| Details for Starstruck |
| Summary: | Upon meeting Corina Silver, the famed Parisian courtesan that Zoe heard so much about during a summer in Paris, the little one is rather starstruck. As the girl demonstrates how to properly treat a courtesan of such caliber, Corina seems to take a liking to her. |
| Date: | Friday, November 15th, 1939 |
| Location: | Twilfit and Tattings |
| Related: | — |
| Characters |
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As night falls, Twilfit and Tattings remains illumined by its chandelier and multitude of candles. Golden mannequins stand in the window and throughout the shop, wearing the latest in luxurious wizarding fashion. Equipped to attend to only one customer at a time, the shop provides a waiting area for its patrons to wait in comfort.
Zoe sits upon the plush velvet loveseat, sipping a cup of coffee and occasionally nibbling a biscuit. Her nose is still rather pink from the chill of the evening. Although her dress of deep red silks is of excellent quality, it seems far more suited to the warmer weather of early autumn. It won't be enough for long. The little one slips her feet out of her boots and leans forward to tuck them under the loveseat. Then she folds her legs to sit upon her feet, hoping some warmth will return to her toes.
The woman in the fitting area is being doted upon by the staff. Clearly she is a valued customer. It is no great wonder. Corina Silver has money to spend, and she is a high visible and unusually beautiful woman. Her hourglass curves, alabaster skin, and ivory-white hair stand out wherever she goes, and Twilfit and Tattings is all too eager to adorn her in their clothing. "It's divine, Madam," Corina coos over the scarlet gown currently being removed from her shapely form. "I should like the corset in that deep burgundy. Yes, the brocade." Soon she emerges into the shop proper, back in the cream-coloured dress she arrived in, lace-gloved hands holding a little white parasol. "Can it be ready by Wednesday?"
At once, Zoe's attention settles upon the exquisite woman of such devastating beauty as she emerges from the fitting area. Her fascination soon becomes awe as the girl recognizes her. Still holding her cup of tea, she leaves her shoes behind and approaches in her stocking feet. The little one gazes up at her, dazzled. "You. You are Corina Silver." She pronounces the name with a French accent, leaving it doubtless where she must have first heard it spoken.
Corina casts her silvery-blue gaze across her shoulder to take in the young woman addressing her. Her pouty lips part in a welcoming smile. "Oui, je le suis. But I'm afraid that you have me at a disadvantage, pretty girl." She turns fully to face Zoe, looking her over and taking her in.
Zoe's eyes widen with such star-struck delight when the exotic courtesan refers to her as a pretty girl. Looking almost shy she says, "My name is Zoe. Madam Dufayel spoke of you often. As did so many others when I was last in Paris."
Corina's face lights up like the sun as she reaches for Zoe's hand as if she were an old friend. "Vous savez Madame Dufayel? Magnifique! I have been away from Paris far too long. How I wish to go back. When did you last see her?"
With a coquettish smile, Zoe responds in fluent French, "In the summer when I turned 16. Two years ago. I stayed with her for a few weeks." The little one almost looks like a kitten that nibbled a canary.
Corina gives Zoe a coy smirk. "Oh, that must have been quite a few weeks. You must have stories to tell…and others you shouldn't." She giggles softly, casting an apologetic smile to the shop girl helping her. "Will you send word if it is ready early? Thank you, dear."
"Madam Corina… won't you allow me to purchase a token for you? A pair of gloves to match your new dress perhaps? One lined with fur to keep them warm in the coming months." Zoe knows well how a courtesan of this caliber is meant to be treated and seems eager for the chance. Another shop assistant stands not far, waiting to escort Zoe for her own fitting, but the girl remains fixated on the courtesan.
Corina's slender, sculpted eyebrow lifts curiously. "A gift?" The girl seems to know who and what Corina is, and even had connections within Corina's social circle back in Paris. Surely, she must know what she is doing. "You are too kind. Fur-lined gloves?" She casts a look to the shop girl, who smiles and goes to fetch some samples. Corina turns her attention back to Zoe, giving her hand and squeeze and leading her back toward the sitting area. "You haven't yet told me your name, pretty girl."
Corina's slender, sculpted eyebrow lifts curiously. "A gift?" The girl seems to know who and what Corina is, and even had connections within Corina's social circle back in Paris. Surely, she must know what she is doing. "You are too kind. Fur-lined gloves?" She casts a look to the shop girl, who smiles and goes to fetch some samples. Corina turns her attention back to Zoe, giving her hand and squeeze and leading her back toward the sitting area. "So, it is Zoe? Tell me how you come to know Madame Dufayel."
