First Harvest Masquerade

The great room of La Fleur Bleue has been transformed into a Provencal Estate hosting a First Harvest Masquerade.  The art of the West wall has been replaced with scenes of high summer, rolling hills and fields framing Mediterranean vistas. One can almost hear waves crashing on the cliffs below. The scent of fruit and plenty, driftwood and seagrass mix with the perfume and heat of the guests. The room is cast in the light of ripe yellow fields, ripe and red fruit ready to burst. The ceiling above filters warm orange light over the room. On arrival guests are offered crystal flutes of champagne and Kir Royal.  The drinks have the color of straw with small splashes of crimson.

Tonight’s celebration and spectacle is an elegant masquerade ball and charity Baccarat tournament for gamblers and high rollers. Roulette tables create two lanes shaping the flow of movement toward staged and raised Baccarat tables in the back. At the rooms center a massive, raised ice sculpture of two swans, necks entwined is surrounded by the bounty of the season. It is an elegant display. Most do not appreciate each twig and stem; every element and item has been deliberately selected, cut and placed earlier that afternoon.

The corset’s thread inlay in the wide planked floor draws and absorbs the energy of the crowd returning an ever-heightening experience.  The Maison staff and talent wear elaborate masks and costumes for the masquerade.  Guest and member costumes runs the gamut, some have chosen simple masks, barely hiding their identity, some full costumes in which the person unknowingly will be rewarded with a descent into character. For these, the house of mirrors effects of La Fleur Bleue will seep and soak into their experience. They will leave their lives beyond these walls and be fully ensconced in all the Maison has to offer. 

Le Grande Hotel and Le Club Aéronautique has routed guests unfazed at the thought masquerading at one of the city’s most distinguished and exclusive brothels. Gambling for charity even sways the prudish whose curiosity wins the day. Most important is their willingness to play and participate.  News of the game has gone wide throughout the casinos and gaming rooms of the city. High rollers and gamblers are eager and welcomed once bought into the game. When the room fills to her ideal Tamara is escorted onto the dais. She is adorned in an elegant cream and white ball gown she wears a complimentary delicate silver and gold mask. A hush falls over the room.

         “Ladies and gentlemen, members and guests welcome all to La Fleur Bleue’s First Harvest Masquerade and Baccarat Tournament.” 

         “All look so enchanting this evening.” All in her orbit are entered and feel she speaks directly to them.

         “Our Baccarat Tournament is open to all, though the entry fee is quite generous.

            Sixteen distinguished players have bought into the initial round for One Hundred Thousand Francs.”  Quiet clapping moves through the gathering.

         “At the chime of each hour we will remove a gaming table until concluding the competition at midnight.”

         “At each cash out and the final pot twenty percent will be donated to charity across the city and managed by the office of Frédérique Dumas.”

         “And everyone, like me, our talent and staff all appreciate more than the tip.” Laughter and applause erupt throughout the gallery.

In the crowd are newcomers to La Fleur Bleue. An entourage of well-heeled Exposition diplomats and dignitaries have brought mistresses and wives to participate in the masquerade. Marcus is hosting bureaucrats and Aéronautique guests, surprisingly and discomforting to him, it was his wife’s suggestion. Renee, arriving on her own has moodily plotted a sanctioned incursion into the Bleue. Her desire to observe and engage Raquel on ground where her station in society is privileged at its height. Through Marcus’s station at Le Club, its sponsorship of Le Bleue and his personal abonnement of Raquel all access and privilege are extended to Renee. Her violet mask and cool cerulean costume provide the anonymity she desires. Unbeknownst, is this Grande Maison will intoxicate her beyond her control and vaporize her inhibitions.

Renee flows in the current of the room observing what she believes to be the social order of the Maison. Sipping a Kir Royale, she moves between the cliques and couples until a trio captures her interest, a statuesque fire-haired woman in a plunging green dress and matching mask is feted by a gentleman caught in her spell. An androgynous attendant waves Renee over providing purchase in the flow of the room. Small talk and observation are shared until an invitation to a private room beyond the grand room is made. Intoxicated by the invitation and casual encounter’s seamless transition from social to intimate; she demurs with a promise to seek them out later in the evening as they focus their entreaty on to another guest.

She finds comfort in her anonymity, the flow of movement forces guests together, their heat and closeness gives way to a dance floor with dancers shedding costume and retaining their masks. Another place this would be unacceptable scandal here it feels correct. Catching her breath, she finds herself in the arms of a masked gentleman in a blue silk tuxedo and matching vest. With surprising and welcome familiarity, he pulls her closely in dance placing a hand on the small of her back. Normally she would be taken aback recoiling at such an intrusion but in the intoxication of the evening she pushes closer to him smiling invitingly with a glint in her eye. The man leans in close enough to inhale the fragrance of perfume on her slender neck. She acquiesces to his advance allowing a delicate and illicit kiss though declines his assignation to an upstairs private room, his disappointment is palpable and its own intoxicant. 

