‘That’s fine by me,’ he said, reaching for his book.
She took it out of his hands and dropped it back on the sofa. ‘I don’t think you’ll be needing that, somehow,’ she said quietly, looking up at him. She stood very close.
‘Where am I going to sleep?’ He asked, almost knowing the answer.
‘Why, with me, of course.’ She pushed close against him, stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. ‘Where else, silly?’
A few minutes later he was lying on her bed, still in the towelling robe. The bedside table light provided the only illumination. He could hear her finishing off in the bathroom. A moment later she stepped into the bedroom and stood before him at the end of the bed. With the most gentle of shimmers she slipped off her dressing gown and stood naked in front of him, as if on inspection. She gave him every opportunity to admire the perfection of her form, from the curve of her breasts to the tantalising tangle of almost non-existent golden hair between her thighs. After a while she slid on to the bed next to him, slipped a hand under his robe to expose him, and then ran her tongue lightly over his chest and nipples.
‘I hope you appreciate that I don’t do this for every man I come across, only those I think are worthy of my attentions.’ She looked up. Her voice had taken on a throaty timbre. She pulled her hand out, and undid the robe completely. He lay there, smiling, erect and hard.
‘My, all present and correct, and standing at attention. Very military.’ She looked up at him. ‘You realise, of course, that now you’re going to have to call me Mrs Grey.’
He grinned. ‘Why should that be?’
She smiled very saucily. ‘Well, you’ve gone all stiff on me. But that’s the way I like it. Lie back, and tell me what you think of this.’
She twisted around, stuck her tongue out, and slid it over the tip, swilling it in a circular motion over the head of his cock. He groaned, savouring the moments of exquisite ecstasy as her tongue ran around the rim.She began to work skilfully, her tongue, lips and mouth working in concert to create a powerful sucking sensation, gradually building in rhythmic intensity. Waves of intense pleasure spread up and down him. Her right hand slipped down, cupping his balls and squeezing them gently, all the time adding to the intense pleasure. He felt his scrotum begin to harden. It was almost a telepathic response, calculated precisely to maximize the erotic sensations. He knew he was close to coming. He moaned, watching her head of blond curls bob up and down as she continued to suck him. Suddenly the pressure inside him became too much, and he climaxed, spurting out everything into her. It was the most amazing experience he had ever had, a kaleidoscopic blur of pleasure as the relentless pressure built up, exploded and then eased.
She slipped him out of her mouth, swallowed, and looked up at where his head lay on the pillow.
‘Good?’
‘Fantastic…’ He was still breathing heavily. ‘That was the most incredible orgasm I’ve ever had. I’ve never come that way before.’
‘I’m glad you liked it. You can now say that your bags have been well and truly unpacked.’ She gave a dirty laugh. ‘Now, it’s your turn.’ Her voice took on a harder, dominating note. ‘Lick me all over, baby. Show me how good you are.’
She lay back, languidly stretching her body, her legs wide apart in anticipation of pleasures to come. He kissed her deeply, his tongue sliding inside her mouth, then down her neck and onto her firm breasts. She started to moan a little as his fingers and tongue teased her already erect nipples. Then he slid further south, running his tongue over her belly button and down onto her thighs. He moved off the end of the bed, removing his dressing gown and pulling her down towards him. His mouth started to kiss her feet, then the back of her legs and knees. Then he slid his tongue upwards along the inside of her thighs and zeroed in onto her wet pussy. She moaned louder as his tongue sought out the hardness of her clitoris. He slipped the soles of her feet onto his shoulders, reached forward and began to massage both her breasts with his hands, all the time sliding his tongue up and down, deep inside her.
She started to cry ‘yes, baby, yes, lick me’. Her head flicked from side to side as the pleasure built up. Suddenly her whole body jerked, and he had to cling on desperately as she thrashed around the bed. He slipped a finger inside her, thrusting away while his tongue continued working up and down her swollen clit. She spasmed into an orgasm again, then twice more before finally grabbing his head and pulling him away, collapsing in a sodden heap on the sheets.
Her body was covered in a silky sheen of perspiration. She looked down at him where he lay grinning and watching her. ‘Mmm. Touché. It looks like you’ve done this before.’
