The Scarlet Woman

chp. 2 ~ the scarlet woman

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Paris, 1958, along the Rue Saint-Denis.

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Lady Selene Dumont

The girl with hair as white as my mother's porcelain was staring at the glass of alcohol in her hand, the other hand on the chest of a grisly man.

He had just handed the alcohol to her with a viciously evil gleam in his eyes that, I've discovered over time, only men seemed to possess. Despite him probably being twice her age, he was feeling her up with the glee of a boy on Christmas. I clucked my tongue in disgust, sipped my scotch, and turned away.

It was my first and hopefully last time in a gentlemen's club, and I immediately regretted the curiosity that had tugged me in here a few minutes ago off the wintery streets of downtown Paris. I didn't even remember what had drawn me so far up these dark alleys in the first place.

While I did not mind the tinge of alcohol on one's breath, it was the smell of heavy incense mixed with intense sweat, cologne and tobacco smoke that pounded a headache against my temple. Headaches had become a frequency to the point where I'd begun taking medicine for it. They irritated the shit out of me and everyone I interacted with for more than a minute

A tall, wiry man came sauntering over to me with a cigar between his fingers and, from the grin on his face, he obviously thought I was one of the workers.
I finished my scotch, glared at him, then offered him a gesture that would make a nun draw the holy cross over her chest. His grin faltered, smearing into an ugly scowl, and he disappeared back into the crowd. 

For a moment, I wondered what my late husband would've thought of me willingly visiting a place like this, even paying for a visit despite being perturbed by the very thing itself.
Then I remembered that we didn't particularly care about the other's doings, or even mention them to each other over dinner, when we even had it.

Now that I was remembering him, I realised I hadn't known Frederick as much as a wife should have.

It was strange to think of my husband in this place, with barely-clothed women and men sidling up against me for money. It made me speculate if whether he ever came to one of these places before, or visited often enough to become a regular.
I mumbled under my breath that I should shut up and just look around because like hell was I going to cry in front of these people.

I glanced up and realised with a start that the upstairs level occupied dozens of elaborately furnished bedrooms, all decorated in red and white like the sofas and bar stools down on the main floor.
So this was not only a gentlemen's club...but a part time maison close?

Just as I thought over how I should react to that, I glimpsed from the corner of my eye the sleazy man from earlier slip a pill into the white haired girl's glass as she closed her eyes, swaying against him to the rhythm of the slow music.
I slammed my glass against the counter and slipped off the bar stool, adjusting my coat.

While I may have been a rich, cold bitch, there was no way I'd ever let a girl get raped in front of me, not even if the Lord Himself came floating down from the heavens on a white cloud and stopped me with His hand.

"Excusez-moi, si vous plais."

I snatched the girl from his chest before he could resist and held her away from him, tucked under my arm. She was smaller than I thought; she barely reached under my chin. In horror, I wondered if she was even over 21.
The man spat at me and tried to take her back, but I shot him a murderous glare and the chance to see the knife glinting from the inside of my coat.
He sneered and flipped me off as I turned away from him to disappear into one of those cursed rooms upstairs.