Even though this is not her preferred pairing, this whole story is written for and dedicated to the beautiful and delectable Flying Purple Kites – you are such an amazing writer and an inspiration to me, I just thought that I'd let you know.
A young man, about eighteen if he was a day, strolls along the cobbled pavement down the crowded streets through the district of Storyville. Feeling a chill in the mid-morning air, he draws the collar of his royal purple coat up and around his neck, brushing the stray strands of citron blond hair that fall over his face and into his ice blue eyes.
He darts and weaves through the mulling herds of people who come to gawk and gape at the many wonders Storyville has to offer. Some find the overflowing brothels and nightclubs a heathen place, full of sinners and folk going to hell. For others, it is a place where they can explore, be tantalized, pleasured and amazed. Either way, scores of people visit these streets on a daily basis. It is early spring in 1914 and sensibilities and attitudes towards this place are changing.
You can get anything you want here, you can be anything you want to be and experience anything you would ever want to experience – the possibilities are endless. With each establishment, this red light district in New Orleans seeks to ensure every pleasure is satisfied. No place strives to do that more than the infamous and incredibly popular Beaux Rêve.
Beaux Rêve is situated right in the heart of Storyville, an impressive and intimidating mint green and white colonial house with a large front garden – which sets it apart from the other buildings that surround it. The garden is covered in the Louisiana state flower, fragrant white magnolias, as well as jasmine bushes, which add to the alluring appeal of what is inside. There is saying that adds to the mystique of Beaux Rêve: 'whatever your wish, we will grant it – whatever your dream, we will make it a reality...' and yes, it is all very true.
Finally, making it through the crowds with a jaunty skip in his step, the blue eyed blond stops in front of the white picket fence that encloses Beaux Rêve. He places his hands on the white washed wood, closes his eyes and draws in a deep breath as he readies himself to enter.
"Are you going to just stand there or are you going to enter?" A cheery voice chuckles from behind; the young man turns his head and is greeted with a flamboyantly dressed man in a pearl colored suit with shoulder length platinum blonde hair. On top of his head is a hat as ostentatious as he is, blue feathers adorn it and dip forward towards his forehead, but it suits him - well, as well as something like that can suit someone.
"Good day to you Mr. Chamber." The young man bows slightly.
"Good day to you, Alois, my beautiful songbird." Mr. Chamber tips his hat at the young man. He looks around to see if there was anyone eavesdropping, satisfied that there was no one around, he steps over a little closer to Alois. "I've booked you for tonight." His voice was low but loud enough for it to be heard by the young man, who smiles at him politely.
"Mistress informed me this morning, I look forward to sitting with you tonight." He smiles politely.
"Hm. We'll be doing much more than that – I am your biggest fan, you know." He chuckles as he lightly pats Alois on the shoulder and walks through the gate.
"Pervert." Alois mutters quietly to himself as he follows in behind the other man.
The inside of Beaux Rêve is unlike any of the other brothels in Storyville, as the others opt for dark, brooding colors – even during the day. This place prefers opulence, bright colors and refracted light; even the wooden floors are lightly stained rosewood. The columns are white and the bar is made out of mirrored glass, which reflects the bright light that pours in through the large bay windows.
Beyond the foyer and the bar, there is the main hall and a large stage, surrounded by tables and chairs. There are also secluded booths that align the walls for more private dalliances. At the moment, there is nothing but bright lights and sunshine flooding the rooms, but at night this place will be packed, with a waiting list just to enter, and the place will be bathed in bright candy colored tones, magenta, yellows and blue hues.
Even though the activities in Storyville are somewhat legal, to not draw too much attention to the business, the Madame of this establishment decided to make this place a night club with cabaret torch singers, vaudeville comedians and burlesque performers – but only during certain hours of the night. At other hours this place turns into something of legend, a den of sin with any need, want or desire being fulfilled. Nothing is off limits and nothing is taboo.
Alois walks past the bar and over towards the stage, where there is a musician tinkering about on the piano, trying to write a piece of this evening's performance. When he hears Alois walking through the main hall; he stops playing and looks over at him, grinning.
"What are you going to be singing today songbird?" He coos over the trill of the keys being tickled by his fingers. Alois walks over to where he is and leans against the stage, flattening down the lapel of his coat. He is the biggest draw for the establishment, his voice and the way he performs has earned him a vast following. The Songbird was the most sought after attraction for Beaux Rêve, and everyone in Storyville knew it.
"Something German, I think." Alois shrugs. The musician starts to quietly play the German national anthem.
"German eh? Ok, ok, anything in mind?"
"Probably 'Bella Marie', that always goes down well." He sighs as he moves off of the stage.
"Bella Marie, you got it." He grins as he starts to play the opening stanza of Bella Marie, "Say, how's your brother doing?" The man drawls, his voice warm and soothing.
"I just came back from visiting him; the doctors say he's doing well."
