Chapter Text
Carmilla sat at her dressing table, re-applying eyeliner and touching up her lipstick. She looked at her reflection in the mirror; pale skin glowing against the deep red and gold décor of her dressing room and long dark hair falling in curls around her face.
Tugging at the straps on her signature white and silver dress, she smirked. She looked like a star. She was the star: The Sparkling Diamond of the Moulin Rouge.
“One day,” she told herself, as she did every night. One day, she’ll fly away. Because one day, something will happen that will take her to where she’s really meant to be. There would be some occurrence – maybe even just the smallest of happenings - that would make the past six years’ worth it. That would make the pain of them all disappear.
When the owner of the Moulin Rouge, William, had found her with nothing, he’d promised her everything. He’d sworn to her that his nightclub was her chance and that following him would get her where to she desired to be. With nothing to lose she became a courtesan, with Will ‘guiding’ her on her journey to fame.
Carmilla yearned to be a Hollywood star, like the great Sarah Bernhardt, to be respected and be known for something other than selling herself. Here, nothing was hers to own; she sold her ‘love’ to men and women almost every night of the week - only her love, nothing physical. She made people feel wanted, cherished; but they never got her body. No – only one person owned Carmilla’s body.
The Dean.
The Dean had entered Carmilla’s life a few years after she began working at the Moulin Rouge. Will had introduced The Dean as an investor who wanted to turn the nightclub into a theatre, as their ticket to better things. However, she’d come to be so much more than that.
What had started out as a business venture into the Moulin Rouge, had distorted into an investment in Carmilla. The Dean was a possessive, power-hungry woman, who had developed an obsession with the young star. Due to her fixation, she’d almost instantly forbidden Carmilla from selling herself to anyone, but Will had insisted that in order to fund his part of the theatre renovation, he’d need to keep her on as the clubs main ‘attraction’. So they’d struck a deal, her body belonged to The Dean, and the only thing sold to punters was her company, her love.
That part would end soon though. Tonight would be one of her last as a courtesan, an official one anyway; she had no idea how much longer she would remain The Dean’s, but the transformation of the club was paid for, the renovation would begin in a week. Though of course, Will being Will, had decided to milk every last penny out of his Sparkling Diamond by throwing three consecutive closing nights - this being the first.
“One day, honey,” a soft, familiar voice spoke from behind her. A hand was placed on her shoulder and Carmilla put one of her own on top of it, smiling in the mirror at Perry; the only real friend she had in this fucked up underworld they called home. The redhead had been there to pick her up through it all; on days when the walls had closed in, on evenings when customers had crossed lines, on nights when The Dean had been especially rough. It was who Perry had picked her up and brushed her off.
“It’s almost show time,” Perry nodded her head towards the sound of cheers, and Carmilla could hear Will’s voice, addressing the hall of men and women waiting eagerly for the show, riling them up. She breathed in deeply, taking one final look in the mirror before standing up and leaving in the direction of the chanting crowd.
***
Her number on the swing had gone well, like always. She’d been grabbed at, shouted at and paraded around to folks who believed that their contribution of a diamond necklace or some expensive trinket meant that they had some sort of claim on her. That she would succumb to them at the sight of a beautiful gem, that it was enough to make her fall in love. They were fools. Carmilla knew nothing of love, except how to create the illusion of it. She knew how to promise it, but never truly give it.
She was in the middle of the dance floor, having a costume change under the cover of Will’s ‘Diamond Dogs’ who were dancing around her, shielding her from prying eyes. Ell, the lead can-can dancer at the Moulin Rouge, had her head turned away from her audience and as always, was watching Carmilla instead. She shot Carmilla a look before breaking the circle of dancers and moved out of the way to let Will into the makeshift dressing room.
“Kitty. I hope you’re enjoying these last nights as much as I am. It’s safe to say you’ll be sorely missed.” He smirked as he pocketed a wad of cash into the red waistcoat of his black and white tuxedo.
“Is she here, William?” There was no need for specifics, both of them knew who she meant. It was the same question she asked every show night, and Will’s reply never changed.
“She is. And she wants you in The Elephant after your final number.”
“I guess I best go pay a visit to her booth then, so she can mark her territory for the thousandth time.” Carmilla sighed and made to leave, but Will grabbed her wrist, a mischievous grin on his face. Her heart sank. He was up to something; money always did make him cocky.
“I actually don’t want you to pay any attention to her this evening, during the show at least. I think she needs reminding of how precious you really are...” He released her wrist and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. She wanted to say no, to tell him it was a stupid move; pissing her off now when they were this close getting what they’d both worked so hard to achieve. But she didn’t.
“What’s the plan?”
