AN: Hello again! This is the companion piece for He Loves Me; He is Here. While technically in the Phantom universe, this story follows Colette on her own adventures of finding love. Erik and Christine show up a couple of times, but this is not their story. This technically stands alone, but if you haven't read He Loves Me, give it a try! It's classic ExC. This story is a retelling of the movie Pretty Woman, which is a retelling of My Fair Lady, which is a retelling of the play Pygmalion. (I like playing with tropes!) Warning: BEAUCOUP MATURE content right from the beginning. Please enjoy!

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Lovely Lady

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Chapter 1

The Meeting

Colette's head slammed against the wooden door with a sickening crack. She moaned her protests, but stinking, calloused hands gripped her by the hair and pulled her to her feet.

"Not. Good. Enough!" The hands slammed her back down onto the dirty floor. "I ain't gonna keep y'alive if y'dont earn your worth!"

One swift kick to the ribs and she was left alone on the filthy steps. She looked up, one eye clouded with blood from the cut on her forehead. The night was quiet and the few people on the streets intentionally kept their faces away from the scene. She sighed and crawled to her feet and entered the shabby excuse for a brothel.

When she stumbled through the doors, she encountered a fellow whore, shaking her head. "Colette, heavens girl, come! Come get cleaned up! There is a stag night which just came in ten minutes ago,

and we need all of our hands on deck!" She informed, frantically, shooing Colette ;upstairs to attend to the blood and the inevitable bruising.

The grease paint would would cover the redness, and if she styled her hair just so, she could hide the swelling laceration on her forehead. Rouge blended into cheeks, deep red lipstick stained lips. Curly brown mane of hair pinned up wildly. Her corset was cinched tight over a fresh, low-cut shift and

Her white pantaloons were voluminous and starched. She disliked pantyhose and her legs were hairless and unblemished, so she went without, something her fellow sisters teased her about being too lazy to put on what was just to come off again. On top of all of this, a red velvet gown.

She was ready to entertain.

When she descended to the bar, there was a group of seven men, all younger; clearly celebrating one of their own who was getting married soon. The man in question was a reasonably handsome fellow, with blond hair and expensive clothing. They had obviously come from a more reputable establishment before switching to here. Several other women were already at it, holding court among the men.

As Colette examined the scene, she noticed one of the men that seemed slightly out of place; a touch older than the rest of them, with dark hair streaked lightly with grey and a fine tuxedo hugging a tall and enviable form. He seemed to be avoiding some of the women, interacting with a noticeable layer of discomfort. He busied himself with fetching drinks for the men.

The next time he dashed off to the bar, Colette was there, lounging on a bar stool, facing away from the bartop and using it an arm rest.

"So, you're the dandy fop of the group, hm?" she said to him with a good humored attitude..

He gave her a smile as he shook his head. "No, just the one who would see them home safe at the end of the night," he commented, leaning against the bar, lingering.

"The newly married conscientious one then?" She raised one eyebrow.

"No, I'm not married. I just...How do I put it, a man becomes a certain age and doesn't see the need to carouse as the youth here does."

Her other eyebrow met the first. He wasn't that much older, the way he was referring to himself a little over the top. "Ah. I understand, sir. No need to say more." She looked pointedly down at his crotch with a sympathetic expression. The impotent were always the attractive ones in the room! Colette thought with regret.

The man blinked, stammering and sputtering as he spoke hastily. "No, no, Mlle. I am more than capable in that regard." He paused, giving her an uncertain smile. "Can I get you a drink?"

She looked him up and down, lingering briefly at his long, ungloved hands, then traveling back up yo meet his eyes. "It would be my pleasure to," she answered in a smoky voice.

"What will you have?" The man asked as he gave her a warm smile, slipping onto a barstool, enjoying her company away from the rowdy party that was going on around them.

Her eyes twinkled and she turned her head, "Pierre, my usual, please." She turned back to him and cocked her head.

"You are not a homosexual or a dandy, you're not newly wedded, you're not impotent. So what are you, monsieur?"

"I'm a business man," he said, somewhat vaguely. "I have a firm which owns several factories outside of Avignon. One could say that I am devoted to my work." He offered her, sipping his wine.

"Hmm. it's usually the business addicts I see the most for easy female company."