‘Once or twice. I hope you enjoyed that.’
‘Oh yes. Four times. You’re quite…inventive. I wasn’t expecting that.’
‘Any complaints?’
‘No. It was the right thing to do.’ She smiled lasciviously. ‘Are you fit for some more action?’ She glanced down at his groin. His cock was gradually becoming hard, the thought of her multiple orgasms making him erect. ‘Good. You’re getting all stiff and formal on me again. Time to put him into action.’
‘Yes, Mrs Grey.’ He grinned again. ‘Whatever you say.’
‘Oh yes, I do. Now fuck me hard.’
He lifted her back up the bed, and then slid his body over hers, sliding deep inside her. She moaned lustily, holding onto him tightly. ‘Just the right size, a perfect fit. Fill me, baby.’
It promised to be a long night. An hour later, he had come twice more, she another four or five times - he had lost count. Afterwards he lay in the darkness, smiling to himself as he listened to her gently breathe. Thank God Canaris had given him his daughter’s address. There couldn’t have been more of a contrast between staying at Simms’ place and lying here beside this gorgeous slut of a woman. For the first time in ages he felt complete, temporarily spent but also relaxed in the knowledge that for the moment he was safe and secure. Who knows what would happen next. It was the usual case of taking one step at a time, and not trying to look too far ahead into the future.
SHAEF Headquarters, Southwick house, near Portsmouth 1430 15/5/1944
‘I’m so glad you could see me again at such short notice, Kenneth’. Menzies was sitting in the Head of Allied Intelligence’s office on the first floor. The beautiful late Georgian-style manor house was situated about five miles outside the city and naval base. Its beautiful white façade had suffered from the demands of wartime concealment. As a defence against attack by the Luftwaffe, its colonnade of Ionic columns, cupolas and porticos was covered in a matt camouflage dressing, making it much less of an obvious landmark and target for any roving enemy bombers. Formerly, it had served as the accommodation for HMS Dryad, the Royal Navy naval school for navigation. Then towards the middle of 1943, the building had been requisitioned from the navy by General Freddie Morgan, the Chief of Staff to the Supreme Allied Command (designate), otherwise known as COSSAC, a far more easily managed mouthful. Morgan and other senior officers were tasked with developing the initial invasion planning. Now the building served as General Dwight David Eisenhower’s headquarters for the Supreme Allied Expeditionary Force, the collection of armies tasked with invading Northwestern Europe and setting up the so-called Second Front against the Germans.
Brigadier General Kenneth Strong nodded abruptly, easing his not inconsiderable bulk behind the large desk that dominated the room. He was not at all pleased by the sudden arrival of his visitor, who despite being junior in rank, was not strictly speaking in the military chain of command and therefore relatively untouchable. As senior officers, they were both on first name terms with each other, although this lack of formality sometimes irritated Strong, especially as Menzies was someone he could not directly control or order around.
‘What can I do for you, Stuart? It’s not so long ago that deputy of yours was last here, throwing his weight around and kicking up a stink.’
‘Oh, you mean Charlie Monckton?’ Menzies smiled disarmin
gly, secretly enjoying Strong’s grumpiness. ‘I’m sorry, Kenneth, but I always thought his manner was very professional and diplomatic. I do hope he didn’t upset you and break toomuch china. That’s really most unlike him.’
‘It wasn’t so much his manner, but rather he would not take no for an answer, always questioning every assumption and generally being rather tiresome. I hope you’re not here to do the same thing,’ Strong grunted.
‘Good Heavens, no, absolutely not.’ Menzies laid it on thickly. He needed Strong on his side, at least until their discussion had finished. The Head of Allied Intelligence’s remit covered all matters concerning the disposition of enemy forces throughout the west, and their probable reactions to an invasion. Menzies had decided to visit SHAEF himself to get an update on the latest enemy moves and see for himself if there had been any significant alterations in the last three weeks. ‘I just need an update from you on what’s happening on the far shore.’
