Up Where We Belong
Chapter 7: Turning to scorn with lips divine
Christian and Aurora passed the next
several months in endless bliss. Summer
turned into fall, which turned slowly into winter. Paris prepared for Christmas, without the help of Monmarte. The Children of the Revolution focused
instead upon the coming new year. The
Moulin Rouge was making more money than ever, with Aurora sitting at the top of
the gold rush. Her tactic with men was
working, and she slowly learned more and more tricks. At first, she could only take on old decrepits who would pass out
at the first touch of hallucinogens. After awhile, though, she began to take on bigger and better clients. Her mattress had become decidedly inflated,
and Christian was drawing up plans for the Moulin's new full theater with
royalty boxes and a balcony. Things
were going great for the duo, especially since the publishing of Christian's
great love story, titled simply, "Moulin Rouge." It was being sold all across Paris, and
would soon be released by a publisher in America. Christian's dream was finally coming true.
Aurora
was holding back something from her lover, though. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but something was
terribly wrong. She had trouble
sleeping nights, and would easily run out of energy during both morning and
afternoon rehearsals. Food didn't go
down well at all, and she was beginning to lose weight. As frightening as the symptoms were
becoming, though, she shied from taking her trouble to a doctor. She knew if she found out what was really
wrong, her conscience wouldn't be able to keep it from Christian. Maybe Zidler, but never her love.
It was enough to keep Aurora
worrying, though, and that was the cause of more sleeplessness. She hid it from Christian as best she could,
slowly down her breath while he slept so as not to wake him. Their lovemaking seemed to tire him out
enough; she couldn't see why it didn't do the same for her. But still, it was soothing enough to watch
him sleep. While in depths of sleep,
all the lines of worry, doubt, and sadness melted away. Aurora got a glimpse of what he must have
looked like before Satine's death.
She wished
she could make him look like that all the time. Make it so that he didn't have to worry about anything. Despite all that he had gone wrong through,
Christian was still such an innocent, and Aurora didn't want to do anything
that could disrupt that innocence. It
was part of the reason she was in love with him. She knew she couldn't fight fate, however, and whatever was wrong
with her would have to be faced by both of them sooner or later. She just hoped, for the sake of their love,
that it would be later.
*****************
When Christian awoke the next
morning, Aurora was gone from his bed. Fear gripped him for a moment, but then he remembered she had scheduled
an early practice to iron out the new routine before it was performed that
night. He hurried and got dressed so as
not to miss the rehearsal. Christian
always tried to attend the practices so he would have an idea of what his nightclub
was doing. The new act promised to be
marvelous, and twice as good as the Diamonds act. He was worried, though. Aurora had been acting strangely as of late. She seemed to have pulled away slightly. However, when he walked in the main hall he
saw that she was still her old commanding self. The practice couldn't have started more than twenty minutes ago,
but still everything was going so smoothly that they could have performed it
right then and there. Zidler, standing
over in the corner, seemed pleased with his latest musical find. The song they used was a bit risqué, but no
more than anything else the Moulin Rouge did.
The rehearsal did become a
performance when a distinguished looking footman burst through the main doors
and stood impatiently and the end of the hall, as if waiting for his due
attention. Quietly, so as not to
further disturb the dancers, Christian went over to see what the man wanted.
"I wish to speak with Mademoiselle
Aurora, immediately," the footman said over Christian's head. There was no hope for it, then. Practice came to a screeching halt as the
show's leader strode confidently over to deal with the rude footman.
"I am Aurora, Monsieur, and if
you please, I am in the middle of a rehearsal. If you could kindly wait, I will speak with you..."
"My apologies, Mademoiselle,
but I do not have the time to wait. I
have been instructed by the Count D'Armande to give you a message. He will be dropping by this establishment
this evening on his way back to his country estates, and he seeks your company
for an hour or so after the conclusion of the evening's main show. He asks that you not make any other
commitments for this night, and he will compensate whatever loss you might
experience because of it."
"Thank you, Monsieur. Tell the Count I will be expecting him, and
that Table One in the main hall will be at his disposal."
"Good day, Mademoiselle,"
the rude footman said at the exact moment he turned to stride out of the
hall. And with no further comment, the
rehearsal continued as if it had never been interrupted.
*****************
The approach of night brought a
biting freezing rain, so all patrons of the illustrious nightclub were brought
into the packed dance hall. The heat
from a thousand energized bodies was almost unbearable, but everything came to
a hush as the lights dimmed and the crowd turned faces toward the ceiling in
anticipation for the Sparkling Diamond.
Tonight, however, no
diamond-encrusted trapeze lowered from the shadow-enclosed ceiling. Instead, an eerie silence filled the hall as
all waited for the show to start and a clump of Dogs made their way into the
center of the hall. They were clad
strangely, in men's tailcoats and sparkling shorts only slightly longer than their
knickers. The orchestra struck an odd
chord, and the clump of dancers parted to reveal a piece of the floorboards
suddenly rising higher and higher above the crowd. Upon this platform stood Aurora. She was clad in a full tailed tuxedo, including top hat and white bow
tie. At about four feet up, the
platform stopped rising, and Aurora chimed in with the orchestra:
"From the moment you walked in
the joint,
I could see you were a man of
distinction,
A real big spender.
Good lookin', so refined.
Hey, wouldn't you like to know
what's goin' on in my mind.
So let me get right to the point,
I don't pop my cork for every guy I
see...
Hey, Big Spender...
Spend a little ti-ime with
me..."