"I've no time to court anyone...Mlle...?" he asked.

"That's the entire point, mon cher," Colette laughed and leaned a bit closer to him. "I am Mlle whoever you want me to be tonight," she hung on that last word and scooted closer to him.

"And what is it usually?" He asked, loosening up a little bit, leaning in slightly before sipping his wine once more.

She watched him take a sip and cocked her head. "Colette. And do I have the same pleasure, sir?"

"Matthieu." He answered, reaching to take her hand. He kissed the back of her hand, holding it in his own, lingering. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Colette laughed as she let him do that. "We got ourselves a gentleman, here!" Her drink arrived. it was a small glass of green liquid which she swallowed in one go.

He laughed in return and watched her down the drink. "There we are. And I try to be a gentleman; even in this rowdy company," he commented, motioning back to the lads behind him.

One of the men, the groom-to-be saw the gesture and approached them,. He was far more drunk than anyone else in the room. "Is this old codger harassing you? Need a real man? C'mon dear, I've only got one more night of freedom," he taunted her, reaching for her at the last comment.

Colette did not shrink back, but instead leaned into his hand which snaked around her ribs.

Matthieu watched this, narrowing his gaze for a firm moment. "Easy lad, you have plenty of ladies over there; no need to steal this one from me." He replied, placing a hand on his shoulder; hoping that he would retreat back towards the three women who were beckoning to him.

Colette didn't know why the thought of staying with this strange proudish man made her feel so satisfied. Yet, she allowed the man to push the younger boy away even though she probably would have made more money with the fiance.

The boy relented. "Fine, I'll let you have one, but no more." He teased; clapping him hard on the back as he retreated to the three women who had been previously entertaining him.

"Perhaps I'm not as fine a chaperone for a proper stag night as I may think. I'm far too selfish."

Colette smiled deeply at Matthieu's words and motioned for the bartender for more libations. She saddled up close to him and ran a long fingertip down his sleeve, looking up at him between her lashes.

Matthieu dropped his gaze, looking back to her. A hand raised and traced over her chin, then jaw; before falling away.

"You are quite beautiful..." he commented,.

"I thank you, sir. How about another drink?" She asked and turned to the bartender. "two fairies, if you please."

He nodded, toasting her when the drink was passed their way. "So tell me, what are some of your interests?" It was a strange question to ask a woman of the night and Colette gave him an amused look.

"I would think the interests of a girl like me rather obvious.

"Yes, I could imagine. But tell me something that you've never shared with another...client." he asked, downing the drink.

Her smile froze a bit in surprise. She thought about it for a moment.

After a long minute Colette answered softly. "I am in love with a man," she said simply. "What is something you haven't told those fools?"

He arched his brow at that. "Hmm. How does that work with your profession?" He asked, before answering for himself. "I loved a woman, only to lose her to a rival." He gave a faint, slightly distant smile.

Colette shared his jolt of sorrow. Feeling a sense of comradery, she signed to the bartender. The bartender rushed over and slid the bottle of absinthe to her. She refilled their glasses - a more impressive amount this time.

"To the ones left behind," She cheered with dark humor, handing him his drink.

He clinked his glass with hers. "At his rate we will be seeing stars." He laughed at that, letting a hand trace over hers, slipping up her arm.

"Hmm," she purred. "I could take you much farther than that." She grabbed for his hand. "If you like, I can show you."

"I would...like that." he answered, a smile on his face, his gaze tracing over her slowly, taking in each curve of her figure.

Colette took the bottle of absinthe in one hand and his arm in the other and pulled him into another room. This one was less opulent - only dark wood and steep stairs. Up two flights, Colette pushed through a heavy oak door, picking up a lantern on the way.

The door led to a mainly flat roof. It was very much not the style of the period, but it allowed her to set up blankets and pillows in a small redundant alcove left by a lazy architect.

When they emerged onto the roof, Matthieu looked out over the horizon of the city, taking in the sights. "You were not making that up- the stars, the lights of the city. It's a perfect night." He watched her set up the pillows and blankets, and then moved to sink down next to her when she finished.

Once seated, Colette's smile became more genuine, spreading widely across her face. "I like to come up here sometimes. Just to think and to watch the lights."

