CHAPTER TWO
"There you are, love," Marie said as she tightened the laces on Roxane's corset. "Let's have a look at you now." Roxane turned to face the woman, who had taken a motherly liking to her.
Roxane looked like a ballerina. A ballerina working in a brothel, which is what she was. She wore a blue corset, which was no less restricting than one of her tutus from the ballet, over an excessively lacy and ruffled blue skirt. Light blue stockings were held up with garters over her ruffled blue panties.
"And of course, your crowning glory," Marie said, as she placed the feathered circlet in Roxane's hair. "There you are, my dear. You look lovely. Now, remember what I told you. Laugh at their jokes, complement their tastes, and always, always give them what they want. But remember, always remember this. Do not fall in love. Men will promise you diamonds and beautiful dresses, but they will anything with their pants down, so don't believe them. We were all in your place at some point. You'll do great," Marie kissed Roxane on the cheek and gave her a shove toward the door. "Now, go get those boys."
But Marie's vote of confidence didn't help Roxane get past her fear. She knew what the job entailed, but she was still terrified.
She took her place next to Nini, who surveyed Roxane's outfit.
"Well, looks as though Harold has got a new girl for us tonight. Doesn't want to thin the ranks when Satine finally leaves, I suppose," Nini said bitterly.
"What's that you say?" Momé Fromage asked.
"Oh, didn't you hear? If that Duke agrees to finance that production Toulouse and the others are putting together, Satine will become a big star, and leave her humble beginnings here behind her," Nini responded acrimoniously. "As if she wasn't a star already. Takes the attention away from all of us anyway. I won't be sad to see that one go."
Roxane pretended like she wasn't listening. She stared glumly at the floor, dreading the evening before her.
"Cheer up, now darling!" Nini told Roxane, not entirely encouragingly. "Think of all the lovely rich men little you will seduce tonight!" But Nini's words were hardly encouraging. Indeed, she did not intend them to be so.
The music began. "All right, there's a girl," Nini said as she pushed Roxane through the door onto the dance floor.
Roxane had never seen anything like it. The dance floor of the Moulin Rouge was a zoo of dancers and patrons, seedy clothing and dapper evening wear. The girls mingled with the wealthy men who'd gone slumming for the occasion. Roxane half-heartedly danced with any drunken man who grabbed ahold of her.
Then the music stopped. Silver confetti rained down from the ceiling. A sultry voice rang out through the room, and all below, Roxane included were awestruck. So this was Satine, Roxane thought as the gorgeous courtesan descended to the floor, teasing the tuxedo-clad men with her charms. She seemed to fixate on a certain young man. Roxane could not see him clearly, but she was intrigued and danced closer to him.
He seemed ill at ease dancing with the seductive Satine. His blue eyes gleamed below a rakish shock of black hair, and in his top hat and tails, he looked like many of the debonair young men she saw in the audience at the Opera Ballet. He made her think of better times.
When the dance had finished, Roxane decided she must find out who this young man was. She walked discreetly off the dance floor and snatched a tray of drinks from the bar. Then, she made her way to the table where she saw the man sit with his friends. She had planned to walk casually past him, hoping he might notice her.
"Woxane! Woxane!" a voice called as she walked by the table. It was Toulouse. Roxane closed her eyes and sighed, turning toward him. "Yes, yes, come and see us! I want you to meet someone!" Roxane smiled, as she set the tray of drinks on the table.
"On the house," she said seductively. The strange-looking Bohemians at the table quickly grabbed the drinks and downed them.
"Oh, spwendifewous!" Toulouse exclaimed. "We couldn't pay for them anyway! Woxane, I would wike you to meet Chwistian."
Roxane met Christian's eyes, and he smiled warmly at her.
"Enchantée, Mademoiselle," he said, kissing her hand.
"Chwistian is the fabuwously tawented witer of our wevowutionewy pway 'Spectacular, Spectacular'! A twue Bohemian genius! Woxane is the newest addition to the Moulin Rouge, Chwistian. I think she would make a wovewy Swiss milkmaid, don't you?"
