her.
He stroked her with the soft shaving brush and said: 'I've thought of another way to get into those briefcases.'
'What?'
He did not answer her immediately. He put down the brush and picked up the razor. He tested its sharp edge with his thumb then looked at her. She was watching him with horrid fascination. He leaned closer, spread her legs a little more, put the razor to her skin, and drew it upward with a light, careful stroke.
He said: 'I'm going to befriend a British officer.'
She did not answer: she was only half listening to him. He wiped the razor on a towel, With one finger of his left hand he touched the shaved patch. pulling down to stretch the skin, then he brought the razor close. 'Then I'll bring the officer here,' he said.
Sonja said 'Oh, no.'
He touched her with the edge of the razor and gently scraped upward.
She began to breathe harder.
He wiped the razor and stroked again once, twice, three times.
'Somehow I'll get the officer to bring his briefcase.'
He put his finger on her most sensitive spot and shaved around it. She closed her eyes.
He poured hot water from a kettle into a bowl on the floor beside him.
He dipped a flannel into the water and wrung it out.
'Then I'll go through the briefcase while the officer is in bed with you.'
He pressed the hot flannel against her shaved skin.
She gave a sharp cry like a cornered animal: 'Ahh, God!'
Wolff slipped out of his bathrobe and stood naked. He picked up a bottle of soothing skin oil, poured some into the palm of his right hand, and knelt on the bed beside Sonja; then he anointed her pubis. 'I won't,' she said as she began to writhe.
He added more oil, massaging it into all the folds and crevices. With his left hand he held her by the throat, pinning her down. 'You will.' His knowing fingers delved and squeezed, becoming less gentle.
She said: 'No.'
He said: 'Yes.'
She shook her head from side to side. Her body wriggled, helpless in the grip of intense pleasure. She began to shudder, and finally she said: 'Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh!' Then she relaxed. Wolff would not let her stop. He continued to stroke her smooth, hairless skin while with his left hand he pinched her brown nipples. Unable to resist him, she began to move again.
She opened her eyes and saw that he, too, was aroused. She said: 'You bastard, stick it in me.'
He grinned. The sense of power was like a drug. He lay over her and hesitated, poised.
She said: 'Quickly!'
'Will you do it?'
'Quickly!'
He let his body touch hers, then paused again. 'Will you do it?'
'Yes! Please!'
'Aaah,' Wolff breathed, and lowered himself to her.
She tried to go back on it afterward, of course.
'That kind of promise doesn't count,' she said.
Wolff came out of the bathroom wrapped in a big towel. He looked at her.
She was lying on the bed, still naked, eating chocolates from a box.
There were moments when he was almost fond of her.
He said: 'A promise is a promise.'
'You promised to find us another Fawzi.' She was sulking. She always did after sex.
'I brought that girl from Madame Fahmy's,' Wolff said.
'She wasn't another Fawzi. Fawzi didn't ask for ten pounds every time, and she didn't go home in the morning.'
'All right. I'm still looking.'
'You didn't promise to look, you promised to find.,'
Wolff went into the other room and got a bottle of champagne out of the icebox. He picked up two glasses and took them back into the bedroom. 'Do you want some?'
'No,' she said. 'Yes.'
