Episode 14 . Late Saturday, 1 August 1936.
With everyone sitting around Tisch 5 staring, as though transfixed, at Horst's iron grip on my wrist, he slowly ... inexorably ... twisted my hand face up ... forcing it open ... to reveal the fragments of crushed glass and the powdery white substance I held in my grasp.
Goebbels, who had been distracted speaking to an aide, was late to the drama. He gaped as he turned back to the table and took in the expressions on everyone's faces.
"Von Hassel! What is the meaning of this? Take you hands off Fraulein Moore immediately!" he exclaimed as he hastily extracted his little finger from under the edge of my panties, deftly removed his sweaty hand from where it was clamped on my upper thigh, pushed back his chair, and stood up.
"No, Herr Doktor! Look at what she is holding in her hand!! I caught her trying to poison you!"
Goebbels stared at my hand, dumbfounded. "No, it can't be," he stammered. "She's just an American student who wanted to meet me. Surely, there is some mistake."
"It's my medication," I said quietly, sensing an opportunity to explain this away. "I was just reaching for a glass of water."
"I suggest we examine the powder then," said Horst evenly. "Doktor Goebbels, why not invite your guests back to your private room, as you are often wont to do at this time? And, Fräulein Moore, if what you say is true, certainly you have no reason not to join us ... nicht wahr?"
"Well, I do have to get back stage in time for the second show nude tableau scene."
"Nonsense my dear, the other girls will do just fine without you," responded Goebbels. "Yes, come everyone, please join me for the usual after hours party in my room.
There was a general scraping of chairs as Goebbels and his party rose and prepared to leave the table. Horst emptied the powder from my hand into his own and hissed in my ear, "Walk with us as though nothing has happened, if you know what is good for you!"
I glanced across the room to Klaus' table. It was empty. Why does he always disappear just when I am in trouble, I thought to myself?
Slowly we wound our way across the crowded room toward a door at the back marked 'Private'. Max was magically already there to open it with an exaggerated bow. Goebbels and his party filed through, as out on the floor the band struck up a tune and a new act took the stage.
Goebbel's private room sported a lavishly heavy Victorian decor with dark red velvet-like wallpaper, a sitting area furnished with a pair of deep leather-upholstered chesterfield couches and matching end chairs, an oversized crystal chandelier, and a canopied four poster bed with flame red bed sheets and leather cuffs affixed to each of its four posts. A well-stocked bar graced one wall, above which hung a collection of canes and whips plus more cuffs and chains. Paintings of nude women engaged in various sexual activities graced the other walls along with a number of strategically placed full-length mirrors. Four very pretty, young, scantily dressed women rose to their feet in the sitting area as we entered.
Goebbels waved the girls off. They glanced at me curiously as they retreated to a corner of the room. Horst, who held me firmly by the arm, propelled me over by the bed. Goebbels and the other men from the table gathered around. As I stood there Horst opened his hand, held it close to his nose, and sniffed it cautiously, then passed the powder to one of the others who identified himself as a medical doctor. After examining the powdery substance closely, he declared that he doubted very much that it might be medicinal.
"Well, Fräulein Moore. Suppose you tell us what you use this powder for," queried Goebbels, his thin pinched face looking a tad grimmer than usual.
"For sudden flash headaches," I lied.
The doctor shook his head dubiously. "We need to have it analyzed," he said as Horst moved over to a side table, picked up a black phone receiver and began dialing a number.
"Girls, make yourself useful and mix us some drinks," said Goebbels to the four girls who were watching, eyes wide, from the far side of the room.
Horst put down the receiver. "I just spoke with Heydrich," he reported. "He says we should bring Fräulein Moore and the substance over to 8 Prinz-Albrecht-Strasse for questioning and analysis. He will contact the duty desk there and have them send a detail over to take her in. It could take some time, but they should be here in about an hour or so. In the meantime, we should search her."
While two of the men began going through my handbag, Horst turned me around to face the bed. He began undoing the buttons that fastened the back of my black beaded dress, then slipped it off my shoulders and tugged it down over my hips. It fell to the floor and bunched around my ankles. He gave me a poke, and I stepped out obediently. He snatched it up and tossed it to one of the others who gave it a quick look over and then began tearing it apart at the seams.
"That's my best dress!" I blurted out as Horst shoved me face down on the edge of the bed, knees on the floor. He undid and removed my bra, tossing it to another colleague for inspection. Then he pulled my panties down to just above my knees.
"Herr Doktor, if you please," he intoned, turning to his physician colleague.
I gripped the bed sheet with both hands, grimaced and coughed as the good doctor's index finger penetrated and probed my anus, and then squirmed in abhorrence and discomfort as ... uncleansed... it poked rudely about deep inside my pussy.
"She's clean," he announced, straightening up and wiping his finger on a torn scrap of my dress.
"Better tie her up then until they come for her," suggested Horst.
I protested, but helping hands lifted me full onto the bed, spreadeagled me face down, and secured my wrists and ankles to the corner posts. One of them administered the coup de grace by ripping away my panties.
"Pity! What a waste," said one of them ruefully, smacking me on my backside.
"Gentlemen," purred Goebbels. "While we are waiting for the Gestapo to arrive, perhaps you would care to indulge yourself in something from the bar and make the acquaintance of one of our lovely friends waiting so patiently for you over there."
I turned my head to look. The four girls were lounging on the chesterfields now, drinks in hand, looking as provocative and inviting as they possibly could.
"And while you are doing that," he continued, stuffing a pillow under my hips. "Fräulein Moore and I have a little unfinished business to which we must attend. I believe my dear, if I remember correctly, that you wished to learn more from me about German art and culture."