"That's good, maybe he'll wake up soon?"
"Maybe." He nods, trying not to convey the sadness he is feeling.
"Anyway, you'd better get going, I know how long it must take you to get into whatever costume the triplets have chosen for you." The piano player snickers slightly.
Alois smiles wryly, "Oh, yeah." He cringes aloud as he knows that tonight's costume is probably going to be something quite extravagant, especially if Mr. Chamber is in the audience.
Aleister Chamber, one of the richest men in Louisiana, is incredibly important and highly respected and also the biggest patron of Beaux Rêve; he is the one who gave Alois his stage name of 'Songbird'. Even though he is respected and runs and sits on the board of many government councils, Aleister Chamber is not without a sinful vice, and Alois is it.
Whenever they know he is going to be in attendance that night, Alois is plucked, primed, coiffed within an inch of his life and squeezed into whatever costume is chosen for that evening, to suit Aleisters' taste. Great care is taken when it comes to him – ensuring that every need or want he may have, is satisfied. This is especially the case as, even though he is so respected, Aleister Chamber is the most corrupt man in Louisiana and if the mood strikes him, he has the capability of closing down Beaux Rêve, without even blinking twice.
Alois makes his way out of the main hall and up the stairs to his room, as he now needs to get ready for the show.
The stage is set and lit beautifully.
The band is just to the left, next to the stairs that lead up the grand stage, which is now bathed in heavy magenta light. In the center of the stage, there is a swing covered in wrapped ivy along the roped sides and a flat wooden plank for the seat. The main hall is packed, as the audience anxiously awaits the Songbird to grace the stage. Three inch booted heels click against the wooden steps, and the crowd goes dead silent as the Songbird takes the stage.
Buttery blond curls surround the head and bounce with each step, frost blue eyes that are heavily made up, blink and bat lazily with glances over the shoulder. The bodice is decorated with the eyes of peacock tail feathers, which lay flat and overlap on top of each other, and they vibrate emerald green glitter in the lights as the sapphire and amethyst eyes reflect like elegant jewels in the overhead spot lights – with the gold surrounding the center of the eye. It is pulled in tightly over a high-necked, black Chantilly lace top, with long sleeves that run all the way down gracefully toned arms. The substantially poufy skirt is covered in flowing, long draping black ostrich feathers that drag along the floor like tail feathers on the most elegant and refined bird. The front of the skirt is crossed over, like a wrap but opened slightly to allow elongated, bare, slender legs to cut through them as they saunter over the to ivy covered swing in the middle of the stage.
She traces her fingers over the leaves and smiles over her shoulder to the audience, batting her long lashes and using them to tantalize and tease them, entice and draw them into her. The audience is silent and restless as they wait for something to come out from her beautiful red lacquered mouth. She giggles; loving the attention, and strolls over to the front of the stage. She sits down on the swing, crosses her legs letting the fabric fall to the side, revealing her milky smooth skin. She uses the heel of her shoe to rock back and forth.
The piano begins to play softly and slowly as she rolls her head to get into the rhythm.
"Bella, bella, bella Marie, vergiß mich nie..." She sang out in languid German, letting the words drip off of her tongue like honey as she swings back and forth, letting her tail feathers waft around her. "Bella, bella, bella Marie, bleib mir treu Ich komm zurück morgen früh..." As she picks up speed on the swing, she uncrosses and crosses her legs again, "bella, bella, bella Marie, vergiß mich nie..." The song is a crowd favorite and the audience couldn't help but join in, which delights the little Songbird as they all raise their voices to the rafters and sing.
She leaps off of the swing and back on the stage, and the band take that as a cue and they start to play bawdier and raucously; she walks down the steps and into the audience, clapping her hands above her head and stomping her feet to the rhythm. Spotting a big burly man, she dances over to him and wraps her arms around his shoulders, singing boisterously as he waves his glass of champagne in the air. "...ihren Weg mit den Bildern, die jeder..." she uses his shoulder to get up on the chair and stand on top of the table, swaying her hips to the beat of the drums, "...Fischer kennt und von Boot zu Boot das alte Lied erklingt," She throws her leg onto his shoulder, grabs her skirt and shakes it around him, causing the man to blush. "...hör von fern, wie man singt: Bella, bella, bella Marie..." She takes her leg down and slides down him and off the table, letting him sing on and kisses him on the forehead as she leaves.
Spotting Aleister, she grabs the hem of her skirt and opens it further, shaking it out as a peafowl would do, just before a bold display. She strolls over to him and straddles his lap playfully, mussing his hair and singing in to his ear as the other patrons come over to them, she touches their cheeks or chins and winks. As the song starts to come to an end, she tries to get off of Aleisters' lap but he wraps his arm around her waist and holds on to her tightly. Knowing he couldn't be denied but needing to leave, she leans over next to his ear, "Later." She whispers as she pulls back and taps his nose with her index finger.