Strong still looked unhappy, but he could not refuse such a request without causing a fearful row. Menzies had the authority to go directly to the Prime Minister, and Strong knew that in such an instance he would always come out second best. Irritably, he reached down and opened a drawer in the table, and pulled out a file. He looked across at Menzies balefully. At the very least, he could try to find out what was behind yet another visit from MI6. ‘Do you mind telling me the reason behind yet another inquiry? After all, this is top-secret stuff, classified up to your eyeballs and beyond, on a need to know basis only.’
Menzies waved his hands apologetically. ‘I’m sorry, Kenneth. I really can’t say for the present. Not even the PM, Ike or Monty know about the real reason why I’m here. But I can personally reassure you that if I find anything alarming, anything at all, then both you and they will know about it extremely quickly.’
‘Ah, so it’s something to do with security issues and the invasion site, eh?’ Strong was on his own fishing expedition.
Menzies smiled. ‘I can neither confirm nor deny that statement, Kenneth. Operational security, need to know basis, all that jazz, I’m afraid. Terribly sorry, old boy.’
‘Yes, yes, I know!’ Strong snapped. He sighed, visibly irritated by his guest’s lofty manner, and took a deep breath. ‘Alright then, here goes. I’ll make it brief’.
‘As you wish, Kenneth.’
Strong glared across the table, but Menzies seemed completely unperturbed by his aggressive manner. With a sigh of exasperation, he looked down and started to read from his file. ‘In the last few weeks, there has been little change in the overall distribution of German divisions guarding the West. The Calais area continues to be reinforced and fortified. That’s the good news. However, there’s some bad news as well. It looks like Rommel has been stirring things up in Normandy, but equally it might also be von Rundstedt, or even Hitler himself. One of the infantry divisions in the Cotentin, the 91st, has been moved sideways and now lies more or less directly on one of the landing areas for an American airborne division. In addition, a parachute regiment has arrived at Carentan straight from Germany. There’s a debate going on at Allied Airborne Headquarters about adjusting some of the drop zones to avoid landing directly on these redeployments. Otherwise, no change.’
‘None at all? What about the Caen and Bayeux sectors?’
‘Not a great deal. We know that Rommel has been fiddling with 21st Panzer’s deployment. It looks like he’s still trying to move it closer to the coast, directly behind some of the beaches we’re rather interested in. Moreover, we’re more worried about the exact whereabouts of the 352nd. It’s supposed to be based around St Lô, but French resistance reports still can’t confirm where all its sub-units are. It might have moved further forward to the coast into one of the areas where the Americans will land.’
‘But is that confirmed?’
‘No, not as yet. I-‘
‘Good. That’s not as bad as I thought. What about further afield?’ Menzies persisted despite Strong’s increasing irritation.
‘There’s the battered rump of a Panzer division that’s recently arrived in Holland, but as far as we know it’s earmarked for a rapid refit and return to Russia. The only thing that’s worrying us in these areas are some reports from French resistance in the Poitiers area. The Germans are forming a new SS Panzer Grenadier division in the area, and although it’s not fully trained for operations as yet, some of the troops are talking about it being made ready to move to Normandy.’
‘Do we have any idea when?’
‘No! It could be sooner, it could be later. Hopefully the latter.’ Strong struggled to bring himself under control, but his frustration was obvious. ‘We’re all ready to go, the date’s been set. We’re keeping our fingers crossed that this fine weather will continue and the Germans won’t change anything else to our detriment. Does that satisfy your inquiry?’
‘Yes, more or less. So, Operation Fortitude still appears to be working?’
‘Yes, damn it!’ Menzies judged that he had pushed his luck as far as was prudent. Strong appeared to be on the verge of an apoplectic fit, and there was little point in goading him further.
Fortitude was the official code name for the deception operation designed to hoodwink the Germans into believing that the invasion would target the Calais area. Not only did it consist of false signals intelligence designed to be picked up by German radio monitoring stations, there were also dummy tank and artillery parks in Kent and East Anglia as well as numerous airfields with hundreds of mocked-up planes. The RAF were making it relatively easy for the few Luftwaffe reconnaissance flights to penetrate these areas, unlike the tight aerial security net that was in operation over the rest of the Channel ports.
