Part IV
Satine's Resolution
This feeling, this warm, safe, contented feeling, was like none other, Satine decided, blinkingly sleepily into the morning light. She was nestled in Pierre's arms after a night that she had privately deemed unforgettable; she didn't know how Pierre felt about it, but judging by the way he was holding her, he was in agreement.
"My love..." Pierre murmured, leaning over to gently nibble Satine's earlobe. She shivered, a delightful chill running down her spine. She rolled onto her back as Pierre propped himself up on his elbow, staring affectionately down at her.
"Will you tell me something?" Satine asked softly as Pierre brushed a tendril of hair behind her ear.
"Anything," Pierre replied, kissing her cheek.
"Was it real?" Satine asked, feeling her cheeks flush as soon as she'd spoken the words.
"What?" Pierre asked.
Satine felt a lump begin to form in the pit of her stomach. "I just want to know if any of this was real? The compliments, the way you looked at me...you said you loved me, and I just wondered if you were being sincere."
"How could I be anything but sincere to you?" Pierre asked, his brow furrowing. "You are the sweetest, most beautiful, most - " he bent his head again, this time to lick her shoulder " - delicious girl I've ever met, and I mean that with all my heart, darling."
"I'm so glad," Satine said breathlessly, throwing her arms around him. It was real! She had known it was real, but she just wanted to make sure he felt the same way.
She was saved, she thought as she placed kisses as light as whispers on Pierre's collarbone. She wouldn't have to sell herself anymore - how lucky was she that her first customer turned into her first love? Pierre was obviously a man of means, and she knew, just knew, he would take care of her.
After lingering in bed for a while longer, Pierre rose to dress, explaining that he had an important business meeting to attend.
"You'll come back tonight?" Satine asked, wrapping the sheet around her slim body, "I don't know how long I can go without you."
"Of course," Pierre said, planting one last kiss on Satine's lips. He slipped out of the room, gently shutting the door behind him. Only when she was sure he was down the hall did Satine throw her head back and give a shriek of joy - her life was finally getting together!
***
That night, Satine stood outside her room, her arms crossed anxiously. She and Pierre had agreed to bypass the regular show and meet in her room, but he was three-quarters of an hour late, and she was beginning to worry.
Giggles floated down the hall, and Satine jumped. She was supposed to be out on the dance floor, but she couldn't pass up a chance to be with Pierre. Pierre, she thought wistfully, a dreamy smile spreading across her face. She knew what she was feeling must be love - she'd never felt anything like it before. She felt as if she was glowing, a bright beacon illuminating even the darkest corner of the Moulin Rouge.
Satine heard the giggles again, and stepped back into the shadows of the hallway. She couldn't afford to let Zidler find her neglecting her duties on the second day of her job. It wasn't Zidler that she had to worry about, however, and the source of the giggles was just around the corner.
"I have to have you here, right here..." the man was saying urgently. The woman laughed a dry cackle that Satine immediately recognized. So, she wasn't the only one skipping the show, she mused: Nini was meeting a secret lover as well. Not thinking, Satine stalked around the corner and stopped short, her breath completely stolen from her.
Nini was leaning up against the wall, her skirts up, a leg wrapped around...
No. Satine's head began to sting as the man clutching Nini stared back at her.
"Pierre?" Satine didn't think she could speak, but the word had come out of her mouth, which was hanging open in disbelief.
"Satine," Pierre said casually, kissing Nini's neck. Nini tossed her head back, her eyes carefully gauging Satine's reaction.
"I don't understand. What's going on?" Satine asked, her mind refusing what her eyes were telling her.
"What's it look like, sweetie?" Nini asked, "Now, why don't you run and play while the grownups take care o' some business, eh?"
"But...Pierre, I thought you loved me," Satine said, her voice trembling as her eyes swam with hot tears, "Last night - I thought it meant something to you."
