She was in white the first time he saw her.
She was sitting in a Paris cafe, immersed in the novel she was reading. She reached for the cup of coffee placed on her table and brought it to her lips, taking a careful sip of the steaming liquid. She wore a white dress, delicate and trimmed with lace around the neckline that fell off both her shoulders, exposing her flawless cream colored skin.
The White Dove. Die weiße taube.
Her chocolate colored hair was curled and she wore it down, the sides braided and pinned back to expose her beautifully proportioned cheekbones and oval face. What caught his attention though, were her eyes. They were a sort of turquoise green he had never seen in his lifetime, framed in long lashes. He had seen many attractive women and even bedded a few of them but never had he seen a woman as breathtaking as the woman who sat a mere 10 feet in front of him. He was not one to moon or swoon over a member of the female sex but the white dove he watched intensely was, quite possibly, the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
He had begun to approach her table when he was stopped by a very familiar Gestapo Major.
"Ah, S.S. Oberst Landa! Es ist immer eine Freude, Sie zu sehen."
Ah, S.S. Colonel Landa! Always a pleasure to see you, Sir.
"Major Hellstrom, ebenso."
Major Hellstrom, likewise.
The two men shook hands, Landa's eyes still fixed on the white dove. The Major continued.
"Schön, dass Sie uns zum Mittagessen begleiten. Wir haben viel zu besprechen im Speisesaal, nachdem Sie-"
Glad to see you joining us for lunch. We have much to discuss in the dining room, after you-
"Ich werde gleich da sein, Major Deiter, danke." I will be along in a moment, Major Deiter, thank you.
Hans' voice was stern, sending Hellstrom a clear message. With an awkward nod of his head, Major Hellstrom withdrew the conversation and disappeared into the private dining area.
The white dove had lit a cigarette and was still reading her novel when Landa approached.
"Mademoiselle, Je vous présente mes plus sincères excuses pour avoir interrompu votre lecture. Je n'ai pas pu m'empêcher de remarquer que vous n'êtes pas accompagnée et il semble que ma curiosité a pris le dessus sur moi, car ici je me demande ce qu'une belle femme comme vous est assise ici seule?" Mademoiselle, I begin by expressing my sincerest apologies for interrupting your reading. I couldn't help but notice you are unaccompanied and it seems my curiosity got the best of me, as here I am wondering what a beautiful woman such as yourself is sitting here alone?
It was as if he hadn't spoken at all. She hadn't blinked an eye or even slightly acknowledged his presence. She lifted her cigarette to her pink lips and pulled before exhaling a moment later. Landa's face grew dark. He was not one to be ignored.
Perhaps she speaks German? He thought. He was giving this woman the benefit of the doubt. He cleared his throat loudly and began again in a new language.
"Fräulein, es ist möglich, dass du mich das erste mal nicht verstanden hast. Wenn Sie sich lieber in unserer Muttersprache unterhalten würden, würde ich das gerne tun." Fräulein, it is possible you did not understand me the first time. If you would rather converse in our native tongue, I would happily oblige that.
At this, she finally looked up at him and met the intense focus of his gaze. Putting out her cigarette, she stared back at him rather blankly before surprising him somewhat by proceeding to speak in another language he was acquainted with.
"Immagino che tu non conosca l'italiano?"
I don't suppose you know Italian as well?
She smirked at Hans playfully, licking the tip of her index finger and using it to flip to the next page of her book. He would think she only spoke Italian and unable to respond, he would apologize to her and leave her be; or so she thought.
"Ah, bellissima signora. Che giochi divertenti. Ma ti assicuro che potrei essere l'ultima persona su questa terra con cui vorresti giocare." Ah, beautiful lady. What fun games you play. But I assure you, I may be the last person on this earth you would want to play with.
Yes, so it was a bit of a threat.
He gave her a challenging look, eyebrows raised.
