(A/N): Hello my wonderful readers! This is my second One-Shot and First Cabaret fic. I hope you enjoy it. It takes place before the musical, but not to long before, as you shall see. Again, hope you like it!
Disclaimer: I own all the characters you don't recognize. Don't sue!
I come here every night.
But that's no big deal. So does half the Berlin population.
They come here to forget their troubles. They come here to have fun. They come here to live.
I come here for a different reason.
I come here for him.
I know it's bad. I know it's just a fantasy. I know I'm border lining obsession each time I enter this cabaret.
But at this point, I couldn't care less.
Most people that see me here either assume I'm a whore or a lesbian. Both of these are false statements, but I never let people's opinions affect me. That's a skill you learn at an early age as a gypsy.
If they knew why I came here…well, they'd probably laugh at me.
I remember when I first stepped foot in this cabaret.
It wall started as a joke. My friends and I all decided to go into a local night club dressed as men…just to see what it was like. Well, I went the whole nine yards for it. I wore a shirt that was three sizes to large to hide my figure, tucked my waist length black hair under a hat, and even penciled in a small mustache on to my upper lip.
When we stepped into the Kit Kat Klub, we were assaulted with drunks, cigarette smoke, and half naked women.
We sat down at a table and my friends got drinks.
I knew better. I had been drunk before and had no intention of repeating the process.
After a while, I got bored. I just couldn't see what the big deal was. I had seen similar displays on holidays with the rest of my gypsy band. I stood up to leave, leaving my friends to do whatever, when a spot light hit the stage.
That was the first time I saw him.
I slid slowly back into my seat as my eyes traced him.
He was slim, lithe, and muscular all at the same time. He wore a tuxedo and a top hat, and in his hand he carried a cane. His face was stark white with stage make-up and his lips were painted bright red.
But what held me were his eyes. His dark, coal rimmed eyes…
They could burn my soul with their smoldering heat or freeze my blood with their sharpness in just one glance.
He was seduction personified.
As he started dancing with the girls on stage, I felt my heart wrench in jealousy.
I wanted to dance with him.
I wanted him to touch me as he did those girls. Even if it was pretend; in situations like that, I would take fantasy over reality in a heart beat.
I wanted to feel his sensual hands slide down my body.
I wanted to hear his voice whispering in my ear.
I wanted to smell his cologne wafting through the air around me as we dance.
I wanted to see those hypnotic eyes up close.
I wanted him.
I was brought out of my stupor by one of my more tipsy friends as she, still dressed as a man, tried to hit on one of the male customers.
I decided then it was time to go.
Ushering all my friends out of the club, I stopped at the door and looked up to the stage. The girls were doing a solo number and he was looking at the door intently. I guess it was to see who was leaving the club so 'early'.
Even with the tinted glasses covering mine, I felt our eyes lock.
My heart leaped up in my throat and the butterflies that seem to occupy everyone's stomach started doing I jig. I was frozen to the spot with his gaze….
Then I ran out of the club as fast as my legs could carry me.
I knew I'd be back, and I have a sinking suspicion he knew, too.
I kept going to the Kit Kat Klub a couple of times a week, always dressed as a man. My friends would call these little endeavors my 'Emcee Fix Nights'.
After a few months, I realized…I wanted more.
No; I needed more.
Even if it was only for a couple of minutes, I need to see him every night.
I couldn't keep disguising myself as a man. My brother, from whom I was stealing the clothes, was already suspicious.
Finally I decided…I didn't care.
Why should I?
Why should I care if the people who went to and worked at the Kit Kat Klub thought poorly of me? It's not like they have any right to judge.
The next time I walked into the Kit Kat Klub, I was myself; from my black hair to my long skirt, peasant top shirt, and gold hoop earrings. I got more than a couple of stairs and it made me a bit nervous. But all that melted away when he stepped onto the stage.
Then it was just me and the Emcee.
That's how it started.
Every night since then I've been to that cabaret. People have stopped staring at me. It's now a normal occurrence to see me there, sitting in the shadows; speaking to no one, eating nothing, and drinking only one glass of wine per night.
Some call me the Spirit of Cabaret. Cabaret, because of where I am, I suppose.
Spirit, because I come, sit, and observe, but never participate.
And you know what? ….I am sick of it.
I want to be a part of it; part of the madness; no longer and observer, no longer a Spirit.
Tonight is going to be different.
Tonight, I wear my most elaborate skirt, a peasant top the reveals my shoulders, stomach, and cleavage, and my best jewelry.
Tonight, I stay until last call is sounded.
Tonight, the Spirit of Cabaret comes to life.
As the Kit Kat Klub started emptying out, I walk over to the bartender, Ralph.
He is a big man, with a jovial face and a kind heart. In all the time I've been coming here, he's the only one I've ever spoken with. He calls me 'Midnight Gypsy', because I order a glass of red wine every night at midnight, for superstitious reasons.
"Hello Ralph."
"Guten Tag, Midnight Gypsy. What are you still doing here so late?" he smiled at me with a look of slight concern on his face.