"Um, yes, I suppose so," Christian said. He seemed preoccupied. Roxane felt her heart sink. "And I'm really not a genius. Toulouse is too kind."
"Well, I look forward to seeing your play. I'm sure it will be…spectacular," Roxane regretted the words once they escaped from her mouth. She wasn't very good at being sultry. "Excuse me, please." Roxane retreated to the crowded dance floor.
"Oh! Oh! Mademoiselle Woxane! Won't you join us at the Hotel Blanche this vewy evening. A wittle cewebwation to kick off our pway!" Toulouse called after her. She said she would. After all, she was renting a room at the Hotel Blanche, as it was just across the street from the Moulin Rouge.
Returning to the dance floor, she nearly ran into Harold Zidler.
"Ah! There you are, my little bluebird! I've been looking for you!" he exclaimed, taking her by the waist and leading her across the floor. "Someone has taken an interest in you. Seems he has a liking for ballerinas."
Roxane assented as he led her to a table inhabited by a handsome tuxedoed man smoking a cigar.
"Count de Rochambeau!" Zidler exclaimed. "Here she is, our little bluebird!" Roxane did her best to smile sweetly. The man kissed her hand.
"Lovely to meet you at last," he said suavely, but Roxane was immediately put off by his oily demeanor.
"I've arranged for the two of you to meet alone in the velvet room upstairs, Count," Zidler said grandiosely. "I promise you won't be disappointed."
"I'm sure I won't," the Count. Zidler could sense the fear mounting in Roxane's mind.
"We'll just let Mademoiselle Roxane go and freshen up, and then she'll meet you there," Zidler said persuasively, leading Roxane backstage. "See Marie. She'll tell you what to do," he whispered. "Good luck!"
Roxane sought out Marie.
"First night here and you've already landed a Count! Sounds like someone else I know. Better be careful, or you'll end up hanging from the ceiling on a trapeze wearing a sequined corset," Marie said with a laugh.
"Marie, you must help me. What do I do?" Roxane asked anxiously. She had had a few liaisons with the stable boy in the hayloft before she left for Paris, but she wasn't exactly adept at seducing Counts.
"Oh! That. Well," Marie shrugged. "Let him lead. Give him encouragement, even if he's…well…unsatisfying. And don't leave until you get at least one hundred francs. You're worth more than that, so don't let the bastard sell you short. Diamonds work too. Just make sure he pays. Now, come on love. You've got a count waiting for you."
Marie led Roxane to the velvet room where the Count had already made himself comfortable.
"My dear Count," Roxane began in her most sultry voice. "I'm terribly sorry if I kept you waiting."
"Oh don't be silly. I would wait centuries for a woman of your beauty. Would you like a drink?" He held a bottle of brandy in his hand. Roxane had never tried it before, but deciding it would make things easier, she quickly took the glass from his hand and downed its entire contents. "Ah yes, you must be quite thirsty from all that dancing."
"Yes. Quite. Well, would you like to get started?" she asked, gesturing toward the lavishly decorated bed.
"Indeed," the Count said, raising an eyebrow.
* * * * * *
Later that evening, Roxane sat in her small rented room, holding the diamond necklace the Count had bestowed upon her for her services. She was debating whether this was all worth a few jewels when she suddenly noticed that her bedroom window had a perfect view of the elephant in the courtyard of the Moulin Rouge, the infamous room where she had heard so many trysts had occurred.
She gazed through her window to see who Satine's lucky visitor was that night, and was shocked when she realized it was Christian, looking a bit nervous as the lingerie-clad woman attempted to work her wiles on him. She wished she was Satine, so she could get close to Christian. She rested her head and arms on the window sill as she watched them dance throughout the elephant, wishing she could understand what they were saying. She fell asleep, gazing out at the windmill wings of the Moulin Rouge and the sweeping view of Paris.
Hours later, she was awakened by persistent knocking at the door.
