Maximilian sat in the spacious room, more resembling of a studio than an office. Tasteful modern furnishing contrasted with clunky filming equipment and various antique oddities. His slender body almost sank into the large, black leather couch. He awkwardly tugged at the cuffs of his shorts, too shy to raise his eyes and look at the intimidating woman sitting behind an oak desk. She leafed through the notebook, taking slow drags on her cigarette holder. Strong cigarette smell blended with exquisite perfume, producing a scent wholly unrecognizable to Maximilian, who had grown up in Bavarian Alps and was used to fresh mountain air.
"Maximilian Weller, auditioning for 'Die Zukunft Gehört Uns', correct?" the woman finally spoke. Even though he still stared at his bare knees, Maximilian felt her piercing gaze drill through him.
"Yes, Frau Riefenstahl," the youth replied, finally raising his eyes. The room was clouded with smoke, which curled into elaborate shapes illuminated by the setting sun. With the tall, wide window lighting the room from behind her, he could only make out the silhouette of the famed director.
"Can I call you Max?" Riefenstahl asked in an even, melodic voice.
"Of course," Max shivered.
She smiled at his timidness and slowly exhaled puffs of smoke.
"So, Max, you have been in the Hitlerjugend for three years now," Riefenstahl glanced at her notebook, a sly smile on her face. "I see that you have earned multiple commendations from your corps leader. You even wrote several articles for Hitler-Jugend-Zeitung."
"Yeah," Max swallowed hard. "I also acted in a few plays at school."
"Mhm, you are such a talanted boy, Max," she said, making him blush, and turned the page in her notebook. "In an article about the Olympics, you wrote something interesting about me, and I quote, 'the collective genius of Aryan people has gifted this great woman with phenomenal directorial talent, setting a worldwide example in cinematography.' I see you are a bit of a fan, Max." She smirked at him.
"Uhm, yeah," Max mumbled, his ears turning hot. "I mean, Olympia is a great film, and Triumph des Willens I also liked a lot... tracking shots, camera angles... "
"I am flattered, Max," the director gracefully got up from the desk and adjusted her modest, yet elegant dress. She walked over to the tripod with the Debri Le Parvo 35mm cine camera attached to it. "It is nice to know younger generation shows appreciation for my art," Riefenstahl pointed the camera at Max and loaded it with film.
His eyes anxiously peeked at the stately woman provocatively leaning down to adjust the filming equipment.
"You know, Max," the director confidently strutted over to the couch and sat beside him. "I can make you a star," she whispered, placing her hand on his shoulder. "Would you like that?"
"Frau Riefenstahl, I..." Max muttered to himself.
"You can call me Leni," she said, stroking his blonde hair. "I think you are a perfect fit for the leading role, but first," the woman lifted his chin with her delicate fingers and gave him a mischievous smile, "I would like to do some preliminary shooting with you. Agreed?"
Max trembled under her touch and found himself lost in her imposing gaze.
"Y-yes..."
"Good boy," Riefenstahl lightly kissed his temple