"I was just wondering…Who do I need to see about employment here?"
At first, he was frozen in place. Then he cracked one of his famous grins and said "I was wondering when you'd finally cave and come ask for a job."
I rolled my eyes.
"You know me all too well." I bit out sarcastically.
He just laughed more. "You need to talk to the Emcee. He's in charge of employment around here. C'mon. I'll take you to him."
My heart started beating loudly as I followed Ralph.
I expected to have to talk to a manager of some sort…Not him.
Ralph took me back stage into a hallway. At the end of the hallway was a door.
I felt like a prisoner on death row, being lead towards a firing squad.
When we reached the door, Ralph knocked once then opened it.
"Hallo Ralphy!" I heard a slew of female voiced coo.
…Did I really want to work here?
"What can I do for you, Ralph?" I heard a familiar voice say.
It was his voice…he's so close…oh God! What am I doing!?
"I've got a girl out here who wants a job." I saw Ralph nod his head back towards me.
"How does she look?" asked the Emcee.
"I think you should be the judge of that. You'll be the one who has to look at her." Ralph replied.
That's a lovely sentiment. Thanks Ralph.
"Send her in, then." The Emcee's voice said.
Ralph moved out of the way and I entered the room.
It was nothing but mirrors and a hard wood floor. Costumes and the half naked dancers were strewn about everywhere.
And in the center of it all, looking like a Sultan among his Harem stood the Emcee.
God, he was even more sensual up close.
Everything was dead quiet as I stepped into the room. He cocked his head curiously at me. I stood firm, even though my insides were falling apart.
He stood up and came towards me.
I saw the girls smirk at each other knowingly.
He started circling my body, taking in every detail of my appearance.
My eyes followed him, doing the same thing.
He stopped in front of me and looked down into my eyes.
I held his eye contact, knowing that my eyes were probably conveying everything I felt.
"You're…different. Exotic. I like it. But how do you dance?" he asked.
"Dancing's in my blood. I've been dancing since I could walk."
I was surprised to hear the confidence and determination in my voice; but was glad to hear it too. I wanted this job.
He leaned in close to my ear, and whispered "Show me."
He was so close.
I felt his lips brush the skin of my ear lobe. I'm sure that if we weren't in a crowded dressing room, I would have probably fainted into orgasmic pleasure.
As he backed away, I opened my eyes (which I don't remember closing) and walked to the center of the floor.
He started clapping, giving me a beat, and soon the dancers and Ralph joined in.
I let myself get lost in the beat and let my body move to it. I looked up from where my eyes were concentrated on the floor and looked at the Emcee.
His eyes were dark and smoldering.
I moved my hips in slow, sensual circles.
His red lips parted as he licked them.
I thrust my chest out and my shoulders followed my hips.
He lifted his hand and ran it through his slicked back black hair.
And suddenly, there was no more Ralph, and there were no more dancers.
It was just me and him.
I was dancing for him for once.
I was seducing him.
I don't know how long I danced. But when I ended with a final pose, everyone clapped.
The girls, while some looked peeved and angry, mostly looked impressed, Ralph was laughing as shouting about how he always knew the Midnight Gypsy had it in her.
I stood up straight, and looked to the Emcee for his response. He approached me, took my hand, and kissed it.
"You're in."
We all had drinks to celebrate.
I still did not drink enough to get drunk, but I did have a nice buzz.
The dancers started leaving one by one.
Then, Ralph left.
Now, it was just me and the Emcee.
"Thank you for giving me a chance." I said, after a short silence.
"There is no chance involved. You are good. You'll bring in money." He stated, not taking his eyes off me.
I didn't let the disappointment show on my face as I firmly reminded myself that this was business. My little school girl obsession needed to end here.
Hastily, I brought up another subject.
"Don't you need to get home?" I asked.
He sent a smirk my way and I desperately tried to keep my heart from fluttering.
"I have an apartment above the Klub. This IS my home."
"Oh."
I felt like an idiot. I needed to get out of here, and fast.
"Well, good night then." I said hastily, standing up and making my way to the door.
When my hand touched the handle, I felt the door being weighted down.
I looked up and saw a hand keeping the door shut.
I turned around only to have the Emcee crash his lips into mine and press my body against the door with his.
Dear Lord, forgive me.
He ran his hands up and down my body, and finally rested them on my hips. My arms came up and encircled his neck, bringing us closer.
When we pulled back we looked at each other.
His eyes were burning again but with a new fire. A fire that I'm sure my eyes reflected.
Lust.
Not a word was spoken between us as he led me up to his bedroom.
(A/N): Thanks for reading guys! As always, reviews are welcome, but no flames. Flames are baaaaaad. If those of you who have read my previous stories are wondering why I use gypsy's in so many of them, it's because I am ¼ gypsy. I find I write better when I write something I can relate to and know about. The 'wine superstition' is something I picked up from my great grandma. If she was awake till' midnight, she would drink a glass of wine. She said "A glass of wine at midnight keeps a good blood flow in the body at dawn." So that's where that came from. Again, Review! Thanks!