The girls chimed in after that,
adding their voices as they formed into a line running almost all the way
around the room. They began to call and
taunt and contort to calls of "Fun, laughs, good time." Much like the girls working for a few extra
cents out on the street corner. The men
in the room were eating it up, especially the Count D'Armande. As usual, Christian had taken the
responsibility of entertaining the man Aurora would later entertain
privately. He was a large, gruff man of
few words. His face was covered in a
thick black beard of wiry hair. His
eyes were cold black pools resting under two thick black caterpillars. Though Christian knew Aurora would be fine
handling the Count, the poet was slightly frightened by his appearance and
demeanor. He certainly wasn't the
normal cheery drunken Frenchman. The
Count had barely touched the sauce all night. It was hard to imagine this man on the upper end of the social
class. He looked like he might be more
at home in a factory somewhere.
Count D'Armande turned on the charm
right enough when Aurora came over, however. During the act, she had stripped out of the tux into the shorts and
halter top she had on beneath, and with the tailcoat she looked no different
from any of the rest of the dancers. She could have been dressed as the Queen of England; however, by the highbrow
way the Count greeted her and kissed her hand. The chat was short, but Christian could see the Count was taken by the
lovely Diamond. Perhaps Aurora would
get a good payment tonight, and it would take her out of whatever mood she was
in. When she took her leave to finish
the show, however, Christian could swear he heard the Count mutter:
"It will be fun to take the
advantage and get inside of her."
*****************
He was starting to worry
Aurora. The Count had taken the glass
of champagne, but he had yet to even take a single sip. She had even gone so far as to feed him
grapes crystallized with cocaine, but it did nothing to him. Now it had been almost half an hour since
they had first entered the elephant, and she was running out of ways to
distract him until the drugs set in. She didn't understand why he didn't take a drink. Maybe he was sworn from alcohol, but then
why would he have taken the glass in the first place?
The two of them lay on the large
bed, sprawled out and doing nothing but staring, Aurora at the sky and Count
D'Armande at her. She was thoroughly
disgusted by him. She wasn't even sure
how the huge gorilla could be a member of the upper class. He resembled more of a dockworker than a
Count with a country estate. She had to
get rid of him soon.
"Why don't we go out on the
balcony, my dear Count?" Aurora said, rising to her feet with a supple
grace. The Count followed quickly,
though with a self-confidence that disturbed her. She led him out past the giant heart to look out of the elephant
forehead at the Parisian landscape of glittering lights and twinkling stars
above. He seemed less interested in
that, however, as he came up behind her and slid his hand nonchalantly down the
front of her low-cut dress. His large
paw reached around for a little while, then roughly grabbed her left breast and
held on for dear life. Shocked and
dismayed by the sudden action, Aurora quickly shoved him away. However, she was a great deal weaker than
him, so he didn't go far.
Count D'Armande seemed angered by
her sudden response. He quickly grabbed
her by the shoulders and flung her across the room as if she were nothing more
than a rag doll. She landed in a heap
on the floor, bruised and disoriented.
"Don't get all noble on me,
bitch," the giant growled. "You're a fucking whore, so act like it and fuck me."
Aurora regained her strain of
thinking just as his enormous body began to descend on hers, but by then it was
too late.
*****************
Christian had never gotten over his
concern for Aurora's safety, especially not tonight when she had to deal with
that monster of a man. It was just that
same worry that brought the young poet to the street outside of the elephant. They had been in there together for about
thirty minutes, and it usually took less time than that for Aurora to dispose
of her customers. The crowds in the
club were beginning to thin, so no one worried about the one lone man standing
at the base of the elephant and watching its inhabitors. Christian had reason for alarm,
however. Just as her looked up, he saw
Aurora push the man away as hard as she could. But she just wasn't strong enough. When the Count threw her across the room, Christian took off running
toward the entrance in the right foreleg of the beast.
The stairs were too long. He kept picturing what Satine had looked
like after the Duke had tried to rape her, and he was almost certain the Count
would succeed just because Christian couldn't get up the stairs in time. Finally, the curving staircase ended, and he
was spilled out into the hallway leading to the Red Room. He could hear muffled screaming coming down
the hall, so he increased his pace. The
door opened smoothly, and Christian was faced with the frightful image before
him. Aurora lay almost helpless on the
floor as the brutish Count ripped the clothes from her body. At the same time, he was trying desperately
to pull his cock from his pants and slip it inside her. Enraged, Christian conjured his strength and
strode across the room to save his love. He ripped the Count up from her by the collar of his shirt and, using
his other hand, delivered a hard punch to his cold left eye.
Being as large as he was, the punch
did little to faze the Count, except to make him even angrier. He began his own routine of punches on
Christian, and the young man could do little to stop them. Soon the Count had him backed up against the
serving table, and Christian was certain he was finished. The Count grabbed him about the throat, but
just as he was about to snap it, Christian's hand closed about a small cheese
knife that had been thrown to the floor at some point. The poet slashed wildly, hoping to cut the
Count's face and drive him off. Christian had an almost natural aim, however, and the sharp knife sliced
easily through the Count's corded throat, spraying his life's blood all over
Christian's innocent face.
*****************
Disclaimer: I don't own the song "Hey, Big Spender." It belongs to the musical "Fosse," and the
genius who created it.
A/N: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed this
story, and thank you for sticking with me, even when you didn't like the
plot. The next chapter will be the end
of this story of the Moulin Rouge. Thank you for supporting me. It
means more than you could possibly imagine.