"Mademoiselle Woxane!" A familiar voice called. She opened the door to find not only Toulouse, but three of his friends there with him. "Isn't it wondewful! Spectacular Spectacular has an investor! We can finally put on our compwetewy Bohemian pwoduction! Of course, thewe's been a few changes. Not set in Switzewand anymore, but I'm sure you'll make a wovewy hawem girl now! Come, thewe's a cewebwation going on upstaiws!" Toulouse grabbed Roxane by the hand and began leading her down the hall.
"Oh! How wude of me! I forgot to intwoduce you to my fwiends!" Toulouse exclaimed suddenly. "This is Erik Satie, he is a composer. This is the doctor, in charge of special effects, and this is the Argentinean. He is a dancer, much like yourself!"
The Argentinean zealously grabbed Roxane's hand and planted a firm kiss on it.
"Another dancer! I love it! Tell me, do you tango?" he asked.
"No, I've never—" Roxane began.
"Then I will show you! Come!" The Argentinean pulled Roxane by the hand to the party already raging upstairs. Bohemians dizzied by absinthe danced drunkenly with another, laughing and slurring about. The Argentinean led Roxane through a series of steps, and she followed.
"You are a natural! The tango is a dance you must feel here!" he exclaimed, gesturing toward his pelvic region. Roxane knew she blushed. "And now! I show you—" But to Roxane's astonishment, the Argentinean's eyes crossed and he collapsed to the floor, totally asleep.
"Oh ho! Wook at that!" Toulouse exclaimed. "That's what I forgot to tell you about the Argentinean! He has narcowepsy!"
"Narcowepsy?" Roxane repeated.
"Yes! Narcowepsy. Awake one moment and unconscious the next! That is why we call him the Unconscious Argentinean. Just wait a few moments. I'm sure he'll wake up and continue the wesson!" Toulouse laughed as he downed another glass of absinthe.
But Roxane didn't want to continue the lesson. Finding Christian absent from the Bohemians' party, she wanted nothing more than to go to sleep. As she slipped out of the attic back to her room, she could have sworn she saw Christian and Satine dancing atop the elephant.
"There you are, love," Marie said as she tightened the laces on Roxane's corset. "Let's have a look at you now." Roxane turned to face the woman, who had taken a motherly liking to her.
Roxane looked like a ballerina. A ballerina working in a brothel, which is what she was. She wore a blue corset, which was no less restricting than one of her tutus from the ballet, over an excessively lacy and ruffled blue skirt. Light blue stockings were held up with garters over her ruffled blue panties.
"And of course, your crowning glory," Marie said, as she placed the feathered circlet in Roxane's hair. "There you are, my dear. You look lovely. Now, remember what I told you. Laugh at their jokes, complement their tastes, and always, always give them what they want. But remember, always remember this. Do not fall in love. Men will promise you diamonds and beautiful dresses, but they will anything with their pants down, so don't believe them. We were all in your place at some point. You'll do great," Marie kissed Roxane on the cheek and gave her a shove toward the door. "Now, go get those boys."
But Marie's vote of confidence didn't help Roxane get past her fear. She knew what the job entailed, but she was still terrified.
She took her place next to Nini, who surveyed Roxane's outfit.
"Well, looks as though Harold has got a new girl for us tonight. Doesn't want to thin the ranks when Satine finally leaves, I suppose," Nini said bitterly.
"What's that you say?" Momé Fromage asked.
"Oh, didn't you hear? If that Duke agrees to finance that production Toulouse and the others are putting together, Satine will become a big star, and leave her humble beginnings here behind her," Nini responded acrimoniously. "As if she wasn't a star already. Takes the attention away from all of us anyway. I won't be sad to see that one go."
Roxane pretended like she wasn't listening. She stared glumly at the floor, dreading the evening before her.
"Cheer up, now darling!" Nini told Roxane, not entirely encouragingly. "Think of all the lovely rich men little you will seduce tonight!" But Nini's words were hardly encouraging. Indeed, she did not intend them to be so.
The music began. "All right, there's a girl," Nini said as she pushed Roxane through the door onto the dance floor.
