tampered | Open Log: Tambour Amoureux: Saturday

Open Log: Tambour Amoureux: Saturday

When; Saturday, February 6
Rating; Pffff it's a brothel, idek. 'May get porny' What sort of rating is that?
Characters; The Master, ANY NUMBER OF EMPLOYEES, CUSTOMERS, ETC.
Summary; It's the Belle Epoque. The Master has a brothel cos he can. Day Two, for action happening today. [Previous day] Note: There are a few girls making a break for it today, so perhaps the previous day's log is better for any potential carousers? Whatever you so choose.
Log; In the red light district, there are any number of bordeaux, catering to a vast array of clients. Tambour Amoureux, however, has a certain...something to it. The owner, a Monsieur Harold Saxon, has made sure of this. He may be a British import but his attention to style, to the quality of entertainment, to the health and well-being of his girls, is still impeccable, to say the least.

From the outside, it's not necessarily instantly obvious what sort of establishment it is. There is lighting, and a certain welcoming atmosphere, and the name on a large sign at the front but it really could be any number of cabarets. Of course, the connoisseur of such places would easily recognise the name.

Inside, there is a stage, for performances, as well as tables and chairs and several couches as well at certain points to the side. The room has a rich mahogany and deep red colour scheme. There is a staircase, more discreet, off to the side, leading to the upstairs, where there is a hallway, with lighting more dim than the lower levels; various doors leading into any number of bedrooms.

Most discreet of all, and a place that requires either longer patronage, or association with someone who knows the secret is a backroom, lavishly furnished with couches and carpets and drapery. Here, one may purchase opium, or bring one's own and relax in a comfortable surrounding.

Additionally, there is a balcony up some back stairs, for employees, and whomever they might choose to bring there.

In a more private section, off-limits to the clientèle are the private offices of those warranting one. Monsieur Saxon's in particular is two rooms. The larger one contains a desk and couch, along with double doors to a private balcony. The smaller one contains a bed and not too much else. It's not his home, of course, that's elsewhere, but Monsieur Saxon does prefer to know exactly what's been in the bed he uses. Or might use. If he chooses to. A curtain is pulled across the archway between the rooms.

[ooc: I was going for....a bit more brothel-y than Moulin Rouge, you know, cos the brothel is the focus, rather than the cabaret. FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, PLEASE INVENT THINGS. I kind of...bare-bones'd it so I'll be stalking over everyone's posts and if you add in a piece of scenery or a specific thing to the maison then I'll add it into the description.

Also, it's never too late to join the Master's....team. Just go to the post linked in the Character's section. Message me or something if you want to talk out stuff or ask questions or suggest things or whatever. Or work out character connections to the Master because I totally didn't do that at all...
Don't ask me why I know so much about the Master's office, now. I don't know. It kinda just happened.

The Master is Monsieur Saxon to everyone except his girls, to whom he is 'Maître' because he CAN BE.

Also, anyone feel like running away/being signed up? Aion could do with some girls to hunt down, y'know.

Alsoalso, sorry for repetitiveness. Some things just don't NEED to change, y'know? I'm just making certain you don't get shoehorned into one day.]

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He is a constant presence in the maison close. He might be sitting at his favoured table--off to the side but close to the stage--he could be wandering through the room. He might be watching from anywhere, really, and it's his right as the owner of Tambour Amoureux.

Harold Saxon speaks French impeccably, with only a slight British accent and sometimes, not even that, as if he's forgotten his own accent, which is, of course, ridiculous. He is always well-dressed and fashionable, and quick to smile. However, he is equally quick to anger, if you disobey the common courtesies that are the rules of the bordello. Despite his business, he is rather well-respected in society.

Today he is feeling a little bit less cordial and a little more...himself, really. So perhaps it would be best not to get on his bad side, not in this mood. He is liable to be stricter than usual. Or crueler.

[ooc: A post for if you'd like to interact with the Master. He could be any of those places or anywhere else. Feel completely free to godmod a little and invent where he is, where you'd like to talk to him.]

Edited 2010-02-06 10:11 (UTC)

There are a few more customers than yesterday evening in the bordello so Alice takes to dancing on the stage while they look for someone to court. Her dress (http://www.noahsarkfancydress.co.uk/ekmps/shops/sharonbaxter/images/3468.jpg) has much less frill today, which means less flipping of skirts to reveal what's hidden and more...flaunting it, with rather erotic moves. The entire bordello could sense Maître's unpleasant (or perhaps regular?) mood and all are aiming to make him especially happy today.

