The arendt files, p.17
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       The Arendt Files, p.17

           Ivan Rosemblatt
Von Schimmel settled into the settee with a satisfied sigh, “This fine bourbon and cigar is complemented so well by candle light. It really has a remarkable effect.”

  “Thank you Willhelm. I must confess that it is completely by design. I seek a total experience. From a purely rational point of view one might think that lighting has nothing to do with how something will taste, but I believe each our our senses interact with one another through the mind. I find that candle light mixed with an old noble bourbon in a way that electrical light can never match.”

  “I agree completely. Bourbon is one of the many peculiarities of the American south I have come to enjoy.”

  “You never drank it in the fatherland. They must have imported some bourbon?”

  “Remember, before the Fuhrer times were very difficult. We couldn’t afford anything imported. I was very much a beer kind of boy back then. Even now I miss the tastes and smells from the brew house’s. But I have been here too long. If I left now I would miss this taste as well.”

  “Yes, these are the burdens of travel. Travel changes you inside, then you never truly return home.”

  “You have created quite a home for yourself.” He lifted and spread his arms to the side and looked around.

  The room was an eclectic mix. The walls were covered in maroon and gold fabric with a fleur des lis design in homage to his grandfather on his father's side, who was from Louisiana. There were ornate family heirlooms spread throughout. Conspicuous was, an enormous ebony curio cabinet inlaid with ivory and mother of pearl depicting greek themes, Diana’s dogs Melampus, Pamphagous, Theron, tearing at Actaeon. A capodimonte chandelier of colorful porcelain flowers and leaves, yellow lilies, purple irises, quite joyful and high spirited hung from the center of the ceiling. These old southern touches were strangely and effectively paired with late art deco early and early modernist design, especially in the fixtures, wall sconces, and boat like settees like the one Jaspar was reclined on.

  “Is that an Eileen Grey”.”

  This comment made Jaspar sit up in his chair “Very good eye eye Willhelm. Excellent. ”

  “I was in Paris during the occupation and was introduced to some of the artistic types.”

  “I had no idea you were informed on such matters. I picked it up at an extremely fair price when they auctioned off the Smithsonian collection. I don’t think anyone even knew what it was. Some prescient collector probably donated it in the 30's.”

  “These ottomans are quite remarkable.” He picked one off the floor in order to examine it more closely. “I am not familiar with it’s design. Heavy too. Very substantial”

  “Yes. More of what I was discussing earlier. It is made by one of my nigger carpenters along with a leather smith. You see I saw some african furniture in one of the books in my library and was taken by it. I modified the design to include modern Aryan forms of refinement. I feel that together they are able to attain a higher level of craftsmanship.”

  “I tell you Jaspar, I think you walk a dangerous line. The next thing you know, you will be walking barefoot”

  “I certainly don’t mean to offend.”

  Von Schimmel waved the comment away “No offense at all. With the primitive types it is very easy to become enamored of their, what, elan vital? And be pulled into their world. This can create the seed of unrecognized sympathies.”

  Jaspar leaned forward. “I see what you are saying Wilhelm and I respect your position. I want you to know that the purpose behind this is one hundred percent racial control and superiority. When you look at this room do you see nigger sensibilities?”

  “No, I do not.”

  “Do you know what a nigger sees in this room? He sees that stool. He sees himself, his entire race represented, because one of his kind made it. He puffs up with pride. “Did you see where master put the stool I made?” Word spreads through all the hundreds, no thousands of slaves. They feel a bit of ownership, but who conceived of and designed the chair.”

  “You did.”

  “That’s right. This makes them a bit more docile, a bit more manageable. The white man’s mind, the niggers hands. That way my hands can stay free for the proper pursuits of a gentleman.” They touched glasses to toast.

  “Yes, tell me. What are the pursuits of the southern gentlemen?”

  “Wilhelm, I'm sure you already know them well. Traveling the highways and byways of state. You know more of the southern gentry than I ever will. Most of us stay close to home.”

  “I am not interested in what the rabble think. I want to hear what you consider the occupations of a gentleman.”

  “My opinion? The activities? Horseback riding and breeding, I don’t think I have ever shown you the stables before. I know the Germans have a great tradition with your steeds. You dance with them.”

  “Yes, the Spanish school.”

  “The school is Spanish? I was not aware of that?”

  “My dear Jaspar you misunderstand. It is the most famous school of equitation in the world. Austro-Hungarian actually. The horses are from Spain originally. Hence the Spanish school. Majestic white steeds. Quite impressive. I have always had a fear of the beasts myself.”

