Flaneur ✅💋

4. Cliente

March 27, 1942

It had barely been two hours since the colonel left her to clean up her mess. She had started with the bookshelf, crying over the broken vase that had held the dried bouquet from her aunt and uncle's wedding. The bastard.

When the doorbell rang for the second time that day, she felt her chest squeeze. She wiped her tears and answered. "May I help you?" She peered suspiciously out at the twenty or so Nazis standing on her porch and in her driveway. She could feel how red and puffy her eyes were and saw all of their smug looks. She peeked at them through the small crack in the door she had created.

"I don't think so." The brown haired soldier shook his head. "We are here on behalf of Colonel Nicolas Roemheld." Her heart skipped a beat. Did he send an army of soldiers to finish what he started? Make an example out of her?

"The colonel has already conducted his search, gentlemen. I'm afraid your presence here is unnecessary." She jumped back in time for the soldier to push her door open farther.

"The colonel sent us to clean up." He barely gave her a second look as he filed inside, leading a line of soldiers with him. "Spread out. Let's get this over with and get back to base."

The soldiers laughed and winked at her as the went by and she hugged her robe tighter. Anyone who believed they were safe as long as they weren't a Jew was a fool. They adhered to no rules of engagement, they simply plowed through countries as if they were sandcastles to kick over. The French were no exception to their cruelty, despite what the propaganda was saying.

She watched them tidy up the disaster the colonel had left behind before slipping away to her bedroom. Her pantie drawer was still wide open and she shivered, recalling how he kept her white lace piece. She needed to meet with Belle, and soon. She went to her phone near her bed and picked up the receiver. Without dialing a single digit, she spoke in French, "Damn, I've forgotten the number." Then hung up.

The soldiers stayed for an hour before shuffling out without so much as a farewell, and headed back to their base. It didn't take more than a few minutes to pass before her doorbell rang for the third time that day. Belle stood on her porch with a freshly baked pie in her arms and a smile plastered to her face. Her brunette fringe fell over her brows while the rest was pulled into a bun that she wore low at the nape of her neck. She watched her eyes scan over her body and fixate on the red marks around her throat.

"I've been baking up a storm at home, and I brought you a treat." She pushed the pie at her and walked through the open door without invitation. Genevieve shut it behind her and followed her colleague to the lounge. Belle examined the bits of broken glass that still littered the floor in some places.

"So he searched your home already."

"Searched is not the term I would use. Ransacked would be better suited." Genevieve curled her lips at the memory. "He sent an army of men in just moments ago to clean it all up."

"He did?" Belle furrowed her brows. "Odd. I would have assumed that he would have left you to it. You know, driving his point home and all."

Genevieve nodded in agreement. "Tea?" She asked and Belle accepted happily. "Come into the kitchen and I'll make us a cup. I need it after today."

"Did he have you yet?" She asked upon sitting on the kitchen stool.

Genevieve busied herself with boiling the water in her copper kettle and setting the milk and sugar on the counter within Belle's reach. "Not quite. He doesn't seem to be the type of man to enjoy a woman taking charge. I'll have to change my tactics. It would appear he prefers his women to be unwilling and hard to break. How very charming." She snarled, and fetched two petite cups from her cupboard.