Transition Plan Chapter 99: Searching for Jeanne Part 17
Author's Note: Just a note, loyal fans, we are about 12 chapters away from conclusion of "Searching for Jeanne". It's going to be a really rough ride for awhile with only a brief respite for our young pair...
…The treehouse. 11 November 1918…
News of the end of the Great War travelled by word of mouth and over the radiotelegraphs worldwide quickly. Tarzan and Jane made instant plans to travel home to Castle Greystoke to show the twins the home they never knew they had and their human heritage.
But the rejoicing over the Allied victory and plans to go to Scotland were cut short by an ominous second world war against disease. Crawling out of the trenches of Europe and spreading faster than the ravages of war itself was the Spanish Influenza, a worldwide pandemic killing more than 50 million people across the world, nearly 5% of the world's total population, especially in Europe - far worse than any of the Dark Ages plagues had ever been.
Especially hard hit were young to middle-aged adults, exactly Tarzan and Jane's age group, and particularly pregnant women and their unborn children. Not wanting to take the chance that she was pregnant again, the Clayton's, under Philippe D'Arnot's advisement, stayed put in Nigeria and the land of the Mangani. The Wireless that connected them to the world was more in action than ever before in the many challenges of building the business in a post-war era.
The family rationalized that they'd waited four years to go home, so what were a few more months?
The focus of business for Clayton Shipping turned from hauling war materials and new soldiers to transporting medical supplies and sick soldiers home to combat the flu epidemic, especially in France. Philippe's temporary commission in the French Navy ended after the war, and he immediately returned back to head the Clayton Shipping line. He contracted the flu as well, and got close to dying, but survived. Even he wasn't sure he'd make it for awhile. Family prayers, Tarzan's supportive messages, and his own self-depreciative humor got him through. Not to mention the friendliness of a pretty French nurse who took care of him. They started dating after he recovered, which began a sweet spring/autumn romance.
Those months would extend another year before it was safe for Clan Clayton to go home to Scotland.
…On the trawler in the Indian Ocean. Later in November 1918…
Everyone on the Russian fishing trawler had heard the news of the Armistice and the ominous reports of the spread of the Spanish Flu, so they were glad to be mostly isolated at sea. Eastern Africa had been mostly spared the ravages of the flu pandemic. After weeks on the water and various seaports along the way, Jeanne was grateful that not one of the sailors made 'eyes' at her. The trawler's crew was all married, most had children, some her age, and were God-fearing Russian Orthodox Christians. She was not used to having 'nice men' in her life again. It was refreshing for the Catholic girl. She baby sat for Tatianna's and Leonid's child a lot, and it was like she had a big sister and a little nephew.
Life on the trawler was still hard. Since Jeanne and Margrite and the Captain's daughter-in-law were the only women on board, they got mostly menial tasks below decks. They had to wash clothes and equipment, prepared the food, and did general cleaning aboard the ship. But all the housekeeping chores onboard let Jeanne privately become much of her old self again.
The fishing trawler worked its way up the coast slowly. News of the Russian Revolution was sparse, but they heard the Czar and his family had been executed, which made them worry about their families even more, since they were all loyal czarists. But there was nothing to be done about it, so the crew just focused on their work. With the czar dead, there was little incentive to hurry their way north.
…Early 1919…
Jeanne got back in touch with God and prayer because of the sailors and Tatianna. None of them spoke English or French or German, and so communication in Russian was at first very difficult, but they had prayer sessions twice a week and Jeanne made most of them. Slowly Jeanne learned Russian, interestingly by learning how to read the Russian version of the Bible. The Cyrillic alphabet of the Russian language took some hard adjustments. Margrite, over Karl-Heinz' objections, joined her in most of the devotions. Karl-Heinz and Gunter just stayed away from the worship sessions and busied themselves with work on the ship's deck. They had no time for religion.
Jeanne learned a number of new skills, including catching very large game fish with a huge rod and reel, which impressed the Captain with so much strength in a woman, and when she provided additional help to the men working the nets hauling the biggest catches aboard. Jeanne learned how to repair the nets too. She acquired navigation skills to help Dmitri, and he even let her take a turn at the wheel during routine watches, such was his trust in her.
Dmitri had a number of private conversations with Jeanne. One struck to the core one night over a vodka shared alone in the engine room, which loosened both their lips,"Your father, Meriem, is harsh on you. You do not deserve it. You are a kind young woman. My grandson loves you like an aunt."
"I am honored, Captain. I love all your family too. It's OK, Dmitri. Dad just makes me tougher. It's a tough world."
"Not that tough. He is too harsh. He is not your father. I can tell these things. He uses you. It's like he owns you. Can I help you when you when we get to Tanganyika? It is like your real family is somewhere else. You do not match these people. Even your mother."
Jeanne desperately wanted to tell him the truth of his astute perceptions.
