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Part III
The First Night
The few remaining hours before night flew by. With the help of some of the more friendly girls, Satine learned as much of their dance routines as she could. The rest, she decided, she'd have to play by ear. The girl that had passed out earlier, Chinadoll, was back on her feet and looking no worse for the wear with her elaborate hairstyle and knee-high boots.
"The costumes here are quite interesting," Satine said delicately to the woman she'd come to know as Mome Fromage, "I can see what looks like a maid, a little schoolgirl..."
"Harold covers a wide array of fetishes," Mome said with a chuckle, "I'm the large one, Nini's the loud one, and China and Arabia are for the gents with a penchant for the exotic."
"Don't you find that horribly demeaning?" Satine asked, shocked.
"Honey, you'll soon forget about 'demeaning' when the tips start rolling in." Mome said, shaking her head.
Finally, it was show time. The dance hall began to fill with men dressed in their best, clutching coins and cheap baubles with which to temp the girls. The floor was a sea of top hats and tails, and the excited chatter floated backstage, where it was completely silent.
Zidler was already up with the orchestra, his voice booming, promising the most beautiful, talented girls in France. The orchestra began to play, and the show began.
Satine had danced in a few small stage productions, but nothing of this caliber. Skirts swished, heels stomped, and heads tossed as the music grew faster and faster. She had always considered herself to be in good shape, but she was soon out of breath, a sheen of sweat coating her skin as she tried to keep up.
"And just in case you tire of the usual desires, I've got someone new, and she's waiting just for you!" Zidler chanted, clapping his hands in time with the music, sweat pouring down his face. The crowd went wild, cheering and clapping, straining to see this new beauty. They surged onto the dance floor with open mouths and wide eyes, eager to dance with the diamond dog of their choice.
At first overwhelmed by the sudden influx of men, Satine soon found herself in her element. She was a natural seductress. A circle formed around her as she twirled, batting her eyelashes and licking her lips. As the music ended, she sank onto the floor in the splits, her skirts raised over her head. The whistles and applause, even louder than before, let her know she was doing her job right.
Satine got to her feet, curtseying daintily and flashing smiles at her admirers. The music started again, a tune that Satine didn't recognize. Well, if Zidler wanted to see what she was made of, now was the time for him to watch, she thought wryly, swishing her skirts as she tried to catch a glimpse of what the other diamond dogs were doing. The men seemed even closer, though, and she couldn't see over their heads, and she was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable being the subject of their leers.
"Pardon me," she whispered, trying to slip in between two of the men. The circle was tightening around her, and she was growing more and more wary by the second.
"Bonjour, ma belle," the rake that she'd bumped into growled, his hands on her waist. He pulled her against him, burying his face in her hair as his hands moved down her back.
"Excuse me, please," she repeated, wrenching herself out of his grasp only to be caught by a younger man.
"You must be the fresh meat," he breathed, and Satine remembered Nini's words earlier that day.
"Excuse me, sir," Satine said desperately as he ran a hand up her leg.
"Mademoiselle forgot the magic word," a third man appeared behind Satine, his hands cupping her rear end through the ruffles of her skirt.
Satine's heart was pounding. What was she going to do? She couldn't afford to upset the customers on her first night, but her growing panic told her that she needed to get out of the situation.
Suddenly, another man, this one with skin darker than Arabia's and clad in shiny pants and a top hat, pushed through the throng. In one motion, he scooped Satine into his arms like a rag doll and fought his way through the crowd to deposit her safely in the corner of the dance hall.
"Thank you so much, monsieur," Satine breathed, her heart rate beginning to return to normal.
"It is no problem," the man replied, his words laced with a faint, unidentifiable accent, "I am Chocolat, and it is my pleasure."
"I can't thank you enough, Monsieur Chocolat," Satine wiped her brow with the back of her hand, "I wasn't sure what to do. Do the men always do...that?"
"Only to new girls," Chocolat replied, "Some sort of initiation that they find entertaining. I assure you, you will not end up in a similar situation again."
"Thank you," Satine repeated breathlessly as Chocolat disappeared into the crowd. She turned when she felt a tap on her shoulder, only to come face to face with Nini.
"'Ow's your first night goin'?" Nini asked, her eyes innocently wide.
"Very well, thank you," Satine replied loudly, flicking a tendril of red hair out of her eyes. She turned on her heel and strode away, leaving Nini staring bitterly after her.
The rest of the evening was uneventful. Even after the little incident, the crowd continued to be charmed by Satine, and quite a few roses were thrown at her feet. When the crowd began to disperse and the only men left were those that meant business, Satine straightened her back and smiled prettily. She would take anyone she could get if it meant showing Zidler how serious she was, but there was one man in particular that she was hoping would choose her. He had fine blonde hair and sparkling green eyes, with high cheekbones and a perfectly sculpted nose.
