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Berlin Diary

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Tree, a few little Errors in the picture.
The eagle is on the right side of chest and the armband on the left arm. Pistol on the left side.
Thats right here:
A still from 'The Beast in the Heat' (1977)., an Italian Nazisploitation movie, I guess.
Whether seen from left or right, the haircut of that female Gestapo officer would be against haircut regulations in any army.:oops:
 
Episode 12. Saturday evening, 1 August 1936.

"Max, this is Barbara Moore, a friend of mine from America. Barbara, meet Max, the proud owner of this fine establishment," said Klaus as we seated ourselves on the overstuffed red velvet divan facing the oversized desk that dominated the office of the owner and impresario of the infamous Berlin night club, known as 'The Apollo'.

Max bowed, took my hand in his warm meaty one and kissed it theatrically. "Welcome Fräulein Moore,” he murmured silkily as his eyes, deep set in a broad fleshy face and half obscured by drooping bushy eyebrows, literally devoured me from head to toe. Although fully clothed, I felt as though I had just been stripped naked.

"A pleasure," I responded, smiling sweetly.

"Max, I need to ask a favor," interjected Klaus.

"Of course Klaus. Anything. What is it?" he purred, seating himself on the edge of the desk and clasping his hands around his portly belly. A diamond ring that almost looked the size of a chestnut glistened brilliantly in the light of the desk lamp.

"I want you to give Barbara here a job."

"Indeed, have her come by next week and ..."

"No, Max ... tonight."

Max looked at me with a slightly perplexed frown, then turned his attention back to Klaus.

"Tell me more Klaus. What's this all about?"

"Fraulein Moore is hoping to meet one of our Nazi bigwigs. She is here in Berlin as a student of German literature and art and hopes to interview Dr. Goebbels," Klaus offered, trying to help me out without any idea of my real purpose, but hoping all the same that this explanation might somehow seem plausible.

"Ahhhh, I see ... in other words, she is a gold digger, hoping to hobnob with the famous and influential for her own personal gain!" Max guffawed heartily. "She looks too sweet and innocent for that ... but it just might work ... Goebbels likes them that way!"

I cast my eyes down demurely.

"Exactly what I told her Max. Meeting Goebbels is next to impossible through normal channels, as you can well imagine. I thought this might be her best chance."

"Well, Fräulein Moore. Why not? For my good friend, Klaus, anything! And, as a matter of fact, I am in need of an extra girl for tonight's tableau performance. Are you willing to perform naked, Fräulein Moore?"

I nodded, smiling thinly.

He pressed a buzzer on the side of the desk. A moment later a lithesome young blonde with dazzling bright blue eyes appeared at the door.

"Katrin. Meet Fräulein Moore. Kindly escort her backstage and get her ready. I have just hired her to take part in tonight's tableaux. And Katrin, position Fräulein Moore in such a way that Dr. Goebbels will be sure to appreciate her many charms, will you please?"

I thanked Max profusely, then got up and followed Katrin, who was wearing an expensive-looking long dressing gown, down a long corridor and into a backstage dressing room, in which couple dozen young showgirls in various states of undress, all chattering animatedly among themselves, were preparing themselves for the next performance.

Katrin pointed to a vacant dressing table and mirror and said, "Get undressed and sit there, I will be back in a minute to tell you what you will need to do."

I opened a drawer on the side of the dressing table and carefully laid my handbag in it after checking inside the bag for the small lump sewn in its lining. "Good, still there!" I said to myself under my breath, and closed the drawer.

Then I proceeded to wiggle out of the black beaded dress I was wearing. I hung the garment on a hook beside the mirror and seated myself on the stool to roll down and remove my hose. I checked my face in the mirror and looked around nervously, before going any further. Then on seeing Katrin returning, I quickly finished disrobing, shedding my bra, panties and garter belt.

"Stand up and turn around. Let's have a look at you," she said, placing her hands on her hips. The front of her gown parted to reveal her full breasts. "Yes, you will do well. Max has a good eye, as always. What should I call you?"

"Barbara," I replied.

"Ok, we go on in a few minutes. The Nazi prigs have cracked down on the cabarets lately. Nothing raunchy permitted. Especially with the Olympiad in town. Nudity on stage is fine as long as no one moves. So we do a nude tableaux here each night as a finale to each floor show."

I followed Katrin and the other girls as they trooped on stage. The cabaret band was playing and I could hear loud conversation and laughter just on the other side of the drawn curtain.