She looked around to assure Karl-Heinz was not eavesdropping. Dmitri had chosen the loud engine room for a purpose, to disguise their chat. She answered graciously, "That's very nice Captain. But things have to play out. I will be all right. Here I have friends. You are a lot like my real father, Dmitri. Thank you."
She told him what he needed to know with a subtle word use.
"This is good to know. I will protect you while you are under my supervision, young Meriem."
"Don't say or do anything. Please. It will not go well for me."
Dmitri's care for her was comforting as a favorite warm blanket. She dreamed that she was on Jack's yacht and that Captain Dmitri was in charge, and he let her take the wheel, and that spurred her on. In her world of very bad men, Dmitri was a very good one. He was ever watchful after that for any abusive behavior. This was his ship and everyone took orders from him.
…1920…
The ship and crew weathered some strong equatorial storms, and she endured a really bad bout of sea sickness. The trawler made many stops along the way to Dar es Salaam at small coastal villages, where they bartered and sold their catch. Margrite's and Jeanne's darker skin helped them with be accepted by the native peoples, especially posing as a wife and daughter to Karl-Heinz. While Jeanne returned for the most part to her normal ways, what didn't really change was that Jeanne continued to smoke and drink.
Despite being God-fearing men, the day-to-day example of the sailors didn't really help her break those habits. Russian cigarettes were very addictive, and the sailors were much harder drinkers than any of Jaeger's men. After initially detesting their powerful, bitter vodka, particularly after surviving one really bad hangover, Jeanne learned to handle the hard liquor and eventually got to savor it. She kept up with all the men but the Captain, who loved challenging her in shot contests. Vodka was always better with a smoke afterward, she learned from the men, and more than a few Russian curses traveled across her lips, some directed at her captors when they couldn't hear.
"You should be Russian, Meriem. You will make some lucky boy a great Russian wife someday," the Captain praised her, and she blushed.
She couldn't help but think of Jack fondly as her husband. She was in a safe place for now with the Russians, and wanted to let Jack know that.
…Mid 1920…
On the other side of the Africa, Jack caught a sense of her gentle thought while he was doing chores for Jane, and asked aloud without thinking, "Wait… What?"
Jane kept scrubbing the floor of the treehouse from the latest spill by the playful twins and said, "Dear. I didn't say anything."
"Oh… OK, Mom. Sorry," he quickly covered, and savored the feeling of his love close for only a moment. Jeanne had teased him about something.
He closed his eyes and savored the moment. Jeanne had reached out and touched his mind. While he had her, he thought to her that they were finally sailing home to England for some time, but he'd continue the search for her with the means of investigation they had access to in England and in the Castle. He could tell she was "OK" with that.
Helping nearby, Lily knew the two were communicating again. He was in that trance like state concentrating on things far beyond him. More than 6000 klicks away, Jack's girlfriend grinned at his innocent, clueless reaction to her outreach, and vaguely understood he was going back to England awhile. Though diminished to mostly feeling each other's emotions, the connection still worked. The connection was not as good on detail as it was for Walvis Bay, but at least conveyed feelings when they needed a boost.
…Later in 1920…
The fishermen worked hard, drank hard, cursed hard, and smoked hard, but they still had strong faiths, hoping God would forgive more easily. It was a good balance between the sins of the world and the blessings of heaven itself they reasoned and often joked about.
One calm night moving along on a glassy ocean just before going into a prayer session with the sailors, Margrite asked, "Meriem?"
"Yes, Mom. What?"
"Will you pray for me?" Margrite asked, making sure she was out of earshot from Karl-Heinz.
"Sure. What about?" Jeanne smiled.
Margrite spoke to Jeanne very sadly, "Pray that I can have a baby with Karl-Heinz. I know we're going to be on the streets again and life will be hard as in Douala. And I know I'm probably not able to have a child. But I still want one. We were just getting settled in Walvis Bay and I was beginning to feel like I could have a family, and that he might want one too. But now..."
A tear fell as her voice trailed off to silence.
Jeanne embraced Margrite and felt like she was to blame, "I'm sorry, Mom. I caused all this. But I had to get back to Jack. It didn't work. Now none of us are happy."
"I know. It's OK. You had to try. I'd have done the same thing. Jack's very dreamy looking. It's sweet that you've loved each other since you were children. No wonder you keep having dreams of being with him again. You will be, honey. You'll pay off Karl-Heinz. I know you don't believe my husband is an honest man, but he will honor paying off that ransom. He does need you, despite his anger. No one knows how to make a profit better than you on the deals Karl-Heinz comes up with."
The two women hugged.
…Late 1920…
The fish catches were plentiful, and at every port, the crew bartered the fish for other foods and goods, even more vodka and smokes. or sold them outright. Jeanne was particularly adept at getting good deals, being multi-lingual. It was not such a bad life, and it was as close to normal as she could get for now. There was fortunately no crime to commit, especially with the fish sales and bartering. Jeanne wouldn't let the men cheat their buyers. Her captors were saddened about that, while Jeanne was privately ecstatic that she was thwarting them again.
