Shoshanna’s Au revoir

The film honoring me and my exploits in war made me want to vomit, so I left to go to the washroom and dry heave a while before I splashed cold water on my face.

I looked at my face, and my eyes looked tired. I realized I haven’t had one good night’s worth of rest since my bloody days of being a Wehrmacht marksman. I was hoping that settling in this small cinema with the woman of my dreams would cure my anxiety, but it has only heightened it. Emmanuelle Mimieux. The blonde beauty that has captured my imagination and attention, my soul and my heart.

I know I must try and talk to her. Surely she is happy I brought so much admiral attention on her late Aunt and Uncle’s diminutive movie house, and that she shall be having flocks of Parisians to come to her now famed cinema.

I took in a shaky breath. The intense wave of trembling around my body and hands was driving me insane. I felt that I was about to fall and collapse, an extreme wave of anxiety and fear gripping my brain. I kept hearing the pained shouts of the fallen enemies and cries for their mother. It never went away. I was always afraid.

I go upstairs to the projector room, and knock on the door as my nerves steel.

Suddenly, I am met with the annoyed green-eyed expression of Emmanuelle. Immediately, I plaster a huge, ridiculous grin on my face. She sighs heavily.

“What are you doing up here? You’re not allowed here. I’m very busy,” she grumbles and I nod too happily as I offer to help and she ignores my request. “It’s your premiere, you should be out there,” she says softly, closing the door more as only her face is visible. Her green eyes look hesitant yet strangely soft.

“Well,” I lean into the door frame, eyeing her carefully, “Normally you’d be right. I try to endure these moments and events in the proper spirit. But, it just so happens,” I sigh and tell her the truth. “This film happens to be about my military exploits. Those exploits are about me killing many, many men. And… the part of the film playing right now, I can’t lie. I don’t like watching it.”

She gives me a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry Frederick, but,” she starts and I gather my charm to reply.

“So, I thought I’d come up here, and do what I do best,” I chuckle, “annoy you. And from the look on your face,” I eye her and she rolls her eyes, “it appears I haven’t lost my touch.”

She gives me a mixed look of pity and annoyance, and frowns severely. “You think just because the Nazis kiss your ass, everybody will fall to their knees for you?”

She opens the door more aggressively and says loudly, “NO. You cannot be here.”

I can’t control myself anymore and move the door forward to open it, and she moves back, shocked.

“Ow, Frederick, you hurt my hand!” She admonishes.

I look over at her “hurt” hand and I sigh. “Why, Mademoiselle Mimieux, I’m surprised you felt that! You can actually feel pain? It’s a shock. I wasn’t aware you had feelings. Even just physical ones! After all I have done for you, putting your two-bit cinema on the map and yanking it from obscurity, you insult me and disrespect me, at your peril!” I spit out.

She grumbles, moving close to my face. It makes me feel woozy and hot all over as her breath collided with mine. “Frederick, cut it out. You may not understand what no means, but just because you have hundreds of dead corpses in Italy because of your bloodthirsty trigger finger doesn’t mean you are not just a man, after-all, and you can be wrong.”

She places her hands on her hips and shoulders go back. Her eyes are defiant and self-righteous.

I feel defeated. The tremors come back in my hands after she mentions Italy and I can't breathe.

“Okay. Okay. I’m sorry, ma’am. I will go.”

I turn to leave when I feel her hand on my arm. I gasp inwardly as I feel her pull at me, and suddenly her body is close to mine.

“What… what are you doing?” I breath out.

She growls. “Are you daft? Close the door.”

But, I am frozen. I can't move.

“Okay, fine, I'll do it…” she says and I stand stiffly as she does it.

All I can hear is my breathing and hers, a soft echoing off one another.

“Frederick,” she finally says, breaking the silence like a cut egg yolk, spilling out it's gooey contents all over my face.

I turn and I see her eyes. They look… sultry?

“Yes?” I whimper out.

I see her pull down her tight dress and bra, exposing her breasts. They look so perfect and supple and warm.

“Is this what you wanted?” she whispers, and I pinch my arm slightly. I must be sleeping!

I nod slowly and suddenly I feel myself gravitating toward her. I move in and take my hand, wrapping it around her face and yellow hair.

Our eyes make contact as I slam my mouth against her lips, as I press my body against hers. I hear her moaning into my touch as I feel myself growing hard.

“You want a rough touch, don't you?” I gruffly assert. “You need a man who can handle your feisty attitude. You need someone to tame you.”

She hikes up one of her legs and wraps it around my waist, pulling me closer, taking my hands to touch her breasts.