The Roulette tables get ever more raucous as the evening progresses. Men and women grope and pet in plain sight. The mood is electric and Madams Louise and Tamara observe their spectacle from the mezzanine above.  The Baccarat tables and gamblers have winnowed down leaving only the final table. The croupiers, Jean Paul and Leon, wear white wigs and are costumed as Tamara’s attendants. These are her trusted staff, professional, security-minded and unfazed by the spectacle and debauchery on display.  Crowds have gathered watching the gamblers move through the paces of play.  Even the chips transacted on the tables have bawdy reliefs created solely for this evening’s use.  

         “Mademoiselle, do you enjoy the game, Chemin de Fer Baccarat?” A gentleman asks leaning closely to Renee. She plays along that she is unmarried.

         “It is elegant in its pace and sophisticated when played by one with a talent for the game.”

         “Take that one, he seems comfortable in betting as the Punto, Banco or Égalité.”  Renee motions subtly to Albert Santos Dumont, even masked he stands out. An elegant, masked woman costumed in teal and cream with straight dark hair stands to his right moving slightly to accommodate the servers that move through the audience and tables like whisper. Her eyes are bright, the intoxication of the space works none of its magic on her.

         “That one, he is a bull. He is aggressive and looks to strike fear in the opponents. Though what he does not realize is this is a show for the audience.

         He is the only one still seated that cherishes the prize on the table.”  Renee motions smiling at the dandy in the blue silk tuxedo who had been so forward with her earlier.

         “And that one, with the entourage of beauties behind him is an academic. He plays to be included, simply present and playing not to lose.” Renee hands her glass to the waitstaff taking a fresh flute.

         “And that one, the one holding court, without focus, easily distracted. He plays for the spectacle. He will buy and bluff his way to a win.” Renee points to Marcus with the rim of her glass. Her neck tightens as she recognizes Raquel in Marcus’s entourage. She leans in touching his shoulder while he plays. The courtesan motions to an attendant to bring another round. Her laugh is natural and the people in her orbit are enthusiastic and friendly. It is the compound of intimate comfort and ease that focus her. Renee moves behind Marcus settling into the entourage. She and the Dandy make eye contact as Jean Paul deals the cards and calls for bets. With each round the aggressive bull psyches the academic from his early success. The academic gets more aggressive in the fourth round but folds in the fifth.

A hush goes over the gallery and as Jean Paul deals the next round. As the three compete their dance and with almost a half a million Francs on the table Alberto and the bull are aggressively competing until Marcus who has finally focused his attention on the final round with a 150 thousand Franc bet and call on the Punto. First a gasp goes over the crowd, a rise of applause and cheer celebrating Marcus’s win.  Alberto stands shaking hands first with the bull, then with Marcus.

         “For charity!” Alberto announces to the crowd around the table pushing a small stack of chips to Jean Paul as a tip for his service.

Marcus stands offering his hand to the bull. The man eyes Marcus’s hand as he calculates his loss.

         “Come chap, it is for charity.” The Dandy stands with a pregnant pause he looks at Marcus and then to Jean Paul with a dead-eyed stare. Finally, he responds to Marcus’s overture and shakes his hand in an iron grip. Once released, Marcus turns to Raquel kissing her deeply unbeknownst and close enough to his wife that their heat can be felt. Jana takes Marcus’s other arm and the trio make their way to the cashier. The staff of Le Fleur Bleue quickly disassemble the tables and dais returning sofas and seating to accommodate the guests.

Later

At the cashier Renee slides to the Dandy’s side. He recognizes her from earlier, but his mood has soured.

         “Charity is more fun when you are paying and playing with the Maison’s money non?” Renee quips.

         “Mademoiselle, I have just lost a fortune. I think I was cheated but I know not by whom.” The Dandy laments.

         “Was it not yours to lose? Let’s find a place to talk quietly.” He looks at her quizzically.

         “I am no longer interested in this masquerade. I intend to debauch myself in all that this house has to offer.”

         “My, you are the bull, aren’t you?”

         “What?”

         “Inside joke, between that one and I” she motions to the gentleman from the edge of the final round.

         “In your approach and technique, you were the bull, that one the academic, that one the scion and that one… the one that took your fortune we will call him ‘easily distracted’. For the scion and ‘easily distracted’ you know this is only a show, measure and adornment for others to see.”

Renee is a beauty, she is accustomed to the male gaze, as the Dandy looks at her, she is shaken free from the intoxication of the evening. She feels the eyes of a predator.

         “We have not been properly introduced. What is your family name?” Renee extends her hand to the Dandy.

         “Mademoiselle, forgive me, I am not in the mood for introduction.”

         “Madam, Madam Renee Carrière. ‘Easily distracted’ is my husband. He took your fortune.” Renee says taking her hand back.

         “If you are his, why are you here with me and not with him.

         Oh, he doesn’t know that you are even here.

         He is with her, and you are playing tourist.” Dandy states coldly. 

         “Touché. Would you like earn back that fortune?”

         “You have my attention.”

         “Would you like to make Marcus pay dearly for your loss?” Renee offers.

         “I am listening.”

         “Destroy those three. That one. That one. Her last.” In turn, Renee points to Corinne, Jana and Raquel.

         “Come to me, all this destruction gives me an appetite.” Renee threads her fingers into his and leads the Dandy to the private spaces beyond the grand room.

From the mezzanine above the grand room Tamara watches the Dandy and his costumed mistress leave the floor.