What really slowed their journey northward to Tanganyika was the height of the fishing season in Mozambique, a huge Portuguese colony that extended along most of the southeast coast of Africa. That prompted her to learn that difficult language to trade and make deals. The fishing companies begged them to stay because the trawler was the only modern fishing boat. The rest were all dugout sailboats the postwar, post-flu citizenry were nearly starving and needed to be fed. If not more disease and starvation would ravage the populace.
Captain Dmitri was amenable but Karl-Heinz was very impatient. Meriem begged Margrite to smooth-talk her husband into staying a lot longer by plying him with a lot of favors. Karl-Heinz decided it wasn't so bad after all. Gunter grumbled his way along because he had no other choice and no one to satisfy his needs with.
Finally the contract was fulfilled many months later, and with a grateful nation for their service, the exiled Russians went north once again. The Captain had never been as rich in his life. He was hoping that he could go home to Crimea, buy off the more moderate Bolsheviks to rescue his family in Kiev and emigrate to America before the new Russian strongman Lenin could wreak his own form of havoc on the weary Russian population.
When they cruised into German-speaking coastal towns, Meriem and Karl-Heinz knew they were probably close to or in German East Africa, known now as Tanganyika under British rule, and knew this little artificial haven of being fishermen would be ending soon. She worried what else she would be forced to do.
…New Year's Day 1921. The harbor of Tanganyika…
Karl-Heinz, Gunter, Margrite, and Jeanne stood together on the dock in Dar Es Salaam, the biggest port city in British Tanganyika, looking into the sprawl, after a tearful goodbye with the Russian Captain Dmitri and his son's family. Separating from Leonid and Tatianna and their five year old had been particularly hard, and the urge to go with them was strong, but for the knowledge that Karl-Heinz would never permit it. They parted ways because the seafaring family and crew decided they needed to return to Russia to find their remaining family via the Black Sea through the Suez Canal and the Med. While that was far from where Jack was, any places in the world that Karl-Heinz and Gunter weren't were good places to be for her.
Jeanne was grateful the Russians had taken the time to celebrate Christmas Day for her, like they did together the year prior while still in port at Maputo, Mozambique at the only Christian church – a Coptic chapel - in the city, even though as Russian Orthodox the crew celebrated Christmas on Epiphany Day on 6 January and that was still a few days away. It was a little strange decorating one of the ship's masts, but the thought was very nice. This was only the second time there had been a Christmas celebration in her life since her capture, and even the first was also with the Russians while ported in Maputo.
Singing Christmas carols in Russian instead of French was a bittersweet experience, but at least she could sing her heart out to Karl-Heinz' chagrin. It had always been a joyous time for her with her parents growing up as a little Roman Catholic girl. She wondered how Jack and his family celebrated the holiday in Scotland. Tatianna gave Jeanne a beautiful but simple Cossack necklace for Jeanne to remember them.
Jeanne was jarred back from her pleasant remembrance to the new reality of Dar es Salaam by Gunter's abrupt question, "Now what, bossman?"
More than two years had passed since the escape from Walvis Bay, and Gunter and Karl-Heinz were very eager to get back to the criminal behaviors that were much more profitable and fulfilling than being a smelly fisherman all the rest of their lives. Both kidnappers were both sick of the goody-goody life of the mariners and especially sick of Meriem being happy and having fellowship with fellow Christians, which aboard the ship they couldn't really do anything about it with the Captain in charge of everything. On the other hand, the criminals were glad to have disappeared for a long time. In that way, any remaining desire by authorities to arrest them in the aftermath of the fall of Jaeger's and the Kamerun boss' criminal empires diminished considerably.
"We have plenty of money to get started fresh here. We can pay for a decent flat and food for a long time before things get bad."
Gunter agreed, "Sounds good, Karl-Heinz. But I want to get back into some real work, and get this fish stink off my clothes forever, boss."
"I know. Me too. My contacts are in the entertainment cartel are here somewhere in town. We don't dare become longshoreman or traders or get near the harbor ever. You can see the docks are jammed with Clayton's fleet berthed alongside the other shippers. We have to assume every one of the Count's Captains will be on alert for us. We know the catering and entertainment business and that will be safe. Margrite can tend bar. Until we get some real work, we can help out as bouncers at the night clubs and dance Halls and the burlesque shows. Meriem, you can look pretty, dance, and attract clients for us to take all their money in drinks and what's left rolling the drunks in the streets."
The thought of those being a waitress or a dancer in the bars or shows made Meriem sick and she spit the words out, "Burlesque. I hate that. Jaeger took me to a show in Windhuk. It disgusted me and I made him take me back to my room at the hotel. It's nearly as bad as prostitution. Men don't touch the girls but they still ogle them. And how can girls show themselves to strangers? It's degrading. I'd rather work the streets and run a gang again."
Karl-Heinz warned, "It's not safe on the streets for you here. Being a girl youth gang leader, you were just lucky to be the biggest and baddest on the streets. Here, you'll disappear into the brothels faster than you can say 'jungle boy'. In a world of nasty street people, it's far worse here than Kamerun."