Will grabbed her hand and led her back into the view of the revellers. Cheers erupted when she re-appeared, now wearing a backless, floor-length, blood-red ball gown. She plastered on her best smile and waved to the onlookers, as Will took her up some steps to stand on one of several raised, circular platforms that were in the room. She knew this one was closest to The Dean’s booth, but refused to look over in that direction. She could feel piercing, silvery-blue eyes watching her every move. Will stood behind Carmilla with his hands on her waist. He rested his chin on her shoulder so he could speak into her ear. He turned her to face the booth that was just to the right of The Dean’s.
“Look at Lafontaine’s booth, Kitty. Do you see that pretty new face? Looks like they’ve finally got themselves a writer.” She continued to wave and put on the normal show, but squinted through the mayhem to see LaFontaine sat in their regular spot with the rest of their acting troupe; she recognised Danny, the tall redhead and Betty; the just as tall blonde one, along with the other regulars who’d she’d never met but who always seemed to be involved with LaF’s many projects. Tonight, however, sat in the middle of them, was a beautiful girl with golden hair. She wasn’t like LaF’s usual crazy crew; from afar she seemed timid, quiet, and nervous. “Kitty, I think you should pay our old friend a visit, I know they’ve been dying to talk to us about producing the theatre’s first play, and it wouldn’t hurt to get acquainted with that cute young writer.”
This was a bad idea. But it was too late.
“Ladies and gents! I believe it’s come to that point in the night when our Sparkling Diamond chooses one of you lovely people to dance with!” Immediately after Will’s announcement, people were climbing over one another to get onto Carmilla’s radar. Though it was useless, it always had been. It was always The Dean or one of the acquaintances in her company who got to dance with the star. Carmilla risked a glance over to the older woman. There she sat, in her usual position wearing her black pantsuit that made her look powerful but sexy all at once. Wavy, black hair swept over one shoulder. Staring at Carmilla with that smug look which the younger girl loathed. It was a look that said: ‘You’re mine.’
Maybe it was that what did it, or maybe it was simply fate pulling her along, but she looked away from The Dean and fixed her eyes onto the stranger sat with LaFontaine, then began walking over to the booth. The room fell quiet as she reached the table and for the first time that night, her own dark brown eyes locked with hazel-brown ones. Carmilla attempted to read the strikingly beautiful face before her; it wasn’t showing the usual complacent, arrogant look she was accustomed to seeing whenever someone won her attention. She could see awe, confusion and bewilderment there. It was as if this stranger didn’t believe she was worthy of anyone’s attention, let alone Carmilla’s.
“Ms Karnstein, let me introduce you to Laura Hollis, the writer of our new show. She-,” LaFontaine had stood and began to speak, but Carmilla didn’t need to hear anymore.
Laura. She refused to acknowledge the strange, new feeling in the pit of her stomach as the girl before her gave the smallest smile.
“Miss Hollis. Will you dance with me?” Still watching Laura carefully, Carmilla held her hand out. It was shaking, why was she nervous? Did she actually care if she was refused? Laura stayed frozen, obviously lost for words. Remembering this was part of the show; Carmilla turned to the crowd and pouted. After a chorus of ‘awws’, she turned back.
“I’m afraid it’s ladies’ choice, sweetheart.” She smirked and gave the girl a wink. This seemed to push Laura out of her rut, and with a shove from LaFontaine and Danny; Laura got up and took Carmilla’s hand then followed her out onto the dance floor. The other dancers took their places and the music for a waltz began playing. The waltz was Carmilla’s favourite type of dance, but it was also really intimate, and she knew that to a nearby, probably seething Dean, it may as well have been sex.
Still, she interlocked one of her hands with one of Laura’s, and placed her other on the blonde’s waist. She would pay for it after the show. The tips of her long fingers could feel the bare skin of Laura’s back; she wore a gown similar to her own; backless, floor-length, but all black. The colour illuminated Laura’s naturally tanned skin. Carmilla pulled her closer so that they were face-to-face, chest-to-chest.
The two stood in the middle of the room. Turning slowly and out of rhythm with the night - a black and red blur. Carmilla was looking around the room, but not really seeing anything. Occasionally she’d steal a glance at Laura, then avert her eyes elsewhere when the smaller girl caught her out, both of them smiling shyly. Shyly. Carmilla had never been shy in her life. She was a courtesan, a seductress, but there was nothing about Laura Hollis that said ‘earn me’ or ‘seduce me’, and it threw her. The hand that was placed on her shoulder began moving upwards and Laura’s head moved forward, so that their cheeks were touching.
“It’s so wonderful of you to take an interest in the show, Ms Hollis.” Carmilla spoke into the playwright’s ear.