Roxane had never seen anything like it. The dance floor of the Moulin Rouge was a zoo of dancers and patrons, seedy clothing and dapper evening wear. The girls mingled with the wealthy men who'd gone slumming for the occasion. Roxane half-heartedly danced with any drunken man who grabbed ahold of her.
Then the music stopped. Silver confetti rained down from the ceiling. A sultry voice rang out through the room, and all below, Roxane included were awestruck. So this was Satine, Roxane thought as the gorgeous courtesan descended to the floor, teasing the tuxedo-clad men with her charms. She seemed to fixate on a certain young man. Roxane could not see him clearly, but she was intrigued and danced closer to him.
He seemed ill at ease dancing with the seductive Satine. His blue eyes gleamed below a rakish shock of black hair, and in his top hat and tails, he looked like many of the debonair young men she saw in the audience at the Opera Ballet. He made her think of better times.
When the dance had finished, Roxane decided she must find out who this young man was. She walked discreetly off the dance floor and snatched a tray of drinks from the bar. Then, she made her way to the table where she saw the man sit with his friends. She had planned to walk casually past him, hoping he might notice her.
"Woxane! Woxane!" a voice called as she walked by the table. It was Toulouse. Roxane closed her eyes and sighed, turning toward him. "Yes, yes, come and see us! I want you to meet someone!" Roxane smiled, as she set the tray of drinks on the table.
"On the house," she said seductively. The strange-looking Bohemians at the table quickly grabbed the drinks and downed them.
"Oh, spwendifewous!" Toulouse exclaimed. "We couldn't pay for them anyway! Woxane, I would wike you to meet Chwistian."
Roxane met Christian's eyes, and he smiled warmly at her.
"Enchantée, Mademoiselle," he said, kissing her hand.
"Chwistian is the fabuwously tawented witer of our wevowutionewy pway 'Spectacular, Spectacular'! A twue Bohemian genius! Woxane is the newest addition to the Moulin Rouge, Chwistian. I think she would make a wovewy Swiss milkmaid, don't you?"
"Um, yes, I suppose so," Christian said. He seemed preoccupied. Roxane felt her heart sink. "And I'm really not a genius. Toulouse is too kind."
"Well, I look forward to seeing your play. I'm sure it will be…spectacular," Roxane regretted the words once they escaped from her mouth. She wasn't very good at being sultry. "Excuse me, please." Roxane retreated to the crowded dance floor.
"Oh! Oh! Mademoiselle Woxane! Won't you join us at the Hotel Blanche this vewy evening. A wittle cewebwation to kick off our pway!" Toulouse called after her. She said she would. After all, she was renting a room at the Hotel Blanche, as it was just across the street from the Moulin Rouge.
Returning to the dance floor, she nearly ran into Harold Zidler.
"Ah! There you are, my little bluebird! I've been looking for you!" he exclaimed, taking her by the waist and leading her across the floor. "Someone has taken an interest in you. Seems he has a liking for ballerinas."
Roxane assented as he led her to a table inhabited by a handsome tuxedoed man smoking a cigar.
"Count de Rochambeau!" Zidler exclaimed. "Here she is, our little bluebird!" Roxane did her best to smile sweetly. The man kissed her hand.
"Lovely to meet you at last," he said suavely, but Roxane was immediately put off by his oily demeanor.
"I've arranged for the two of you to meet alone in the velvet room upstairs, Count," Zidler said grandiosely. "I promise you won't be disappointed."
"I'm sure I won't," the Count. Zidler could sense the fear mounting in Roxane's mind.
"We'll just let Mademoiselle Roxane go and freshen up, and then she'll meet you there," Zidler said persuasively, leading Roxane backstage. "See Marie. She'll tell you what to do," he whispered. "Good luck!"
Roxane sought out Marie.
"First night here and you've already landed a Count! Sounds like someone else I know. Better be careful, or you'll end up hanging from the ceiling on a trapeze wearing a sequined corset," Marie said with a laugh.
