April 10, 1942
She had done as Belle had directed the previous evening. She'd brushed her teeth, combed out her hair, cuddled Waltz until he fell asleep at the foot of her bed, and proceeded to make a pot of tea. It didn't take long to see the message written in heat sensitive ink over the side of the pot.
Eugenics. District 18. Broehm.
She poured a cup of tea and took it to bed, after carefully scrubbing away the message. The doctor was performing eugenic practices in Paris. The thought made her shudder and wonder just how many women were being conned into giving up their babies. How many of those had been deemed undesirable and murdered in the name of science? It boiled her blood. She knew it was all a part of Hitler's plan. Madness. It pained her to know that she couldn't help conceal any of the children, that was her partner's task. It would be hard to hide the wails of an infant from the colonel should he drop in unannounced. No, her duty was to her mission and her mission alone.
The process made sense to her as far as Nazi goals were considered. It was their overall end game; create and maintain the perfect race of Nordic and Germanic descent. The Aryan Nation. It was the Jewish women forced to carry Jewish children that confused her. It wasn't her department, nor remotely close to her assignment, but it still left a mark inside of her to know everything she did. Sometimes she envied the civilians. At least they didn't have to bear the weight of knowing just exactly what was taking place around them.
Her night had been restless, the morning coming all too soon, and unfortunately going just as she expected. Carlos had arrived with the gown that exceeded every expectation she could have possibly had. And by the afternoon there was an army of people arriving and insisting upon doing her hair and makeup for the ball. It was too much all at once, but she sat dutifully in her silk robe as they dabbed and pulled and swiped and slicked everything into perfection. She watched in the mirror as they worked and felt in awe at her appearance.
Her platinum blonde hair had been side swept and pinned in place with the pearl comb. It was worn long and down her back in gorgeous wavy curls that made her feel like a real celebrity, not just one that was invented a few years prior as a cover. Her lips had been expertly painted red, per her request, and her eyelids swiped with a shimmering neutral beige that caught the light in her room whimsically. Mascara had been applied just to the top lashes to elongate them, fanned to the corners to create volume.
By the time the stylists had finished their work, she was left standing in her robe to place her new earrings in by herself. Carlos entered the room, carrying the bag containing her gown. "Are you ready?"
"Oui." She dropped her robe, revealing the white lingerie set beneath. It had been carefully chosen for that evening. Snow white in color. The bra was cut low to accommodate an evening gown of the same style, the high waisted panties were made of the same white satin and shown beautifully beneath her garter belt. She had chosen translucent white stockings, not knowing whether or not the gown would have been long or not when she laid everything out the night before.
Carlos averted his eyes and gave her a nervous look. "I don't believe the brassiere will work tonight," he said slowly and unzipped the bag. She had only glanced at the gown, unable to take in its full beauty as it rested within its packaging, but he was right. He pulled it out on a hanger and turned it this way and that for her to see. It was completely backless with a plunging neckline to top it all off, but it was gorgeous. Sleek red silk, smooth to the touch, gleamed in the light. It was floor length, and Carlos was grinning proudly beside it. "Those may prove problematic as well." He was noticeably weary of informing her that she wouldn't be able to wear anything beneath the dress. "The stockings will do fine though."
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Flaneur ✅💋
HistoryczneGenevieve Mahlon, or Blondeau to those who know her by her code name, is part of an elite group of special forces tasked with pulling off Operation Achilles Heel, a mission centered around exploiting the underestimation of women and taking down men...