The General's Mistress by Jo Graham

his lapels thick with gold braid, and a glorious tricolor sash weighted with bullion fringe about his waist. His dark hair shone and his compact form was set off to the best by my white gown, sapphire blue shawl, and golden hair. Beside him, the necklace might have been a beautiful ornament to complement his braid, or it might not have been.
    Victor smiled a remarkably genuine smile as a lady approached. She was petite, barely coming to my chin, with a tight-lipped smile and a beautiful figure. Her gown was white, and I saw with some surprise that she was not wearing a chemise under it at all. The shadow of her pubic hair was quite visible.
    “My dear lady,” Victor said, bending over her hand. “You cannot imagine the pleasure that I take in seeing you again. I had not expected that you would still be playing hostess for Paul.”
    She smiled, and it was an expression of real warmth. “My dear Moreau, it’s a pleasure to have you back in town, rather than rusticating at the front. And of course I am always happy to assist Paul in any way I can. I fear that my husband has already had to return to the field, but he insisted that I should stay in Paris for my safety.”
    “Well, we must please your husband,” Victor said. “And may I present my special friend, a lady recently come to Paris from Holland, Madame St. Elme? My dear, this is Madame Bonaparte.”
    “Do call me Joséphine,” she said, taking my hand. “And tellme if it is true that you are a refugee from some terrible fate! We were all agog when we heard that Victor had been hiding you in Paris for several months and no one had seen you.”
    “I have not been hiding,” I stammered. Half the room seemed to be looking at me. “I have simple tastes and have been living very quietly.”
    “Ah!” She squeezed my hand and let it go. “I have simple tastes myself, but you would not know it to see this house tonight! Come, let me introduce you to some friends.”
    I looked at Victor, but he had turned away to talk to two gentlemen in uniform. “I would be honored,” I said.
    I had no idea who all the people were that I met. It seemed to me that there was an endless series of officers in tricolor sashes and ladies wearing white dresses. All of them said almost identical things. Somehow a glass of champagne appeared in my hand. It was cool and the ballroom was so very warm. I drank it very quickly.
    Madame Bonaparte gestured for a footman. She drank her glass with her head down.
    “Your husband is with the Army of Italy?” I asked. I wagered he wasn’t on the Rhine or I would have heard Moreau speak of him often.
    “Yes,” she said. “He has command there now. I do not think the Directors want him in Paris.” She looked up at me and her eyes were unexpectedly candid. “Successful generals too close to home make them nervous.”
    “Ah,” I said. “Should I take that as a warning?”
    “You should,” she said. “If you are new to Paris, then you have no idea—” She broke off as a lovely blonde approached us. “Hello, Thérèse! That gown is absolutely beautiful! Where in the world did you get it?”
    Her blond hair was rolled on top of her head in a verystrange design, and her gown was of thin lavender gauze, clasped with pins in the shape of dragonflies on her shoulders, leaving her shoulders and arms entirely bare. It swept to the floor in glistening folds, and it was perfectly clear that she wore absolutely nothing beneath it. The shifts of shiny material across her uncorseted breasts were fascinating to see.
    “Do you like it? I thought I should be the perfect Messalina tonight!” She looked at my hair critically. “And I see you’ve found us an Agrippina. Unless I mistake the hair.”
    “Yes,” I said.
    “I suppose that makes me your rival,” she said. “Beware. I like to win.”
    “Thérèse, for heaven’s sake,” Joséphine said. “You haven’t the slightest interest in Victor Moreau.”
    “Oh.” She put her head to one