“Shut up and fuck me,” she moans, as her tongue slips into my mouth, flicking against my tongue furiously.

“You French girls must like German men after-all,” I tease and she kisses me deeper and more animalistically, her hand cupping the growing seam in my pants.

“I'm not French, you Nazi bastard,” she says and I feel her unbuckling my belt and unzipping it aggressively.

I had nothing else clever to rebuttal. My mind didn't have time to register what she had told me as she pulled down her panties, grabbing my dick possessively to slide into her tight, warm pussy.

I haven't been with a woman in a long time. Since the war, it’s felt like an eternity. It was such an intense feeling of pressure and warmth around my throbbing member, I felt my control completely eradicated as I lifted her up. Her legs wrapped around my waist tightly as I got better control of our erratic thrusting, and her moans and whimpers soon turned into cries and almost screams as I moved her against the wall, getting a perfect angle to make love to her properly.

“I-I…. I never had someone fill me so good like you, Frederick…” she almost chokes out in a string of moans, kissing my face with a very gentle passion.

“Feels… perfect… you feel so damn good…” I say in between rapid breaths. “Emmanuelle,” I whisper. “Is this a dream?”

She stands up and lays down, her legs spread as she pulls me down slowly. I enter her again and this time, I feel myself go in deeper this time and her hips glide against me, perfectly with my movements. It feels like we were always meant to be this close. It feels as though her body was always meant to collide with mine, melding like a missing piece to the puzzle.

Her eyes glow as she bites her lip. Time seems to stand still as she says, “Shoshanna.”

“What? What did you say?”

She kisses me again, her face lighting up in a surprised fervor, almost like she is shocked to be revealing this to me, of all people. “I… my real name is Shoshanna. Shoshanna Dreyfus.”

“Dreyfus?” I say in a confused manner. Our thrusting slows down and she frowns.

Suddenly, a huge commotion erupts from the theater viewing area. Shoshanna or Emmanuelle, starts to go into a panic and slips on her dress, hastily pulling up her underwear.

“Shit! Fuck!” she curses under her breath.

I pull up my pants and say, “What's wrong?”

“Nothing! Go now! Leave this theater!” she almost started to cry as she clamored to change out the projectors. It looked like the screen was on a delay and the film was not continuing. This was all my fault.

“But why? We were getting along so well…” I lamented and she huffed, trying to fix her hair.

“This is more important than that. Please,” she turned and her cheeks were bright red. “Please go.”

My gut feeling was telling me to go. To follow her pleas and get the hell away from here.

But, I couldn't. Seeing her in distress made my heart sink.

“Shoshanna, please, let me help,” I say and her eyes are wet with tears.

She gives me a disconnected look, her eyes looking faraway now. So faraway it makes my heart quake and feel heavy.

“You don’t know what it means to help me.”

“Then explain it,” I ask, hearing the enraged audience dying down and becoming placid once again as the film continued.

“I… I can't.”

I go over to her and move her frantic curls away from her eyes.

“You told me your name for a reason. Didn't you Shoshanna?” I whisper.

She shuts her eyes tightly, and when they open, tears fall.

“Frederick, my family was killed by the Nazis when I was young. I escaped. Nearly. Hans Landa was the SS Colonel who placed the order for my family to be put to death.” she sighs heavily, and I start to put the pieces together, and realize she's an escaped Jew with a new French alias and fake identity.

“Holy shit,” is all I can muster.

She frowns as I take her hand and she looks at me sadly.

“I really like you. I don't care if you're Jewish or French or even American at this point. I like you.”

Her breathing becomes erratic. I feel her pushing me and as we hold hands, she runs down the hall and down the stairs, almost tripping as we stumble haphazardly to the front lobby.

“Go. Leave. Please, Frederick!” she starts nudging me to the front exit.

“I won't leave you,” I say, though the words feel smaltzy and corny, I know its my true feelings.

“I'll see you again. I'll see you soon. Au Revoir, Frederick.”

I know that means, “Till I see you again,” in French. But it feels like a real goodbye.

She suddenly wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me so deeply and passionately, I feel like the stars are in my eyes and I want to faint.

“Au Revoir, Shoshanna,” I whisper into her ear.

I leave and she waves goodbye, tears streaming down her face.

As I ran away, I didn't look back.

The theater had burnt down to nothing as I had found out later. No one had survived.

Shoshanna got her last goodbye and killed off the high-command of the Nazi regime that was responsible for killing her family, and so many other Jewish people.

War never was the same for me again. Love never quite was, either.

She saved me in more ways than one, and I cant forget her, hoping one day in between life and death, we will meet again.