Chapter 1

On her first evening at her late aunt Myrtle's house, Victoria was sitting in a small blue kitchen, furnished with a formica table and chairs from another age. While sipping her tea, she was wondering how she could organize her stay in Denton.

The more she thought about it, the more confused she got about the reasons which had led her here. How was this trip supposed to help her ? Who, in this gloomy town, could ever understand how much of a mess she was ? Tears began to roll down her cheeks. She sighed and got up, thinking that maybe a bit of fresh air could help. After opening her suitcase and putting on some well-worn denim shorts, she exited the house.

Anyway, she was just going out for a walk. Instead of exploring the streets, she kept following the main road and headed straight out of town. Soothed by the warmth of this summer night, she kept walking among the tall trees surrounding Denton, unaware that she was slowly straying from the road. For the first time in weeks, her mind was empty. She inhaled, exhaled, closed her eyes, and inhaled again … how good it felt ! Suddenly …

"Ouch !"

She heard a crack, followed by a sharp pain in her left ankle, and then brutally fell on the ground.

"OH, FOR FUCK'S SAKE !" she yelled angrily, holding her injured limb. She realized that she had tripped over a ridiculously big tree root. While cursing at the top of her lungs, Victoria managed to stand up and quickly looked around. The night had also fallen, but she could distinguish a light in the darkness. Whether it was a house, a shop, or even the bloody Cinderella castle didn't matter, she needed help. Limping, she finally reached what turned out to be …

"A bloody castle!" she muttered, completely astonished by the huge victorian building standing in front of her. Though most of the facade was covered in climbing ivy, she found it magnificent. Who could live in such a strange place ?

Urged by curiosity, and almost forgetting about her ankle, Victoria walked past a wrought iron gate and rushed to the front door. She knocked and waited a few seconds.

"Yes, yes, what is it?" asked a feminine voice with a weird foreign accent.

Before Victoria could answer, the door opened to reveal a pale face, framed by frizzy red hair. The woman, who, judging by her outfit, appeared to be a maid, gazed at her with barely concealed contempt. Obviously, she was very displeased with her presence.

"What is it ?" she asked again, getting impatient.

Victoria was starting to feel uneasy. She cleared her throat :

"Good evening madam ! I was taking a stroll near your… (she paused, and took a look at the surroundings) lovely home, but, hum... I fell and got hurt, she replied pointing at her ankle. Would you be so kind as to let me use your phone to call a taxi ? Or maybe just give me some ice ? My ankle is starting to swell and …"

In response, the surly maid rolled her droopy eyes and returned inside the castle, leaving the door open. Victoria was distraught. It was clear she was unwanted here. Maybe the best thing to do was to turn back ?

"Are you coming or what ?" yelled the red-haired woman, startling the poor Victoria, who finally penetrated the weird castle.

She entered in what seemed to be the foyer. In front of her stood an imposing elevator shaft, which was the only modern element in this bizarre interior. She noticed a wooden staircase on her right, and could not help wondering what curiosities were hiding in those upper floors.

Being absorbed by her thoughts, Victoria did not notice that the maid was back. She held a champagne bucket with a bottle in it and looked just as friendly as before.

"Sit", she simply said as she pushed Victoria in a red velvet daybed nearby and handed the bucket to her.

"Oh, hum… I'm not thirsty right now, but thanks", stammered the young woman.

"That wasn't for you !" screamed an odd looking man with yellowish stringy hair who seized the bottle.

This time, Victoria let a tiny squeak out. Was this weirdo supposed to be a butler or something like that ? The two servants burst out with laughter.

"You wanted ice, so I got you some", chuckled the maid, handing the bucket to Victoria again.

"Thanks, I guess…", mumbled Victoria who felt increasingly uneasy with every second.

"Does the master know this one's here ?", enquired the man.

Master ? Who spoke like this in 1972 ?

"Don't worry, I'll be gone in an hour at most, as soon as I can walk normally !" said Victoria quickly. "I don't want to cause any trouble, I'll just go and walk back to Denton and …"

"MAGENTA !" yelled another male voice coming from the first floor.

The maid suddenly stopped giggling and glanced at her colleague, who slipped away in a nearby room. She looked more annoyed than ever. Then they heard a clunking noise : someone was running down the stairs. And this person was wearing heels.

The first thing that caught Victoria's eye was a pair of long, lean legs, wrapped in fishnet stockings. There was also a black leotard with sheer sleeves, which perfectly fitted a delicate -though slightly muscular - torso. As for the face, it was all painted with foundation, lighter than the rest of the body. Painted red were the lips, as well as the bright green eyes, accentuated by a heavy layer of dark eyeshadow.

Astonished by this unusual sight, Victoria was speechless. A transvestite ! She had seen a few similar individuals in the past, being from a much bigger city than Denton. However, this castle was the last place on earth where she could have expected to find this type of man.

"Magenta !" repeated the transvestite as he crossed the foyer and moved towards the maid and Victoria. "My purple garter is nowhere to be found ! Have you seen it by any chance ?" he asked with a thick british accent, apparently very upset.

The thin lips of the so-called Magenta warped in a rictus.

"Well, maybe the old hooker from down the road wanted her underwear back…", she taunted him.

"Sweet Magenta... don't you have furniture to dust, potatoes to peel, or toilets to scrub ? Oh, and go tell your filthy ghoul of a brother that I expect my test tubes to be clean as a whistle by tomorrow morning !", he replied bitterly, folding his arms on his chest in a theatrical gesture.

Magenta, who did not seem to give a damn about her master's wrath, simply exited the room.

He then set eyes on the girl who sat in the daybed, holding the champagne bucket against her leg.

"And what do we have here ?", he enquired, genuinely interested, as if his small altercation with Magenta had never happened.

This girl's face was a true work of art, he thought. A very pale complexion, enhanced by deep black eyes. Eyelashes to die for (literally, because he could've killed to get the same results without a ton of mascara). Heart-shaped lips, like a juicy strawberry waiting to be eaten. And the hair ! Raven locks, flowing in soft waves down her chest. He was facing an excruciating, unprecedented dilemma : did he want to paint her or fuck her ? Well, he'd never been into creative leisures, and there was no easel within his reach, so …

.

"N-nothing, I was actually kind of on my way out...", Victoria sputtered, greatly disturbed by the gaze of this eccentric - yet oddly charming - stranger. She got up, aiming for the entry door … and fell immediately, her aching ankle being too weak.

"Got you dear !" chuckled the transvestite as he caught her in his arms just in time. "It's now pretty obvious that this… lovely limb of yours isn't going to repair all by itself. So why don't you come up to the lab, so I can fix you up ?"

Saying so, he picked her up and effortlessly carried her to the elevator, despite wearing 5 inch heels. Test tubes, and now… the lab ? So he was a drag-scientist or something ? Either way, Victoria couldn't help but notice that his black curls were giving off a heady scent.

"I'm Dr Frank N. Furter by the way", he introduced himself with a satisfied grin as he closed the elevator's gates.