She quickly put a finger to her lips. In a loud voice she said, “Nice and early tonight, Elise. That’s a lucky break.” Lina stifled a laugh and motioned for Hoffner to head up the stairs. He did as he was told; she followed.

The room was more cluttered than he had imagined. The slant of the roof left little space for windows. Two small ones, recessed into narrow alcoves, peered up more than out, and gave a cropped view of the starless sky. Everything else also came in twos-bed, dresser, chair-except for the small stove and washstand. Those the girls shared. Hoffner noticed a large rectangular gap on one of the walls. A picture had clearly hung there for years. He wondered what could have been so offensive as to merit its removal.

“A bare-bosomed slave girl,” said Lina, having followed his gaze. “Horrible. She was being sold to some old letch, or something like that. We hated it.” Lina closed the door. She saw Hoffner reaching for his cigarettes. “Not in the room, please,” she said. Hoffner found the request charming. Or perhaps Lina was more concerned with Fichte’s highly developed sense of smell. Hoffner returned the pack to his pocket.

She moved past him and over to an icebox that he had failed to see until now. She opened it and pulled out a plate of various goodies: crackers and pastes and cheeses, and something that looked like chocolate. Hoffner knew otherwise; Lina could never have afforded the real thing. She placed the plate on a small side table by the bed. Two glasses and a bottle of kmmel already stood at the ready.

Hoffner said, “I wasn’t expecting all of this.”

Lina continued to organize the treats. “So you were thinking it would be off with your pants and into bed,” she said with a smile as she pulled open a drawer and retrieved a few more crackers. She placed them along the rim of the plate. “I thought you’d be hungry.” She licked at a bit of paste that had grazed one of her fingers. “I also thought you’d be here a bit earlier. The paste’s too cold now. Oh, well.” She smoothed out the blanket on her bed and sat. She motioned for Hoffner to join her.

Hoffner took off his coat.

“Just there on the chair,” she said, pointing across the room.

Hoffner laid his coat across the chair and then joined her on the bed. He sat with his hands on his thighs. He said nothing. Lina reached over and poured out two glasses of the liqueur. A bit dripped on her hand, and again she quickly lapped it up. She handed Hoffner his, and they toasted. Lina then placed hers back on the table before bringing the plate to the bed and setting it between them.

“The other bed,” he said. “I’m assuming that one belongs to Frulein Elise.”

Lina handed him a cracker with a thin slice of cheese. “She knows not to come home before two. We’ve plenty of time.”

Hoffner was unsure how to react to the precision of the night’s planning. He took a bite; the cheese had no taste, at all. He said, “She’s used to this sort of thing, your Elise? Does it on a regular basis?”

Lina looked up. The implication was obvious. She smiled disingenuously. “She’s at the White Mouse most nights.” She took a cracker for herself. “And she does it only for Hans. There haven’t been any others.”

“I didn’t imagine there were,” he said.

Lina chewed as she stared at him. Her smile softened. “So,” she said. “Do you like my little place?”

Hoffner took another quick scan. “Very nice.” He reached for a piece of the faux chocolate. To his amazement, it was real.

“Not expecting that, either, were you?”

“No,” he said. “Not that, either.”

He was enjoying the chocolate’s sweetness when, very gently, she reached over and started to undo his tie. No less gently, Hoffner reached up and took hold of her arm. He held it there. Lina peered at him, unsure why he had stopped her. For a moment she looked almost fragile.

“Why?” he said calmly. There was nothing uncertain in his question, no need for affirmation. He simply wanted to know. “Why me?”

She brought her hand back to her lap. It was something she had never considered. It took her a moment to answer. “Does it matter?” she said.

Hoffner held her gaze. “Yes. It does. Why?”

Again she waited. “Don’t look at me that way,” she said. Hoffner said nothing; he continued to stare. “With your eyes like that.” Her smile grew uncomfortable. “It’s too much. . looking.”

Hoffner waited, then dropped his eyes to the plate. He took another wedge of cheese. “Better?”

“Much.”

He brought the cracker to his mouth. “So. . how much do you pay for this place, you and your Elise?”

Lina once again had her glass. “Are you planning on helping out?” she said with a coy smile. She took a sip.

Hoffner laughed quietly. “I don’t imagine that’s the way this is going to work.”

“The way what’s going to work?” she said with mock innocence. “Oh, this. No, I don’t imagine it will.”

“You split it?”

Lina said, “You’re awfully concerned with how I’m getting on. At tea today, wondering whether the flowers were enough, now my rent.”

“Sorry,” said Hoffner. “I won’t ask anymore.”

“No. It’s nice.”

“Good.” Hoffner finished off his cracker. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

She casually placed her glass back on the table. “Forty. Yes. We split it. Twenty each.”

Hoffner watched as her neck twisted with the movement. It was almost a perfect neck. “That’s not the question I meant.”

She turned back. “I know. I haven’t come up with an answer for that one, yet.” Without waiting for him, she reached over and took his glass. She set it on the table, then did the same with the plate. Hoffner knew exactly what was coming, yet he did nothing. He sat there as she moved closer, as she untied her dressing gown and let it drop off her shoulders. It spilled into a pool of silk by her thighs. She was wearing a nightgown beneath, pale white and thin, with two ribbon straps over her shoulders. Her small breasts were almost lost, save for the deep crimson of her nipples that puckered at the cloth.

Hoffner could smell the tangy sweetness of the rosewater in her hair. Her neck arced slightly, and he could see a thin ridge of powder that had gone unsmoothed by her chin. He felt a distant weakness in his arms and legs.

She slowly took his hand and placed it on her waist. “How many do I make, Nikolai?” she said. Hoffner felt a heat below the gown, the suppleness of her skin. “Girls like me,” she said. “The ones that mattered. How many?”

Hoffner followed the moisture of her lips. Without warning, he pulled her into him. He saw her eyes widen as she let out a sudden breath. She showed no vulnerability, no guile. He could taste the saltiness of her breath.

“How many?” she said.

“Six,” he answered without having to consider the number for even a moment.

Lina’s smile returned. The total was irrelevant. All she had wanted was an answer. She placed her hand on his cheek and brought him into her.

Twenty minutes later, Hoffner was asleep, his naked backside still glistening from the exertion. Lina pulled the blanket over him. She liked the weight of his arms and chest on her, the thick flesh of his back as his breathing grew heavier. He had taken her without reserve, and had left her spent. She had never felt such hunger in a partner. She could still feel him inside her, a deep vacancy where he had been. She imagined what it would be like to be loved by this man. She felt no less empty.

At one o’clock she woke him. Hoffner roused himself slowly. He had been dreaming, something to do with wild dogs and Georgi. He felt as if he had been running for hours. He dressed quietly and finished off his glass. Lina sat and watched him from the bed; she was relieved that there would be no need for a repeat performance. She held the blanket around her naked shoulders as she brought him to the door.