As such, she catches his eye while twirling upon the stage, and sends a wink with a playful kiss while continuing the routine. She isn't sure whether or not he will even notice her, but she is satisfied with the mere attempt. Twist after twist, hand sliding body part over body part, and with several seductive glances to the crowd, Alice dances with enthusiasm and vigor, an odd happiness radiating from her entire being. Perhaps today is just a good day?

Edited 2010-02-06 11:56 (UTC)

Of course, the Master does notice and he's darkly pleased at the deference to himself. Leaning slightly back in his chair, a glass of clouded, simply-prepared absinthe in his hand, his attention is drawn just a bit more to the show, rather than his partial attention before. He still manages to keep an eye on the room, but Alice is very diverting. A little bit girlish, perhaps, but her enthusiasm, and the way she's learned to move... Perhaps he'll be a little bit...unconventional with her French lessons.

When Alice sees the Maître watching her dance, she can't help but let a smile spread across her face. It is unexplained, and happens very rarely, but there are two sides to this small girl's coin, and the normal innocence fades away into haughtiness and even a bit of vulgarity. Only sometimes, however.

And today just happens to be one of those days. Perhaps it is on account of the people she spoke to yesterday, perhaps it is on the customer she saw to, no one knows. But there she is, now directing her suggestive moves towards Maître and being ever more...outgoing, than usual.

The song ends and she hops off the stage, making her way to his favored table with a grin. In French, she says, "Maître. Did you enjoy the dance?"

Clow had only been to the Tambour Amoreux once before, and that was when he had first come to Paris. He had mistaken it for just another cabaret and had only stayed long enough to realize that it was not his kind of establishment. Back then he was just an unknown foreign face among a crowd of revelers, but now he was the chef and proprietor of a certain well-known upscale restaurant in the fashion district. That didn't make him a gentleman or someone famous by any means, but it did mean that someone might recognize him here regardless of whether he acted at all suspicious.

He entered and let his eyes roam around the front room, looking for something specific - and it wasn't any of the ladies. It was early yet, there was a small crowd of the young and well to-do or the older and more brazen. He watched them for a few moments, but did not find what he was looking for and moved on, slinking among the furniture and trying to be subtle. Yuuko made no secret that she came to this place to smoke opium on Saturday afternoons, which was the only reason Clow knew there was an opium den here, but he never thought to ask exactly where it was located. Just walking up to the proprietor and asking directions was of course out of the question, as this wasn't the sort of thing you simply asked. He'd have to find out for himself.

The only evidence of the accident earlier that afternoon was the fact that his hair was still just slightly damp. Otherwise, having changed clothes, there was nothing out of the ordinary about him save for the man himself as he headed towards what he thought was a promising door in the back of the room. He had of course noticed Monsieur Saxon sitting nearby and probably keeping an eye on things, but perhaps if he just acted like he knew what he was doing le Maître would be none the wiser.

"Well done," he says, also in French, placing his drink on the table and turning the chair slightly to face her. He switches back to English, "And, yes, I did. Very much so." He smiles at her. "Why don't you sit down?" he says, first in French, then in English. She may choose one of the chairs at the table, or his lap, he isn't picky. "Would you like a drink?" he asks, in French.

There's a bruise on Rain's face today from where an overeager client slapped her for crying, though she knew he truly did it because he wanted her to cry more. She'd tried, with only small success, to cover it with make-up, but since she normally went without - the clients were looking for fresh-faced, frightened innocence after all - she had little skill with it.

The pretty bead was clasped almost tightly enough in her hand to bruise it in an effort to keep her fear in check and she sang a quiet pretty lullaby that she remembered her mama singing to her when she was a very tiny girl. It wasn't much, but it was all Rain had against the darkness right now.

It had to be during a lull. In truth, she had been waiting at the door for about ten minutes, waiting for the dances to die down, for the ruckus to abate to a pattering hubbub, or something like that, to enter. A woman as important as her, of course, she had to make a grand entrance! People were expecting. She had even selected an elegant violet dress for the occasion; she'd be damned if anyone could get her peasant-like bonnet off her head, but the rest of the ensemble, long-sleeved lacey gloves and all was pristine.

Anyway, back to the lull. After silence had settled, following a small whisper of applause and the murmuring commentary of sweaty elder gentlemen, Yukari threw open the doors with a loud, grand motion. She pulled her shoulders back, her hands clasped all ladylike at her hips, holding a fan. She beamed across the brothel, like the great Lady she was, casting discourteous, superior glances at all the girls, before descending and wafting as gently as she could towards the back of the room, towards the richly carpeted opium den.