"I can see why. This city is incredible." Matthieu slid a bit closer to her. "So...would it be a let down if I told you that you are the first woman of the night that I have conversed with?"

"Not at all," she answered readily, "Most men don't converse with me either." She raised her glass and took a sip of the clear, green liquid.. "You've had absinthe before, yes? You drink it like you converse with whores for we are rarely separated."

"I have. Whores, for the record, are not the only people who enjoy the green fairy," he teased, setting his own glass down. "I take it then that most people are rather singular with their desires for you?"

She cocked her head, intrigued. "My skills in the bedroom have never been called singular before." She cracked a smile.

Matthieu sighed as he watched her, about to say something until she shushed him.

"Do you really want to spend your time here just talking to a whore? Wouldn't there be better uses of your time...and money?" She leaned into him, fingering the buttons of his coat.

"I could think of a few things..." he purred, pulling her tighter against him. The drinks were going to his head, and he was far less inhibited than he normally would have absinthe was doing as it was supposed to; loosening the man's inhibitions and wallet.

"Please, enlighten me..." She left her mouth open as she pressed her body more firmly into his, completely flushed against him, presenting her lips to him.

He didn't need to ask or say anything, only lean in, kissing her full on the lip,; his hand caressing her cheek. It was a passionate kiss; one that a simple patron didn't just give to a whore he just met.

She moaned into him, loving it. She didn't get passion often. Only really with... but she didn't want to think of him now. She lost herself to the passion he was offering and gave her own back in return.

After a few minutes of their lips dancing together, she pulled back. "The unfortunate discussion of payment." Her expression was almost one of embarrassment.

"Yes, lets have it out then," He said, his voice ragged and impatient. He reached into his jacket pocket to retrieve his wallet. "How much?"

"Twenty francs for one go." Her voice was breathy and she spoke rapidly as if she were as caught up in the pleasure as he was. "Sixty for the night."

He pulled out four 20 franc notes; eighty total; and offer them to her. "Here," he growled, his lips moving back in to capture hers hungrily.

She would have protested, insisted on the correct amount- she honestly would- but her head was swimming at the demanding yet considerate lips consuming her. She shifted until she was straddling his lap and digging her fingers into his hair.

Matthieu shifted back, laying down as he let her straddle him; kissing her hard, those lips escaping to her jaw, down her neck, exploring. "You...are worth every cent..." he gasped; his hands running over her sides, to the ties on the front of the dress.

Colette whimpered into his mouth and ground her body against his hips. She helped to get the gown off and while she shivered in the cold night air, she burned as well as his hands touched her bare shoulders.

He explored what he could in the lamp light, feeling each inch of her. He kissed hard, deeply; full; hands pulling at her corset, trying to undo the straps greedily.

Colette smiled against his lips and helped him untie the corset. With a heavy inhale, she felt her diaphragm release and her ribs opens against the breath. Her shift was strapped and nearly see through- not old, but obviously meant for the male gaze. Her dark nipples pressed against the fabric, begging to be seen.

"You are like an angel..." he gasped, leaning up to kiss her deeply, pulling at the shift; his lips leaping down, kissing her breasts through the material.

Colette moaned aloud yet again and gripped his hair to b press him in closer. She dragged her fingernails down his coat and tried to pull it off of him.

Matthieu growled, removing his jacket as he kissed her neck. Pulling back; he reached for his pants, trying to free himself; of course, only able to do a bit of that while she was still straddling him.

She offered to help by sliding down his legs and straddling his knees , reaching up and unbuttoning his pants, his mouth close to her fingers, breathing onto his recently exposed skin.

Matthieu gasped, his head tilting back as she worked over him. A hand grabbed greedily into her hair, pressing down a bit forcefully. She released him from his pants completely and did not wait for permission before taking him fully in her mouth.

After a few minutes of working him over, she looked up at him, asking with her eyes if he wanted her to continue or to move things along.

Matthieu pulled her up, back on top of him; kissing her hard, giving her the answer she was looking for. "I need you now." He growled against the kisses.

She crossed her arms and grabbed the edges of her chemise, pulling it over her head and exposing her bare breasts. She shimmied a bit on top of his lap to situate his erection between the slit of her pantaloons. she kissed him deeply and sunk down onto him, eliciting a long groan from Matthieu, his hands moving to caress her breasts.

