It seems to me at times my blood flows out in waves
Like a fountain that gushes in rhythmical sobs.
I hear it clearly, escaping with long murmurs,
But I feel my body in vain to find the wound.
Across the city, as in a tournament field,
It courses, making islands of the paving stones,
Satisfying the thirst of every creature
And turning the color of all nature to red.
I have often asked insidious wines
To lull to sleep for a day my wasting terror;
Wine makes the eye sharper, the ear more sensitive!
I have sought in love a forgetful sleep;
But love is to me only a bed of needles
Made to slake the thirst of those cruel prostitutes!

La Fontaine du Sang/Charles Baudelaire

Anna ducked into Le Parisien Cafe just off of Rue Lamarck as the rain began to pour down in torrents outside. She removed her shawl from her shoulders and paused, a pleasant smell greeting her nostrils. The cafe smelled sweet and unusually fragrant, but it wasn't coming from the pastries or the fresh coffee. The room was filled with hundreds of flowers. Dozens of large bouquets filled glass vases and were placed on each table in the moderately busy cafe. The bar was no exception, with every available surface occupied by a breathtaking arrangement of white roses. She closed her mouth and swallowed hard after realizing her jaw had dropped open. She knew exactly who had sent them, and that didn't stop her smile.

"Mademoiselle Vogel, it seems you have a secret admirer." Stephan, the cafes bartender, teased his boss as he polished a glass behind the bar. Stephan had worked for the Vogel's at Le Parisien for many years. He, like many, admired Anna from afar so it didn't come as a shock to him when twenty bouquets arrived that morning from an anonymous sender.

Before she could conjure up a playful response, her eyes landed on a red card perched underneath one of the bouquets on the bar. She took the card and opened it, admiring the neat penmanship before she began to read;

Bellissima Anna,

I believe it would be safe to say that you have enchanted me.

I have also learned that the cafe where we first met, in fact, belongs to you.

I'm sure you won't mind the new floral arrangement I had sent over, I thought Le Parisien could use some ornamentation as beautiful as the owner.

Fino a quando ci incontreremo di nuovo, uccello bianco

H

Anna buried her nose in the bouquet and inhaled, a pleasant warmth settling in her. She knew he had done his research. He was a detective after all. She had nothing to hide. She was simply a young woman living in Paris where she had been her entire life, taking over her late father's business.

Klaus Vogel was indeed German blood, born and raised in Weimar, Germany. He had studied art in France where he met his late wife, Isabella Marino, an Italian born French woman. Together they had Annabel Maria Vogel and together they had passed two years earlier due to complications from Influenza. The story was just how Anna described it, no details kept and no truth twisted. Landa had hoped to find something on the young woman, something to prove that she was too good to be true. What made Hans Landa so intimidating was his ability to convince you he was privy to your secrets, but Mademoiselle Vogel had none. She was just a soul; an enchanting, enigmatic soul.

And for the first time in his life, Hans Landa wanted to know a woman's soul.

He wanted her trust. He wanted all of her.

Anna knew he had entered the cafe before she even turned around. There was something about him that called to her on a molecular level and she knew she would be able to feel him in any room he walked into. She continued admiring the flowers, ignoring the heat that rose on the back of her neck as he approached her.

"Anna." He spoke, his voice low and her name rolled off his lips in an easy drawl. She turned to face him, and those grey eyes watched her. His hair was immaculately styled despite being wet from the rain.

"Colonel, what a surprise. Thank you for the flowers. They really are beautiful." They stood staring at each other for several moments until Hans cleared his throat and spoke again.

"It was my pleasure, Fraulein. The reason behind my presence in your lovely little cafe today is to request your accompaniment to dinner with me this evening."

"Dinner?" She replied.

"With myself, yes."

She chuckled, biting her bottom lip.

"Excuse my hesitance Colonel Landa, I'm just surprised you asked. We barely know one another."

"I would assume that is a way to get to know someone, Fraulein Vogel. Am I wrong?"

She paused, a smile playing at her lips. He was intimidating and yet still so playful.

"No, Sir."

Landa's eyes darkened. He needed this woman in his bed immediately.

"Splendid." Hans purred, grinning like the cheshire cat. "A car will be here at seven for you."

He reached into his coat pocket and retrieved the book of poetry Anna had left on the table a few days prior. She lifted a hand to stop him.

"Keep it. It's my gift to you. Baudelaire is your friend."

He eyed her keenly, then nodded.

"So he is, Fraulein."

As if on command, Landa's driver appeared in the doorway. His sleek black coat was soaked from the downpour. He seemed hesitant to interrupt but was met with the Colonel's hand, gesturing him to hold on. With the same hand he reached to clasp Anna's and bring it to his lips, placing a chaste kiss on the back of it.

"Until tonight, Anna Vogel."

And with that, he was out the door as swiftly as he came in. Anna let out the breath she was holding in, her chest rising and falling rapidly as her body began to cool.

She knew she was supposed to hate him, despise him, feel revolted by his every touch, every look, every gentle kiss but it wasn't that simple. God, how helpful it would all be for it to be that simple. But Hans Landa was not a simple man. And Anna Vogel was anything but a simple woman.

The car retrieved her sharply at 7, the driver making no attempt at conversation with Mademoiselle Vogel. Anna played with the thought of it being a strict order given by Landa himself, which immediately brought colour to her cheeks. Her outfit of choice for dinner was a deep red evening dress, one she rarely wore unless it was for special occasions. It was a form-fitting chiffon with off shoulder sleeves, cinched at the waist with a velvet belt to accentuate the body shape. It reached just below her knees and flared out. She contemplated a red lip but decided against it.