She shot him a very angry stare in his snide comment about Jack.
He sloughed off her anger and lectured, "Don't doubt me girl. You're the perfect age for those people. You don't want me to make you do that do you? Or let them take you to one of them?"
She looked at him with extreme worry, "No… please, Karl-Heinz. You've never threatened me with that before."
Gunter snickered, "What's the matter, Meriem? Afraid your little Viscount boyfriend won't like a 'used' girlfriend?"
"Verpiss dich, Gunter!" she shouted. God how she disliked Gunter, hardly more than a savage.
Karl-Heinz reassured her, pleased that he put her in a state of fear for once, "Don't worry, Meriem. I hate that business. I'd never make you do that. All I need is you getting pregnant or catch some kind of disease that will kill you or make you go insane. You're worthless either way then. There's no profit in prostitution. Nothing but problems."
Margrite was broken-hearted to hear his words. Pregnancy was clearly an unwanted burden to Karl-Heinz.
Karl-Heinz advised Meriem, "Well if you won't try burlesque, you can be a cocktail waitress. The clients can't touch you. They hire the other kind of girls for that."
Meriem worried, "You know I can't do burlesque. I'm not old enough yet for that. Especially to show myself like they do."
Gunter sneered, "Are you kidding? Look at your body!"
Jeanne felt dirty with Gunter leering at her. She'd rather have him hate her than stare at her, which he was doing a lot more of lately. And she had to live with him.
Gunter chuckled, "Well, well, well. The naked jungle girl is afraid to show herself now."
Jeanne argued, "It's different, Gunter. Being natural in the jungle is something beautiful. That's completely different than a bunch of letches eyeing me, all thinking they could get something out of me. You both should know better from what I did to Jaeger."
Karl-Heinz retorted, "Need I remind you that you would have been with him and probably still be with him now if you hadn't made everything blown up in our faces. You defied me at every turn to be in a headlong rush to be taken in by him. I'm shocked that the Viscount even wants you now."
Jeanne was embarrassed. She knew Karl-Heinz' accusations were true. She really would have forsaken Jack once she had become truly Jaeger's girl, and probably swung with him on the gallows. Thank God for the dream with Jack so she was spared from that.
"And Meriem?" Karl-Heinz asked with a sinister tone.
"Yes?" she answered condescendingly.
"Don't even think about running to a Clayton freighter. You will live to regret it."
"Don't worry, Du Hurensohn! I know you still own me. I am here to pay off my debt to you once and for all and be a free woman. We made a deal, right?" Jeanne snapped.
"Yeah, we did," he seethed through gritted teeth.
….Dar es Salaam. Spring 1921…
The 'family' settled into a moderately priced flat, and did odd jobs and menial labor while Karl-Heinz sought his long-ago contacts. Fortunately the men were still in business and doing extremely well owning most all the bars and dance halls in town, and it didn't take long for Karl-Heinz to talk business with them.
Karl-Heinz came to the family's flat one night with a smile on his face one evening, "OK Meriem, I got you an interview to be a cocktail waitress. Children can work any job over 14. You're nearly 16 now. You have to work too. You still owe me."
She instantly responded, "Less than a million, now. I haven't lost my tally sheet. I'll make that the first night serving drinks."
Karl-Heinz curled his lip at her outburst, "Don't be cute, girl. You aren't that pretty."
She knew better, still buoyed by Jack's most recent adoring comments, and responded back sharply with the insult, "We'll see, arschloch."
Margrite suppressed a laugh. Meriem never had respect for Karl-Heinz and he still usually let her get away with it.
…
A couple days later, the foursome arrived at the most famous burlesque dance hall and bar in the European quarter. Jeanne gulped. The dance hall was huge.
In mid afternoon the business was in full preparation for another night of entertainment. Lots of girls were in their practice garments, stretching and practicing their numbers. A small band, with a sax, piano, a couple of horns, and string bass accompanied the girls as they selected their numbers. The foursome all sat at a table the owner had set aside for them to wait. Drinks were free. Jeanne ordered a vodka straight. She needed it, and they all smoked to pass the time until her interview.
The owner was deliberately late so they could see the entirety of his lavish operation, and how it all worked. Margrite watched the bartender prepare for the night ahead. Karl-Heinz already negotiated a job for her as an assistant barkeeper.
Several lines of dancers assembled to do their acts. Most were in similar outfights, with bodices and bustiers that emphasized their bosoms, pushing and lifting everything together to maximize their cleavage and size. Most of the dance outfits sported very short dresses with lots of frilly petticoats, or were just wearing lingerie that exposed and emphasized their hips and legs. Most of the women boldly had nothing underneath the short dresses, and as they bumped and ground and kicked, Jeanne could see them flashing their femininity. Several danced topless as well. At the end of their number, together they positioned their bottoms toward the audience and bent over, flipping their dresses up, giving an explicitly clear view of their femininity. Jeanne winced. Several women were solo acts, and were called strippers, something new that was creeping into this form of lewd entertainment. These women gradually took layers of clothes off to the beat of the music, deftly using fans and feathers and boas and furs and even balloons or gigantic playing cards strategically placed to hide their attributes for glimpses until the very end of their routines when they showed it all. The crowds of men would go crazy over them every night.
