March 27, 1942

Genevieve turned from side to side in the mirror, making sure everything was in place. No lipstick on her teeth, waves cascading down her back, red lacquer on her nails, and her silk robe falling off just one shoulder, nothing underneath. Perfect, as always. The doorbell rang, and she took a deep breath to remind herself that all wounds healed in time, and descended the steps smiling all the while at the lack of phone call before hand.

She emptied her ashtray into the toilet before going to answer the door. She had read the message from Belle and burned it to get rid of the evidence. It was the location of the dead drop, should she ever need to discretely signal for help, or let them know she was alright. It was a café just a few blocks from her mansion. Café du Soleil Rouge.

"Open up!" German. How she loathed the very language due to their horrid manners and behavior.

She opened the robe just a bit more to expose the crevice of her bust. Perfect. She opened the door and smiled warmly at the rude soldier pounding on her door. "By order of the Führer-"

"Calm down, Ralf. That's no way to speak to a lady." Colonel Roemheld placed a hand on the soldier's shoulder.

"Apologies, Colonel." Ralf spun away from the door. "Shall I inform the men the search can begin?" He checked, before departing back to the car.

Colonel Roemheld shook his head. "I don't believe that will be necessary. The mademoiselle is completely compliant and won't be any trouble, I assure you. Why don't you go wait in the car?" Ralf cocked his head like a lost puppy. "Go on. Go!" The poor man nearly tripped over his feet in a hurry to get back to the car.

Genevieve suppressed a giggle behind her hand at the scene, gaining the colonel's eyes on her once more. He smiled devilishly and straightened the black medallion around his neck. "What requirements did you meet to earn that?" She asked in a honey smooth voice as he took the few steps up the porch and stood just a breath away from her.

"Showing bravery." He stated just as smooth and lifted his hand as if to say, "after you."

"Would you like a drink?" She asked coyly, deliberately walking ahead of him towards the kitchen to give him a view.

"Nein." She cringed at the thought of him forcing her to speak German.

"Suit yourself." She replied in French, hoping he would take the hint. She poured herself a glass of wine that she had brought up from her cellar and brushed past him on her way to the lounge. "Well then, Colonel, I know you have a follow up to get on with, so please, don't let me keep you. If you have any questions I would be more than happy to answer them." She swirled the red wine in her glass and took a dainty sip before looking back at him. He wasn't sitting, he was standing in the doorway of her lounge examining the entire room without moving a muscle. He was good, but she wanted to see how good.

"You have a lovely home." She was glad he stuck to her language. "May I sit?" She gestured to the seat in front of her as she stretched out on the sofa. "Forgive me, I seem to have forgotten to call ahead of my visit." He nodded towards her robe.

Genevieve toyed with the sash on her robe and laughed lightly. "You don't seem like the type of man to forget anything, Colonel Roemheld. You seem like a very deliberate and precise sort of man."

He smirked at her comment and bent to open the black briefcase he had brought with him. It matched the black of his boots, though it was less polished and glossy. "Guilty." He said just loud enough for her to hear. For such an elaborately crafted mission she found it to be going too easy. He pulled out a pen and paper and busied himself with readying his notes while she sipped her wine. "May I see your papers?"

"Again? I already showed them to Sergeant Hugo Something."

"Just a simple formality." His smile never faltered and she soon found herself pitying all others he had ever smiled like that towards.

"As you can see," she hopped to her feet, the robe threatening to slip lower and expose her impressive bust, "I have nowhere to carry them on me at the moment. They are upstairs in my bedroom."

The colonel joined her in standing and motioned for her to fetch them. "If you please."

She walked him up to her room and lead him inside. The room was much the same as the last time a Nazi had entered it. Bed made, but poorly done, and smelling of cinnamon and bergamot. She plopped down on the bed, her robe hiking up so high that the slit rested on her waist and left very little to the colonel's imagination should he act on his urges. She pulled open her nightstand and grabbed a cigarette from her case. "Damn."

