Chapter Seven: Dancing to Elton John
Author's Note: Due to popular demand, here is Chapter Seven. Didn't know the story was so... likable. *shrugs* Whatever floats your boat I suppose. By the way, Serendipity (my muse) is being very stubborn about this story. I don't believe she likes it. Offerings of M&M's (she likes peanut butter the best) to her will be much appreciated. *grin*
Also, thanks to Nita for the slippers inspiration.
* * *
Satine had thought that she would be living in the lap of luxury. Bull shit. Christian ruled over her life like a dictator, telling her exactly what she could and could not do. The list of 'could-not's' was considerably longer than the 'could's,' she noted with bitterness.
Her life with the professor was nothing like her life previously. She spent nearly all of her time either working on her 'dreadful English,' being lectured on how a proper lady would behave, or reading classic literature. Even mealtimes were no escape, for he continued his lessons in etiquette straight through, scolding her for cutting her meat wrong or for talking with her mouth full. It seemed to her as if she could do nothing right.
The only free time she seemed to have were her nightly showers, an hour that she relished. The bathroom was her sanctuary. Christian didn't dare step foot near the room, as it was littered with feminism. Perfumes and body washes decorated the counters, while a razor lay abandoned in the sink. Discarded bras and panties hung over the shower rod and towel rack, and half-flipped-through Cosmo magazines carpeted the floor.
She laughed at the thought of the proper professor picking his way through the room in search of towel or some other thing. He could barely stand to see her wearing a tank top, much less bear being confronted with half of her undergarments at one time. She often wondered if Christian had ever gotten laid in his life.
She highly doubted it. He was far too up tight to have gotten lucky.
On the fifth day of 'The Project,' Satine stepped out of the bathroom after taking her nightly shower. She wore only her bra and underwear, with a fluffy white robe wrapped around her slim form to keep Christian from scolding. Humming a strain of "Meet You in the Red Room," she sashayed her way down the hall and into the living room, using a towel to dry her fiery curls.
Luckily, the room was unoccupied. Christian must have already shut himself in his room for the night, which was perfectly fine with her. She flipped on the radio, scanning the station until she heard a familiar voice singing.
"It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside, I'm not one of those who can easily hide..." A smile crossed her face and she turned the volume up. Elton John was her guilty pleasure. She knew she'd be the laughing-stock of the streetcorner if word ever got out that she fancied the music of an over-the-hill, bald, gay pianist.
But here, she was safe to listen to him at will. "If I were a sculptor, but then again, no, or a man who makes potion in a traveling show... I know it's not much but it's the best I can do. My gift is my song and this one's for you."
Tossing the towel aside, she began to dance around the empty room, now openly singing along with the words that were close to blaring from the radio. "And you can tell everybody, this is your song. It may be quite simple but, now that it's done, I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind that I put down in words... how wonderful life is while you're in the world."
With each movement, her robe loosened a bit until it was hanging quite open, spinning around her as she pretended to waltz around the living room, her still-wet hair tossing drops of water on the floor and furniture. At that moment, Christian entered the room, looking annoyed at the high volume at which Elton John was singing, and about to launch into another lecture about how proper ladies did not blast oldies at ten o'clock at night.
But then he saw her, dancing half-naked and harmonizing with the music in a way that he'd seldom heard. It was... enthralling. He felt his mouth go dry and hands get all clammy. Somehow she had ceased to be the vulgar streetwalker he had been longing to beat with a grammar book for the past five days. She was... beautiful. He wanted to watch her forever.
Unfortunately, at that very moment she happened to notice him and trailed off, mid-refrain, staring back at him. As Elton John continued to belt out his song, all the blood seemed to drain from her cheeks, making her seem even more like a porcelain doll. Though few porcelain dolls were... erm, shaped like she was.
Christian cleared his throat, fighting to gain control of his eyes. They seemed to have gotten minds of their own, because his mind *certainly* did not think like that. "I was just..." he thought quickly for the reason he had come down. Right, to yell at her about the music. Right. Of course. Well, let's get yelling. "I was... looking for my slippers."