"Oh it did, honey," Pierre said, laughing meanly, "It was the best night I've ever had with a whore."
Satine turned and ran, tears spilling onto her cheeks. With a whore, he'd said, with a whore. That's all she was to him. While she was falling in love, he was using her for her body. How could she have been so foolish?
"Whoa, there!" Hands gripped Satine's shoulders, and she found herself staring into the concerned face of Marie. "Where are you running off to?" Marie asked, taking in Satine's streaked makeup and heaving shoulders.
Satine began to sob, unable to find words to explain the way she was feeling. Marie folded Satine into her arms and rocked her like a baby, gently leading her into the dressing room and helping her sit down on the bed.
"Shh, easy now," Marie whispered, stroking Satine's hair.
"I'm such a fool!" Satine cried, dabbing her eyes with the hankie Marie handed to her. "I thought he loved me! I really did!"
"Thought who loved you?"
"Pierre!"
Marie's expression darkened. "Oh darling...Pierre's been a regular here for years. He's a smooth bastard, he is. You must be his latest casualty."
"Wh-wh-what?" Satine sniffled.
"Harold's got all sorts of girls for all sorts of appetites," Marie said softly, "This wonderful gent likes to romance his girls. Most of the seasoned dogs know not to take his words for anything, but every once in a while some young, innocent girl will think he's being sincere and fall head over heels."
Satine shook her head, beginning to cry again. "It felt real," she whispered, clutching Marie's hand, "He said he loved me. I thought I loved him."
"Poor thing..." Marie murmured, wiping a tear off of Satine's cheek.
Suddenly, the door burst open and the large frame of Harold Zidler filled the doorway, a look of indescribable fury on his face. Marie tightened her arms around Satine, and Satine snuggled deeper into the embrace.
"Are you mad?" Zidler boomed like a thunderclap, "Are you completely dim-witted?"
"What?" Satine asked, standing up, wiping her face with the back of her hand.
"Where were you?" Zidler rasped, "It's your second night, and you skipped the show!"
"I-I was - "
"There is no excuse!" Zidler raged, stepping forward and towering over a trembling Satine. "I gave you a chance, and you're wasting it."
"Harold..." Marie touched his arm. He shook her away.
"You think you're beautiful and talented and special," Zidler continued, "But let me tell you something else: you are nothing without my help, do you understand that? You. Are. Nothing. We had an agreement, and you broke it. You broke it."
"I'm sorry!" Satine cried, tears rolling down her cheeks, "I'm sorry, Harold!"
"France is a large country!" Zidler shouted, "And there are countless other pretty girls that could take your place. You are nothing special without me."
Satine fell to her knees, sobbing wildly as Marie watched from the bed, the hankie clasped tightly in her hand. "I'm sorry," she screamed through her tears, her hands clutching at Zidler's pant legs, "I made a mistake, and I'm sorry!"
"I should throw you out on the street like the no-good whore you are!" Zidler bellowed.
"Harold!" Marie shouted.
Satine sat back on her heels, her hands covering her face as her shoulders shook. Everything was quiet for a few minutes until Zidler crouched down beside her, wrapping her in his arms, his mustache tickling her ears.
"I'm sorry, gosling, I'm sorry," he murmured comfortingly, "I got carried away. I'm sorry. I just had to show you how vital it is that you obey me." Satine whimpered. "I can make you a star," Zidler continued, his tone hushed, "but you have to do what I say."
"I will," Satine cried, "I will. I'm sorry."
"Shh, I know," Zidler whispered, stroking her matted hair. They crouched on the floor for a while longer, Satine crying quietly, Zidler murmuring comfortingly in her ear.
When Satine finally rose to wash her face and go to bed, she had made a resolution: as long as I am at the Moulin Rouge, she thought impassively, I will not fall in love. As a whore - pardon me, courtesan (Zidler instructed her to think of herself as the latter), I cannot and will not fall in love, for it will only end in heartbreak and ruin.
