"V" is for Veronica

Francis sighs deeply. "Yes Sir!"

"Good. That will be all."

The commander and his Sergeant walk out, leaving behind the girl only know as the 'Black Cipher.'

She walks over to the window of the office that has an unobstructed view of the Eiffel tower, spreads open the curtains and takes a deep dramatic breath in.

"God I love this city." She turns and looks back at a very angry Francis. "Don't you just love this city?"

Francis doesn't answer. He sits behind his desk with his right hand holding up his chin. The girl walks over to a couch, by his desk and plops down and rests her legs up on it. She stares at the very disturbed Francis and smiles. He looks over at her and become intoxicated by her childish charm. She is dressed like a Parisian woman, a short skirt, matching coat and ankle high boats. She stood abut five foot three inches, had a fair complexion, blue eyes and waist length blondish grey hair. At first glance, one would immediately tell that she was very young. But after examining her facial features, it would appear that she had seen and experienced things well beyond her age, as did most during this time.

"Francis. I had a duck named Francis. You are not a duck. So you know what? I'm going to call you Frankie. Frankie sounds more masculine, strong, like a warrior, don't you think? Do you mind if I call you Frankie? If not, I'll call you Francis."

"No one's ever called me Frankie. So I guess that would be fine. What do I call you? Black or Cipher?"

She laughs loudly and holds her head back and runs her hands through her hair. "You have a sense of humor; I like that, a lot. My name is Veronica, but everyone calls me Ronnie."

"Last name?"

"Harper."

"Is..."

"Yes. Everyone asks me that when they find out my last name is Harper. He is my Grand Father."

"Really? I would think that any relative of his would be assigned...Well, wouldn't be assigned."

"I'm a volunteer. I am here of my own free-will."

"What do your parents have to say about this?"

"Nothing, because they're dead, murdered by some Nazi bastards in the French Alps."

"So you're doing this for revenge?"

She sighs and unbuttons her jack and lies down completely on the coach, revealing she wears nothing under her jack. She looks over at Francis and grins. "No, I don't believe in revenge. I believe in justice and fighting for what is right. What are you doing this for Frankie? I mean someone like you, with your family's background; you should be heading a corporation or something back home."

"Where is home for you?"

"Port Washington. You know it?"

"Of course."

"Our families probable know each other, coming from the same type of money."

She leans up and swings her legs around and stands up. She then walks over to the window again and looks out.

"That's why I'm here."

"Why?"

She sits on the corner of his desk, crossing her long smooth legs. She leans over and exposes her bare chest more openly to him, staring deep into his eyes. Her almost unnatural blue eyes, captivates and hypnotizes Francis, as her long blond hair rest on the papers that Francis was going over before the Commanders visit. His heart races in his chest, beating loud that he is almost certain that she can hear it. His mouth becomes dry; he licks his lips in a nervous uncontrolled reaction.

"Our families. That is the reason I am here."

"I don't understand. Explain."

She swings her legs towards him showing off her long smooth calves and thighs.

"Frankie think. What does money beget?"

He shakes his head not knowing. Even if he knew the answer, he couldn't think straight. This girl was driving him insane. She bats her blue eyes at him and shakes her head.

"Boy, they said you were a prude! But God!"

"What are you talking about?"

She moves within inches of his face and rubs his chin with her well manicured hands.

"You, me, are to be one."

"What the HELL are you talking about?"

She sighs hard and rolls her eyes. "I'm not use to being with virginal men. Our fates, our lives have been arranged so that we, you and I are to be with one another."

She looks at him waiting for him to catch on. If it were some encrypted code, he would have broke it within minutes, but he hadn't any clue when a woman was telling him that she was there for him, for his pleasure. He was clueless.

She sensed his purity, something that she lost years ago. She sensed his honesty, something she yearned for. She sensed his want of heart, which is why she was there. Slowly she turns his chair around and hikes up her short skirt straddling him, grabbing his face very gently. Her touch seems to paralyzing him. His heart races, blood surges through his veins.

"I can feel your pulse racing. Do I make you nervous?" She says smiling. He does nothing but takes a hard swallow, shaking.

