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Zanna Does

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"I will not work with that thief again! She's a pervert!"

"She's a pervert who can open Werner's safe."

"You wouldn't be so eager to have that degenerate around if she was trying to get into your trousers!"

Twitterswell shrugged, weary. "You're always ready to risk getting shot or tortured, I can't see why you get so upset over a little lechery, perverted as it is. It isn't as if she's going to overpower you and force herself upon you. You have a mission. Go do it."

The Major stalked out, furious, past the Chief's secretary and new stenographer. As he rounded the corner, he could hear the stenographer whispering, "What's the matter with him?"

The smirk in the secretary's voice was audible. "The Chief's making him hire that professional thief again. You know, Eroica."

The Major paused, alarmed. His profession had long since destroyed any compunctions he had ever had about eavesdropping, and he had to know what was being said about him behind his back.

Both women giggled. "Hey, I'll work with Eroica!"

"That's the problem. She's a..." The secretary lowered her voice. "...heterosexual."

"...Oh." After an embarrassed moment, the stenographer sighed, "What a waste!"

They started nattering about something else, and the Major, relieved, returned to the safety of his office. Z, as usual, greeted him with a flirtatious smile, which did nothing to improve his mood. Z was cute, well-built, attentive, caring – everything a man could want. Why couldn't Klaus want it? Why couldn't he be normal?

The phone rang. G answered and passed the phone to Klaus. "It's your father, sir."

Well, that made it a perfect day. He accepted the phone gingerly and was confronted with a command to attend some boring banquet. The host, it seemed, had an eligible son. Didn't Klaus realize he had a duty to the family line? Had it perhaps slipped his mind that no woman of good family and good genes would agree to surrogate for a bachelor, as everyone knew that a child needed two parents? Also, at Klaus's age, the senior Eberbach had already been married and had a higher rank.

The door opening gave Klaus an escape. "I'll be there, sir," he promised, having no other choice. "Now, I have to go, someone just came into the office."

He hung up and found himself smack in the middle of the fire, casting longing looks at the frying-pan above him.

There she was.

Ever since the Major had warned the alphabets to watch their trousers around Eroica, they always looked at her with wary curiosity. She never hesitated to taunt them with her perversion. When she saw their apprehension, her gaze hardened for an instant, then she started running her eyes up and down each of them lasciviously. The alphabets turned white or red and hunched over in their chairs, trying to conceal the masculine shapes of their bodies. Having other men look at them that way was a normal part of life, only healthy and natural, but having a woman think that kind of thoughts about them....

"Stop ogling those decent German boys, you damned invert," the Major snapped. "Just take these alarm specs and get out." He thumped a folder on his desk and buried his face in another one. He would not watch her slinking across the room, swaying those wide hips, tossing her hair, her too-short skirt exposing a hint more of her legs as she moved, those absurd but intriguing appendages women carried on their chests bouncing ever so slightly – didn't they wear some kind of garment that was supposed to prevent that bounce? He was sure he had heard something about that. He had never dared to inquire further.

Those wide hips suggested a possible solution to his duty to the family line, but he could only too easily imagine his father's reaction to an heir conceived in animal fashion.

"Are you sure this is the safe I'm going to open?" she asked once she finally reached his desk and opened the folder. The high-pitched voice was novel and intriguing. He glanced up and at once regretted it.

The first thing he saw was her hands, holding the folder open. Long-fingered and capable, but so much smaller and more slender than a man's hands. He wondered, before he could stop himself, what it would be like to hold a small hand like that in his own, how it would feel on his skin. How it would be to have a woman's gracile arms around his neck instead of a man's longer, more muscular ones. What it would be like to crush that soft bosom against his own muscled chest. How those slender, curvaceous legs would feel wrapped around him....

This was precisely why he had never hired a female alphabet. Unless she were the ugliest woman on the planet, he knew he would give himself away, sooner or later.

"That's the best intel we have," he answered curtly. "If you think it's too difficult, just tell the Chief and I'll find someone else."

She tilted her head flirtatiously. Even with his eyes firmly on the file he wasn't reading, he could see that the movement made her breasts jut out farther. Was she doing that on purpose, or was the female body just designed so as to emphasize itself with every move?

"You know I'm the only one who can give you what you need," she said, every syllable laden with double meaning.

She was, of course, absolutely right. But he could not disgrace his family. And neither the Army nor NATO was willing to tolerate that kind of depravity.

"Get out of here, breeder," he snarled. And only gave her generous, rounded derriere the briefest of glances as she left.