All of this was truly degrading and jarring to Jeanne. She looked away, embarrassed for the women, even though she knew some enjoyed and wanted to do this, but just as many had nothing else to do and were desperate to do anything to earn money, resigning to showing their bodies off to strangers for pay. Jeanne wished she could slink away, but she knew she had to interview for a cocktail waitress, and this was the environment in which she'd work every night. Karl-Heinz and Gunter made her nervous being there with her. She looked to Margrite for some kind of assurance. She was already concentrating on getting ready for the bartender job and was paying no attention to Jeanne's discomfort.
Finally the owner came out with his choreographer and the stage director barking orders to those assembled. There were several older girls ahead of her trying out for dancing, all of whom looked hardened and not very pretty or shapely. The dancers all sat in the seats and watched, and most applauded politely as the tryouts proceeded. She waited impatiently but watched their moves, despite remaining nervous and embarrassed. These women were all wearing scanty costumes. She was going to try to get by with showing as little as possible. She wore an ordinary woman's dress, blouse, hose, and boots.
The owner finally came over to their table and greeted Karl-Heinz like a long lost brother, "Karl-Heinz! So good to see you! Damn, I've missed you. What brings you here?"
"Siegfried! My old friend. What do you think? Making money. And helping you make it."
"Now that's the Karl-Heinz I always knew. Always a good business partner that knows his place in the pecking order. And you're still friends with fine-looking women, too I see. Long time no see, Margrite. You are quite the beautiful woman now. Last time I saw you I found you in bed with him. And who's this sultry beauty with you?"
Jeanne squirmed and blushed.
"Watch that stuff. Things are different. You're staring at my wife and my daughter Meriem."
The owner dismissed Karl-Heinz' protectiveness. It pleasantly surprised Meriem and Margrite. Sometimes he actually defended their honor.
"Pleased to meet you, ladies. No one has titles or is family here in my place, just so you'll know that. Women in this club are either customers or employees or in the way of making a profit. Women employees are only here to entertain male customers, in three different ways. The men who work here make sure the clients have a good time with the women. It's that simple. Got it, my friends?"
Karl-Heinz was silent. Jeanne swallowed hard. Siegfried was a lot colder and businesslike than when they were thieves together.
The owner turned his attention to Jeanne with a smile, "So, young lady… you want to be a dancer, eh?"
Jeanne gave him a confused look, "No. No, I am supposed to be interviewing for a cocktail waitress job. You want me to dance like the others? It's really degrading to me to do that."
The owner explained to the teen, "Look Meriem, everyone tries out for dancer first. If you don't want to dance here, go be a maid or try to get a job in a shop. They get paid nearly nothing. If you don't make it as a dancer, since you're very pretty, I'll make you a waitress. The ugly girls who come here or girls who can't be friendly to the clients we hire them in the kitchen to wash dishes and mop the floors and make up the rooms upstairs. Didn't Karl-Heinz tell you the rules here?"
Karl-Heinz got a smug look. Jeanne glared at her captor. He'd tricked her into doing something abhorrent to her again.
The owner rationalized, "Besides, pay for dancers is triple what a waitress gets and they get lots of tips if they dance well. More if they show more. Besides it's not just you dancing alone. Since you're new, you'd be in a chorus line. You're just one girl among many. You're not just interviewing for a cocktail waitress job. So then. Dance. Or stop wasting my time."
Jeanne knew it was impossible to say 'no' now. She got up from the table, sighed, and headed for the stage in her dress and boots.
The owner stopped her, "What the hell is that you're wearing?"
"A dress. A nice dress. The kind of dress nice girls wear," Jeanne insisted.
The owner showed his annoyance and ridiculed her, "You can't audition for a dance here in that. Nice dancers try out at the ballet house that their fathers pay thousands in fees to let them dance there and earn next to nothing. No one wants to see women wear what they see every day in my place. Our clients want dancers that are naked or almost naked. Go back stage and get a real dance costume."
Things were going from bad worse and worse for Jeanne, but she obeyed, to look through the costume rack with the choreographer.
The veteran dancer in said, "Come with me, dearie. I can make you the most beautiful girl in the dance hall. Because you are."
"OK,"Jeanne agreed weakly.
Jeanne came back fully costumed. Margrite gasped and the men were stunned. With layers of makeup, eyeshadow, blush bright red lipstick and her hair redone, she looked nearly 20. She looked absolutely sensual in her dancer costume. But Jeanne also felt absolutely naked. The owner smiled. Now this girl was a good looking dancer. If she had the talent.
