Here it is; just as I had promised.

As soon as Mrs. Worthington had left, Felicity was on the move. She changed into a less elaborate dress than the one she had worn for breakfast with her mother. Felicity gathered some of the money she had stored in an old stocking and put it in a small purse. Before leaving she made sure she had everything she could possibly need. She even made sure to stick a small kitchen knife in her boot in case of an emergency.

It was hot and sticky outside as Felicity called a cab. The driver almost refused to take such a young woman where she asked to go, but some extra money convinced him otherwise. Felicity watched the city change as she traveled further from home.

"Miss," the driver said when they were getting close. "Where would you like me to drop you off?"

"Where do you usually drop people off here?"

"I will stop near the shops, where it is most busy this time of day."

"Very well," Felicity answered. The excitement was growing steadily inside her. She was beginning to feel good again. Somehow she knew that something very important would happen on this excursion.

The driver stopped on a really bust street. Felicity stepped out and immediately was struck by the smell. It was a constant sticky smell of wines. She breathed all that the place had to offer and began to walk through the crowded streets. People were very friendly; they smiled and greeted her as they made their way toward where ever they were headed. She found joy in the atmosphere. It was so very different from London.

Felicity stopped in front of a small little restaurant. Out front sat a woman wearing male trousers and smoking a cigarette. "Hello," Felicity greeted with one of her full-teeth smiles. Her French was flawless.

"Hello," the woman replied. She picked up her cup of green liquid and took a deep swig. "Aren't you a little young to be around these parts?"

"Why are you wearing trousers?" Felicity fired back.

"You Brits are much too closed-minded. And you fail to answer questions."

Felicity wished she could have deceived the woman with her French, but not even she was that good. She was too British. "I'm not too young," she answered to appease the interesting woman.

"I'm wearing trousers because I don't like dresses." The answer was so simple. Felicity wondered if she would ever have the audacity to do such a thing. Unlike this woman, Felicity liked dresses and could not comprehend wearing trousers. "Here. Take a seat," the woman demanded.

Felicity sat down at the empty chair and waited for further instruction. She had so many questions demanding attention, but she didn't know where to start. "What's your name?" the woman asked.

"Felicity." She did not give her last name because for once Felicity wanted to be seen as an individual and not her father's daughter.

"No last name, Felicity?"

"Not one," Felicity replied. "What is your name?"

"Abrial-Jolie. And I don't have a last name either." Felicity smiled at this woman and waited for something else to happen. She was truly out of place here. And yet, she was comfortable in the environment. "Would you like a cigarette?"

Felicity nodded in affirmation. She placed it in her mouth and waited for Abrial to light it. Like most first-timers, Felicity inhaled too quickly and coughed it all back up. Abrial laughed a billowing type that would be the most unladylike of all laughs in London. Felicity looked around to see if anyone was staring, but no one seemed to care. This time she inhaled intently. The smoke filled her lungs, but she did not cough.

"So Felicity, what brought you here today?"

"Curiosity mostly," she admitted in between drags.

"What are you curious about?"

"Everything."

"You seem comfortable here."

"I am," Felicity replied. "I feel safe."

"This isn't a safe place," Abrial insisted. "But under my watchful eye, you will be out of harms way."

"Why are you helping me?" Felicity asked sincerely.

"You remind me of myself at your age. Let me guess. You are itching to escape the confines of your class?"

Felicity wondered how much she should tell her new acquaintance. She finally decided on the whole truth because it seemed like Abrial would understand. "Quite the contrary actually," she began. "I desire to gain enough power to overthrow that which holds me back."

Abrial beamed at Felicity's strong sense of self. She remembered a time when she had that much confidence. "So much heart in you. I bet you will be a very passionate lover." Felicity felt her cheeks catch fire. "Oh! I embarrassed you!"

"I'm fine," Felicity stated. After a few deep breaths her face was back to its usual ghostly pale shade.

"You have much to learn, Felicity." Abrial put out the butt of her cigarette and swallowed the last of her green liquid. "The question is, am I willing to corrupt your innocent youth?"

Felicity could not help but feel a little anger at Abrial's insistence that she was a naïve child. "I am not a child," Felicity said coldly.

"But you aren't a woman either." Suddenly a tall woman with long black hair appeared from around the corner. She walked confidently up to Abrial and ran her hands through her brown locks. The two made eye contact briefly before engaging in a passionate kiss. Felicity felt her stomach tighten and her cheeks flare up. Yet, she could not take her eyes of the scene.

When Abrial pulled away, she whispered something in French that Felicity could not make out. The other woman nodded and left without a word. "Who was that?" Felicity asked boldly. She could not restrain the shock in her voice.

"That was Charlotte."

"Do you greet all your friends like that?"

Abrial threw her head back and laughed as if someone she hated had spilled tea on the Queen. "She's not my friend," Abrial sighed in between guffaws. "That is my lover."

Felicity tried to comprehend what she was hearing. She had heard of homosexuality before, but had never really assumed it happened. "I…I don't know what to say," Felicity admitted after chewing on the news.

"Did you know that even the Greeks had one like me?"

"No," Felicity answered.

"Her name was Sappho. She wrote poetry about her love of women."

"So…you're a Sapphist?"

Abrial chuckled, but took no offense in the subject. "You can call it that if you want."

Felicity had nothing else to say. She had barely been in Montmartre and she was already shocked at what she was seeing. And yet, she was intrigued. She had so many questions, but none that seemed appropriate. "Well, it was a pleasure meeting you, Felicity. I have a prior appointment. Maybe I will see you around here again."

"The pleasure was all mine," she replied politely and honestly. "I will definitely return."

Abrial stood up and left some money on the table for her drink. "Look up Sappho if you want to know more."

"I'll do that." And just like that, Felicity had completely forgotten about her desire for power. She was now infatuated with Abrial and the lifestyle in which Abrial chose to be a part of.

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