Un-betaed. For Karly, thanks for the prompt ;)
The Dinner
Early that evening, Vandevere had asked her to dress up nicely for the upcoming dinner.
She needed to impress the investors, put all the goods in display and act as desirable as possible and that, of course, was exactly what she did.
Colette smirked at herself through the crooked reflection on the glass, the red lipstick still perfectly defined as she ate with grace, careful not to smear it around her mouth, and her hair was perfectly combed with shiny pearls and few feathers on the side. She straightened her back, shifting closer to the edge of the chair and she could also see part of her chest, squeezed into a tight corset which, at the moment, was causing her some troubles to breathe and swallow her food. The discomfort was bearable, however, even because Vandevere seemed to be impressed by how her bosom would appear, so luscious and full and not constricted any more behind the concealing fabric of her training outfit or costumes.
Maybe her future was about to be decided at that very table, Vandevere's dream of becoming a real magnate of the cinema and making her a movie star in his production pictures. When he first talked about it, it all seemed so exciting and entailing, but now she was sadly realizing that she'd agreed only because his face had lightened up at the idea.
If it were up to her, she would've never become a movie star. She was more than happy to be his little Queen of the Heavens, or whatever the billboard said, and perform on her lyra. Being an aerialist was her dream and she was living it; she didn't care about the rest.
And yet, Vandevere was the boss, the one who decided whether she would perform or end up on the streets again, so whatever he asked, Colette had to oblige him. After all, it was just a little thing and he promised that it wouldn't have interfered with her rehearsals or training.
For some reason, however, for how much she tried, she couldn't concentrate. She would fidget impatiently on her chair, incapable of listening to one single word they were saying. Often, she would end up just nodding and chirp a little 'oui', but without knowing exactly to what she had just agreed to.
Vandevere was getting irked. She could feel his eyes on her more insistently as time passed. He talked and talked, charming those gentlemen at the table as he did with her little less than half a year ago, back in Paris. There was a time where she would stand up and yell that he was just a fraud, that he was using some sort of spell on them and she would tell them to flee, but now she was just sitting there, sipping her wine, as those stupid men were getting bamboozled by Vandevere and his fantastic tales.
Colette was getting bored. Vandevere couldn't charm her anymore with his talks and those men were so completely caught up with him that it was getting pathetic.
She crossed her legs under the table and tapped her feet a couple of times, then toyed a little with her shoe, letting it slip out of her heel a couple of time, with increasing energy. Before she could even realize it, she kicked once too hard, and the shoe completely fell off her foot.
Colette hardly suppressed a whimper, her blue eyes wide in panic. She only hoped that no one had heard that dull thud of her shoe falling to the ground.
She peeked at her left, looking at Vandevere with the corner of her eye, trying to get any sign of vexation on his face, but surprisingly, her boss was just looking right at her a quite mysterious grin creeping through his thin lips. He didn't seem to be angry, nor was he questioning her silently… he was just staring at her.
Colette frowned confused, taking one last sip from her glass before putting it down. Of course, she wasn't listening to a single word they were saying, but she was under the impression that he was. She couldn't be farther from the truth.
When one of those gentlemen spoke, it was clear by the following silence that he'd just asked a question to which Vandevere was supposed to answer. He fidgeted and stammered as he struggled not to make a bad impression.
Colette hardly suppressed a snort.
If none of them were interested in that conversation, though Vandevere had forced himself to focus on the gentlemen's proposition again, there was no reason why she shouldn't try to avoid her boredom and make something out of that disastrous dinner.
She waited a few minutes, made sure that Vandevere was caught up with his speech and stretched her shoeless foot toward him. She continued eating her meal, casually peeking her boss' reaction with the corner of her eye.
Vandevere had jolted forward, hitting slightly the table with his chest when she brushed her foot on the length of his leg, from the ankle to his knee. He offered a small apology and threw a quick a glare to Colette, which she easily ignored.
Colette dabbed innocently her mouth with the napkin and put it back on her lap. All the voices around her had become just a distant buzz of indistinct noise. She stretched her hand a retrieved her water glass, her foot resting on top of his knee, then she moved.
She took a longer sip and let her foot snaking up his thigh, slowly sliding to the inner part. She beamed at herself when she felt his legs trapping her with a jolt of discomfort, but unluckily for Vandevere, that bought her foot even closer to were his thighs jointed and the heat coming from his flesh engulfed her foot.
Colette stilled, contentedly curling her toes with a teasingly slow movement as she probed her foot around, trying to free herself from his hold.
Vandevere let out a soft whimper and his next phrase came out cracked and uneven.
Colette stared, throwing a sympathetic smile at her boss.
"C'est bon?" She asked innocently, curling her toes once again.
Vandevere seemed battled. She knew he perhaps wanted to strangle her right now, but he forced himself to conceal his real feelings and just nodded dismissively, continuing with his negotiation.
Colette teased him a little more, but after a few minutes, she got bored once again. She was half slouching on her chair when she decided to abruptly straighten her back and brutally snap her foot from his thigh, causing him to whimper again. She ignored him completely, uninterested of what she might've caused or if his face would bear any sign of vexation.
She knew that she couldn't reserve the same treatment for one of the two gentlemen she had in front of her, but she could definitely play with them. After all, wasn't that why she took part in that dinner, to see if she could seduce the general audience like she charmed the crowd every night?
"Do you have a cigarette, monsieur?" She asked suddenly, interrupting the conversation.