Satine's Resolution
This feeling, this warm, safe, contented feeling, was like none other, Satine decided, blinkingly sleepily into the morning light. She was nestled in Pierre's arms after a night that she had privately deemed unforgettable; she didn't know how Pierre felt about it, but judging by the way he was holding her, he was in agreement.
"My love..." Pierre murmured, leaning over to gently nibble Satine's earlobe. She shivered, a delightful chill running down her spine. She rolled onto her back as Pierre propped himself up on his elbow, staring affectionately down at her.
"Will you tell me something?" Satine asked softly as Pierre brushed a tendril of hair behind her ear.
"Anything," Pierre replied, kissing her cheek.
"Was it real?" Satine asked, feeling her cheeks flush as soon as she'd spoken the words.
"What?" Pierre asked.
Satine felt a lump begin to form in the pit of her stomach. "I just want to know if any of this was real? The compliments, the way you looked at me...you said you loved me, and I just wondered if you were being sincere."
"How could I be anything but sincere to you?" Pierre asked, his brow furrowing. "You are the sweetest, most beautiful, most - " he bent his head again, this time to lick her shoulder " - delicious girl I've ever met, and I mean that with all my heart, darling."
"I'm so glad," Satine said breathlessly, throwing her arms around him. It was real! She had known it was real, but she just wanted to make sure he felt the same way.
She was saved, she thought as she placed kisses as light as whispers on Pierre's collarbone. She wouldn't have to sell herself anymore - how lucky was she that her first customer turned into her first love? Pierre was obviously a man of means, and she knew, just knew, he would take care of her.
After lingering in bed for a while longer, Pierre rose to dress, explaining that he had an important business meeting to attend.
"You'll come back tonight?" Satine asked, wrapping the sheet around her slim body, "I don't know how long I can go without you."
"Of course," Pierre said, planting one last kiss on Satine's lips. He slipped out of the room, gently shutting the door behind him. Only when she was sure he was down the hall did Satine throw her head back and give a shriek of joy - her life was finally getting together!
***
That night, Satine stood outside her room, her arms crossed anxiously. She and Pierre had agreed to bypass the regular show and meet in her room, but he was three-quarters of an hour late, and she was beginning to worry.
Giggles floated down the hall, and Satine jumped. She was supposed to be out on the dance floor, but she couldn't pass up a chance to be with Pierre. Pierre, she thought wistfully, a dreamy smile spreading across her face. She knew what she was feeling must be love - she'd never felt anything like it before. She felt as if she was glowing, a bright beacon illuminating even the darkest corner of the Moulin Rouge.
Satine heard the giggles again, and stepped back into the shadows of the hallway. She couldn't afford to let Zidler find her neglecting her duties on the second day of her job. It wasn't Zidler that she had to worry about, however, and the source of the giggles was just around the corner.
"I have to have you here, right here..." the man was saying urgently. The woman laughed a dry cackle that Satine immediately recognized. So, she wasn't the only one skipping the show, she mused: Nini was meeting a secret lover as well. Not thinking, Satine stalked around the corner and stopped short, her breath completely stolen from her.
Nini was leaning up against the wall, her skirts up, a leg wrapped around...
No. Satine's head began to sting as the man clutching Nini stared back at her.
"Pierre?" Satine didn't think she could speak, but the word had come out of her mouth, which was hanging open in disbelief.
"Satine," Pierre said casually, kissing Nini's neck. Nini tossed her head back, her eyes carefully gauging Satine's reaction.
"I don't understand. What's going on?" Satine asked, her mind refusing what her eyes were telling her.
"What's it look like, sweetie?" Nini asked, "Now, why don't you run and play while the grownups take care o' some business, eh?"
"But...Pierre, I thought you loved me," Satine said, her voice trembling as her eyes swam with hot tears, "Last night - I thought it meant something to you."