She grins and whispers in his ear. "I am yours, Frankie. A gift from the Allies and the United States of America, for your loyalty."

"Oh."

"Now, do you understand?"

"So, I guess you'll be staying with me then."

She laughs and leans back still holding on to his neck. "Purity is so refreshing!" She says.

From the time of them arriving at the Penthouse, they became one, christening as it were, every room, on every surface. The roar of enemy planes overhead and air raid sirens did nothing stop the two young lover's lustful play. On a table, in the middle of an ornate living area, Veronica spread her legs as he forcefully entered her. The harder his movement, the more she moaned, begging that he not stop. The more he moves on her, the mores her body burnished the marble table, leaving a puddle behind.

Although, physically weak, from the continuous physical actions, Francis is able to carry, Veronica's light body into the master suite, were they continued sharing each other into the morning, until they both, unable to make another move, fall asleep in each other's arm.

Air raid sirens and the loud thunderous sounds of bombs going off in the distant woke Francis a few hours later. Instinctively he sits up, and rushes to the window to see where the noise is coming from. Thick black smoke rise some fifty miles outside of the city, causing sense of relief to come over him. Returning to the bed, he stops to marvel at Veronica lying on her stomach, naked. He sighs, touching her face gently so as not to wake her.

"She is real." He says before lying down closing his eyes.

The warmth of the morning sun hitting Francis' face wakes him and as he opens his eyes, the hazy vision of an angel appears before him. Veronica sits at the foot of the bed, legs crossed Indian style, leaning forward, her hair covering her bare chest, waiting for her Frankie to wake up.

"Hey, sleepy head." She says.

"Hey."

The natural light reveals, Veronica's youthful features and a panic comes across him. He begins thinking he had the most erotic time of his life, with a child. "My god." He thinks. "What have I done?"

He covers his face with both hands. "How old are you?"

"Are you sure you want to know?"

He sighs. "No."

"Old enough, Frankie."

She brushes the hair away from her chest and grabs his hands placing them on her. His blood boils as she moans at the gentle squeeze.

She intrigued him. He wanted to know everything about her, but deep inside, he felt the truth would be something he did not like.

"So, how did you get the code name, 'Black Cipher'?"

"It's not a code name; it's more like a nick name, that only a handful of people use. Only a handful of people know about me and what I do." He leans up and she wraps her legs around his waist holding his neck tightly as the talk face to face, within inches of each others lips.

"What do you do?"

She whispers in his ear. "I'm a spy."

"What like, a spy...spy?"

"Yeah, a spy. I'm used to do covert things. Spy things."

"So, where did the name come from?"

She looks him in the eye, while her right hand moves between them, grabbing hold of his erection, connecting to him. She lets out a soft whimper as she moves and rest her head on his shoulder.

"I have 55 confirmed enemy kills and I can crack just about any code there is...I guess 'Black Cipher sounded better than the killing encrypter."

55 kills? Dear god, she's a sociopath. He thinks shaking his head.

"How did you kill all those men?"

"Who said all of them were men?"

She kisses him on the lips and enters his mouth with her tongue. She moves into him and grabs hold of his hair and whispers in his ear.

"I seduced them, had sex with them and while at their weakest, I killed them."

Her tone was cold, but Francis did not get the feeling she was always that way. It became clear to him, very quickly that she is a bit damaged, but her beauty was something to be desired and that, could very well the reason for overlook her damaged state.

She gives Francis a seductive look as she rocks faster on him, grinding between his legs. Francis falls back, closing his eyes and grabbing hold of the sheets beneath him, pleased at being taken away. She leans down and kisses him on the neck softly, the way an experienced lover would do, licking the sweat dripping from his face. Slowly she moves towards his ear biting his lobe and grabbing hold of his face with both hands, grinding her body into his faster, bringing him just to the point of a climax, she says without remorse, "I can kill you right now, if I wanted."

He opens his eyes, scared and shocked, he tries to push her off of him, but she tightly grabs hold of his neck pulling him into her. He didn't know what to think or how to react to her absurd statement.

Sensing his anger, she lets go and pushes him back down, she pulls off of him and sits at the foot of the bed, looking at him with a devilish smile.

