of escape and encourage it.
With Jean’s twenty-one, Niki has made twenty-nine tonight, an unheard-of total. He fingers the blue and gold surface of the twenty-franc note he got from the young chamois. He has never held twenty francs in his paw all at once, not ever. The note feels flimsy, false, but he does not want to show it to anyone to ask if it is real. He thinks it must be, because the chamois is rich enough to ask for his company for a night, and it was more than just liquor-fueled desire; M. Oller talked to the young antelope afterwards, and told Niki the deal had been concluded. Niki never knows what price is set, because the money goes to M. Oller first. But last time, ten francs came back to Niki, and the other dancers say that at least that much also went to M. Oller.
M. Oller does not keep that much of all the dancers’ gratuities; when Niki gives him the nine one-franc notes, M. Oller will give him back eight francs and ten centimes of real money. But because the twenty-franc note is real, Niki does not need to exchange it with M. Oller, and so he will keep it all. More importantly, the other dancers will think he made only nine, and there will be no angry jealousy.
The ermine who came to the same box struts into the changing room, a sheaf of bills held up in her fingers. “Twenty-six, ladies. The predators always pay best.”
Unless you are a predator, Niki thinks, and sees the others in the room think the same thing, the wildcat, his friend Cireil the wolf, and the white wolf all flattening their ears, but saying nothing. There is a vixen who dances at the club, a real vixen, but she is not here tonight. The ermine has a predator’s teeth, but when she dances, it is with a mouse’s coquettish shyness, and she keeps her muzzle closed.
“But did you get a night off?” The other dancers crowd around the ermine. She has been here for three years, longer than almost any of them. For her to be requested for a night would mean that any of them might find a rich patron for one night, two nights, a lifetime.
“They will return tomorrow.” The ermine stuffs her money into a small purse and unashamedly strips her uniform off, standing naked in the room.
The girls don’t mind Niki seeing them naked, because they know he has no interest in them. They like to watch him, which makes him reluctant to let them. If only they would avert their eyes, he would feel much more at ease.
In any case, tonight he has another secret, and his nakedness does not seem as important next to concealing his money from jealous eyes. So he pulls his skirt down, ignores the lull in conversation, and pulls his pants up. When he changes out of his corset, he spends some time brushing the small false chest he wears on the floor, sliding his fingers along the thin strings that hold it in place over his shoulders and around his back.
“You must appear to be a lady,” M. Oller told Niki when he accepted him as a dancer. “Here is what the last boy wore; see if it will fit you.” And with some small modifications, it did. Niki supposes that any boys who want to dress as ladies and dance fit a similar physical type.
He has put on his loose shirt and taken the ribbons from his ears when the ermine, now wearing a simple blue dress, comes over to him. “Saw you with the goat,” she says.
“He’s a chamois.” Niki keeps his voice soft.
“Lucky you. How long has it been since a cu-cu came in here?”
“Besides Niki, you mean?” one of the other dancers calls, and there is some laughter.
Cireil comes over to stand beside Niki. “Leave him,” she says. “He’s a specialist, that’s all. More business for the rest of us.”
The ermine rolls her eyes, but says, “I shan’t dispute that,” and she leaves with her twenty-four.
Niki shoves his twenty-nine deep into the pocket of his pants. He looks into the eyes of Cireil, the kindly wolf who has been here nearly three years herself and knows that she will end up in the
With Jean’s twenty-one, Niki has made twenty-nine tonight, an unheard-of total. He fingers the blue and gold surface of the twenty-franc note he got from the young chamois. He has never held twenty francs in his paw all at once, not ever. The note feels flimsy, false, but he does not want to show it to anyone to ask if it is real. He thinks it must be, because the chamois is rich enough to ask for his company for a night, and it was more than just liquor-fueled desire; M. Oller talked to the young antelope afterwards, and told Niki the deal had been concluded. Niki never knows what price is set, because the money goes to M. Oller first. But last time, ten francs came back to Niki, and the other dancers say that at least that much also went to M. Oller.
M. Oller does not keep that much of all the dancers’ gratuities; when Niki gives him the nine one-franc notes, M. Oller will give him back eight francs and ten centimes of real money. But because the twenty-franc note is real, Niki does not need to exchange it with M. Oller, and so he will keep it all. More importantly, the other dancers will think he made only nine, and there will be no angry jealousy.
The ermine who came to the same box struts into the changing room, a sheaf of bills held up in her fingers. “Twenty-six, ladies. The predators always pay best.”
Unless you are a predator, Niki thinks, and sees the others in the room think the same thing, the wildcat, his friend Cireil the wolf, and the white wolf all flattening their ears, but saying nothing. There is a vixen who dances at the club, a real vixen, but she is not here tonight. The ermine has a predator’s teeth, but when she dances, it is with a mouse’s coquettish shyness, and she keeps her muzzle closed.
“But did you get a night off?” The other dancers crowd around the ermine. She has been here for three years, longer than almost any of them. For her to be requested for a night would mean that any of them might find a rich patron for one night, two nights, a lifetime.
“They will return tomorrow.” The ermine stuffs her money into a small purse and unashamedly strips her uniform off, standing naked in the room.
The girls don’t mind Niki seeing them naked, because they know he has no interest in them. They like to watch him, which makes him reluctant to let them. If only they would avert their eyes, he would feel much more at ease.
In any case, tonight he has another secret, and his nakedness does not seem as important next to concealing his money from jealous eyes. So he pulls his skirt down, ignores the lull in conversation, and pulls his pants up. When he changes out of his corset, he spends some time brushing the small false chest he wears on the floor, sliding his fingers along the thin strings that hold it in place over his shoulders and around his back.
“You must appear to be a lady,” M. Oller told Niki when he accepted him as a dancer. “Here is what the last boy wore; see if it will fit you.” And with some small modifications, it did. Niki supposes that any boys who want to dress as ladies and dance fit a similar physical type.
He has put on his loose shirt and taken the ribbons from his ears when the ermine, now wearing a simple blue dress, comes over to him. “Saw you with the goat,” she says.
“He’s a chamois.” Niki keeps his voice soft.
“Lucky you. How long has it been since a cu-cu came in here?”
“Besides Niki, you mean?” one of the other dancers calls, and there is some laughter.
Cireil comes over to stand beside Niki. “Leave him,” she says. “He’s a specialist, that’s all. More business for the rest of us.”
The ermine rolls her eyes, but says, “I shan’t dispute that,” and she leaves with her twenty-four.
Niki shoves his twenty-nine deep into the pocket of his pants. He looks into the eyes of Cireil, the kindly wolf who has been here nearly three years herself and knows that she will end up in the
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