Chapter 8:

A/N: Yes, the Prince of Wales did visit the Moulin Rouge sometimes. (It's in the Moulin Rouge book if you don't believe me!) We'll pretend he liked Karita, okay? This took me so long to write; it does get a little graphic.



Carmine, Sugar, Bella, Ariella, and Karita were, as they always seemed to do at night, at their vanities, primping. Karita lined her blue eyes with dark kohl borrowed from Carmine, who seemed especially moody tonight.

"Mina, what's wrong?" She asked, running her hands through her amber- colored hair.

"N-nothing," Carmine stammered. "I'm fine." Each girl could tell that their Spanish Rose wasn't fine at all. Sometime was nagging on her mind.

"How do I look?" Asked Ariella, twirling about in a dress the color of her emerald eyes. It was a shame, thought Karita, that someone that dazzlingly beautiful was stuck here at the Moulin Rouge. It was a shame for all of the girls at the Moulin Rouge; beauty squandered, intelligence crushed, reduced to a mere singing and dancing plaything.

"Amazing," said Bella.

"It isn't fair," Sugar echoed, brushing Carmine's hair with childlike fascination.

When Karita had finished dressing, she stared at the mirror in a sort of trancelike contemplation, ignoring the chatter of her friends around her. The girl staring back was pretty; gleaming hair, sapphire, accentuated eyes, creamy skin. But she wasn't satisfied. The wings on the back of her dress fluttered as she stood and went out to the little balcony, tilting her head back so the Parisian wind could flow through her hair.

A screech from Bella interrupted her solitude. "Rita! Rita! Harold's here and he's asking for YOU!"

"Me?" Karita peeked through the doorway to see Bella in a state of undress, using that notoriously loud, brassy voice to call her friend in. She giggled slightly, frustrating Bella.

"YES! Get your bloody arse in here, Rita!"

"Yes, Harold?" A coquettish look from Karita made the ringmaster of the Moulin Rouge smile.

"There's a man coming tonight who wants a night with you."

"Me?"

"He specifically requested the Muse, and that is you, if I'm not mistaken."

Karita nodded. "Who is he?"

"The Prince of Wales."

"What?!?" She shrieked. "The PRINCE?"

"Keep your voice down."

"Harold, you have got to be joking."

"I'm dead serious."

"Tonight? Oh God, Harold. I can't do that tonight!"

"In the Red Room. Right after the show. We'll be expecting you, Karita. Don't forget. This is a big venture for the Rouge, and it all depends upon you."

He left her there, heart pounding, butterflies fluttering madly in her stomach.



She was quiet while the rest of the girls finished dressing. Sugar's adept hands styled her hair in the most fashionable way, but Karita didn't care about her appearance. She was too worried for Teddy's reaction; an event like this had never happened before. The Prince of Wales, Queen Victoria's SON, was coming to the Moulin Rouge. And he wanted HER.

"Teddy, I can't see you tonight," she said when he made his nightly visit to her apartment.

"Why?" His face was pained and he fingered her hair softly.

"I have. . .business."

"With whom?"

"N-no one important."

"You're stammering, Katie. Who are you seeing tonight?"

"The. . .Prince of Wales." Her blue eyes stared into his, swimming with tears. "I'm sorry, Teddy. Please, don't be angry."

"I understand, Katie. It's your job."

"I love you, Teddy."

His face went pale and she shut the door softly.



"After midnight, we're gonna let it all hang out," sang the girls seductively, sashaying to their dance partners. "After midnight, we're gonna let it all . . ." A flash of split panties made the gentlemen reel back in erotic shock. "Hang out."

Karita's mind was not on her dancing. She was torn between her feelings for Teddy and her job, the promises she'd made to Harold, promises she couldn't break. Shaking off these thoughts and putting on her mask of seductive happiness, she sought out the Prince of Wales.

He wasn't as nearly as handsome as Teddy, but when he set eyes on her, his eyes lit up with desire. Karita sidled up to him so that her skin barely grazed his and whispered into his ear, "You're going to meet me in the red room, aren't you?"

He stuttered, "Y-y-es, I-I am."

She laughed gaily and let the feathers of her costume tickle his skin. "I'm looking forward to it."

But inside, her heart was sinking.

It was far, far after midnight when Karita made her way up to the infamous Red Room. Her feet felt heavier than stone, for all she could think about was Teddy.

There was the Prince of Wales, seated nervously on the extravagant red- velvet draped bed, waiting for her. Using Satine's key line, Karita breathed, "I believe you've been expecting me."

"Y-yes."

"Then you won't mind if I change into something a little more-" Karita paused and a hot silence filled the air. "Comfortable?"

"No, of course not."

She slipped behind the sheer curtain and hurriedly removed her dress so all she wore was a raven-colored corset and the most exquisite hosiery available. Her hair that had been swept up neatly was now falling down in wisps of amber-colored curls, adding to the sex appeal she radiated. "How do I look?"

He gulped hard, and Karita couldn't help laughing inwardly. "Champagne?" He asked her, extending a shaking hand holding a slim glass.

"Why thank you." Karita swallowed the liquid down fast and wasted no time. Unpinning her hair, letting it fall about her shoulders sexily. "Now, Prince . . ." she lowered her voice to a whispery purr and leaned close to him so her corset would dip scandalously low. His eyes were glued to her. "Shall we get started?"



Below the elephant, in the very quiet Moulin Rouge inhabited now only by Bohemians and Diamond Dogs, Teddy sat at the piano, taking slow drags of his cigarette, wondering what Karita was doing, shuddering at the thoughts that invaded his mind.

"Lonely?" It was Sugar, sliding onto the bench beside him.

Teddy was silent, so the sympathetic young girl put her arm comfortingly on his shoulder. "I know how you feel."

Someone called her name, and the sweet child was gone. Teddy put his hands on the keys, feeling the silence of the Rouge, and began to play.

From where she lay on the Red Room's velvet bed with it's satin sheets so many times used by the girls of the Rouge, underneath the thrusting body of the Prince of Wales, faking orgasm to please him, Karita could hear the strains of music. Haunting music that made her shudder: Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata." Teddy's hands were playing that eerie music, making her feel as guilty as she did. The nearly inaudible notes made her whole body quiver. The Prince, thinking he was pleasing her, thrusted harder into her aching body. Karita watched his face as he climaxed; the whites of his eyes were all she could see and all she could hear was his whimpering moans.

Finally, it was over. He had collapsed beside her, breathing heavily, falling into hard sleep. Quietly, Karita slipped from the bed. After draping a light robe over herself and running a brush through her mussed hair, she left the elephant.

There was nobody in the Moulin Rouge, lit only by the glimmer of three or four candles. Barefoot, Karita made no noise as she floated across the Moulin's shiny floors to the piano. He still sat there, hunched over the keys, eyes closed in fitful sleep.

She sat beside him and listened to him breathe for a moment. And then, softly laying her long fingers on his cheek to wake him, Karita whispered in his ear, "I love you."

And in the blue of his tear-clouded eyes, she knew he felt the same.