Good God. His slippers? His SLIPPERS? He wanted to slap himself, anything to stop himself from any more staring and stupid comments. But the staring continued. Honestly. You'd think he'd never seen a woman half-naked in real life. Oh wait, he hadn't.
She flushed as scarlet as her hair as she realized how much her robe was hanging open and gathered it tightly about herself. She bent down to grab his slippers (which happened to be from his mother, which meant that they happened to have cutesy little bunnies on them) angrily. "You want your slippers, eh?" she growled, eye's flashing. "You've got them then." She flung them at him, too embarrassed to even laugh as one bunny slipper bounced off his head, and then she stormed from the room before he could even realize that her English was indeed improving.
* * *
How dare he? How DARE he?! How dare he stare at her like that, like she was nothing but a piece of meat to be admired and then devoured? How dare he look at her like all the others?
She hadn't liked it... that stare. She had never seen it from him before, and it had made her... uncomfortable. Uncomfortable... ha! She, who had lay naked with countless men with no sense of shame... now she was getting modest.
What the hell had he done to her? Why had she ever agreed to let him have his little experiment, to try to change her? She didn't need to be changed, dammit! She was perfectly fine the way she was!
But then he'd come along with his bloody perfect English and offered her money, and she'd just accepted. Just like that. No consideration, no thought, just 'yes.' Sometimes she was a damn idiot.
And she hated him. HATED HIM.
Pausing in the hall, she glanced back at the room, anger smoldering in her eyes. "Just you wait, Christian Higgins, just you wait!" She stomped her foot childishly. "You'll be sorry, but your tears will be to late! You'll be broke, and I'll have money, will I help you? Don't be funny! Just you wait, Christian Higgins, just you wait!"
She turned on her heel and strode a few feet down the hall before whirling around again. "Just you wait, Christian Higgins, till you're sick, and you scream to fetch a doctor double-quick. I'll be off a second later, and go straight to the theater! You take that, Christian Higgins! Just you wait!"
She stomped down the hall to her room, disappearing inside her room before reappearing a second later to scream down the hall before slamming the door, "Just you wait!"
END CHAPTER SEVEN
Author's Note: Due to popular demand, here is Chapter Seven. Didn't know the story was so... likable. *shrugs* Whatever floats your boat I suppose. By the way, Serendipity (my muse) is being very stubborn about this story. I don't believe she likes it. Offerings of M&M's (she likes peanut butter the best) to her will be much appreciated. *grin*
Also, thanks to Nita for the slippers inspiration.
* * *
Satine had thought that she would be living in the lap of luxury. Bull shit. Christian ruled over her life like a dictator, telling her exactly what she could and could not do. The list of 'could-not's' was considerably longer than the 'could's,' she noted with bitterness.
Her life with the professor was nothing like her life previously. She spent nearly all of her time either working on her 'dreadful English,' being lectured on how a proper lady would behave, or reading classic literature. Even mealtimes were no escape, for he continued his lessons in etiquette straight through, scolding her for cutting her meat wrong or for talking with her mouth full. It seemed to her as if she could do nothing right.
The only free time she seemed to have were her nightly showers, an hour that she relished. The bathroom was her sanctuary. Christian didn't dare step foot near the room, as it was littered with feminism. Perfumes and body washes decorated the counters, while a razor lay abandoned in the sink. Discarded bras and panties hung over the shower rod and towel rack, and half-flipped-through Cosmo magazines carpeted the floor.
She laughed at the thought of the proper professor picking his way through the room in search of towel or some other thing. He could barely stand to see her wearing a tank top, much less bear being confronted with half of her undergarments at one time. She often wondered if Christian had ever gotten laid in his life.
She highly doubted it. He was far too up tight to have gotten lucky.
On the fifth day of 'The Project,' Satine stepped out of the bathroom after taking her nightly shower. She wore only her bra and underwear, with a fluffy white robe wrapped around her slim form to keep Christian from scolding. Humming a strain of "Meet You in the Red Room," she sashayed her way down the hall and into the living room, using a towel to dry her fiery curls.
Luckily, the room was unoccupied. Christian must have already shut himself in his room for the night, which was perfectly fine with her. She flipped on the radio, scanning the station until she heard a familiar voice singing.
