Disclaimer: All characters used in this story are property of Baz and all
the other geniuses behind the movie Moulin Rouge. I'm getting no money out
of the deal, so yada yada yada, in the end; it's just my story. Same goes
for the song and any quotes used from the move. There is no infringement
intended, so don't even go there.
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Moving on, I'd like to give a special thanks to my school, for if the
classes weren't so dull, I might never get any writing done. And now, on
with the show!
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Moving On
Nini simply couldn't help herself. There sat Christian, the love- struck young writer, pining away for his dear Satine, whilst she did her business by the Duke upstairs. It was an opportunity she could not pass up, especially after the mess he had made earlier. The fool had all but confessed to the affair right in front of the Duke. Now she walked sassily up to Christian, ready to have her fun. Lounging nonchalantly in the poor mans lap, Nini quipped,
"Don't worry, Shakespeare! You'll get your ending," she began, mock sympathy dripping from her voice, ".once the Duke gets his.end.in." she finished, cradling his face to insure he heard it all. Scowling, Christian rose from his seat, pushing Nini abruptly from her place. Whirling about, she lunged at him, indignantly shouting, "You keep your hands off me." If not for the Argentineans quick thinking, she may well have reached him. However, as it was, he seemed to catch her just in time, restraining the furious attack. The Argentinean whispered soothing words, and eventually she was calmed. Placing one small kiss on her shoulder, he turned back to the writer, prepared to share words of wisdom with the young man.
"Never fall in love with a woman who sells herself. It always ends bad!" Nini was ready to kick him, a formidable threat considering her shoes. Still, she refrained. Really, she couldn't begrudge him bitterness, considering everything that had happened. But it was over now. It was time to move on, and put the past where it belonged, behind them. Unfortunately, that was not to be. Moments later, the Argentinean's voice boomed as he walked down the gilded staircase, calling everyone's attention to him.
"We have a dance! In the brothels of Buenos Aires." Nini's mind filled with the exotic stories whispered to her over the last few weeks in the dark of night; stories of intrigue, danger, and romance. They had led her far from the gaudy surrounding of the Moulin Rouge, into his world. A stab of regret came with the realization that there would be no more stories, no more escapes. The Argentinean snapped his fingers, cueing Satie to begin the music, and continued. "Tells a story.of a prostitute." out of nowhere, a spotlight came on, blinding Nini with light. Unthinking, she went along with it, emitting her trademark cackle amid the uneasy laughter of their audience and sauntering down the stairs to center stage. "And a man." the Argentinean finished, joining her on stage and lowering his voice, "who falls in love with her."
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Moving On
Nini simply couldn't help herself. There sat Christian, the love- struck young writer, pining away for his dear Satine, whilst she did her business by the Duke upstairs. It was an opportunity she could not pass up, especially after the mess he had made earlier. The fool had all but confessed to the affair right in front of the Duke. Now she walked sassily up to Christian, ready to have her fun. Lounging nonchalantly in the poor mans lap, Nini quipped,
"Don't worry, Shakespeare! You'll get your ending," she began, mock sympathy dripping from her voice, ".once the Duke gets his.end.in." she finished, cradling his face to insure he heard it all. Scowling, Christian rose from his seat, pushing Nini abruptly from her place. Whirling about, she lunged at him, indignantly shouting, "You keep your hands off me." If not for the Argentineans quick thinking, she may well have reached him. However, as it was, he seemed to catch her just in time, restraining the furious attack. The Argentinean whispered soothing words, and eventually she was calmed. Placing one small kiss on her shoulder, he turned back to the writer, prepared to share words of wisdom with the young man.
"Never fall in love with a woman who sells herself. It always ends bad!" Nini was ready to kick him, a formidable threat considering her shoes. Still, she refrained. Really, she couldn't begrudge him bitterness, considering everything that had happened. But it was over now. It was time to move on, and put the past where it belonged, behind them. Unfortunately, that was not to be. Moments later, the Argentinean's voice boomed as he walked down the gilded staircase, calling everyone's attention to him.
"We have a dance! In the brothels of Buenos Aires." Nini's mind filled with the exotic stories whispered to her over the last few weeks in the dark of night; stories of intrigue, danger, and romance. They had led her far from the gaudy surrounding of the Moulin Rouge, into his world. A stab of regret came with the realization that there would be no more stories, no more escapes. The Argentinean snapped his fingers, cueing Satie to begin the music, and continued. "Tells a story.of a prostitute." out of nowhere, a spotlight came on, blinding Nini with light. Unthinking, she went along with it, emitting her trademark cackle amid the uneasy laughter of their audience and sauntering down the stairs to center stage. "And a man." the Argentinean finished, joining her on stage and lowering his voice, "who falls in love with her."