His eyes were drawn immediately to her beautifully shaped legs, athletically muscled dancer's legs widening pleasantly at the hips and into her very ample, curvaceous bottom. Jeanne was not a slender girl. Black high heels and fishnet hose covered those legs but revealed her dark olive skin. The hose ended in a black elastic bands above her knees, accentuating her upper thighs and attached to a garter belt. Her olive leg skin was bare from the top of the hose and garter belt where it disappeared into a black ruffled skirt that stopped at mid thigh with satin white petticoats that fluffed it out emphasizing those wide hips. Siegfried noted her black panties which drew immediate attention to her attributes under the petticoats. There was a lot of lace ahd sequins and ribbons in strategic places.
Her bustline was very buxom for her age, emphasized by her bare neck shoulders and most of her back, emphasized by the tightness of the bustier interwoven with the bodice, again simple black and silver. It hardly covered the lower half of her bosom. Her cleavage was prominently deep and dark. Her arms were covered in shiny satin black gloves that ended above the elbows. She had some sparkly necklaces that helped emphasize her cleavage. She refused the choreographer's offer of a black choker.
Her short shining black hair was flipped in the classic flapper hairstyle of the 1920s, and topped by a black and silver sequined headband with a big fake jewel and a couple of black and white feathers that waved gracefully as her head moved. Her thick-framed glasses, the pair she escaped with, looked out of place.
"Ditch the glasses, Meriem, you can wear them after the tryout. If you make it we can get you wire rims."
"OK" she said and removed them.
She had a great stage presence in her pose. She had the look of a great dancer, now she had to prove it to him. Her stunning looks got the older dance girls' attention. Everyone stopped talking and started watching.
She had a thin waist made thinner by the tight bodice. She could barely breathe, made worse by the shortness of breath the cigarette smoking caused, so she loosened the silver lacing on the black and silver bodice, dotted with silver sequins.
The owner praised her, "That's much better. You really look the part. Has anyone told ever you you're really pretty?"
Despite being very self-conscious in the revealing costume, she liked being called pretty.
"Yes, but he's very far away right now," said Jeanne in a deliberate dig at Karl-Heinz about Jack and that her kidnapper never complimented her.
Karl-Heinz gave her an angry look right back.
"Tell him to come watch you some day. Still… you look a little young for this. How old are you anyway?"
"Old enough. I know the rules for dancers," she insisted with a scowl.
There really weren't any rules for dancing, gambling, 'private entertainment services' as it was delicately put, and serving drinks in the European quarter dance halls. The tax money paid out on the fortune raked in from customers that paid to the government officials was so lucrative they just looked the other way. And they were regular customers.
The owner grinned, "Sassy little bitch. That's good. So… show me your stuff."
"OK, band leader, do what I said," she ordered.
The veteran dancers in the audience paid attention to this one. For every 100 who tried out, only one made it to their exclusive little club. There were a lot of seedy bars in town where conditions were much worse. This place was the best, and had the best girls and talent. If she was going to be forced to do this, she steeled herself and wanted to work with the best and get top pay.
Jeanne did a dance routine she remembered as a little girl, but enhanced it because she was much more athletic now.
When she was done and bowed to the owner, the chorus girls and soloists gave her enthusiastic applause, as did nearly every other worker in the hall who stopped and applauded for her. Jeanne was indeed a head-turner in looks and talent. Much to her embarrassment.
Siegfried stated, "Very good, Meriem. But I meant: show me your stuff."
"Scheisse. You mean…" she shuddered.
The owner answered sternly, "Yes. What else would I mean?"
She bit her lips, and lifted her very short dance skirt with its high thigh cuts and petticoats. The skimpy black panties of the outfit were very form-fitting. There were whistles from around the hall, including the other dancers.
The owner said with satisfaction, "Nice legs. Not a lot of meat though. Ditch the panties."
"What?" she said with dread.
"You heard me. What's underneath is what the customers want to see when they come here."
She took off her underwear and tried to turn to show only him what was underneath the many frilly petticoats designed to hide and tease the viewers at the same time. Gunter strained to look.
"That will do, girl. Very nice. The men will like all of that. And Meriem?"
"Yes sir?" she said dejectedly.
"I need to show you something on how to dress properly so you get noticed more," he said.
He walked up on stage, and jammed her breasts together uncomfortably, bunched up like they'd be in a properly tied up show outfit. She yelped in surprise.
"Like that when you're covered. That's what the bodice laces are for," he instructed. She turned bright red in the cheeks.
Then he pulled off the removable top to expose them and rearranged her bosom to drape over the top of the bodice. She blushed completely and squinted her eyes closed. She resisted the urge to slap him.
"Like that when you're not covered. Nice pair. That'll do. Our choreographer will show you how to perk those things up better for a real show. They'll grow more anyway."
She was angry that he touched her and absolutely flustered with what was supposed to be a compliment. She was at a complete loss at what to say, so she just said, "Uh… Thank you?"
He sat in his seat, "Now dance again. And kick those legs higher."
"But then you'll see my…" she said, even more aghast.