"Oh it did, honey," Pierre said, laughing meanly, "It was the best night I've ever had with a whore."
Satine turned and ran, tears spilling onto her cheeks. With a whore, he'd said, with a whore. That's all she was to him. While she was falling in love, he was using her for her body. How could she have been so foolish?
"Whoa, there!" Hands gripped Satine's shoulders, and she found herself staring into the concerned face of Marie. "Where are you running off to?" Marie asked, taking in Satine's streaked makeup and heaving shoulders.
Satine began to sob, unable to find words to explain the way she was feeling. Marie folded Satine into her arms and rocked her like a baby, gently leading her into the dressing room and helping her sit down on the bed.
"Shh, easy now," Marie whispered, stroking Satine's hair.
"I'm such a fool!" Satine cried, dabbing her eyes with the hankie Marie handed to her. "I thought he loved me! I really did!"
"Thought who loved you?"
"Pierre!"
Marie's expression darkened. "Oh darling...Pierre's been a regular here for years. He's a smooth bastard, he is. You must be his latest casualty."
"Wh-wh-what?" Satine sniffled.
"Harold's got all sorts of girls for all sorts of appetites," Marie said softly, "This wonderful gent likes to romance his girls. Most of the seasoned dogs know not to take his words for anything, but every once in a while some young, innocent girl will think he's being sincere and fall head over heels."
Satine shook her head, beginning to cry again. "It felt real," she whispered, clutching Marie's hand, "He said he loved me. I thought I loved him."
"Poor thing..." Marie murmured, wiping a tear off of Satine's cheek.
Suddenly, the door burst open and the large frame of Harold Zidler filled the doorway, a look of indescribable fury on his face. Marie tightened her arms around Satine, and Satine snuggled deeper into the embrace.
"Are you mad?" Zidler boomed like a thunderclap, "Are you completely dim-witted?"
"What?" Satine asked, standing up, wiping her face with the back of her hand.
"Where were you?" Zidler rasped, "It's your second night, and you skipped the show!"
"I-I was - "
"There is no excuse!" Zidler raged, stepping forward and towering over a trembling Satine. "I gave you a chance, and you're wasting it."
"Harold..." Marie touched his arm. He shook her away.
"You think you're beautiful and talented and special," Zidler continued, "But let me tell you something else: you are nothing without my help, do you understand that? You. Are. Nothing. We had an agreement, and you broke it. You broke it."
"I'm sorry!" Satine cried, tears rolling down her cheeks, "I'm sorry, Harold!"
"France is a large country!" Zidler shouted, "And there are countless other pretty girls that could take your place. You are nothing special without me."
Satine fell to her knees, sobbing wildly as Marie watched from the bed, the hankie clasped tightly in her hand. "I'm sorry," she screamed through her tears, her hands clutching at Zidler's pant legs, "I made a mistake, and I'm sorry!"
"I should throw you out on the street like the no-good whore you are!" Zidler bellowed.
"Harold!" Marie shouted.
Satine sat back on her heels, her hands covering her face as her shoulders shook. Everything was quiet for a few minutes until Zidler crouched down beside her, wrapping her in his arms, his mustache tickling her ears.
"I'm sorry, gosling, I'm sorry," he murmured comfortingly, "I got carried away. I'm sorry. I just had to show you how vital it is that you obey me." Satine whimpered. "I can make you a star," Zidler continued, his tone hushed, "but you have to do what I say."
"I will," Satine cried, "I will. I'm sorry."
"Shh, I know," Zidler whispered, stroking her matted hair. They crouched on the floor for a while longer, Satine crying quietly, Zidler murmuring comfortingly in her ear.
When Satine finally rose to wash her face and go to bed, she had made a resolution: as long as I am at the Moulin Rouge, she thought impassively, I will not fall in love. As a whore - pardon me, courtesan (Zidler instructed her to think of herself as the latter), I cannot and will not fall in love, for it will only end in heartbreak and ruin.