Secretly he was relieved. Although some of the news was a little worrying, none of it could be construed as being a major change of policy by those in command on the other side - which meant that so far Schellenberg had not any solid basis for alerting Hitler to move anything away from the Calais area. Fortitude, the deception operation designed to keep the Germans from guessing the true location of the landing sites, was still on track.
‘Thank you once again for your splendid assistance, Kenneth,’ Menzies beamed gratefully. Then, as an afterthought, he decided on a little extra devilment, purely as a bit of harmless fun. ‘So how’s Monty getting on with everybody these days? I take it it’s all sweetness and light?’ Butter would not have melted in his mouth. He was well aware that Strong did not regard Monty as the greatest thing since sliced bread.
‘Harrumph!’ Strong spluttered angrily, unable to conceal his displeasure. ‘His Highness is out on tour. He’s already ‘bingeing up the troops’, as he likes to call it.
‘I think it means getting the ‘light of battle in their eyes’’, interrupted Menzies, with a grin. ‘It’s another one of his little sayings he’s fond of’.
Strong waved this aside. ‘Whatever,’ he muttered. ‘Now he’s out doing a tour of the factories, boosting morale and raising production. More like boosting his own profile, like some fast talking slimy politician!’ The disgust in Strong’s voice was marked. .
Menzies got up, straightened his uniform, leaned over and shook Strong’s hand.
‘Yes, very un-military.’ Menzies smiled. ‘Thanks once again, Kenneth. Your help has been most invaluable. I’ll see myself out.’
As he walked out of the building to where his driver had parked the car, Menzies reflected on the different personalities and their individual foibles that sometimes bedevilled the Allied cause, especially when it came to their leaders.At the beginning of the year Eisenhower, the former theatre commander in the Mediterranean, had been appointed as supreme commander of all forces in the West, with the personal remit of being responsible for the invasion of continental Europe and the ultimate destruction of Nazi Germany. Montgomery, who had returned from Italy shortly before Eisenhower’s arrival, was the overall ground forces commander, directly under Eisenhower’s control. Part of his remit was to inspect and
, if necessary, revise the planning for the invasion.
However his appointment, unlike that of his boss Eisenhower, was not universally popular among Americans and British alike. The Americans disliked the idea of their being ordered around by a British field commander, and not a few of Monty’s compatriots disliked his no-nonsense, often ungentlemanly approach to command and the business of fighting a battle. Much of this was compounded by ignorance and not a little jealousy, but Monty could have made life much easier had he been more gracious, and not almost religiously convinced of his own ability as the best British general for the job.
The take-over of the Overlord plan was a case in point. Freddie Morgan, as COSSAC and chief Overlord planner, had struggled to deliver a plan based on the limitations of the then available shipping and landing craft, the overall allocation of which he had no control. This in turn compromised the ability to land a big enough invasion force that would guarantee success. Monty, as soon as he took over, spotted this flaw immediately. In his usual school-masterly manner, he made no secret of his view that the planning had been based on faulty assumptions. Pouring scorn on much of the previous work, he announced that it would be his task to correct these mistakes and deliver a workable plan. Through his connections to Eisenhower and the American Chiefs of Staff, he managed to secure the extra transport required to increase the size of the landings and improve the chances of a successful invasion. Monty’s sweeping changes made much of the original planning obsolete, confining significant parts of COSSAC’s painstaking work of the last year into the waste paper bin. This had not occurred without a degree of resentment.
Although Morgan had survived the shake-up in the radically revamped command structure, he had never forgiven his brutal public humiliation by Monty. Despite being rewarded for all his previous hard work with another planning position, Morgan remained a bitter man. Quite a few other senior British officers were equally critical and jealous of Montgomery’s manner. A saying was going around the Officers’ clubs in the West End of London: ‘the gentlemen are out and the players are in’. This was a disparaging reference to those officers and men who had served high up in Eighth Army, Monty’s former command, and were now running the invasion. These men had proven their ability to him in battle. But if the ground forces commander knew about it, he never let it show. His manner was always one of utter confidence, an unshakeable and profound belief in his own abilities, and the correctness of his plan. Monty had no time for all the mutterings that went on behind his back.
London Calling Page 22