"They've been all that easy."

Francis lens up, resting his back on the head board, staring back at her, entranced by evil, infatuated by sexuality.

"You are one seriously disturbed woman."

She shrugs her shoulders. "I know."

He sighs and moves to down to her, grabbing hold of her neck, rolling on top of her taking her legs, forcing them over his shoulders, pushing down on her, tightly pulling on her hair, trying his best to dominate her. All she does is laugh. He kisses her on the lips and shakes his head.

While still in the awkward physical position, Francis begins to run his hands through her hair, looking into her eyes, wondering what life would be like with her.

"You're different than the other men I've been with."

"How many men have you been with?"

She touches his face and as he goes deeper in her, she closes her eyes and lets out a sigh of pleasure.

"I stop counting."

"Where did you leave off at?"

She touches his face and turns her head to the left moaning. "Triple digits."

"Where were you, before here?"

"Marseille." She bites her bottom lip and digs her nail in his back as his movement brings her closer to a climax.

"There was a double agent that needed to be taught a lesson."

"And did you teach him a lesson? Did you catch him?"

She grabs his neck and closes her eyes, smiling. "Of course! I always get my man." She pauses as she lets out another erotic moan, the sound of which causes Francis to exclaim, "Goddamn woman."

"It ...it appears that spies" Francis pushes harder on her almost to the point of having her legs completer over her head. She smiles, laughing at his contorted facial expressions as he concludes.

She finishes her sentence, in between orgasmic moans. " in particularly...Ahh...really... bad ones, like very young girls."

He pulls off of her and grabs her hair pulling her with him to the bottom of the bed. She pants for a few seconds and rest her chin on his shoulder, breathing heavy in his ear.

"I like that." She whispers.

"How Young?"

"My age, Frankie."

Veronica slides off the bed and walks over to the patio doors opening them, she scans the horizon. To Francis, Veronica was like, some illicit drug that had been given to him to try, and he liked it, he was hooked. He never wanted to be without her.

As he looks her naked body over from the short distance, his eyes stops between her spread legs. A sexual rush comes over him as he examines her labia, silhouetted by the, sun blazing in its morning glory proclaims her sexual openness.

The clouds parting reveals to Veronica thick smoke rising, from the early morning German bombings, the sight of which does nothing to stop her from proclaiming.

"God I love this city!"

Francis gets out of the bed and walks over to her and softly grabs her and runs his hands over her bare chest kissing her on the neck. He sighs. And after whispers in her ear, "Marry me."

She turns around staring at him, as if she is trying to process the question in her mind. "What did you just say?"

"Marry me."

Instead of looking excited or happy, she looks bewildered as to why he would have asked her that question. She looks up at him shaking her head as he pulls her close to him. "You do understand what I do?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "So."

"Are...are you certain? Are you certain you want to be with someone like me? Forever?"

"I'm certain."

She flashes a look, one that was different from moment earlier. A look that was nothing playful. A look that, rattled him, scared him. It was a warning and he believed one hundred percent what she said next.

"If you are not faithful to me...I will kill you."

He takes a deep breath pulling her to him all the while thinking this is a very bad idea, but realizing his actions, his speaking before thinking things through, which is something that he has never had a problem with until now, has him holding in his arms an overtly sexual assassin, he just asked to be his wife. Looking at her face, thinking of the sex they just had, and what they will have in the future, he thinks to himself, I can deal with her flaws.

Francis sighs and closes his eyes. "I don't think that will be a problem."

"Okay. When?"

"Today."

Veronica pulls away from him thinking about the idea, raking her mind, where in this great, but war torn city they could find someone to marry them.

She looks at him and tilts her head grinning. "Where are we going to get married? We're in the middle of a World War."

He turns her around and points to the most famous steeple in the world. "There!"

"Frankie, that's..." She pauses. "Notre Dame. We just can't walk up to The Notre Dame Cathedral and say we want to get married. I'm not Catholic, but I'm pretty certain of it."

"How do you know?"

She turns back around to him and looks up. "You're serious?"

"Yes. Get dressed."

