"I have ridden in your cart, driver,
waved my nude arms at villages going by,
learning the last bright routes, survivor
where your flames still bite my thigh
and my ribs crack where your wheels wind.
A woman like that is not ashamed to die.
I have been her kind."
- Anne Sexton, Her Kind
-
The Grand Staircase of the Paris Opera House was truly resplendent. Juliette had only ever heard of it from the glowing words of her father, who spoke of France and of Paris with more fondness than he had ever used to speak of her. She often wondered whether he had regretted moving their small family from France when she was eleven years old; she seemed to remember that being around the time it had all gone wrong.
Regardless, of all the things her father had gotten wrong, his detailed and awestruck descriptions of the Opera House had been entirely right, if perhaps even slightly modest.
The great bustling of activity was jarring with all she knew of and had experienced during her time in Paris, what with the strict Nazi curfew of 9pm whereupon the city went dark and so silent you could hear a pin drop and it would sound deafening. Of course, what was Nazi implemented could also be tweaked for the benefit of the Nazis, too, so for this glistening event those invited and those invited alone were permitted and even encouraged to stay as long as they pleased, well into the night.
It was 2133 when she arrived, having gotten through the remarkable security in six minutes, and she knew she had twelve minutes before she could expect to see the courier she was targeting, Wilhelm Herbst, entering the Grand Foyer. Despite how much she longed to linger in the entrance hall and take in its grandeur, she had a job to do, and she had to time it perfectly to ensure she ended up in exactly the right place that she would be one of the lucky people Wilhelm engaged in small talk.
Making her way up the Grand Staircase she stuck to the left side, trailing her hand along the gold plated banister if only to be able to say that she'd done it. Her touch was feather light, afraid to corrupt its luxurious beauty, and as she gently pinched the material of her long dress up by her thigh in order to prevent tripping she hoped she appeared more demure and innocent than she felt as she ascended the large stairs.
The stairs split off to the left and right once she reached the top and she knew it was the left hand side she was to choose in order to make her way into the Grand Foyer, where both her target and his contact were due to meet. Crossing the short distance to the left staircase, having to head for the banister farther away from her on account of the lingering guests, just as she began to walk up the stairs a hand reached for her unoccupied wrist and grasped it.
"Mademoiselle," the voice spoke through a heavy German accent, and she turned to find a highly decorated Nazi smiling down at her. She smiled demurely back, glancing down in what was certain to appear as shyness but was actually her scanning his uniform in order to work out what she was dealing with. He was an Oberführer she realised quickly, which was very high up and thus very irritating. She would never be able to brush him off and get away with it, which meant her tight schedule was in grave danger.
"I am sure we have not met," he spoke in heavily accented French, and she looked back up at him with a smile brighter than she knew he would have expected and wanted to see; she needed to lose his interest, but the game was tricky. She couldn't make herself so unappealing as to draw suspicion as to why, but she also couldn't maintain the soft, polite act she had been going for, for men in positions of power did so love to dominate the vulnerable. It was a balancing act, though more than just a pair of plates were at risk of crashing down if she failed.
"I am sure we have not either," she replied, her French perfect from a childhood spent in France and a French father. "I am Marie de Chagny. And you?" She knew that an air of mystery was always desirable so made herself an open book to him. Without leaving him any questions to wonder on he had nothing to chase, and she needed him off of her back about thirty seconds ago.
"Oberführer Becker," he told her with a shark-like smile, bowing as he slid his hand from her wrist to bring her fingers to his lips. "It is a real pleasure, mademoiselle."
"The pleasure is mine and mine alone, I am sure, Oberführer," she told him with yet another overenthusiastic smile that was all teeth and squinted eyes. She prayed she seemed so overeager he'd find another girl to chase but his eyes never left her. Inwardly, Juliette let out an almighty scream though kept the grin etched firmly into her features. Fucking Nazis, she thought with all of the contempt she could muster.
