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One Day In Post-War Berlin

Note to Self: So, I'm investigating a black market violation. I met with Renata Schneider, a German national who, along with a knucklehead Army supply sergeant, is accused of the violation. She had on a white nightdress (she'd just gotten out of bed) and stood in front of me, her head looking down, a hangdog look on her face. I told her, in fluent German, that she'd have to go face an Allied Military Court because of her actions. I also told her to get dressed. She then looked at me, a sly grin on her mug, and let the nightdress fall to the floor. She was one built babe, with an amazing pair of tits. She reached down, put her hand on my pants crotch, and started rubbing. I slapped her hand away, told her to stop fooling around, and get some clothes on. She gave me a dirty look, muttered "Arschloch!" and went to get dressed. I rubbed the back of my neck. Damn. And the day's just getting started.