"That is exactly the point, Meriem. If you want the job, do it."
Pursed her lips and continued. She had no choice. The piano man restarted the music she'd selected. She put herself completely into the tryout, attempting to block all the bad things out. Everyone in the hall watched her dance number. Everything she did seemed to come easily. She was very athletic and lithe.
The owner was pleased seeing flashes of black and olive appear between the satin white ruffles of her skirt as she conducted her dance, and her bosom bounced beautifully. He knew her exotic dark skin would attract a lot of men. No burlesque show owner would have anyone of another ethnicity other than German, English, or French like her in the lineup and that would make him a lot of money. With Meriem, Siegfried knew he had his 'Josephine Baker', the only black burlesque dancer in the world who was becoming the rage of France with her exotic dancing.
"Remember to end with some kicks and flip over the skirt," he ordered, and she did.
That showed everyone everything.
The dance hall came alive in applause and a standing ovation, and the owner himself stood up for her performance. Margrite couldn't look her and was in deep embarrassment for her surrogate daughter. Gunter got a huge smile and Karl-Heinz stared hard. He spilled his drink. It made Margrite really angry that her husband looked at Meriem like that. They couldn't see Jeanne's angry grimace with her eyes closed tight, having to show herself to everyone in her finale. It hurt her terribly, "Oh Jack, forgive me." was all she could think. And then it was over. She turned around and held her skirt down as tightly against herself as she could so no one would see anything else and wrapped her top in a tablecloth. She grabbed her panties hoping to put them back on quickly. She put the removable top on instantly under the tablecloth. She still felt naked.
The owner stood and applauded the audition, "Bravo Meriem. Bravo. Great dancing. Very good moves. I can see ballet in your background. Meriem, you are truly beautiful, and a great dancer. You're hired."
"Um… Thank you, sir. But is that all? I really want to get dressed."
She was in fact desperate to get dressed. In her mind's eye, she might as well have been one of the solo striptease dancers with the feather boas or fans and nothing else who got up to practice their bump and grind numbers.
He laughed, "Testy too? Tell you what missy. You are a bit young. You were brave, though. You aren't afraid in your skin. You did everything I said. Not many tryouts will do that. I like that. For now, get the waitress job. But here's something I don't normally do. We'll keep you in the reserve chorus line in case someone gets sick or their time of the month or leaves. On your birthday you can be a regular if you want. You get to practice with everyone else. And get paid like a dancer. Someday you'll be a good solo act when you have more to show. Believe me."
The chorus line was listening and shouted and whistled their enthusiastic welcome, "Good going Meriem! You're one of us now!"
She wasn't sure if she was relieved or happy or disgusted with that cheerful greeting. But more time with these girls of questionable reputation was less time with Karl-Heinz. Or Gunter. And that was good.
Jeanne was unexpectedly pleased with herself and the acceptance by the other older women who genuinely seem to think of her as talented. This was all wrong and she knew it but her self-esteem soared.
The owner continued, "But at night, for now I want you to be as good a hostess as you are a dancer. Go see our head waitress. She'll show you how. Oh, and keep the costume. It's perfect for you. It's my gift to you. Get another like it, only a different color. Darks look good on you."
"Thank you sir. I am grateful. I'll be a good hostess for your customers."
She was really relieved didn't have to dance all the time. She vowed to be such a good cocktail waitress he'd want her less for the dancing and more for separating the customers from their money on booze. Jeanne sensed the owner was saying these things not as another lecherous man who just wanted to stare or have her, but someone who genuinely respected her beauty and her talent. She felt oddly proud of that.
And she should have known better.
She asked, "Mr. Siegfried sir, begging your pardon sir, but what tips can you give me as the owner of this establishment on being a good waitress for you? What am I supposed to do besides get the customers' orders?"
Whether she was intentionally trying to schmooze him to curry favor or not didn't matter. That she wanted to please him by being a good waitress to his standards was a very smart thing to do.
He instructed her pleasantly, "Here's want I want in my cocktail waitresses Meriem. Keep the big party groups that come here happy and keep suggesting 'another round'. They spend the most. Be prompt and attentive and pleasant the tips will flow, Meriem. Be good company to the loners too. Talk to them like an old friend. Make them think they're getting something from you. But don't give it up. I am not paying you for that."
"Thank God for that," she thought.
"Because you never know when we'll get inspected. This is a legitimate burlesque dance hall - not like the others in town. I want to stay in business a long time and take all the customers' money. Especially the rich old Brits coming to town who are in charge now. Those old men are harmless, but they have lots of money to spend on girls like you. They can't do it anymore. They'll just pay talk to you and drink themselves into a dream they are with you."
That was an unsettling image to her but she replied, "Oh. OK. Thank you for your advice. Anything else I should know?"
He was happy that she wanted to be taught correctly. Most of the girls he hired didn't care, "Get them drinks. Drink with them, but not too much. Drunk waitresses get into real trouble. The barkeep knows to get the girls drinks with only a little booze. I will make sure your mother Margrite will be scheduled most nights and watch you so you don't get in trouble. Separate the men from as much of their money as you can. Especially during the floor show."