He begins to grin foolishly as he starts to ease his grip on her waist. She slides off of his lap and makes her way back to the stage, and back to the swing. This was a subtle cue to the band to slow the tempo back down, which they do.
As the music starts to slow, she sits back down on her swing and puts her index finger to her lips to hush the crowd. "Bella, bella, bella Marie, vergiß miiiiich niiiiiie..." She belts as she finishes. The audience stand, whistle and applaud her performance. She curtsies daintily as she makes her way back to the front of the stage.
"We love you!" a patron shouts.
"Why thank you, you know I love you all too." She coos, which causes the audience to cheer. "Well, I'll I hate to cut it short this evening but I have some very special guests that await my company." This announcement earns a chorus of disapproving groans. She flaps her hands up and down to calm them down. "Now, now, don't be like that. If you want me, you know where to find me." She winks as she blows a kiss to the audience. Looking ahead, she can see one of the triplets, Thompson, waiting for her to finish, he nods curtly and she smiles – it's time for her to take her leave. "Right, I must be off. A girl has to look good for these appointments, you know. Bisous!" She waves as she leaves the stage.
Another one of the of the triplets, Timber, is waiting on the side for her, holding out his hand, the song bird accepts it and makes her way down the stage. As soon as they are safely out of sight, she stops.
"Wait, wait."
"Sir?"
"I need to take these wretched shoes off, they're pinching my feet." Alois sighs, and uses Timbers' shoulder to brace himself as he unbuckles his shoes and slides them off of his feet. "That is so much better." He sighs in relief. "The worse thing about dressing as a woman is the shoes."
Timber nods in sympathy, even though he has never tried dressing in women's clothing and couldn't understand the appeal of it, as one of the ones responsible for the ensemble this evening, he knows that dressing this young man as a woman had some kind of mass appeal.
In Storyville, you can have every wish, want and desire fulfilled; each new venue offers something different and pleasing to the palate, Beaux Rêve is no different. There is no secret to Alois' actual gender; in fact the majority of the patrons come to see the beautiful woman who is actually a boy. It never bothers him all that much and it makes his Mistress happy as the audience flock to the place in droves and if she is happy, it always pleases him.
The pair leisurely stroll along the corridor that leads to the stairs and Alois accidently drops one of his shoes. Sighing and hitching up his feathered skirt, he kneels down to pick it up. As he starts to stand again, he sees him – just over to the left.
He is a tall, handsome man with striking facial features. A strong jawline with full moist lips, glittering golden eyes and a furrowing brow, his face is stern but quite gentle. Alois feels like, in this moment, time has stopped just to give him the chance to fully take in the beauty of this man. Broad shoulders, slender waist and hips, a boxer's physique, he is wearing a sharp black suit that compliments his frame and Alois is suitably impressed.
The man is leaning against the bar, playing with a glass of whisky which he turns back and forth with his fingers on the counter top. He runs his other hand through his tussled black hair and lets the fringe fall elegantly around his face.
The courtesans surround him, offer him cigarettes and company but he brushes them off, completely disinterested in their charms. The band starts up again for a burlesque performer, but it seems that he isn't there to see them either as he just looks back at the glass in his hand.
Alois breathes slowly as he wants nothing more than to go over there and find out more about this man who stayed so silent. If he isn't here for the show or for the company, then what is he here for? There are plenty of bars around New Orleans, especially ones that would be better suited to a man of his obvious status and wealth, what has brought him here? Alois wonders to himself as he continuous to espy him from a distance.
The man stops playing with his drink and turns his head. He looks over at Alois who feels his face flush. Timber realizes that they have been stood there for far too long and pulls him away, after all, there was a client waiting for him. Alois reluctantly goes up the stairs but his eyes remain locked onto the man, stood at the bar, alone.
Who was that? He wonders as he makes his way back to his room.
The man at the bar watches Alois leave up the stairs and takes another sip from his whisky.
"Claude, Sorry, I didn't see you! I was busy watching the performance. Have you been waiting long?" Aleister chortles as he approaches Claude at the bar. Sighing heavily, he pushes his drink to the side and holds out his hand, which Aleister gleefully accepts and shakes gingerly. "Oh Claude, did you see the show? Pretty little thing isn't she?"
"It's Mr. Faustus and no, I had not. Knowing the type of job I'm here to do, why on Earth would you ask me to a place like this?"
"To see the elusive Songbird of Storyville of course! Perhaps she would have helped change your mind about cleaning up the streets?"
"No, I don't think she would have and I still mean to shut this whole depraved district down. Now, can we please have our meeting?" Claudes' face remains unmoved and stoic.
Aleister raises an eyebrow as he observes the others rigid behavior, 'he may be a tougher nut to crack', he was thinking to himself as he holds out his arm and motions for Claude to follow him through the main hall and to a private booth.