell the perfume again - he should never have told 'her' it was his favorite. She waited for him to help her with her wrap which he placed gently over her bare shoulders. The tiny silver straps were all that held up the low-cut, black silk evening dress, which was tight about her bust and waist.

"You know what we want from Langer," Simons teeth were gritted as he watched Denise pat and stroke her hair in the mirror

by the door. Her long fingernails were now a bright, glossy red like her lips.

She turned to face him, her false eyelashes flickering. "Of course," she said huskily.

* * * *

The club to which Heinrich Langer took the shapely blonde was peopled by so many officers and their attractive dates that Denise felt somewhat awkward to be with the German ex-major, Langer, however, appeared to know almost everyone in the place, including Major-General Joe Martin who greeted Denise with a great hug and a kiss that she twisted her head to take on her cheek.

"Hey, Denise, you smell great!" Martin kept his arm a- bout the blonde's waist and pull- ed her tight to him. "We're gon- na dance."

Heinrich Langer touched his date on the arm even as the Gen- eral's arm was tightening about her waist. "I'll find a table for us, the German said stiffly."

With the General hugging her tightly, Denise could hardly breathe, but Joe Martin wanted to talk. "What's with that guy?” he growled into Denise's ear, his head pressed against her soft hair. "Thought you were Rick's girl."

Denise nodded. “He's work- ing tonight," she said softly. "Ah," Joe Martin pulled a- way a little and looked into the girl's face. "And when he's busy.. "He stopped.

When the dance was over, the General kept his arm about Denise's waist as he escorted her back to Heinrich, who was stand- ing at a dinner table for two. "You know, Denise," Joe Martin said carefully. "If you're tired of the Colonel, you don't have to go off chasing no Kraut. There's a general right here that'd like to hear from you." He squeezed her waist.

"Why, Joe," Denise's flush beneath her makeup was quite real. "That would be really nice, she whispered," fluttering her eyelids as she looked down de- murely.

Joe Martin's eyes sparkled. He held Denise much longer than

12

necessary as Heinrich rose to greet them. Finally, with a cur- sory nod at the German, Martin retired, giving Denise a last squeeze on her bare arm. "You should be careful of that man," said Heinrich icily as they sat at their table.

"Of Joe?" Denise faked her surprise.

"He eats up women like you," snapped Langer. "You'll be sorry if you jump from the Colonel to him."

"Heinrich," Denise was also cool. "What kind of woman do you think I am?”

From beneath bushy, grey eyebrows, pale eyes appraised Denise carefully, again making her feel undressed. "You are a most attractive young lady," the smile did not quite reach Langers eyes. "And I very much want to hold you and to dance with you.

Denise then discovered much that she hadn't known a- bout being a woman. She had to allow a man to hold her whose very touch made her quiver. She had to smile and be femininely demure while Langer discoursed endlessly about former friends in Berlin. She had to respond also eagerly and girlishly to Heinrich's squeezes and the little nibbles he gave her ear. She had to tuck her head into his shoulder and brush his cheek with her red lips, enough so that he would feel her interest. It was a relief, with din- ner well over, to be able to slip away to the ladies' room 'to freshen up.'

She had quite forgotten how many women there would be and the tasks they would be concerned with as she entered the room. All around Denise, chattering women were adjusting their hair, their makeup and their dresses. Denise felt herself blush as a dark-haired Italian girl hoist- ed the skirts of her cocktail dress and began to refasten her garters. Denise joined a line waiting to use a wide mirror. A dark-haired girl was holding forth in a stri- dent voice. "And you saw the way she was fawning on the Gen- eral," she declaimed. "She's just chasing everything in pants."

Denise opened her purse and reached for her lipstick. The dark girl turned. It was Jody At- water. With a start, Denise realiz-