"Marie, you must help me. What do I do?" Roxane asked anxiously. She had had a few liaisons with the stable boy in the hayloft before she left for Paris, but she wasn't exactly adept at seducing Counts.
"Oh! That. Well," Marie shrugged. "Let him lead. Give him encouragement, even if he's…well…unsatisfying. And don't leave until you get at least one hundred francs. You're worth more than that, so don't let the bastard sell you short. Diamonds work too. Just make sure he pays. Now, come on love. You've got a count waiting for you."
Marie led Roxane to the velvet room where the Count had already made himself comfortable.
"My dear Count," Roxane began in her most sultry voice. "I'm terribly sorry if I kept you waiting."
"Oh don't be silly. I would wait centuries for a woman of your beauty. Would you like a drink?" He held a bottle of brandy in his hand. Roxane had never tried it before, but deciding it would make things easier, she quickly took the glass from his hand and downed its entire contents. "Ah yes, you must be quite thirsty from all that dancing."
"Yes. Quite. Well, would you like to get started?" she asked, gesturing toward the lavishly decorated bed.
"Indeed," the Count said, raising an eyebrow.
* * * * * *
Later that evening, Roxane sat in her small rented room, holding the diamond necklace the Count had bestowed upon her for her services. She was debating whether this was all worth a few jewels when she suddenly noticed that her bedroom window had a perfect view of the elephant in the courtyard of the Moulin Rouge, the infamous room where she had heard so many trysts had occurred.
She gazed through her window to see who Satine's lucky visitor was that night, and was shocked when she realized it was Christian, looking a bit nervous as the lingerie-clad woman attempted to work her wiles on him. She wished she was Satine, so she could get close to Christian. She rested her head and arms on the window sill as she watched them dance throughout the elephant, wishing she could understand what they were saying. She fell asleep, gazing out at the windmill wings of the Moulin Rouge and the sweeping view of Paris.
Hours later, she was awakened by persistent knocking at the door.
"Mademoiselle Woxane!" A familiar voice called. She opened the door to find not only Toulouse, but three of his friends there with him. "Isn't it wondewful! Spectacular Spectacular has an investor! We can finally put on our compwetewy Bohemian pwoduction! Of course, thewe's been a few changes. Not set in Switzewand anymore, but I'm sure you'll make a wovewy hawem girl now! Come, thewe's a cewebwation going on upstaiws!" Toulouse grabbed Roxane by the hand and began leading her down the hall.
"Oh! How wude of me! I forgot to intwoduce you to my fwiends!" Toulouse exclaimed suddenly. "This is Erik Satie, he is a composer. This is the doctor, in charge of special effects, and this is the Argentinean. He is a dancer, much like yourself!"
The Argentinean zealously grabbed Roxane's hand and planted a firm kiss on it.
"Another dancer! I love it! Tell me, do you tango?" he asked.
"No, I've never—" Roxane began.
"Then I will show you! Come!" The Argentinean pulled Roxane by the hand to the party already raging upstairs. Bohemians dizzied by absinthe danced drunkenly with another, laughing and slurring about. The Argentinean led Roxane through a series of steps, and she followed.
"You are a natural! The tango is a dance you must feel here!" he exclaimed, gesturing toward his pelvic region. Roxane knew she blushed. "And now! I show you—" But to Roxane's astonishment, the Argentinean's eyes crossed and he collapsed to the floor, totally asleep.
"Oh ho! Wook at that!" Toulouse exclaimed. "That's what I forgot to tell you about the Argentinean! He has narcowepsy!"
"Narcowepsy?" Roxane repeated.
"Yes! Narcowepsy. Awake one moment and unconscious the next! That is why we call him the Unconscious Argentinean. Just wait a few moments. I'm sure he'll wake up and continue the wesson!" Toulouse laughed as he downed another glass of absinthe.
But Roxane didn't want to continue the lesson. Finding Christian absent from the Bohemians' party, she wanted nothing more than to go to sleep. As she slipped out of the attic back to her room, she could have sworn she saw Christian and Satine dancing atop the elephant.