"Problem?" He queried patiently from the doorway.

"I've left my matches somewhere." She huffed in annoyance. He took the bait, crossing the room and reaching for his own pack of matches from his coat pocket and sparking one for her. He held it in front of her as she leaned in to light it. "Merci, Colonel."

"My pleasure, mademoiselle." He took the opportunity to glance around the room and see what he could find. "The papers?"

"Top drawer on the right." She pointed with her cigarette hand before taking a deep drag.

He walked over and opened the drawer, chuckling at its contents. He pulled out her silver case that housed her identification papers along with a pair of sheer lace panties. "Interesting place to keep your papers. Where does one procure such intimate under garments as these?"

Genevieve crossed her legs, making the robe go further up her thighs to the point where the colonel seemed to have no control over whether he looked at her or not. She smoked slowly and bit her lip. "I had them tailored for me for a portrait I was doing at the time."

"Oh yes, of course. Where are these portraits?" She pointed up and his eyes locked on the half naked painting of her in black lingerie above her bed. "And what of the portrait with these?" he swung the lace about on his fingertip theatrically.

Genevieve stood up, the robe plunged to her navel to reveal the delicate curves and clear skin that adorned her body. One more step and her breast would surely make an appearance. It was too soon, though, so she took care to retie her robe. "When you've finished with my papers, I would be happy to take you on a tour."

Colonel Roemheld nodded, opening the case and reading aloud just as the last man to hold them had. "Genevieve Blondeau, twenty-four, a few more pounds couldn't hurt to put some meat on your bones."

"You don't think I'm perfect the way I am?" She pouted dramatically at his comment.

His eyes flitted from the paper to her and cleared his throat. "Oh you most certainly are, fraulein. I simply meant that a few more pounds wouldn't take away from that. You would be beautiful either way." She finished her glass of wine, grateful for the buzz, and set her glass on the table by her bed. "Where were we? Ah, born in Paris. It would appear your story adds up where these papers are concerned."

"Story? You wound me, Colonel." She gingerly took the case back and shoved it into her drawer once more. The colonel stood still, tactical, when she approached again and blew a cloud of smoke at his face. "Do you smoke?"

"I do." She smiled and pulled the cigarette from her red lips, the end decorated with her cosmetics. He didn't have time to react before she put it to his mouth and instincts took over. He puffed on the end, her fingertips gently grazing his lips all the while. It was strangely intimate until she took it back and put it between her own lips while he blew out the smoke over her head.

"Would you like that tour now?"

"It would be a shame not to." He said, as sharp as ever. A small dot of red was left on his lips where the cigarette had inadvertently stained him with her lipstick. "How many paintings are there of you?"

"Twenty-seven displayed. Six in the cellar that aren't meant to see the light of day." She answered on her way back down the steps.

"Mistakes?"

"In a manner of speaking. The artist was...how would you say...a pervert. He took advantage of my desire to be a model and had me in demeaning poses doing things a woman only does in private." She turned and headed towards the front room where she had found the soldiers gawking over her artwork just days prior. "Here we are. There are twelve paintings in here. I arrange them according to my mood as you can see. Powerful to utterly bored. Or at least that's how I felt when I was being painted." She had been glad at first, upon hearing she would be able to display her artwork on her current mission. Normally she played the role of a ghost. This new character felt corporeal, real, and raw. Her art wouldn't sit in her office collecting dust anymore, now it was part of her act as it had been part of her travels before the war.

The colonel's jaw flexed at the nude portraits. "Mademoiselle, are these all you?" She nodded proudly. "I can't imagine why you desired a call before my coming. It would appear you aren't bashful in the slightest." He faced her again and noted the way her robe had been fixed back in place. Approaching her carefully, he let one hand slip beneath the silk fabric and pull it down over her shoulder where a tiny scar was visible. "Down to the tiniest of details." He observed and it was a great feat for her to hold her breath.