A pregnant silence fell in the room, all eyes drawn to her as she carelessly propped her elbow on the table, breaking her perfectly neat posture. Her icy-blue eyes were staring rather densely at the men in front of her and even if she didn't even remember his name nor his role in all of that, she was looking at him as if he was a bird and she a famished cat.
That chubby man was looking back at her, transfixed. He shook himself from that daze and patted his own jacket nervously.
"Why- yes, Ms Marchant. I think, yes."
"It's Miss." She corrected immediately with a grin.
The other nodded and she hardly acknowledged the faint noise that echoed through the walls, which she presumed it came from Vandevere's cane since he used to tap it on the floor when something irritated him.
Colette pushed herself up, leaning forward over the table and almost knocking down a crystal decanter. She patiently waited for the man to be done with his searching, gently swaying back and forth.
When the man presented her the cigarette, she didn't move either of her hands. She just parted her lips and gave him a wink. The man swallowed hard, offering with quivering fingers the cigarette, which she took with her gritted pearly-white teeth.
"Tu peux m'allumer?" She whispered with a low breath through her grin.
The man was starting to sweat, which only made her internally beam even more. His hand searched more inside his jacket until he brought the lighter next to the other end of the cigarette, opening the little shiny object to let out the flame.
Colette closed her red lip on the cigarette, drawing a long breath until the paper started to burn, producing a thin thread of smoke. She exhaled before moving back, blurring the man's face with a white cloud.
"Merci." She simply chirped, leaning back into her chair. "Please, continue." She said then, waving dismissively her hand.
And that they tried, as she peacefully smoked her cigarette, half slouched on her chair, bouncing lasciviously her crossed leg and even her shoeless foot, showing no shame whatsoever. She hardly recorded them getting fussy, maybe they argued once or twice, but for some reason, she didn't care.
They called the dinner off after quite some time, and Vandevere showed them to the elevator door with an angry scowl that he hardly concealed. They quickly bid their goodbyes and Colette merely nod at them, wishing them a good night.
"Come to my office." Barked Vandevere, storming out on his own.
Colette nodded, sighing loudly as she was left alone in the empty room, the tapping of her single heel echoing through the walls.
...
"What was that all about?" Vandevere yelled at her, pacing back and forth in front of the wide window, Dreamland stretching behind him with all the attractions and rides off for the night.
Colette sighed, crossing her arms.
"What'u mean?" She asked innocently, her French accent coming totally out.
"We lost the investors because you kept distracting me!" He barked, moving his hands all over around him, his perfectly combed hair coming undone as he got agitated.
"Moi?" Colette retorted, placing her palm over her own chest. "It is not my fault if you get easily distracted. I did nothing."
Vandevere glared at her.
"That was nothing?" He asked meaningfully, pointing at her foot with his forefinger. "With your foot under the table, your glances, your goddamn wine-"
"What's with my wine?" She asked surprised, frowning in confusion. She had planned the foot thing out of boredom and she played with the gentlemen too, but the wine? She didn't plan anything with the wine.
"The way you sipped it." Vandevere said, lowering his voice. Colette couldn't be sure because it was dark even though the lamp was on, but she imagined that his cheeks had grown somewhat reddish. "And then when you asked that cigarette." He pursued, bloating his chest as he got back his confidence. "I found it highly inappropriate."
"I thought you wanted me to seduce them." Colette retorted, swaying on her spot. Her shiny dress swayed with her, the glass and fake diamonds clinking together as well as her earrings. She put out a pose, tilting slightly her head to show him that she'd worn a lot of make-up like he ordered and also the red lips she brought from Paris.
"With your appearance, not actually seduce them! You went too far." Retorted him. "You practically rubbed them in his face!"
Colette instinctively looked down at her own chest, her bosom still squeezed by the tight corset. Yes, maybe she gave that man a good view, especially when she slightly hit the decanter.
"Alors?" She said after a few seconds, shrugging a little. "Are you jalouse?" She asked with a smirk, the word coming out like a perfect mix between English and French.
Vandevere glared once again, raising his cane as if it was an extension of his own arm.
"No, I'm not jealous." He retorted, slightly vexed and almost correcting her accent.
"Oui, I think you are." She replied with confidence, walking slowly toward him. At each step, her dress would rustle and clink into a confused and yet dazzling melody.
"You're going too far, ma cherie." He suddenly smirked, the corner of his mouth bending awkwardly up. That was the pet name he used whenever he wanted something from her, but this time, he used it as a warning of some sort: Colette was testing him, see how far she could go and he was determined to show her who's boss, reminded her which were her limits. "Everything you see, here, it's mine: Dreamland, this room, every soul that works for me, it's mine."
Colette took in a small breath, stopping by his desk. She leaned to its edge, half-sitting, half-standing as she watched him.
"You can't own people." She snorted, rolling her eyes.
"I own you." He replied promptly, smirking allusively. At that, Colette realized she couldn't talk back. Seeing her defeated, made his smile grow wider. "Don't worry, we'll get other investors and I'll make you a movie star like I made you the Queen of the Heavens." He said in a cooing voice, almost as if he was talking to a child, then pecked a soundly kiss on her cheekbone. That got on her nerves but made her best effort not to show him.
"Now," He went on with the same tone, but his clear eyes had gotten more demanding, darker, even. "I think someone misbehaved at dinner." He said, pursing his lips.
"So what?" She snorted, looking at him, her face blank. "You want to punish me?" She asked with a disbelieving smirk, her French accent still slipping out.
Vandevere lifted his arm with a swift movement, latching the handle of his cane right on the corset, the cold wood trapped between the fabric and her breasts.
"You said it." He replied with a grin.
