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“I am very surprised at you, Herr Flick,” Helga said, almost hurt. “This barn does not seem safe. What if the Gestapo finds us?”
“I am the Gestapo. And they will not find us. I have made sure of it. I put out a notice earlier today that will keep us from being disturbed.”
“What is your plan, Herr Flick?”
“We will play a little game. You will be the Resistance, and I will be the Gestapo.”
Helga swallowed hard, a light smile coming to her face in anticipation of a sordid evening. “Yes, Herr Flick.”
“First, you will be interrogated. Sit on that bale of hay over there, so I can shine my flashlight in your eyes.”
“Yes, Herr Flick.” Helga did as she was told, hiking her skirt up slightly to reveal her thigh.
“Lower your skirt!” Herr Flick all but shouted. “The Gestapo is not swayed by such base expressions of lust!”
“Yes, Herr Flick,” Helga said chastened. She pulled her skirt down to its usual length. “What now, Herr Flick.”
The Gestapo agent hobbled on his cane toward Helga. “I will now shine my flashlight in your eyes and ask you some questions.”
“Yes, Herr Flick.”
Herr Flick turned on his portable flashlight and shone it into Helga’s beautiful eyes. “How long have you been in the Resistance?” he asked, rather brusquely. Helga, unsure how to proceed, stuttered. “Almost a year, Herr Flick.”
“You are a liar,” he said politely, producing a short horse whip. “I shall ask you one more time. How long have you been in the Resistance?”
Helga stumbled again, unsure how Herr Flick wanted her to answer. “Five years?”
Herr Flick smote his bad leg gently with the whip, then began stroking his thigh with it. “Good,” he said. “That is correct. And what was your mission?”
Helga swallowed. She could hear the whip’s movements, but the light was blinding her. “I was to blow up the train heading to Berlin, Herr Flick.”
The flashlight went out. Helga was left in total darkness, the light from Herr Flick’s flashlight disorienting her to his whereabouts. The next she knew, his gentle voice was in her ear.
“That is also correct. You are learning well, Helga.”
“Yes, Herr Flick.” The whip began stroking the small of her back, playing the sides of her waist and forward onto her thighs. “What do you have draped over your shoulders?”
“My jacket, Herr Flick.”
“Remove it,” Herr Flick said commandingly.
“Yes, Herr Flick.”
“Throw it far in front of you.”
Helga did as she was told. “Yes, Herr Flick.” Visibility was coming back to her. She noted that the Gestapo agent had removed his own jacket – and his own shirt. She also noted that he was wearing a brassiere and not hobbling on his cane.
“You also have a blouse draped over your shoulders, do you not?”
“Yes, Herr Flick.”
“Take off your blouse,” he commanded.
“Shall I also remove my brassiere?” Helga asked, a slight tingle of excitement rippling through her.
“That will not be necessary,” Her Flick said, matter-of-factly.
“Yes, Herr Flick.” Helga unbuttoned her blouse, not daring to look at Herr Flick. Yet, from the corner of her eyes, she saw him smiling ever so slightly. She tossed her blouse away, just as she had done her jacket.
“Now, what do you have over your hips?”
“A skirt, Herr Flick.”
“Remove it,” he said. “I want to see if the Resistance has indeed stolen your silk knickers with the swastikas.”
“I doubt you will be able to see my knickers in this light, Herr Flick.”
“I will use my flashlight to inspect,” he said calmly, walking toward her in his own inimitable way. As Helga reached down to drop her skirt, Herr Flick turned on his flashlight and slowly, meticulously scanned her body from the feet, to the knees, to the thighs, to the waist, to the breasts, and finally to her face.
“Such a pity,” Herr Flick said, “that such a pretty German face is a member of the French Resistance.”
Helga swallowed hard. “I…I don’t know what you’re talking about, Herr Flick.” He pressed close to her. She could feel his whip stroking her inner thighs.
“You have played the role of a German officer very well, Helga. But I see that you still have much more of the Resistance in your heart than you want to admit, ja?”
“I’m not sure what you mean, Herr Flick.”
“No matter,” he said. “You will learn tonight how not to resist.”