"It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside, I'm not one of those who can easily hide..." A smile crossed her face and she turned the volume up. Elton John was her guilty pleasure. She knew she'd be the laughing-stock of the streetcorner if word ever got out that she fancied the music of an over-the-hill, bald, gay pianist.
But here, she was safe to listen to him at will. "If I were a sculptor, but then again, no, or a man who makes potion in a traveling show... I know it's not much but it's the best I can do. My gift is my song and this one's for you."
Tossing the towel aside, she began to dance around the empty room, now openly singing along with the words that were close to blaring from the radio. "And you can tell everybody, this is your song. It may be quite simple but, now that it's done, I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind that I put down in words... how wonderful life is while you're in the world."
With each movement, her robe loosened a bit until it was hanging quite open, spinning around her as she pretended to waltz around the living room, her still-wet hair tossing drops of water on the floor and furniture. At that moment, Christian entered the room, looking annoyed at the high volume at which Elton John was singing, and about to launch into another lecture about how proper ladies did not blast oldies at ten o'clock at night.
But then he saw her, dancing half-naked and harmonizing with the music in a way that he'd seldom heard. It was... enthralling. He felt his mouth go dry and hands get all clammy. Somehow she had ceased to be the vulgar streetwalker he had been longing to beat with a grammar book for the past five days. She was... beautiful. He wanted to watch her forever.
Unfortunately, at that very moment she happened to notice him and trailed off, mid-refrain, staring back at him. As Elton John continued to belt out his song, all the blood seemed to drain from her cheeks, making her seem even more like a porcelain doll. Though few porcelain dolls were... erm, shaped like she was.
Christian cleared his throat, fighting to gain control of his eyes. They seemed to have gotten minds of their own, because his mind *certainly* did not think like that. "I was just..." he thought quickly for the reason he had come down. Right, to yell at her about the music. Right. Of course. Well, let's get yelling. "I was... looking for my slippers."
Good God. His slippers? His SLIPPERS? He wanted to slap himself, anything to stop himself from any more staring and stupid comments. But the staring continued. Honestly. You'd think he'd never seen a woman half-naked in real life. Oh wait, he hadn't.
She flushed as scarlet as her hair as she realized how much her robe was hanging open and gathered it tightly about herself. She bent down to grab his slippers (which happened to be from his mother, which meant that they happened to have cutesy little bunnies on them) angrily. "You want your slippers, eh?" she growled, eye's flashing. "You've got them then." She flung them at him, too embarrassed to even laugh as one bunny slipper bounced off his head, and then she stormed from the room before he could even realize that her English was indeed improving.
* * *
How dare he? How DARE he?! How dare he stare at her like that, like she was nothing but a piece of meat to be admired and then devoured? How dare he look at her like all the others?
She hadn't liked it... that stare. She had never seen it from him before, and it had made her... uncomfortable. Uncomfortable... ha! She, who had lay naked with countless men with no sense of shame... now she was getting modest.
What the hell had he done to her? Why had she ever agreed to let him have his little experiment, to try to change her? She didn't need to be changed, dammit! She was perfectly fine the way she was!
But then he'd come along with his bloody perfect English and offered her money, and she'd just accepted. Just like that. No consideration, no thought, just 'yes.' Sometimes she was a damn idiot.
And she hated him. HATED HIM.
Pausing in the hall, she glanced back at the room, anger smoldering in her eyes. "Just you wait, Christian Higgins, just you wait!" She stomped her foot childishly. "You'll be sorry, but your tears will be to late! You'll be broke, and I'll have money, will I help you? Don't be funny! Just you wait, Christian Higgins, just you wait!"
She turned on her heel and strode a few feet down the hall before whirling around again. "Just you wait, Christian Higgins, till you're sick, and you scream to fetch a doctor double-quick. I'll be off a second later, and go straight to the theater! You take that, Christian Higgins! Just you wait!"
She stomped down the hall to her room, disappearing inside her room before reappearing a second later to scream down the hall before slamming the door, "Just you wait!"
END CHAPTER SEVEN