The touch of Corina's hand sends a little thrill of a shiver through the delicate girl. Her eyes shine with delighted fascination as she gazes up at Corina's countenance. Zoe folds her legs beneath herself upon the red velvet love seat, angled slightly to face the woman. She lapses back into a soft, sweet little purr of French. "My mother knew her well.. and when I turned 16 and wanted to know of the arts of pleasure… where else would my mother take me, but Paris?"
Corina inhales deeply, as if taking in the scent of the memory of Paris. "There is no city in the world like it. Your mother arranged this, you say? She sounds like quite an enlightened woman. You are fortunate. Most young women that desire a sensual awakening must employ deception, lest they endure shame and scorn."
Zoe's eyes shine as she shakes her head. "My mother encouraged me to learn and embrace such delights. It was an exquisite summer. I cherished my time with Madam Dufayel. And… remembered her lessons well." The little coquette tucks behind her ear a few strands of her sleek dark hair that have escaped from her loose bun.
"I envy you. My family was less understanding." Corina drapes herself on the loveseat, somehow managing to appear elegant and lethargic all at once. "I suppose I should not be terribly upset that the world is so uptight. I might be out of a job if it were not." She gives Zoe a wicked grin, playful, but oh-so-sinful.
Zoe's cheeks turn a bit pink as the starstruck girl gazes up at the magnificent courtesan. Hands on her knees, she leans forward slightly as she says, "You are the most exquisite solace of pleasure and delight from a cold world of judgment and inhibition." Her poetic praise flows in her little French purr. "It is a true shame that your family could not accept you."
Corina puts a hand to her bosom, feigning her breath being taken away at the poetic compliments. "You have the soul of a Parisian, jolie fille. You only spent the one summer there? I would have guessed longer. It must be your mother's fine influence upon you."
Zoe grins up at Corina, blushing with pleasure at such praise. "My mother taught me well. As did Madam Dufayel." As the shop assistant approaches with a selection of fine winter gloves, Zoe looks to her before glancing back to Corina. "Please… do not hesitate to select whichever one is most pleasing to your hands. They are exquisite and must be kept warm."
Corina gives Zoe an excited wrinkle-nosed grin, and rises to examine the gloves. She coos over a few pairs, trying them on and listening to the assistant extoll their virtues. At last, perhaps unsurprisingly, she settles on a pure white pair. "They are simply lovely. Thank you, Zoe." She extends both hands to the young woman, offering to help her up.
Zoe watches, her eyes aglow with quiet awe as Corina examines the gloves. The pure white gloves are lined with the softest rabbit's fur. The little one accepts the offered hand with a delighted smile. "It is an honor and greatest pleasure to have the opportunity to offer a token to the exquisite Corina Silver."
Corina pulls Zoe to her feet, drawing her closer than might be considered appropriate. "The pleasure is mine, pretty Zoe." She leans in, placing a feather-light kiss just at the corner of Zoe's lips, as if she "missed" her cheek. "Don't let me keep you from your fitting, my sweet."
Zoe stares up at Corina in an awestruck daze. Although the little one has seen much of the world, delights such as these never fail to steal her breath. The girl savors how close the exquisite courtesan pulls her, and her eyes even drift half-shut at the feather light kiss. And she seeks nothing more than what the courtesan is inclined to give. Gazing up into Corina's entrancing roman silver eyes, Zoe murmurs, "Madam… I hope we might meet again… I am on my own now… and will linger in London. You should come visit my coffee shop when it opens."
Corina watches Zoe with parted lips and a sparkle in her eye. A woman such as Corina lives for these kinds of reactions, and Zoe's is delicious. Corina lifts a hand to gently caress Zoe's cheek. "I certainly shall…and perhaps you will find the time to visit me, as well." An invitation — the sparkling jewel of a courtesan's treasures.
Zoe can't help but tilt her cheek into the gentle caress as her young, half-dazed gaze remains fixed upon Corina's exquisite features. It almost takes a moment for the invitation to register. A courtesan of such caliber offers invitations to a select few - only of her own choosing. And quite often, it means merely an evening of delightful conversation. The invitation comes quite unexpected - the little one doesn't seem certain as if she has understood properly. "…madam?"
Corina laughs musically at Zoe's starstruck response. She lets her hand fall, and collects her parasol. "House Lorelei." She says nothing more as she dips a slight curtsy, then bows her head to the shop girls. Giving Zoe one last sidelong look, she winks and steps out the door.
Zoe takes a half step to the side, as if catching herself. She returns to the curtsy with a deep bow, folding her hands against her chest as if sheltering the treasure of her invitation close to her heart. She straightens, lifting her head, in time to see the sidelong look. Her eyes shine with the pure delight of one who savors the pleasures of life and has yet to be marred by it in the slightest.