Chapter 3: The Ex-Debutante


Karita cursed the inventor of the heavy can-can skirts, pushing the dratted garments out of her way. "Ariella owes me for this," she muttered, her blue eyes snapping furiously.
"Hello?" She called, her voice full and throaty. Another old, nearly impotent man who would pay well but leave her unsatisfied. Always the same old song and dance at the Moulin Rouge.

Of course, there was nothing wrong with that. Karita would much rather be there than be laced tightly into a loveless marriage with a loveless husband and being tied to her manners. She couldn't have been born to worse parents, to a worse situation. A debutante, celebrated in London's elite social circles, but a rebel and true Bohemian spirit at heart. Somehow, Karita had escaped the clutches of her socialite mother and her distant, studious father. She'd caught the first train to Paris, changed her name from Kathleen to Karita, and burned all the traces of the girl she used to be.

Harold had taken her in right away, given her the name of The Goddess, dressed her as Aphrodite, and let her can-can her way into the hearts of hapless, disgustingly rich men.

She ran a hand through her hair that was currently amber colored and sighed heavily, waiting for the goddamned door to open so she could get this over and done with, reap in the benefits, and then go back to the small apartment she shared with Sugar, Carmine, Ariella, and Bella.

"Are you Ariella?" The voice responded through the heavy wood of the door.
"No, I'm her replacement, Karita." She said, making her voice sweet and seductive at the same time. "She was unable to make it here. But I can show you a better time..."
"Come in."
Karita's breath caught in her throat when she got a glimpse of the young man who opened the door. She was completely speechless; quite a strange occurrence for the talkative Diamond Dog. The man who stood there was by no means a rich gentleman, oh no. He was one of those 'I want to be the future of Bohemianism' types; mussed dark hair, piercing blue eyes, bronze skin that completely took her breath away.
"Um...hello." She whispered. "I'm your muse for tonight. I can be anything you want me to be."
He just laughed, his eyes drilling into hers. "Why are you laughing at me?" She snapped.
"Stop that act. Don't be a courtesan around me, please. I'm Theodore Knox. Call me Ted. Teddy. Theo."
"I'm Karita."
"No you aren't."
"What do you mean, no I'm not?"
"That isn't your name. You're not Spanish. Don't tell me Karita is a proper name for a girl like you with that accent. Let me guess your history. Sit down."
She did so. "Okay, guess. Get it right, you get me. Get it wrong, I'm leaving."
"All right. You were from a British family."
"Oui." Karita nodded, blue eyes flaming. She'd expected to sleep with the man, get paid, and leave. Obviously the gods had other plans.
"And you didn't want to be trapped into that lifestyle, so you ran away, right?"
Karita sighed in defeat. "You win."
He grinned. "I don't want to sleep with you."
"Then why did you call me? Were you going to pull this prank on Ariella too?"
"No. I paid her not to come and to send you, Miss Karita. What is your real name, anyway?"
"I'm not telling you."
"You will."
"Kathleen," she mumbled, hating herself for bending under the pressure of his eyes. "So you called a whore just to make fun of her, Theodore Knox?"
"No," he said with that amused smile. "I like you."
"So do lots of other men." She said, fiddling with the brightly sequined skirt she wore. "So why should I call you special?"
"Because I am." Theo pulled Karita up to him and almost smashed his mouth to hers. Karita squirmed at first, trying to break free of the iron grip, but then relented and enjoyed the rush of warmth pumping through her body. Impulsively, she put her own arms around him and pulled him even closer, returning the kiss with every fiery cell of her. When they were finally so in need of oxygen that they forced themselves to break, Karita wobbled slightly and gave a fuzzy smile. Her vision was clouded with stars and hearts and all those lovey-dovey things she'd been so cynical of. "Whoo..." she murmured, still wobbling on her feet.
"Don't fall there." Theo said, bringing his arm under her back to make sure she didn't drop down to the floor.
Karita just giggled like she'd drunk too much champagne and whispered, "Kiss me again, please."
"Hey, aren't you supposed to be doing the seducing?"
"Want me to lay down there and spread my legs?" She asked, eyes flaming once again.
"Settle down, fireball." Teddy smoothed the ruffled amber curls and twirled her around the room.
"Kiss me again." Karita repeated. "And again and again."
"Demanding little thing, aren't we, petite Katie?"
"Yes. Now shut up and kiss me."
"You've had enough kissing for one night."
"You don't know me too well, do you, Teddy?" Karita lay down on her stomach on the bed and propped her chin in her hands. "I like to be kissed. Love to be kissed, really." She winked at him and beckoned for him to come her way. "Come here, Teddy."
"Look, Katie-Girl, if you expect to be paid..."
"Paid?!" She shrieked, jumping from the bed and stomping her little feet over to him. "PAID? You were going to PAY me?"
"Isn't that what you do?"
"WHAT? I know I'm a whore! That's my job. But I thought...I thought...I think I should leave."
Karita turned on her heel, amber locks flashing, and slammed the door behind her.

The distraught, flushed Karita burst through the door of the small apartment she lived in. Only Sugar was there, staring at her reflection in the mirror.
"Hair again?" Karita asked, forcing a smile to crack her angered face.
"Of course." Sugar grinned. "What's wrong? You look like a flustered hen. Bad night?"
"Well, it didn't start out bad. Ariella sent me in her place to meet one man, who turned out to be perfect." Karita began removing her heavy skirts and unlaced her corset. Standing in her undergarments, she spilled the whole story to Sugar.
"Poor girl."
"Wonder where the others are."
"Probably off fucking at the Moulin."
Karita stretched lazily on the small ottoman and yawned. "I'm going to bed, Sugar."
"Goodnight, Ita."


She didn't sleep. Instead, still in her petticoats and barefoot, Karita took a walk in the warm Parisian night. It was a starless night, and the half-moon in the sky cast her form in silver light. She sang softly to herself, to anyone who might pass her on the nearly deserted streets.

"There's a saying goes, says that love is blind.
Still we're often told "seek and ye shall find."
So I'm going to seek a certain lad I've had in mind.
Looking everywhere, I haven't found him yet."

She was lying blatantly to herself. She had found him earlier this night.
"He's the big affair I cannot forget.
Only man I think of with regret.
I'd like to add his initial to my monogram...
Tell me, where is the shepherd for this lost lamb?"

Karita closed her eyes and spun like a child on the streets, not caring who was regarding her with suspicious eyes. "It's my fault," she thought to herself. "I wonder what would have happened had I not left like that."
The river sent blinding sparkles into her eyes and she looked up to the moon, singing in a hopeful whisper.

"There's somebody I'm longing to see.
I hope he turns out to be
Someone to watch over me."

Who was that, walking slowly ahead of her? Why did he look back at her so often and smile that wry, amused smile? Why, even in the silvery darkness, could she see the clear blue of his eyes?
Karita picked up her pace and ran towards him. "Theodore Knox!" She called out into the night. "Teddy!"
He turned slightly, grinned, and put his arms around her small waist. "You're undressed."
She looked him in the eyes, her own twinkling with happiness, and sang softly into his ear.

"Follow my lead, oh, how I need
someone to watch over me."

END OF CHAPTER 3

"Someone to Watch Over Me" is by George & Ira Gershwin.