I got you, pretty little bird…But to his surprise and her own, she didn't seem at all threatened. She was intrigued. He was so articulate in every language he knew and he spoke them all so beautifully. Being multilinguistic herself she always wished to find someone who could converse with her in every language she had been raised to know. Her eyes moved over his uniform; black, leather, cold looking, just like the man that stood in front of her. He was dashingly handsome and at least 20 years her senior. His silvery dark blond locks were combed and styled immaculately, his eyes a piercing greyish blue. She had heard stories about the infamous S.S Landa. About his reputation, his charms and many conquests. She knew he was German and could speak French, but she didn't know he was so well versed in Italian. She also knew he was good looking and overtly charming, but she never imagined the towering German would be so...erotic.
A wave of heat flooded her body and she noticed she was holding her breath from arousal. She did her best to feign steady and relaxed breathing. Thankfully, Landa didn't seem to notice this.
"Is there any language you don't speak, Colonel?"
She teased him lightly, this time in English. A slight accent trailed behind her words, one indicating her first language was most definitely French.
"I see you're familiar with my title. And that you understood me from the start. Clever girl. I seem to have lost my manners. I have yet to give you a proper introduction, Mademoiselle."
He reached for his black S.S. cap and removed it from his head. As if on command, she lifted a manicured hand for him to take and he did, swiftly placing a deep gentlemanly kiss. He had to restrain himself from licking his lips when he pulled away. She crossed her legs and pressed her thighs together tightly.
"Colonel Hans Landa of the S.S, but I assume you knew that already when you addressed me earlier."
"I'd be surprised if one didn't know you, Colonel. Or at the very least, had heard about your assignment here in Paris."
Her attitude towards Landa surprised him. She was extremely playful. The Colonel was used to his presence invoking terror among the people of France. They called him 'The Jew Hunter' after all. He was put in charge by the Fuhrer to round up all the Jews left in France who were either hiding or passing for Gentile. It wouldn't be unusual for French civilians to treat him with animosity but this lovely creature was not scared of him. That fact excited and disappointed him all at the same time.
"Would you care to sit?" She gestured to the empty seat opposite of her with her eyes. Hans removed his long black S.S. coat and placed it on the back of the chair, taking a seat across the beauty.
"Your name?" Although phrased as a question, it was a demand.
"Annabel. Annabel Vogel."
"Belle indeed. You are French?"
Annabel closed her book.
"Born and raised here. My father was German, my mother Italian, hence the number of languages I speak."
"What were their names?"
"Klaus and Isabella Vogel."
Hans held back a chuckle at the irony of the surname. Vogel. She was a bird after all. A white dove. Annabel Vogel.
"What did they do?" He asked casually.
Annabel lifted her cup to her lips and took a quick sip. "My father owned a cafe, my mother was a school teacher."
"They are no longer with us?"
She shook her head sadly.
"My parents both passed from fever two years ago."
"A shame."
"I always found it quite beautiful. They died together and that brings me peace. Knowing they don't have to be apart. They were very in love."
Hans listened intently. He was going to be checking up on these facts later and needed to be sure he had all the details. It was a reasonable precaution for a man in his position to take. She was still a stranger, albeit a stunning one, and he was still a detective. A damn good detective. His eyes surveyed the cover of the book Annabel was reading, Les Fleurs du Mal; The Flowers of Evil.
"Interesting title for a novel."
"It's poetry. Charles Baudelaire. Are you familiar with his work?"
Hans shook his head. A waiter appeared and swiftly took Landa's order for an espresso with sugar on the side then he disappeared once he refilled Annabel's coffee cup.
"No Annabel, I am not familiar with Monsieur Baudelaire's work."
"Please, call me Anna."
"Anna, then." He said, his own tone sounded unfamiliar to him, oddly cozy.
Anna reached for the book and opened it, flipping forward a few pages before selecting a place. Then she handed it to Hans and allowed him to read an excerpt of one of the many poems. It's titled "Les Bijoux" or "The Jewels" in English. The copy is written in French with English translations below. He began reading,
My darling was naked, and knowing my heart well,
She was wearing only her sonorous jewels,
Whose opulent display made her look triumphant,
Like Moorish concubines on their fortunate days.