"Monsieur Saxon! Where is Monsieur Saxon!" she called in a melodious voice, that might be better suited to an immense mezzo-soprano. She whipped her fan in front of her face, a bit ridiculously, and wiggled it in a stupid, rapidly twitchy motion. She really had no idea whatsoever what she was doing. "Ah, il n'est jamais ici quand j'arrivais." She grabbed a man behind her, spinning him around and addressing him with an uncomfortably sarcastic grin. "Est-ce que tu penses qu'il y a de fortes chances que Monsieur Saxon s'éviter-moi?" After a moment... "Ne repondez-la pas." She probably knew the answer, anyway. Not that it bothered her, or anything.

"Merci, Maître." With a small curtsy and a sly grin, Alice slides neatly onto the Master's lap, draping her arm around his back to brace herself. She hopes she isn't being too forward but the plan is to seduce him, so she brushes the nape of his neck with her fingertips as they pass by. She then takes a moment to consider his second question, first to translate it then to decide whether or not to take a drink. But it's rude to deny an offer from any gentleman, especially the Master, so she says sweetly but slowly in French, "Just a bit, perhaps," and remembering the words Penny said yesterday, she adds jokingly, "It wouldn't do for me to pass out on stage."

Right. The Master had heightened senses, thanks to his species, not to mention that he knew all the regulars. And this new man was not one, as evidenced by his steady path toward the back rooms, and the fact that he was essentially sneaking. The Master stood, and walked to catch up with the man, tapping him on his shoulder.

"Is there anything I can do for you, Monsieur?" Slightly exaggerated, perhaps, but he wasn't certain yet whether he should be cross or not.

Saturday has a bit of a different feel to it. The Master's mood is contagious and Inara isn't immune to it. She might seem a bit untouchable tonight, a bit more distant and a little colder. Of course it could have to do with the gown (http://www.bridalwave.tv/LuxTenebrae.jpg) she is wearing. It leaves more of her skin bare and the ice white adds to the cold, untouchable feel. She carries an ornately painted, silk fan in one hand.

Her behavior remains the same. She makes the rounds, stopping at each customer to flirt with them, make certain they've got everything they need for a wonderful night. She also checks on the girls, ascertaining that they've everything they need to do their jobs.

[ooc: Feel free to god mod where Inara is in the room. Stop by and say hello. She'll be pleased to speak to you]

Of course Inara heard the woman's demands and she knew she needed to head it off as quickly as possible. She approached the woman with a bright smile.

"Madame Yukari, Lǎo péngyǒu, nǐ kànqǐlái hěnyǒu jīngshén. It is such a pleasure to see you again," Inara said as she placed a hand on the woman's arm and leaned in to air kiss her cheek. "Now how may I help you?"

**Mandarin for 'Old Friend, you look very well'. Inara does still pepper her speech with the language

Ah, more lively than the night before. A little advertisement and persuasion truly was well worth it for he sees precisely those customers attending today. It brought a pleased grin to his face. It was a shame he had missed most of the excitement due to rounding the sheep, so to speak. Though, really, Aion wasn't one to stand out much nor was he meant to. Only those with keen eyes could see a glimpse of him from the dark balcony off to the side of the stage peering down to make sure everyone was accounted for.

He had quite a job for himself, making sure NO one left without proper permission from the Monsieur, himself. The rumors that had spread amongst the ladies were indeed true. He was one hell of a devil working in the shadows to make sure things ran smoothly for the owner. If Saxon, Madame, and Seifer were the main eyes of the inside, he had them on the out, having his Eagle patrol the premises.

[ooc: ajskds thank you so much for thinking of running away and the master for mentioning it! =; ;=! Please feel free to come up with some history with Aion too and I'll add to it!]

Alice is learning. Good. French and pleasure, even if, of course, the Master has learned to associate those things. He puts his arm closest to her around her waist.

"D'accord, ma petite," he says, and gestures to the bar for another drink to be brought. It would be impolite to make her share, and for that matter, he doesn't think she can handle absinthe. In a short amount of time, a barmaid brings over a glass of champagne for Alice and the Master smiles, takes it, and offers it to her.

[ooc: Heh, seems fine to me, although you might want to accidentally give him a major overdose of the drugs because I can't see a regular amount of them knocking him out. He's an alien, you see.]

"You didn't tell me," the Master says, his jaw set, his voice low, coming up behind Rain to hold her by her upper arms. He's been examining her face across the room for a while now and he's not very pleased at the conclusion he's come to. His grip is angry, and thus, overly tight. "You just don't absorb lessons, do you, Rain? What did I tell you to do when a customer knocks you about?" Not that he isn't being a bit abusive himself right now, of course, but he's the owner, it's his right, she needs to be taught a lesson. But that doesn't mean that he will tolerate others taking such liberties.