"Just pick one, Pierre," another man called, his arm around Babydoll. Pierre stroked his chin as he regarded the diamond dogs, who winked and blew him kisses. Satine stood away from the pack, her skirts gathered in her hands to reveal black fishnet stockings on long, muscular legs. When Pierre stopped in front of her, she shot him what she hoped was a seductive glance.
"I'd like her," Pierre pointed to Satine, who felt her heart leap. Take that, Nini! As she linked her arm through Pierre's, she glanced at Nini, whose arms were crossed across her chest, her face pinched. Nini had obviously wanted Pierre for herself, and Satine felt pleased that she had succeeded in snatching him away from her.
They strolled through the Moulin Rouge, coming to a stop outside of the small room that was Satine's new home. It consisted of a bed and a washstand and a small, cracked mirror. Satine opened the door with a flourish, cringing as Pierre critically took in the room.
"There is the matter of payment," Satine said delicately, shutting the door behind her.
"This should cover it," Pierre dug into his pocket and dumped a fistful of coins into Satine's hands. Her eyes flickered over the money, which was indeed far more than Zidler had instructed her to take. What Harold doesn't know, Satine thought, mischievously slipping the extra money into her coin purse, won't hurt him.
She spun around and regarded Pierre from underneath her eyelashes. What now? She may be a beautiful young woman and a sultry performer, but when it came to matters of the bedroom, she was painfully inexperienced. Pierre, thankfully, took the lead, wrapping his arms around Satine and pulling her into a deep kiss. Finally, he took his lips off hers and moved down to kiss her neck.
"Do you know how beautiful you are?" Pierre asked, planting a kiss on Satine's collarbone. She said nothing, pushing her strap down farther to expose even more creamy shoulder. "Do you?" He looked into her eyes, and she felt her heart flutter. His eyes were the exact shade of her dress and just as beautiful, with tiny flecks of gold adding to their shimmer.
"I mean it, Mademoiselle, you are by far the loveliest woman I have ever laid eyes on," Pierre murmured, his lips brushing her ear.
"Merci," Satine whispered, feeling herself being drawn deeper and deeper away from reality - the Moulin Rouge seemed to have that affect on everyone. When they were inside, the rest of the world melted away, and all that mattered was what song you were dancing to and whom you were dancing with. And as Pierre continued to whisper into Satine's ear as his hand moved to unlace her bodice, gently pushing her over to the decrepit bed, Satine realized that she would be perfectly happy if she never left his arms again.
Part III
The First Night
The few remaining hours before night flew by. With the help of some of the more friendly girls, Satine learned as much of their dance routines as she could. The rest, she decided, she'd have to play by ear. The girl that had passed out earlier, Chinadoll, was back on her feet and looking no worse for the wear with her elaborate hairstyle and knee-high boots.
"The costumes here are quite interesting," Satine said delicately to the woman she'd come to know as Mome Fromage, "I can see what looks like a maid, a little schoolgirl..."
"Harold covers a wide array of fetishes," Mome said with a chuckle, "I'm the large one, Nini's the loud one, and China and Arabia are for the gents with a penchant for the exotic."
"Don't you find that horribly demeaning?" Satine asked, shocked.
"Honey, you'll soon forget about 'demeaning' when the tips start rolling in." Mome said, shaking her head.
Finally, it was show time. The dance hall began to fill with men dressed in their best, clutching coins and cheap baubles with which to temp the girls. The floor was a sea of top hats and tails, and the excited chatter floated backstage, where it was completely silent.
Zidler was already up with the orchestra, his voice booming, promising the most beautiful, talented girls in France. The orchestra began to play, and the show began.
Satine had danced in a few small stage productions, but nothing of this caliber. Skirts swished, heels stomped, and heads tossed as the music grew faster and faster. She had always considered herself to be in good shape, but she was soon out of breath, a sheen of sweat coating her skin as she tried to keep up.
"And just in case you tire of the usual desires, I've got someone new, and she's waiting just for you!" Zidler chanted, clapping his hands in time with the music, sweat pouring down his face. The crowd went wild, cheering and clapping, straining to see this new beauty. They surged onto the dance floor with open mouths and wide eyes, eager to dance with the diamond dog of their choice.
At first overwhelmed by the sudden influx of men, Satine soon found herself in her element. She was a natural seductress. A circle formed around her as she twirled, batting her eyelashes and licking her lips. As the music ended, she sank onto the floor in the splits, her skirts raised over her head. The whistles and applause, even louder than before, let her know she was doing her job right.
Satine got to her feet, curtseying daintily and flashing smiles at her admirers. The music started again, a tune that Satine didn't recognize. Well, if Zidler wanted to see what she was made of, now was the time for him to watch, she thought wryly, swishing her skirts as she tried to catch a glimpse of what the other diamond dogs were doing. The men seemed even closer, though, and she couldn't see over their heads, and she was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable being the subject of their leers.