She was lying down and letting herself be loved,
And from the top of the couch she smiled with pleasure,
At my love, deep and sweet as the sea
Which towards her rose as towards her cliff.
Eyes fixed on me like a tamed tigress,
With a vague and dreamy air she tried poses,
And candor combined with lubricity,
Gave a new charm to her metamorphoses;
And her arm and her leg, and her thigh and her loins,
Shiny as oil, sinuous as a swan,
Passed in front of my eyes, clear-sighted and serene;
And her belly, her breasts, grapes of my vine,
To trouble the quiet that had possessed my soul,
Where calm and alone she had taken her seat.
-And when at last the lamp allowed itself to die,
Since the fire alone lighted the room,
Each time that it uttered a flaming sigh,
It steeped her flesh in pools of blood.
Hans shifted in his seat to relieve the pressure of his erection pressing against his zipper and cleared his throat. He shut the book of poetry, placing it in front of Anna. He had pictured Anna as the woman in the poem and himself the writer as he read. He imagined this stranger he had just met on top of him wearing nothing but lavish jewels that matched the turquoise in her eyes. He looked up and met her gaze, the silent message in her eyes said everything. This white dove was far from virginal. He could tell she wanted everything that was described in the erotic poetry to be done to her. She wanted it to be done by him.
As if on cue, the waiter appeared with Colonel Landa's espresso and a refill for Mademoiselle Vogel. Hans lifted the espresso to his lips, watching her as he drank. Anna cleared her throat as if to shake off the unbidden zing of attraction in the air between them.
"Most people think Baudelaire wrote about decadence, but mostly he wrote about trust. Trusting another human being with the vulgar or indecent thoughts inside your head, there's no leap in the dark more terrifying." She licked her lips and followed his lead, eyeing him as she sipped her own coffee.
It was unlike Hans Landa to be puzzled by a stranger. This young woman was exceptionally intelligent, sophisticated and alluring. It was as if Anna had no idea who Hans was or what he did here in France. But she did know, and that's what threw him off. The Colonel had charmed many women and bedded quite a few in his day. These women always appeared overly confident and composed, but Landa could always tell they were terrified of him.
Why wasn't Anna afraid of him? He wanted her to fear him. He wanted to watch her squirm in her seat from the intimidation. He wanted to dominate her. Her very humanity made her fascinating and drew him to her. He wanted to know more about her. He wanted to discover more of the enigma that was Annabel Vogel. There was no denying the immediate physical attraction between them. It was carnal, sudden and unnerving for them both.
Remaining silent but breaking their extended eye contact, Anna gathered her clutch and shall from the back of her chair and rose to her feet. She was slightly taller than he thought but was still at least five inches shorter than Hans. He followed her and stood up from the table.
"Herr Landa, thank you for the lovely company, but I must be on my way. I have a friend coming from out of town and it would be terribly rude of me to not be there to greet them immediately upon their arrival."
She leaned in and placed a gentle kiss upon his cheek, lingering for a moment.
"Au Revoir." She took a step towards the door but Hans grabbed her arm and pulled her back.
"Why didn't you answer me when I initially spoke to you?" He asked finally, his voice low.
She smiled. "I like playing hard to get. Besides, I knew you'd be relentless until you received an answer. Most men give up after the first try. I see you aren't like most men, Colonel Landa. I enjoyed introducing you to Baudelaire, perhaps we can discuss his work again sometime? "
His grip on her arm loosened.
"When am I to see you again, Mademoiselle Vogel?"
"You'll know how to find me, Detective." And with that, she swiftly vanished out of the cafe.
As Hans looked about the area where they were just seated, he noticed the book of poetry on the tabletop. Grabbing it, he lifted his S.S. jacket off the chair and placed the book inside one of the coat's pockets.
You'll know how to find me, Detective.
He smirked. Smart little bird.
His smile quickly disappeared once Hans realized he was very late for a lunch meeting with Goebbels.
Fuck.