Whether it's her own mood or the Maître's, leaking over to the staff and setting them all at unease, Faith is less pliant tonight. Restless. The indolent, almost careless danger of the night before is sharper, more dangerous; it's barely dark and already more than one of the other girls has tasted the sharp side of her tongue. The mood seems to excite a few of her more adventurous clients, however, and the early evening has been more profitable than usual for it.

She's not lounging, tonight; instead she's half hidden in an alcove, tossing back a glass of the fairy and trying to retain the stillness Inara trained into her before huffing in frustration and spinning away, looking for another client to help ease this incessant need to move.

Alice sees the approval in the Master's eyes and fills with delight, and then shame, for what is in store, but she continues the act flawlessly nonetheless. She settles into his arm, closing whatever little distance there was between them. She then takes the glass with a soft smile, "Merci," and takes a drink (pinky out, I say!), licking her lips just a bit after lowering the glass. "Maître," she says quietly, looking up at him from the glass, "Have you...any plans for the evening?"

He watches her tongue across her lips, and then lets his eyes travel up to hers.

"I've always plans, Alice," he says, putting his free hand to the side of her face, letting thumb stroke across her cheekbone. "But you could factor into them, if you'd like." He doesn't question her flirtation, completely confident in the power of his charm and vice versa.

[ooc: ...slight overdose? Like, honestly, the regular amount might just make him notice it and be cross.]

Tall, blond man clad in white enters Tambour Amoreux via its front entrance. Pausing in the lobby, he reaches into his overcoat's left pocket, pulling out a small stack of papers - distiller contracts from yesterday's meeting. Quick flip-thru to be sure everything is in order and he continues on into the main room.

Nothing slows his pace. Silent nod here and there suffice for greeting as he crosses the room and heads straight for the back office. Previous day's long negotiations have left Luke Valentine wanting to spend an hour alone, quietly unwinding with a glass or two of scotch, before rejoining Monsieur Saxon to discuss yesterday's end results.

Edited 2010-02-07 07:19 (UTC)

The Master's appearance was sudden, but not entirely unexpected. Clow whirled around to face him, appropriately surprised but not appearing in the least alarmed.

"Monsieur Saxon," he answered in French, allowing a relieved smile to wash across his face for a moment. "Just the gentleman I wanted to see."

That was of course a bald-faced lie, but it was time for Plan B. Clow lowered his voice and switched to English, perhaps under the impression that it would grant more privacy to what he was about to say. "There has been a bit of a crisis, and I need to see one of your patrons immediately. A lady by the name of Yuuko Ichihara. She's here right now, isn't she?"

He wasn't certain if she was at that exact moment but the Master was hardly going to tell this man anything about that. His customers preferred to be anonymous most of the time, and he wouldn't reveal their presence to someone he didn't even know.

"Has there been," he said, also in English. "I'm afraid I wouldn't know anything about that. And I'd appreciate that you not barge into the private areas of this establishment, Monsieur."

The hand on her face feels cold and sends a chill down her body, though she can't tell if it's from fear or...something else. The Master has his skills but Alice has been trained by both he and Madame Serra; it is just a matter of playing the toy. She lowers her head bashfully, "Ah, I couldn't impose, Maître. Would you even desire my services?"

Nanako was the only woman in the crowd of onlookers watching the younger girl dance, but she didn't seem to mind too much. Last night's conversation had piqued some curiosity in her about the girl, and about this place, and since she had a few hours to kill before her show tonight and some money for drinks she thought, hey, why not?

She didn't want to interrupt at all, though - they were still nearly perfect strangers and Alice did indeed look happy up there.

Yukari laughed heartily, and snapped her fan shut. "Hohoho! Charming as always! Have you seen Doctor Goldsmith, Miss Inara? I've been aching, lately, and he truly is the only man in the entire world," she stressed wearily, "who could possibly palliate my cravings. Oh, tell me he's in, please," she stressed.

"Oh," she added. "If you see Monsieur Saxon, do send him my way, will you? My only other craving so strong is possibly to rib him whenever I get the chance. Ahahahaha!" she flipped her fan, cackling, "oh, but he does enjoy my company, I am certain."

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Open Log: Tambour Amoureux: Saturday

Monsieur Harold Saxon [Maître]

Alice

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late afternoon - getting into trouble, open to all

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Rain

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Inara Serra

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Faith Lehane

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