"You mean?"
"No, sweetie. Legally. The pickpockets on the street will take what's left. We don't want anyone thinking they were robbed here. That's bad business. That's where Gunter and your dad come in. No one will know."
"You're very generous, Siegfried," noted Karl-Heinz, who'd been listening intently throughout. He'd finally calmed down from Meriem's dance routine. Margrite had not. She was still angry at her husband.
"You are a good man, Karl-Heinz. The street rumor says you are in hard times. I've heard say that you all barely escaped with your necks with some bossman down in Southwest Africa. Literally. I need the help. Several of my best employees died from that cursed flu, and several went home to Germany since the war is over. You came along at just the right time. Especially you, young lady. Now go. Get changed."
She blushed again, but said nothing, and went back to the dressing room, and shortly came back in her conservative calf length dress and fully covering blouse and coat.
"All true. Thanks again, for all of us, Siegfried," noted Karl-Heinz.
They started back for the flat. Finally the ordeal of the tryout was over. Jeanne lingered a few steps behind, shaking her head in disbelief she was a waitress and a promising new dancer in a burlesque hall.
"What on earth would Jack and my parents say to that?" she asked herself silently.
Margrite was ecstatic for Jeanne and tried to make her feel better, knowing how hard this was, putting an arm around her and saying, "Well you did it, honey! You're a dancer and a hostess now."
"So I did… but I'd prefer to just be a hostess," Jeanne smiled weakly, but again more proud of herself and her looks than she expected.
Her real mother would never believe how her dance lessons as a little girl played out to get the dancer/waitress job. No one in her real family would have ever praised her for becoming a burlesque dancer. It would have been a shameful thing. She said a prayer of forgiveness for this next set of immoral activities she'd been forced to endure. It could be worse.
Gunter had changed his mind from killing her to wanting her, "How about that? Looks like our kind of life is agreeing with you again Meriem. You're a great stripper. You can strip for me anytime, girl."
She hurled her angry words at Gunter, "I'm no stripper, arschloch. I'm a chorus girl and a waitress. And only once and awhile. You heard Siegfried."
Margrite slapped the man and screamed at him, "Enough, Gunter. Shut up. This has been a hard day for her. You're not helping."
Alone in the apartment bedroom – behind a locked door to keep Gunter out - she broke down while the others rejoiced at working for Karl-Heinz' old friend. Jeanne's heart was breaking inside. It stunned her how she easily she agreed - with little protest to the stage director - touching her body, showing herself, and agreeing to lie to strange men drunk night after night to coax money out of them for this burlesque bar. Serving and consuming booze was legal at any age in this lawless part of town. She had fallen so very far. And yet she was oddly pleased at being successful at getting the job, craving some kind of positive acceptance or praise that she never got with her captors. The thoughts in her head were such a jumble. It was truly ironic to her that the 'can-can' dance invented in France was the genesis to this much more vulgar style of exploitative dance. And she was one of the dancers.
"I'm so sorry, God. Please forgive me. And forgive me, Jack. If I hadn't done this, they would have done worse to me," she prayed silently.
She felt a warm feeling inside in response. She recognized that was Jack's support of her in whatever awful thing she'd been forced to do again, but there was only his vaguely pleasant feeling - nothing like the vivid dream. This was just like in other times of high stress or pain over the past five years. They could feel each other and soothe one another, but nothing more. But thank goodness there was at least that. She could get through this too with his support.
There had to be another way to tell him she was here in Dar es Salaam and end this nightmare. She couldn't live with the timeline of the vision. By the time they were 20 years old, everything would be lost between them. She would become Meriem to her very core, despite her resistance. Which was slipping. Walvis Bay took a lot out of her.
She shuddered knowing there wasn't much difference to go from lying to strange men to get their money to lying with strange men to get even more money. She could feel it coming. The closer she was getting to her freedom from kidnappers. The subject came up too often, and despite what Karl-Heinz promised he'd never do.
At least she had the surety of Jack, who would forgive her for all this awful new stuff she was doing. Other men would get to see her body before him. It made her feel horrible. She hoped she'd never have to explain any of this and it could be forgotten.
But Jack was her rock which she could count on him loving only her no matter what.
And that was true, until Jack met the Lady Eleanor.
…
Authors Notes: Oh dear. Jeanne is now a chorus line dancer and a cocktail waitress in a burlesque show. But having her take on this role as Siegfried's first ethnic dancer is my tribute to Josephine Baker, a Black-American woman who took the world by storm as the first ever Black burlesque dancer in France starting in the early 1920s and ultimately became a strong and effective women's rights activist until her passing in the 1970s. Another strong woman who like Jeanne had a rough start but endured and used the experience, the fame, and the fortune to better herself and devote herself to women's rights causes. But wait... what? Lady Eleanor? Who the heck is she?