"Pardon me," she whispered, trying to slip in between two of the men. The circle was tightening around her, and she was growing more and more wary by the second.
"Bonjour, ma belle," the rake that she'd bumped into growled, his hands on her waist. He pulled her against him, burying his face in her hair as his hands moved down her back.
"Excuse me, please," she repeated, wrenching herself out of his grasp only to be caught by a younger man.
"You must be the fresh meat," he breathed, and Satine remembered Nini's words earlier that day.
"Excuse me, sir," Satine said desperately as he ran a hand up her leg.
"Mademoiselle forgot the magic word," a third man appeared behind Satine, his hands cupping her rear end through the ruffles of her skirt.
Satine's heart was pounding. What was she going to do? She couldn't afford to upset the customers on her first night, but her growing panic told her that she needed to get out of the situation.
Suddenly, another man, this one with skin darker than Arabia's and clad in shiny pants and a top hat, pushed through the throng. In one motion, he scooped Satine into his arms like a rag doll and fought his way through the crowd to deposit her safely in the corner of the dance hall.
"Thank you so much, monsieur," Satine breathed, her heart rate beginning to return to normal.
"It is no problem," the man replied, his words laced with a faint, unidentifiable accent, "I am Chocolat, and it is my pleasure."
"I can't thank you enough, Monsieur Chocolat," Satine wiped her brow with the back of her hand, "I wasn't sure what to do. Do the men always do...that?"
"Only to new girls," Chocolat replied, "Some sort of initiation that they find entertaining. I assure you, you will not end up in a similar situation again."
"Thank you," Satine repeated breathlessly as Chocolat disappeared into the crowd. She turned when she felt a tap on her shoulder, only to come face to face with Nini.
"'Ow's your first night goin'?" Nini asked, her eyes innocently wide.
"Very well, thank you," Satine replied loudly, flicking a tendril of red hair out of her eyes. She turned on her heel and strode away, leaving Nini staring bitterly after her.
The rest of the evening was uneventful. Even after the little incident, the crowd continued to be charmed by Satine, and quite a few roses were thrown at her feet. When the crowd began to disperse and the only men left were those that meant business, Satine straightened her back and smiled prettily. She would take anyone she could get if it meant showing Zidler how serious she was, but there was one man in particular that she was hoping would choose her. He had fine blonde hair and sparkling green eyes, with high cheekbones and a perfectly sculpted nose.
"Just pick one, Pierre," another man called, his arm around Babydoll. Pierre stroked his chin as he regarded the diamond dogs, who winked and blew him kisses. Satine stood away from the pack, her skirts gathered in her hands to reveal black fishnet stockings on long, muscular legs. When Pierre stopped in front of her, she shot him what she hoped was a seductive glance.
"I'd like her," Pierre pointed to Satine, who felt her heart leap. Take that, Nini! As she linked her arm through Pierre's, she glanced at Nini, whose arms were crossed across her chest, her face pinched. Nini had obviously wanted Pierre for herself, and Satine felt pleased that she had succeeded in snatching him away from her.
They strolled through the Moulin Rouge, coming to a stop outside of the small room that was Satine's new home. It consisted of a bed and a washstand and a small, cracked mirror. Satine opened the door with a flourish, cringing as Pierre critically took in the room.
"There is the matter of payment," Satine said delicately, shutting the door behind her.
"This should cover it," Pierre dug into his pocket and dumped a fistful of coins into Satine's hands. Her eyes flickered over the money, which was indeed far more than Zidler had instructed her to take. What Harold doesn't know, Satine thought, mischievously slipping the extra money into her coin purse, won't hurt him.
She spun around and regarded Pierre from underneath her eyelashes. What now? She may be a beautiful young woman and a sultry performer, but when it came to matters of the bedroom, she was painfully inexperienced. Pierre, thankfully, took the lead, wrapping his arms around Satine and pulling her into a deep kiss. Finally, he took his lips off hers and moved down to kiss her neck.
"Do you know how beautiful you are?" Pierre asked, planting a kiss on Satine's collarbone. She said nothing, pushing her strap down farther to expose even more creamy shoulder. "Do you?" He looked into her eyes, and she felt her heart flutter. His eyes were the exact shade of her dress and just as beautiful, with tiny flecks of gold adding to their shimmer.
"I mean it, Mademoiselle, you are by far the loveliest woman I have ever laid eyes on," Pierre murmured, his lips brushing her ear.
"Merci," Satine whispered, feeling herself being drawn deeper and deeper away from reality - the Moulin Rouge seemed to have that affect on everyone. When they were inside, the rest of the world melted away, and all that mattered was what song you were dancing to and whom you were dancing with. And as Pierre continued to whisper into Satine's ear as his hand moved to unlace her bodice, gently pushing her over to the decrepit bed, Satine realized that she would be perfectly happy if she never left his arms again.