"The French are glad to die for love," she stated in half sing-song, her voice saucy and distant -- as unreachable as her body was, suspended above all of the figures down on the dance floor. "They delight in fighting duels."

Steadily, throughout those simple yet hypnotizing words, she was being lowered to the floor and by that point, the lowering halted, about ten feet up and just out of the reach of the men when they stretched for her. "But I prefer a man who lives... and gives expensive...jewels."

At the last statement, she leaned back within her trapeze, stretching out as it slowly began a circular swing above the heads of the men, during which she reached her hands out to them, thoroughly relishing the cat-calls they gave. I was conscious somewhere in the back of my mind that the band had began to play and I was still staring when I felt the harsh grip of the Argentinean clamp down on my shoulder, a sound of astonishment coming from him, as well. At least I wasn't the only one taken with her.

The circular rotation had halted and the trapeze itself had lowered toward the men even more as the band had come in, leaving her to rock back within the trapeze and use it as a swing, right in the middle of the swarm of grabbing, inconsiderate men.

"A kiss on the hand may be quite continental," that mesmerizing voice was produced from her again and I couldn't help but strangle out a sound, pushing to my feet. I wanted nothing more than to go down to the dance floor and shoo the men off of her so that she could continue her number, but the Bohemians grabbed me as one and forced me back down into my chair. I was left to simply stare at her in awe.

"But diamonds are a girl's best friend!" A group of voices answered the redhead in song, but I didn't even bother to glance and try and find out who they were. The woman I was enraptured with was moving again, and I was studious in watching.

"A kiss may be grand but it won't pay the rental on your humble flat!" She'd maneuvered herself easily down from the trapeze and was crossing through a small opening in the crowd of men that the other Moulin Rouge workers had created. Fortunately, she was much taller than even some of the men, and I could see her above the their heads.

She twisted about on a heel, tossing one particular young man a coy glance over her shoulder. "Or help you feed your, meow, pussycat."

"Men grow cold as girls grow old," She'd straightened again and with a topple that almost made me rise against the four sets of hands set on my shoulders, she fell back into the crowd of men. They seemed eager enough to catch her, though, so she was "safe."

"And we all lose our charms in the end." She reached back to pat a black glove along the cheek of one of the men nearest her before pushing rapidly off of him and into a step away that left all of the men who caught her jabbing each other's ribs furiously.

"But square-cut or pear-shaped, these rocks don't lose their shape! Diamonds are a girl's best friend!" While walking, a group of the Moulin Rouge men swept up under her, catching her beneath the legs to pull her up onto their shoulders, a perch that she seemed quite willing to take away from the other men -- but perhaps that was just me wishing she would.

An insistent tug from Toulouse pulled my attention, as reluctant as it was, away from the dance floor, leaning in to hear his voice over the music.

"After her number," he stated nothing short of triumphantly. "I've arranged a private meeting; just you and Mademoiselle Satine. Totally alone."

My eyes must have widened to the size of saucers. I scrambled for my voice, but when it came, it resembled more of a squeak than my normal tone. "...alone?"

"Yes, totally alone," Toulouse reemphasized.

Pondering that in a dazed sort of silence, my attention wandered back to the beautiful woman. The Sparkling Diamond. Satine.

She was picking herself up off the floor when I found her, and I gave a faintly inquisitive quirk to my brow, only to find that she'd been on top of a man. Clearing my throat slightly, I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

"Come and get me boys," She called over her shoulder, stepping out into a circle of them that promptly caught hold of her and tossed her into the air, an action that caused her to produce a sound similar to a dog's howl.

Surprised, I almost went to stand again, murmuring under my breath. "Oh my..." Again, however, the Bohemians were avid in holding me back.

The crowd carried Satine easily over to a platform in the middle of the dance floor. She slid out of their hands and climbed up atop it with a sultry stride forward. It was only then that I noticed Zidler had climbed up there with her, but she began to sing again, and it distracted me from the man's presence.