Standing in front of the most famous Church in the world, looking up at the imposing façade, the simple and harmonious mass that has strength and somber grandeur, not only impresses Veronica and Francis, but also leaves them in a reverence and awe as they hold hands tightly. The four powerful buttresses that spring up to the top of the towers, lifts them heavenwards, symbolically let the couple know that this cathedral-church was built for God. Two wide horizontal strips seem to bring the building back down to our mortal earth, indicating that this cathedral-church is also for mortal men.

From the moment they enter the Portal, that is open, the Portal of the Last Judgment, the worldly cares they have, seemed to instantly drift away. Wander like scared little children, in a strange and fascinating world, slowly they walk past the south Rose Window and its eighty-four panes. It seems they are guided by the late morning sunlight shining through the glass, pointing to the West alter where a priest is performing his daily rout. The two sigh at the same time. This is the first time Francis has stepped foot into a place of worship, and from the tight squeeze that Veronica has on his hand; it is for her as well. She looks up at Francis and quietly asks.

"You sure you just don't want to go to a justice of the peace?"

Francis smiles and laughs lightly.

"May I be of some assistance?" A soft, comforting voice says from behind them.

Turning, they become speechless, as a man, a Priest stands before them, hands folded looking at them, gentle, kind, loving and as light from the sun, passes through the stain glass windows, it produces an almost, halo like glow around his head, making him look, angelic.

Their mouths dropped, as is if seeing a sign from the Almighty one himself.

Quickly Francis collects himself. "I um..we um...we would like to see if you could um.."

"Would you marry us?" Veronica says.

The Priest chuckles, at the question. It was not a mocking chuckle, but rather comforting one, as Francis and Veronica stare back like little children waiting for an answer from a parent.

"We..." the priest slowly says. "don't take walk in's. There is much to prepare when contemplating marriage. There is counseling, and many other things."

He stops and looks at the two. "How, long have you two known each other?"

Francis looks at his watch. "Oh, about ten..."

"Ten years. I have been in love with this man for ten years. I have always known he is the one that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Right now, he is all I have. My parents were killed by Nazi's, my brother who is one years old lives in an Orphanage,...I just don't have anyone. We wanted to be right before the eyes of god, so if you could, please make some sort of consolation. Please."

"Very well. Wait here and I will be back in a few minutes." The priest says as he turns away.

When the Priest is out of ear shot, Francis looks over at Veronica, concerned and puzzled.

"You have a brother in an orphanage?"

"He lives with my aunt in Poughkeepsie."

Paris, the Present

As they get closer to the Portal of the Last Judgment, Francis stops and looks up in awl at the massive structure. Veronica has never been one to call attentions to Francis' shortcomings and has never become irritated by his, sometimes childish reactions to certain things, but every year on their anniversary, Francis acts as if, it's his first time seeing the façade, with its statutes and ornaments. And every year, his childish, touristy reaction, irritates the hell out of her.

"Every year, we've been coming here; I still become awestruck at this place."

Veronica rolls her eyes at his statement. Not just because, she's tired of hearing it, but after they were married, the unit that she belonged to used, the Church's Dudgeons to extract confessions from Nazi spies. To Veronica and her self-righteousness this place of god, is nothing more than a house of hypocrisy.

"It's just a building Frankie."

Francis looks over and shakes his head, not understanding why his love could not enjoy the simple, little things in life.

Francis pulls Veronica through a sea of tourist listening intently to tour guides explaining the structure and the many statues who they are and what they represent to the gazing foreigners.

A couple walks up and stops Veronica and Francis, just at the door and asks a few questions. Before Francis could open his mouth, Veronica in her irritated state chimes in with perfect French, causing the couple to stop and apologize.

"We thought you were American." They say.

Walking into the building and down the west aisles, they are met by Cardinal Mortelli, who will be blessing their marriage. It will be Padre Dubious that will give them mass. They are new to Francis and Veronica, but for 45 years they have been coming here and are somewhat of a fixture.

The crowds quickly, become silent, chattering tour guides stop talking, cameras stop flashing and the videos stop taping as the head Priest leads the faithful in afternoon mass. He holds up the wafer that symbolized the body of Christ and says a quick prayer.