His touch burned her flesh as if it were acid. "I prefer my portraits to reflect all of me. Imperfections included."

"And what of the paintings in the cellar?"

"Pardon?" She pulled away slightly.

Colonel Roemheld closed the gap, fixing her robe again and letting his hand trail down to the dip that rested just below her breasts. She was sure that he could see her chest rising and falling, her heart beating rapidly at his close proximity.

"I'm afraid I must inform you that during my search I will have to inspect the cellar as well as every other room in your home, outdoor included. Should I find anything that concerns me, you will be arrested, as is," she gasped when he tugged her closer by the sash that threatened to unravel, "and taken for further inquiries. Do you wish to change before the search begins?"

Genevieve met his intense stare with unwavering resistance. "I'm quite comfortable as I am Colonel." She was quite confident nothing would be found. There were no Jews hiding under her sofa today.

"Excellent, then I can begin." He turned abruptly and headed straight towards the bookcase near the back wall. Rather than search through each book, he pulled the case from the wall and let it crash to the ground. Vases, knickknacks, and glass paperweights shattered as pages of books danced freely in the air.

"What on earth are you doing!" She rushed forward and felt the weight of the colonel knock the wind out of her as she was shoved onto the jagged stones of the hearth. The breath whooshed from her lungs and she desperately gasped for air only to feel his hand snake around her throat. He put no pressure, though the threat was clear. The heat of the fire warmed the side of her face at an uncomfortable level.

"Need I remind you that it is a felony to shelter enemies of the state? You cannot imagine the number of Jews I've discovered behind bookcases in secret rooms. Furthermore, interfering during a routine search is also a felony. So I strongly suggest that you pull yourself together or I will be forced to show you exactly how I came to earn each and every medal that you see."

His eyes had changed. What was once an icy blue, that refracted silver flecks in the sunlight, was now a cold gray that was void of all compassion. This was the man that everyone feared. She felt like an idiot for thinking it would be easy, but she had to test the waters. Now she knew. Every rumor she had heard was true. "Please," she turned to a different tactic, "this is my home. Search every nook and cranny if you will, but please don't destroy anything. These are my memories." She let her eyes blur with tears and felt the colonel's grip on her throat tighten. Either he liked her begging, or he wanted to silence her. She was confident she could get out of his hold if need be, but she couldn't do that. What kind of model knew how to defend herself from a trained military officer? Her cover would be blown wide open and she'd be taken off the case if the colonel didn't kill her first.

"You've been playing games with me, fraulein. If you think for a moment that I'm some random man off the streets that falls into the bosoms of every pretty thing that throws themselves-"

"I am not throwing myself at you, Colonel!" She interrupted with a fierce gaze. He pressed harder on her neck and made her cringe. She brought her hands up to his wrists and pried gently but his grip was firm. "Take a look around you, this is simply my personality. If it offends you," she sucked in a breath when he didn't release her throat, "you're in charge. Tell me to be quiet."

"I am in charge! I don't need some French whore to remind me." He growled out.

She was beginning to see stars in the corners of her eyes from the pressure. He was going to make her unconscious, or worse, kill her. She clawed at his hands and earned a hiss of pain from him, but he didn't let up. "Please," she let her eyes flutter open weakly, making a show of his power over her and playing his ego like a violin, "I beg of you. You're hurting me." It was a struggle to get the words out under his grip, but to her surprise and relief, the colonel ripped himself away from her.

Colonel Roemheld stood over her as she rolled to the side, coughing and rubbing her soar throat. She didn't look up at him, but sensed that he felt satisfied with himself. "If you ever raise you voice to me again," she cried out when his hand fisted her hair and pulled her head back, breathing down her neck, "I will show you how merciless the SS can be."

She kept quiet, not wanting to push her luck. She made mental notes of the things that set him off and what tactics he seemed to respond to the best. Her robe managed to stay intact by some miracle or other and she was grateful for that at least. She stood on shaky legs and kept her eyes down, not wanting to look at him just yet, though he most certainly was looking at her.