“Err,” Laura pulled back to look at the courtesan, and cleared her throat, “Well, it sounds really exciting, and I’d love to be a part of it. Assuming you like what I do, I mean, what we do. And please, call me Laura.” She smiled wide, and Carmilla couldn’t help but smile back.
“Laura,” The blonde’s grin returned to a shy smile as Carmilla said her name. “Tell me, how did you end up in this dark corner of the world? I assume it was your work?”
“I wanted to write about truth, beauty, freedom.” She looked around the room and then back at Carmilla, “Most importantly, love. I thought coming to a place like this would give me a challenge. You look around and it’s so much harder to find those things in plain sight. You have to really search for them here.”
“I see. Well, you’re correct in thinking it would be a challenge. I’ve been here for most of my life, and I have to say that love is not something I believe in.”
A frown crossed Laura’s face and it bunched up in obvious outrage. “How can you not believe in love? Above all things I believe in love. Love is like oxygen. Love-,”
“Okay cutie, don’t hurt yourself. You’re obsessed with love. I understand. But someone like you shouldn’t search for love in such doomed places.”
“That’s slightly contradicting don’t you think? I’m dancing with a woman who sells love in a doomed place, am I not?” Laura challenged.
“Exactly, cupcake. The love here is the kind you buy and sell. It’s not honest, beautiful or free.” Carmilla watched as Laura bit her lip and looked down. What she’d said seemed to trouble the girl, and Carmilla found herself wanting to put a smile back on that beautiful face.
“Maybe so, Ms Karnstein, but I see that the majority of this room happen to crave yours. And-and I find it hard to believe that anything that comes from you isn’t truly beautiful.”
The comment shocked the brunette. She could tell Laura had said it just so it could be heard, not because she wanted or expected anything in return. Which to Carmilla hadn’t happened in, well, ever. Someone always wanted something from her. She could feel her own heart rate quicken as they both continued to stare at one another. She needed to get a grip. Letting out a shaky breath she tore her eyes away from Laura’s, looking around the room nonchalantly in a poor attempt to seem unaffected.
“What can I say sweetheart, I’m an extremely good actress.” Carmilla dragged out slowly in her velvet voice, attempting to keep the mood light.
Carmilla watched the blonde’s face change as she seemed to remember that she was here tonight on business.
“The play! I almost forgot. So LaFontaine told me that I’d have to pitch my story to you and that you’d put a good word in? I have some poetry as well if you’d like to hear that? We could do it somewhere more private?” Laura rambled on. She must do this when she’s nervous, Carmilla thought, and a small smile reached her lips. This girl was too much.
“Really? A private poetry reading huh?” She began to trace her fingertips along the bare skin of the writer’s back. Carmilla leaned forward so that her left cheek was touching Laura’s right, and her lips were grazing her earlobe gently. She looked over at The Dean’s booth before she spoke, looking the still observing woman right in the eye.
“I love a little poetry after supper.” The courtesan had intended to watch The Dean’s reaction, but there was a sharp intake of breath from the smaller girl in her arms and she felt fingertips being dug lightly into her shoulder. Carmilla was lost in the sound of Laura breathing heavily into her ear, and she started to pull back to look at that stunning face but as she did she caught sight of The Dean. The Dean was leaving her booth slowly and with a calm, neutral expression on her face. It was too calm. Fuck.
“Are you okay?” Laura’s small, sweet voice reached Carmilla through her rising panic. Before she had chance to reply, a firm hand was yanking the brunette away from Laura, and for a moment Carmilla wasn’t sure whether she would be able to let go of the blonde. She didn’t want to let go.
“Kitty. Kitty. CARMILLA.” Will’s raised voice snapped her out of whatever small episode she was having. “She’s leaving, Carmilla. Leaving! Do you understand me, or have you actually lost your mind?”
“Yes, William. I can see that. She’s leaving because of your childish need to play games! I was just doing what you told me to do.”
“I said piss her off, Kitty. Play hard to get. Be the tease that you are. Not play star-crossed lovers’ with the show’s potential new playwright! I’m gonna go attempt to clean up this mess. I suggest you make your way straight to The Elephant, have Perry dig out your very best corset, and prepare to make tonight extra special for our dear Dean.”
Carmilla turned to look for Laura, who had been stood nearby, watching the two of them intently, but Carmilla knew that if she was still stood there, then she hadn’t heard any of that. Good. She started towards her, but an on-looking Will moved between them, pushing Carmilla back roughly. “I said, The Elephant. Now. Show’s over, Kitty.”
Shooting Laura an apologetic look over Will’s shoulder, she turned and walked away. Swallowing hard at the thought of what the rest of the night had in store for her.