"If I may be so forward, mademoiselle," the Oberführer spoke and took a step closer to her, so close she could smell his aftershave, and leaned in until his lips were brushing her ear, "you are perhaps the most wonderful creature I have ever set eyes upon." He leaned back slightly to take in her reaction and she fought her gag. The audacity some of these men had would forever astound her. No one was as entitled as a man who had had his ego stroked so relentlessly by other men he believed himself to be somewhat of a gift to humanity. And the fact he thought he was seducing her was purely laughable. Juliette was not intimidated by, nor complimentary of, men who had done nothing worthy of appreciation and yet believed they were worth commending. Coming from a wealthy and powerful family may have gotten him into Hitler's good graces, but she would never bow down to a man who grabbed unassuming girls by the wrist and forced them into a conversation they were legally not allowed to refuse.
She wanted to spit in his face but instead remarked, "'Perhaps'? Where is your certainty, Oberführer? Do I compete for your affections?" She hoped that by being so brash and forward he would back off and realise he was getting a lot more than he bargained for by attempting to seduce her, but his impish grin only sharpened.
"Perhaps you do." She knew what was coming and hated that she had overlooked the opportunity for the conversation to take this turn, but her mind was preoccupied with how much time she was losing by being locked in conversation with this horrible man. "And if that is the case, what will you do to prove that you are the obvious winner?"
Juliette took a small step backwards and away from him and tilted her head devilishly. She had wasted about a minute and a half, by her estimation, talking to him and she had, quite frankly, had enough. She only had ten and a half minutes left, part of which needed to be reserved for getting to the Grand Foyer, and her patience was dwindling by the second.
"Do you happen to know where the restrooms are, Oberführer?"
The man's eyes hardened and his smile tightened into something threatening. "I'm sure you can wait."
That confirmed it for her. He was just as dangerous as she had assumed. It had served her well to always predict the worst in people, and she resented that it had become somewhat of a habit. Or perhaps a defence mechanism. She didn't care to make the distinction.
"That is not," she began, looking up at him through her eyelashes and reaching out to brush her fingertips over the sleeve of his dress uniform, "what I had meant, monsieur."
That sickening, hungry smile returned to his face as he grasped the wrist that toyed with the fabric of his uniform and moved past her, beginning to ascend the left staircase with an urgency that Juliette had only ever witnessed in men waiting to have their way with her. It was an urgency that disgusted her, and if she was being truly honest with herself (which she rarely was), frightened her.
The Oberführer didn't spare a single glance back at her as they wove through the guests littering the hallway that led to the Grand Foyer. She had pored over a map of the building long enough to know which bathrooms he would be taking her to, and was endlessly grateful for its proximity to her intended destination. It would take her all of thirty seconds to make it from there to the Grand Foyer, she just hoped that that wasn't all the time she had to spare otherwise she was certain to have to drop the demure act and approach the courier directly, decreasing her chances of having him willing to follow her out of the room.
When Juliette and Oberführer Becker reached the women's restroom he charged in ahead of her, releasing her hand whilst he ordered every woman in there to leave immediately. The authority and seeming anger in his voice was unsettling. His booming words were spoken in both French and German to make sure he was universally understood, and they commanded submissiveness and unfaltering obedience. This was a man who didn't like to be kept waiting.
Once the bathroom had been cleared he beckoned Juliette in with a false gentility, and once she had taken his outstretched hand and stepped into the restroom he wasted no time in slipping past her to lock the main door behind them. Juliette noted that all of the stall doors had been left wide open, demonstrating that they were well and truly alone, and gave herself a slight conspiratorial nod. Now was not the time to lose her nerve, and as she locked eyes with her reflection in one of the sink mirrors she knew she wouldn't. She may look like an angel, and indeed her pale gold evening gown only enhanced that image, but she knew she was a far cry from the dainty little thing he was expecting to dominate.
He might be violent, but she fought dirty, and she had been taught by the best.