The rainfall had seized when she stepped out of the car, the air still cool and misty. One of Landa's men was already in front awaiting Anna's arrival. He greeted her and escorted her up the steps of the building into a beautiful restaurant setting. She recognized the name of the establishment, Le Procope, a historic and prestigious restaurant in Paris. It was decorated beautifully with pompeian red walls, grand crystal chandeliers and fresh floral decor on every table. She also knew it wasn't a coincidence Hans chose to have dinner at one of the most expensive restaurants in Paris, and a frequent host of German militants.

She was led through the restaurant and past a set of large double doors into a smaller, quaint room just off the main dining area. Hans immediately rose from his seat when she entered.

"Mademoiselle Vogel. You made it."

"In one piece Colonel, thanks to your men."

"Ich bin auf der anderen Seite der Tür"

I'll be on the other side of the door

The officers booming voice was loud behind Anna, causing her to jump slightly. Hans noticed this immediately and acknowledged it was the first time she was noticeably caught off guard in his presence.

"Scared?" Hans teased her, silently hoping that the answer was yes.

"Should I be?"

"Only those with something to hide are afraid of me Mademoiselle. You've made it very clear you are not one of those people. Please, after you."

He gestured to the booth and allowed Anna to take her seat before sitting down opposite of her.

"Champagne?"

Anna nodded. "Oui."

"You look absolutely exquisite this evening, the red is very becoming on you Anna."

"I'm glad you like it." She slanted him a look through her lashes.

He gave her a level stare. "You're a devious little thing, aren't you?"

"Thank you." She said with a smug expression and took a welcome sip of the champagne.

Hans watched intently as she lifted the glass to her lips, a few locks of her chestnut hair falling from behind her ear. She was so assured, so controlled, and this bothered him to no end. She was also a sensual, passionate young woman who was the complete embodiment of sin. He knew he did not have to fight so hard for this woman, yet this did not stop him from wanting to. He knew the moment she handed him that book of indecorous french smut that she was asking him for something she had never asked from a man. He dragged his gaze away from her mouth, his body still humming with the thought of bedding her.

"Busy day?" Her voice snapped him out of his trance. Hans cleared his throat.

"Just a visit into the countryside. State duties and such."

"I see. Do you enjoy what you do Herr Colonel?"

He watched her closely. The question wasn't out of opposition or accusation, just pure curiosity. Hans shrugged.

"The job I have been ordered to carry out here in France is not a matter of personal enjoyment, Fraulein, but of doing what is asked of me. I have no personal animus towards the people I hunt, I am just simply very accomplished at hunting them."

She nodded as if she understood perfectly.

"And your families cafe-" he spoke as he unraveled his dinner serviette, "It must have been difficult to take on a business after losing them both."

"It was difficult, yes. But knowing they are together elsewhere brings me peace. I hope to sell the cafe one day, retire to a cottage in the country. Perhaps write a novel."

"You write?" His eyebrows lifted curiously.

"In my spare time. Mostly literary critiques but some original work as well."

As Anna spoke, she watched Hans' face soften. She swallowed hard. She wasn't afraid of him, but she grew increasingly nervous of what he was doing to her internally. A familiar voice flooded the back of her mind, his thick bostonian accent reminding her why she was here with Landa in the first place.

Look me in the eyes Kid. You can do this, alright? All of us have faith in you...now go fuck that Nazi prick up, babygirl.

She disregarded the voice and took a long sip of her champagne.

Suddenly a waiter appeared with two dishes, placing a plate in front of of the Colonel and .

"The coq au vin here is sublime. I took the liberty of ordering for you. I would assume you eat meat?"

Anna nodded, her last thought throwing her off guard.

Breathe Anna, breathe.

They ate mostly in silence, a bit of small talk in between bites of tender chicken and sips of champagne. She was the first one to break the quiet.

"Why did you really ask me to dinner, Colonel?"

His eyes shot up to look at her, serious, turning her blood cold. He stared at her icily as he finished chewing his last bite, lifting the serviette to wipe the corner of his mouth. Had she said the wrong thing? Maybe she was wrong about this whole situation. Maybe he knew why she was really here.

Maybe he knew what game she was playing.

Maybe she had been completely wrong to think she'd seen something in his eyes that made her think he wanted her.

What happened to having nothing to hide, Anna?

"You want to know why I returned to your cafe, Fraulein? Why I sent you those floral arrangements and asked you to accompany me to dinner tonight?"

She blinked at him. "Yes."

"I typically do not need women, Fraulein Vogel. I like women. I enjoy their company. I especially like to fuck them. But I can do without them. You although, in some strange way that I can't seem to articulate, have captivated me. I no longer want to have you, I need to have you. You're an enigma, Anna. With your deliciously naughty interest in french erotica, your seemingly innocent demeanor and your simple yet enchanting way of living, I believe you need what I am offering to you. I am not a man to force or demand submission, as this will likely earn your distrust, but I want it. I want your trust. And I like to get what I want."

Breathless, almost panting, she stared wildly back at him. She almost wished for an escape, but she couldn't escape herself. The job was not to fuck Hans Landa. The job was never to fuck him. But she did need to gain his trust, and this was the only way. The warmth in her middle was spreading, the heat flowing into her legs and arms and up to her neck.

Do what needs to be done, Anna.

"Take me home, Hans."