"It's supposed to be a scene from antiquity," explained Katrin. "Your role is to stand here alongside this chariot and hold this whip as though you are about to whip me."

She handed me a long leather whip and placed a Roman-style helmet on my head, then knelt down before me and struck a pose with one hand raised toward me and an exaggerated expression of fear on her face. I took the cue and raised my whip arm threateningly. The other girls took their assigned places on and around the stage prop chariot.

"Where will Goebbels be sitting? I whispered as we waited for the curtain.

"Table 5, up front," she answered. "Listen sweetie, you really don't want to attract his attention. He invites the girls he takes a fancy to over to his table after the show, and then, after closing time, to a private party that takes place in a special room here that Max provides for him. You can only imagine what happens there! Did you know that the girls have a nickname for him? They call him 'The Ram'!"

The band stopped playing. I could hear Max out there introducing us. The band played a fanfare and the curtains parted to a hearty burst of applause.

View attachment 431406

For the next thirty minutes we held our poses. There were loud comments, bawdy cheers and hoots from the audience. The band played jazzy renditions of martial music. Under the hot stage lights, the other girls and I sweated and tried to hold still, naked bodies glistening in the harsh light.

I tried to spot Goebbels, squinting through the glare of the stage lights and trying not to be too obvious about it. After awhile my arm began to ache from holding the handle of the whip above and behind my ear. A rivulet of sweat ran down my back. My neck began to itch and I wanted desperately to scratch it, and was about to do so when mercifully the performance came to an end and the curtain closed to an appreciative round of applause.

We left the stage. An attendant handed each of us a towel as we filed into the dressing room. I sat wearily at my mirror, mopped my brow with the towel, and wondered if I could bear doing a second performance later that night. Then Katrin appeared at my side.

"Well sweetie. Looks like you got what you wished for," she said, handing me a small folded note. "Dr. Goebbels, aka 'The Ram', asks that you join him at his table. Go ahead, get dressed and go out there, but be careful. Goebbels always gets what he wants. No one dares say no."
I had no doubt Dr. Goebbels would notice you, and be enchanted by your beauty Barb.
IMG_1276.JPG IMG_1277.JPG I mean look at you, how could he resist your obvious charms!
Now that you are about to meet him, remember, be careful what you wish for.
Great writing Barb!
:clapping:
 
A still from 'The Beast in the Heat' (1977)., an Italian Nazisploitation movie, I guess.
Whether seen from left or right, the haircut of that female Gestapo officer would be against haircut regulations in any army.:oops:

I don't think anyone in the German army was brave or foolish enough to tell her! ;)
 
Episode 12. Saturday evening, 1 August 1936.

"Max, this is Barbara Moore, a friend of mine from America. Barbara, meet Max, the proud owner of this fine establishment," said Klaus as we seated ourselves on the overstuffed red velvet divan facing the oversized desk that dominated the office of the owner and impresario of the infamous Berlin night club, known as 'The Apollo'.

Max bowed, took my hand in his warm meaty one and kissed it theatrically. "Welcome Fräulein Moore,” he murmured silkily as his eyes, deep set in a broad fleshy face and half obscured by drooping bushy eyebrows, literally devoured me from head to toe. Although fully clothed, I felt as though I had just been stripped naked.

"A pleasure," I responded, smiling sweetly.

"Max, I need to ask a favor," interjected Klaus.

"Of course Klaus. Anything. What is it?" he purred, seating himself on the edge of the desk and clasping his hands around his portly belly. A diamond ring that almost looked the size of a chestnut glistened brilliantly in the light of the desk lamp.

"I want you to give Barbara here a job."

"Indeed, have her come by next week and ..."

"No, Max ... tonight."

Max looked at me with a slightly perplexed frown, then turned his attention back to Klaus.

"Tell me more Klaus. What's this all about?"

"Fraulein Moore is hoping to meet one of our Nazi bigwigs. She is here in Berlin as a student of German literature and art and hopes to interview Dr. Goebbels," Klaus offered, trying to help me out without any idea of my real purpose, but hoping all the same that this explanation might somehow seem plausible.

"Ahhhh, I see ... in other words, she is a gold digger, hoping to hobnob with the famous and influential for her own personal gain!" Max guffawed heartily. "She looks too sweet and innocent for that ... but it just might work ... Goebbels likes them that way!"

I cast my eyes down demurely.