"You seem to have ruined your beautiful robe, bärchen." She grimaced at the pet name as she searched her robe for imperfections. The colorfully floral pattern seemed fine until the colonel stepped forward and lifted the shredded piece in the back. The stones on the hearth must have torn the fabric when she was pushed down.

"Oui, how silly of me." She replied with contempt lacing her words.

The colonel sported a smug smile and grabbed her by the arm, leading her away from the overturned bookcase. "Now that we have a better understanding, you are to remain here." He patted a stool like she was a child. "And I will be conducting my search throughout the home without you breathing down my back. Is that clear?"

"Oui." She gritted out.

His hand was on her, squeezing her jaw painfully hard until she winced from the contact. "A little louder fraulein. I want to hear your response." He shoved her face back when he released her, waiting while she rubbed her jaw.

"Oui. Crystal clear."

The colonel blew by her, heading straight for her study. She felt hot tears spilling over onto her cheeks at the sound of furniture being thrown. A family home was no place to set up an identity, but once her superiors caught wind of her rich aunt and uncle in Paris, they whisked her away without a second thought. Now she had to sit down and pretend to be a damsel in distress for who knew how long, so that she could complete her mission. All the while one of her targets was busy demolishing the home she grew up in.

He went from room to room, until finally, the only room left was the cellar. "Nothing to report thus far. Shall we?" She didn't want to get up from her spot. She could feel the old tears stuck to her face and felt as though she must look dreadful under the circumstances. She wanted to question where he was taking her, but she already knew. There was only one room left to search inside. She took his outstretched hand, sniffling back the last of her tears.

There was no reason to be nervous, despite the crazed Jew killer destroying her home. If she needed to, she had guns stashed in every room in the house and doubted very much that he found any of them. If he had, she would surely have been arrested. He took her to the cellar door and stopped. "Ladies first."

She opened the door with a trembling hand. The paintings she had done of herself were pornographic to say the very least. She had them done two years prior when she had dated a French painter during one of her brief four months off. That was all before the war though. She had thought she would marry that man, but he died in a car crash just a few weeks after Germany took over the northern half of France. It was better this way though, no distractions from her work. Her work required her mind, body, and soul to be in top shape and health. Constantly worrying about making her lover jealous should he ever discover that she occasionally was required to seduce her targets would drive her insane. It was best for all parties involved that she have nothing to tie her down.

Truthfully, the paintings were meant to never see the light of day, let alone be put on display for an SS officer, but she needed to get under his skin. Trace amounts of embarrassment could be endured on her behalf, she was trained to handle far worse things than that. She pulled the cord on the light dangling from the ceiling and illuminated the large cedar walled space that held an impressive wine collection. "Magnificent. You must have bottles from decades ago." He pulled out a bottle of white wine and admired the embossed glass grapes that adorned the neck. "1913. This bottle has seen its second war. It must be terribly valuable." He mused, more to himself than to her. He chucked the bottle over his head unceremoniously and let it break open on the wall.

Genevieve groaned. "You've made your point, Colonel." She bit at him and walked over to the nearest shelf, grabbing a bottle of sweet red. She took a corkscrew off the wall and twisted it down into the soft wood material, pulling it out with a quiet pop. He regarded her will his steely eyes as she brought the bottle to her lips, not coming up for air until her throat felt like it was on fire. She hopped onto a small wooden table in the center of the room to watch him work.

"Have I?" He placed one fist on his hip while the other made a show of scratching his head in feigned confusion. "I'm sorry to inform you, mademoiselle, but my job is centered around conducting successful investigations throughout homes, such as yours. My task has not been completed until I have efficiently searched every part of your home." He pulled a few more bottles off the shelf to punctuate his point.

She flinched as they crashed to the ground, but she took another swig to numb her emotions. "You have done that and more." She couldn't drink it fast enough.