"There may come a time when a lass needs a lawyer!"

"But diamonds are a girl's best friend," echoed the chorus. At the statement of the chorus, Zidler produced a trinket of diamonds and dangled them in front of Satine. She made a show of reaching for them before striding forward again.

"There may come a time when a hard-boiled employer thinks you're..."

"Awful nice!" Zidler chimed in, pantomiming grabbing her backside.

Satine whirled on him, as if offended. "But get that ice or else no dice!"

The show continued before me, but it was at that time that I took note of the fact that Toulouse was scrambling about me to try and get to the opposite side of the balcony on which we were settled. I shifted to let him pass, and just a few seconds later, he returned, reaching for the front of my suit.

Grasping my handkerchief, he pulled it out of my pocket, waving it in front of my face slightly. "Excuse me, Christian, may I borrow this?" I tried to stammer out a response to Toulouse's question, but he was already turning away. I risked a glance toward Satine again, only to find her looking straight at me. My stomach leaped up somewhere near my throat.

Unfortunately, the gaze was broken, and she and Zidler retreated down behind a swarm of girls. I furrowed my brow in vague disappointment, turning my attention on the other Bohemians who were caught up in the show just as much as I was. I vaguely noted Toulouse's return, but by that point in time, Satine's voice brought my attention back around to her.

"'Cause that's when those louses go back to their spouses!" She'd performed an entire outfit change while being hidden, and was lifted up from her platform by the workers that had carried her earlier. This time, however, they were carrying her directly toward my balcony. "Diamonds...are a...girl's...best...friend!"

The Argentinean's hand tightened on my shoulder as she approached and for a moment, I turned my gaze away to glance up on him. When I looked back toward Satine, she was basically right on top of me, having jumped into the balcony and maneuvered the front of her costumed chest mere inches in front of my face. I recoiled in shock, wide-eyed gaze slowly moving up to her.

"...I believe you were expecting me?" She questioned, voice distant and feline.

My jaw fell. I at first questioned if she was even speaking to me, scrambling for any sort of response. Noting she was staring at me, awaiting something, I struggled before stammering out, barely above a whisper. "...yes." Noting the inaudible qualities to my first statement, I reiterated it, though could formulate little more strength to push the word out. "Yes."

Taking my statement as truth, Satine pivoted away from me to address the silent dance floor full of men. "I'm afraid it's lady's choice." The men gave a discontented sound at the announcement before falling silent, as if waiting for something.

Shifting on her heels, Satine extended a hand toward me, crooking a finger into a point at me. I didn't have the faintest clue as to what she was doing other than pointing, and almost sank back in my chair from her. For as lovely as she was, she was slightly intimidating. At my slinking away, she overturned her features into that of an over-dramatic pout, turning back to the crowd with an audible whimper.

The 'awed' in sympathy before beginning to chant a string of words I couldn't quite make out. I was too busy gaping at all of the attention I'd suddenly been served, as well as the jealous glances by several men. In tempo to the chanting, Satine took the edges of her skirt, flipping them out slightly with short bursts of the yowl sound she'd produced earlier.

I was still staring at this change of events when she fell into a back peddle toward me, the feathered backside of her dress nearly covering my head with the movement. I sputtered slightly, recoiling to gawk at her. She was absolutely crazy.

At that point, Toulouse came scampering up beside us, addressing Satine just as the band began to play music again. "Satine! I see you already met my English friend --"

"I'll handle this Toulouse!" She cut him off with a mere gesture of her hand, coaxing me forward with a waggle of her finger. "Let's dance!"

"-- He writes the world's most modern poems!" Toulouse continued, only to fall silent as he noted Satine was turning away to rush out onto the floor.

I hesitated until the Argentinean's insistent swats on my shoulder and the clutch of a few strangers to my elbows brought me to my feet. The strangers continued to drag me after her until I was situated in the middle of the dance floor opposite the angelic dancer in awkward silence.