She quivered as he filled her. "God!" She swore, unusually caught in the moment.

Colette rode him like a desperate... well... whore. She met every thrust and and every moan, clinging to him tightly. She dug her nails into his shoulders as she came, screaming wildly into the night.

Matthieu grinned wickedly at that and flipped her onto her back, alternating his strokes from long, slow; teasing motions to heavier, rapid thrusts. As if testing her comfort level, he put a hand around her throat, not squeezing, but seeing if she tensed.

In the back of her Colette's mind was thought of her pimp, of the times she was taken against

her will, of that Ripper in London. But the front of her brain thought only of bliss as his uncalloused, masculine yet smooth hands wrapped around her throat. This man that she didn't know from any client, she somehow trusted completely.

He held her there, gripping firmly but careful not to squeeze to the point of pain. He looked down to her with open eyes, watching her as he thrust. "Yeeesss," she urged as she felt him lose his rhythm. She wanted to hear him roar, so she clamped down the muscles in her pelvis to contract around him and shifted her hips, causing him to cry out and buck wildly.

She was greedy, and he reacted just as she wanted. Finally, he gripped her hips, steady them as he withdrew, stroking himself several times before exploding, staining her body with his seed.

Sagging, Matthieu groaned and would took one of his gloves, offering it to her to clean herself with. "That...That was incredible." He groaned, looking down at her with more affection than someone should for a whore.

His eyes were so dark and deep, it set Colette aback a bit. She did not expect such intensity and it gave her a thrill. She accepted the glove and cleaned herself. She sat up and reached for her shift, pulling it on in silence as he began to dress as well.

"So this is the part where we make awkward conversation about the sex we just had, right?" Matthieu teased, pouring her another drink.

Colette smiled. "If that is what you wish. I've certainly had my fair share of that." She looked at him for a minute, taking her drink and sipping it. "Would you like to share a sandwich and talk of other things? Pierre only makes sandwiches for the whores, but I enjoy company while I eat."

"Certainly. I'd enjoy that," he replied, moving to stand, helping her up. "Come, let's see what everyone has gotten up to inside?"

"Steel yourself, monsieur, it will not be pretty," she joked. "Now wait for a moment, I have a magic trick." She grabbed her corset and wrapped it around herself. She rethreaded a few eyehooks, then twisted it on her body, pulling the straps to the front and crossing them, pulling tight , she continued to wrap the straps around her until they were at her back once more. "Finger on the knot, please?"

Matthieu placed his finger as she asked, smiling; amused by her wit and how swiftly she redressed herself.

With his finger's assistance, she was fully corseted within moments. The dress soon followed and she was ready to return to the loud world of the depraved. Colette grabbed the bottle and examined it. "You drink impressively, monsieur." She smiled. "I like that. Come."

"I have a partner that keeps up, this evening," He responded as he followed her down.

When they re-entered the parlor, the scene would be wild, the men even more drunk than they were before, the women talking them up for larger and larger pay-offs.

"Tried to warn you," she joked smugly as she waltzed to the bar, expertly dodging drunken patrons and leaning over the bar to Pierre. Within minutes, she was given a plate of a sad looking chicken sandwich with wilted lettuce.

"Your friends going to be alright?" She asked as she approached Matthieu.

"They'll be alright. Just need to get him to the church tomorrow," he answered with a laugh. Looking down at the sandwich, he frowned.

"May I make a proposition that may be less than professional, Colette?"

"I'd say we've been wholly professional so far," She teased. "You have me for the rest of the night, monsieur. We can do whatever you like."

"Let me buy you a proper sandwich. "These boys will be fine for a bit; they will hardly miss me."

"Proper sandwich, huh?" she downed her absinthe. "You better make this worth it, businessman. Wasting a Pierre sandwich like that," she agreed with a saucy smile.

Matthieu laughed at that then turned and crossed to one of the gentleman- presumably the best man- speaking to him privately. Laughing, the man clapped him on the back. With that, Matthieu crossed to her, offering her his arm to Colette.

Colette took his arm as if she were a duchess and with head raised high, she allowed him to grandly escort her out of the whorehouse.