"Exactly what I told her Max. Meeting Goebbels is next to impossible through normal channels, as you can well imagine. I thought this might be her best chance."

"Well, Fräulein Moore. Why not? For my good friend, Klaus, anything! And, as a matter of fact, I am in need of an extra girl for tonight's tableau performance. Are you willing to perform naked, Fräulein Moore?"

I nodded, smiling thinly.

He pressed a buzzer on the side of the desk. A moment later a lithesome young blonde with dazzling bright blue eyes appeared at the door.

"Katrin. Meet Fräulein Moore. Kindly escort her backstage and get her ready. I have just hired her to take part in tonight's tableaux. And Katrin, position Fräulein Moore in such a way that Dr. Goebbels will be sure to appreciate her many charms, will you please?"

I thanked Max profusely, then got up and followed Katrin, who was wearing an expensive-looking long dressing gown, down a long corridor and into a backstage dressing room, in which couple dozen young showgirls in various states of undress, all chattering animatedly among themselves, were preparing themselves for the next performance.

Katrin pointed to a vacant dressing table and mirror and said, "Get undressed and sit there, I will be back in a minute to tell you what you will need to do."

I opened a drawer on the side of the dressing table and carefully laid my handbag in it after checking inside the bag for the small lump sewn in its lining. "Good, still there!" I said to myself under my breath, and closed the drawer.

Then I proceeded to wiggle out of the black beaded dress I was wearing. I hung the garment on a hook beside the mirror and seated myself on the stool to roll down and remove my hose. I checked my face in the mirror and looked around nervously, before going any further. Then on seeing Katrin returning, I quickly finished disrobing, shedding my bra, panties and garter belt.

"Stand up and turn around. Let's have a look at you," she said, placing her hands on her hips. The front of her gown parted to reveal her full breasts. "Yes, you will do well. Max has a good eye, as always. What should I call you?"

"Barbara," I replied.

"Ok, we go on in a few minutes. The Nazi prigs have cracked down on the cabarets lately. Nothing raunchy permitted. Especially with the Olympiad in town. Nudity on stage is fine as long as no one moves. So we do a nude tableaux here each night as a finale to each floor show."

I followed Katrin and the other girls as they trooped on stage. The cabaret band was playing and I could hear loud conversation and laughter just on the other side of the drawn curtain.

"It's supposed to be a scene from antiquity," explained Katrin. "Your role is to stand here alongside this chariot and hold this whip as though you are about to whip me."

She handed me a long leather whip and placed a Roman-style helmet on my head, then knelt down before me and struck a pose with one hand raised toward me and an exaggerated expression of fear on her face. I took the cue and raised my whip arm threateningly. The other girls took their assigned places on and around the stage prop chariot.

"Where will Goebbels be sitting? I whispered as we waited for the curtain.

"Table 5, up front," she answered. "Listen sweetie, you really don't want to attract his attention. He invites the girls he takes a fancy to over to his table after the show, and then, after closing time, to a private party that takes place in a special room here that Max provides for him. You can only imagine what happens there! Did you know that the girls have a nickname for him? They call him 'The Ram'!"

The band stopped playing. I could hear Max out there introducing us. The band played a fanfare and the curtains parted to a hearty burst of applause.

View attachment 431406

For the next thirty minutes we held our poses. There were loud comments, bawdy cheers and hoots from the audience. The band played jazzy renditions of martial music. Under the hot stage lights, the other girls and I sweated and tried to hold still, naked bodies glistening in the harsh light.

I tried to spot Goebbels, squinting through the glare of the stage lights and trying not to be too obvious about it. After awhile my arm began to ache from holding the handle of the whip above and behind my ear. A rivulet of sweat ran down my back. My neck began to itch and I wanted desperately to scratch it, and was about to do so when mercifully the performance came to an end and the curtain closed to an appreciative round of applause.

We left the stage. An attendant handed each of us a towel as we filed into the dressing room. I sat wearily at my mirror, mopped my brow with the towel, and wondered if I could bear doing a second performance later that night. Then Katrin appeared at my side.

"Well sweetie. Looks like you got what you wished for," she said, handing me a small folded note. "Dr. Goebbels, aka 'The Ram', asks that you join him at his table. Go ahead, get dressed and go out there, but be careful. Goebbels always gets what he wants. No one dares say no."
Very nice Barb!!! Let's see what the "The Ram" has in store for you.
 
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