Bart – Danielle

When I opened my eyes, all I could see was a burgundy-colored feather. It was practically lying under my nose and was still attached to Danielle's brunette hair. The only other thing attached to Danielle was me. My, she was a beautiful girl, from the top of that feather to the tip of her toes. And every inch of her was intertwined with every inch of me.

This was not entirely unexpected when Bret and me went backstage after the show. It was hoped for, after the day the two of us had suffered through, but it was more of a wish than an expectation. There were girls everywhere, some from the local dancing group, the rest from the French Can-Can contingent. Most of them now had a gentleman with them, as did Danielle and Colette once we found them. The girls were, indeed, French, but spoke English with a delightful French accent.

We drank champagne and ate delicate French pastries until it was time for the second show, which we got to view from backstage. The can-can ended differently than the first show did, with only those girls that had not chosen their partners for the night going out into the audience. By the time midnight came, no one that was backstage was feeling any pain. Danielle leaned over and asked, "Monsieur Bart, you have a room here, no?"

"Danielle, I have a suite here, yes. Come with me?"

She giggled and said "Oui." We tried to be quiet as we walked through the hallways to the suite, but we were both giggling when we got to the room. I remember unlocking the door and the two of us hurrying to my bedroom, and that she had the most delightful kiss. We must have had a wonderful night because the next thing I remember was the burgundy feather. And the scent of a woman.

We must have laid there for two hours or more; kissing, snuggling, whispering in each other's ear, and, of course, partaking of the delights one shares with a member of the opposite sex. I would have stayed in bed happily for the rest of the day were it not for the persistent knocking at my bedroom door. I finally pulled a blanket over the woman in my arms and yelled, "Come in Pappy." And he did.

Of course, he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw that I wasn't alone. "What is going on around here?" he asked out loud, which led me to believe he'd found my brother in a similar position.

"We went to see the Can-Can last night," I explained, and a long, lithe leg peeked out from beneath the blanket.

"Are you ever gettin' up?" Pappy asked.

"Maybe. Maybe not. Why?"

"I have to leave," he announced. "Olivia is being bothered by that Martin fellow again."

"Go right ahead," I told him. "I'll be along later today. Is Bret going with you?"

Pappy snorted. "That . . . is no more ready to go with me than you are. I'll see you both in the dining salon at two o'clock. ALONE." The door closed and I could hear him stomping all the way out of the suite.

"You call him Pappy. Is that really your father?"

"Yes, ma'am, it is."

"You should have brought him with you to the show. He would have found a girl of his own." And she giggled.

"Oh, he already has one of those," I explained. "Not to change the subject, but are you hungry?"

"Oui, I could stand to eat. And you, too, Monsieur Bart?"

"And me too, Danielle. But we have to get dressed first."

"Oui."

It was another hour before we got out of bed and left my bedroom. Brother Bret's bedroom door was still closed.