Instantly, Satine caught her arms about my neck and pulled me into step with her. Fortunately, she seemed to know the steps well enough to lead me and, following her lead, I managed to stumble my way through the quick motions.

She pulled away to execute a few spins before me, only after doing so, venturing to break the silence. "It's so wonderful for you to take an interest in our little show!" She had to shout to be heard over the crowd.

Under her guidance, I was beginning to loosen up (mentally at least) and I even performed a smaller spin in mimic of one of hers before responding. "It sounds very exciting -- I'd be delighted to be involved."

Satine seemed genuinely surprised by that statement, reaching forward to coil arms about my neck again and fall into the simpler dance between the two of us. "Really?"

The question itself was strange to me, being that I thought I'd already demonstrated that by having come to audition to her in the first place, but I indulged her. "Assuming you like what I do, of course." I even attempted a stab at modesty.

Strangely enough, she appeared to be taken aback by the modesty, motioning to herself with a quirk of the brows. "I'm sure I will."

"T-Toulouse," I continued, stammering only because she had dipped backward in my arms suddenly before popping back up. "-- thought we might be able to do it in private."

"Did he?" she questioned. What did she expect me to do? Audition in front of the entire Moulin Rouge?

Hesitating, I nodded. "Yes, you know. A private..." Again, she dipped backward. This time, however, when she popped back up, I was the recipient of a face full of silken red hair, an occurrence that caused me to sputter. "...poetry reading."

Her response was hardly what I expected.

"Ooh," she breathed, a throaty purr (as alluring as it was unexpected) accentuating the word. "Mm. A poetry reading." She almost grinned as she let go of her hold on my neck, reaching outward to run hands along my chest. "I love a little poetry after supper."

Admittedly, I was too taken aback to respond to that statement fully. The dance was nearing its end, and with a last second warning for me to hold onto my hat, she kicked up into the air, a simultaneous gesture with every other female dancer in the club. Every hat but mine was kicked off its owner's head, sending it spiraling through the air. I barely managed to hold onto mine.

She gave me instructions on where to meet her later that evening, and with little more than a saucy grin in my direction, she disappeared into the throng of workers, leaving me to work my way back to the balcony in which the Children of the Revolution were seated in stunned silence.

I was greeted warmly with pats on the back and congratulatory remarks, though I couldn't quite pinpoint why they were treating me like that. I hadn't even auditioned yet!

I was still being jostled about by the quartet when Satine's voice broke out over the audience again. I turned to see her being lifted back out of the crowd upon the trapeze through which she'd entered.

"Square-cut or pear-shaped, these rocks don't lose their shape! Diamonds...are a...girl's...best..." She trailed off however, tilting her head up toward the rafters from her perch at an abnormal angle.

Something seemed terribly wrong with the scene and I leaned forward to get a better look at what was occurring. To my horror, she went toppling back off the trapeze, tumbling the good fifty feet to the ground until, out of nowhere, a tall black man stepped in the way and caught her.

I gave a sigh of relief, allowing demanding eyes to trail toward Harold Zidler who, throughout the number, had maneuvered himself up onto the balcony atop which the band was situated.

Zidler gave a quick gesture of the hand to the black man. The man was prompt in carrying the crumpled Satine toward a door, disappearing through it. Zidler, apparently unphased, began to cheer and applaud to her name, something that the crowd responded to in kind, forgetting easily about the near-death they'd witnessed.

"Oh, you've frightened her away!" Shouted Zidler, cueing the ceasing of the applause. "But I can still see a few lonely Moulin Rouge dancers who are looking for a partner or two! So, if you can honk-honk, you can honkadula with them!"

Immediately, the band began playing and the men and dancers alike swarmed back onto the dance floor.

I couldn't do it, however. I was still being haunted by the harrowing view of her tumbling, limp, only to fall unconscious into the arms of the black man.