  “Quite understandable. They are enormous and unpredictable. In truth we are a bit unrefined in the South, compared to our Austrian counterparts and are very taken with sport and gambling. So we love to race our horse, we have whole season in town, you will need to attend one day soon. Hence the second pursuit of a gentleman, hunting and shooting.” The last occupation of the Southern gentlemen is common men everywhere, and exactly what we are here for this evening.” He picked up a small bell on the stand next to him and rung it. The side door opened and a the girls walked in one after the other, five in total.

  “Jaspar, this must be the most civilized of all your customs. A pleasure house. Truly the victorious must enjoy their spoils.” Jaspar locked eyes with the woman at the front of the group. He motioned with his eyes to her and lifted three fingers subtly from the arm of his chair, she stepped off to the side and directed the next three girls over to the Nazi. The tallest girl, an impressive 6’ 4”, siddled up beside Von Schimmel's chair, lifted her leg high and slid herself behind him. She wrapped her arms and legs around him and began to slowly unbutton his jacket, then the top buttons of his shirt. She slid one hand beneath his undershirt onto his chest while caressing his cheek with the back of her other hand. Her arms were long and delicate, her legs extraordinarily long. The two other girls were short and full figured, their large breasts bulging out of their french lingerie, extremely dark skinned. They kneeled, one at each of his feet, ran their hands under his pant legs as they started to unlace and remove his shoes. They rubed themselves against his legs, push their hands up his inner thighs and onto his stomach.

  The other two girls made their way over to Jaspar, the smaller sat on his lap as the taller walked behind the settee and kneeled upright behind him, placing a hand, perhaps possessively on his shoulder. She too was tall, around 5'11. She wore a black guepiere with red embroidery, her long legs were narrow firm, her stomach flat, smooth and hard like marble, her breast half revealed, not overly large, set wide and low on her chest. Her face was not beautiful but strong and angular; sharp, high, wide pointed cheekbones, her cheeks sunken, her jaw started wide then angling sharply down to form her narrow pointed chin. Her lips full and thick, forehead high, hair pulled back tightly, some ringlets fell over her long neck a wide shoulders with practiced carelessness.

  Wilhelm eyed her up and down.“Yes. She is excellent.” He grabbed one of the girls at his feet by the hair and harshly pulled her head up then backhanded her full force across the face. She fell over to the side but rose up quickly without hesitation. “Yes, good nigger. Kiss my hand now. You see in the corner , you see?” He slapped her again but this time with less force. She nodded. “That riding crop. You know what a riding crop is?” She nodded again. “You crawl over there and bring it to me. Carry it in your mouth and don’t dare drop it.” He lifted the
second girls face up by the chin and slapped her as well. The girl sitting behind him kissed his neck. He looked over at Jaspar “There is something about their blackness that raises up an anger in me. I’m sure you understand”

  Jaspar nodded with a tilt to his head and a mild grin. Always accommodating and understanding.

  “Yes I feel the spirits rising up in me again. It has been a very stressful time for me. So much work to do. More production. So many mouths to feed in Europe. You are protected because you produce, but there will be more demands. And your fellow plantation owners, a group of idiots. I sometimes think their stupidity, their inefficiency is a form of resistance, and I am sure some of them are collaborators, but what fools. The hell they will unleash on themselves if they do not get in step with German efficiency and discipline and obedience. It is enough to put any man’s nerves on edge. That is why I so appreciate my visits here. You get everything done that is required but you are able to give it a feeling of ease.” The girl had made it back with the crop.

  “I think perhaps it is time to take our leave and allow you to enjoy yourself.” Jaspar started to stand along with the two girls.

  “I have seen you with this one before.” Von Schimmel said this pointing at the woman behind Jaspar.

  “Yes, as you know, in the south we are deeply conservative, traditional in our ways.”

  “You don’t have a personal attachment to the “nigger” as you say.”

  “Attachment no. Something akin to having a favorite hunting dog or a condiment you prefer?”

  “If you are not attached I am sure you won't mind if I take your dog for a walk.”

  “I know you enjoy the very dark girls, so we found you the darkest.”

  “Yes, they are excellent.” He took the crop from the girls mouth and struck her hard on the ass. “Ha! Yes, she is just what the doctor ordered, but variety is the spice of life”

  “That it is indeed.”

  “There is something about that girl, something wild that needs disciplining.”

  “Just don’t keep her too long I have plans. Also, my only request, please, no marks or bruises, it just isn’t my preference.”

  “Of course. I won't keep her long. Just an aperitif, so to speak.”

  Chapter 18

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