He stomped over to her and slammed his hands on either side of her, pinning her in on the small table she perched upon. "I was told there were more paintings. The absence of them leads me to believe that I haven't seen every inch of this place yet. You could be hiding more than just a few risque pieces of art." He stepped back and shrugged innocently.

"If you would take some time off of breaking my wine collection and turn around, I'm sure you would find everything you need to be on your way. The soldiers already took away my housekeeper, so it appears that I have a lot of work to do now." She met his gaze with defiant, glassy eyes. Her head was buzzing, boosting her confidence.

She didn't even flinch when the colonel slammed his hands down beside her once more. She kept eye contact as she took another swig. Neither said a word before he gave up on intimidating her and turned around to see what it was that she was pointing at. There was a bulky mass beneath a beige canvas sheet. A wicked grin split over his face as he walked over and tugged the sheet off effortlessly. There they were. Six large paintings of her body in its rawest, most intimate form.

She could tell it wasn't what the colonel was expecting. His jaw slackened and he stared brazenly at the portrait in front. "How long did you have to pose for these, mademoiselle?" He pulled the first picture out and gawked at the second.

Genevieve scoffed. "I didn't. They were painted using photographs of me that I had posed for months before." He was gaping, swallowing hard, at the third portrait. She remembered that day. Pierre had gifted her a smooth flesh colored device that had a similar shape and size to his own.

"I can see why these are not displayed." The colonel straightened and she could see him trying to be discrete as he adjusted his trousers.

"Satisfied?" She set her bottle beside her and crossed her arms.

"Hardly." He was in front of her before she could blink. His hand lifted to scrunch a lock of blonde hair dangling over her clavicle. She sucked in a sharp breath when his lips came dangerously close to her own. He hovered there for a moment, smirking to himself. "I think we've had enough fun for one day. Perhaps we can continue this," he let the hand drop the hair and trailed it down between her breasts, teasing her, "when I return." She let out her breath before she passed out. The colonel smiled deviously and hooked his index finger around her sash. She could feel her chest rising and falling faster and faster, anticipating his next move and how she would respond.

His finger was touching her naval, dipping lower still, before he retracted it altogether. "I've quite enjoyed our little visit. Perhaps tomorrow will go smoother, now that we are all aware of our places." Before she could respond, she felt his hands reach up to her shoulders and rip the fabric down. There was no time to react as her breasts spilled out on full display. She felt her breath hitch, and let one lone tear trickle down her face. He was shaming her. It was his goal, and she was going to make sure he felt it was accomplished. She didn't want to imagine the sort of things he would do to her if he realized how much she could take.

"As I suspected." He cupped one breast and gave it a harsh squeeze that elicited a whimper. "A picture is worth a thousand words, but a woman's body is worth a thousand pictures. Nothing to say now, fraulein?" He challenged and she turned her face away from his. He moved closer, the tip of his nose grazing her cheek and she found herself wondering how many others there were in her position all over France. Nazis taking advantage of the residents, abusing their authority over the land, taking what they wanted despite how it affected others.

"Does this conclude your search for the day?" She didn't move.

In an instant, his hand retreated from her body. She opened her eyes to see the colonel looking smugly down at her. Her robe was around her waist, hiding any other part of her he had wanted to see. She pulled her robe back around her, hugging it to herself while he laughed.

"Until tomorrow." His smile faded when she remained silent, and was quickly replaced by a sneer as he grabbed her hair, harder than before, and yanked her head back to his. "Are the French so rude that they cannot bid their guests adieu?"

"Au revior, Colonel Roemheld." She breathed heavily, daring to stare him down as she spoke. He stared at her a moment longer before slowly untangling his fingers from her locks.

"I believe we've become better acquainted recently. Please, call me Nicolas." He bowed to her, taking his cap off to demonstrate his manners, and walked out of the room leaving only echoes of his boots behind him.