Foyer

[plantnerd92]

Linnea Hepworth

"I'd have to agree," Maksim replied to her exclaimation with a chuckle, as he ran his hand through his hair and returned it to her waist. Linnea's breath caught in her throat. It just made him more attractive than he already was, and she wanted nothing more than to start making out with him again. He looked at her again, but Linnea noted the confusion in his eyes.

"So where exactly does this leave us? What are you wanting?" Maksim asked for clarification. Linnea stopped to think for a moment. She wasn't exactly sure. She thoroughly enjoyed their makeout session, and she wanted to continue where they left off, but to be perfectly honest, Linnea wasn't too keen on the idea of having a steady, exclusive relationship with anyone for a while. There was too many things she wanted to do and experience before she was tied down by a boyfriend or anything more than that. She wanted to date more guys and see what was available to her before she made any sort of decision.

"Well... I'll be perfectly honest. I like kissing you. Very much so, in fact... But I'm not looking for anything exclusive right now. So, I'm not sure where that leaves us." She thought for a moment, before suddenly getting an idea. "Perhaps... Hmm... It sounds ridiculous," she mused, her low class British upbringing shining through her voice as she spoke.

Linnea pondered the idea a little more, before she shrugged, as if she were wondering what the harm would be if she actually confessed what she was thinking about.

"I think we should just be friends... but I don't see anything wrong with making out with you every once and a while," Linnea told him, with a mischievous glint in her eyes as she let her hand wander over his chest, before curling her fingers around Maksim's tie, and gently pulling him down to her level, smiling before she brushed her lips tantalizingly against the corner of his mouth, her breath lightly tickling his skin.

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Ashton Greene

Being a mother was the best experience in Ashton’s young life. She woke up every day with something to do, someone who loved her, who needed her. She lived for those big blue eyes to look up at her and smile, for the little hand that gripped her two fingers playfully. Gregory was growing before her eyes, and Ashton couldn’t even describe the feeling of pride that welled up in her.

But tonight, it was just her and Mad. She hadn’t seen her friend since she came to visit her in the hospital. Of course they had spoken, exchanged text messages and played phone tag, but any actual connection to her friend was rare.

Ashton took a swig from the champagne bottle in Madeleine’s hand, laughing. “Thank you,” she said, taking her hair down, “for getting me out of the house. I love my son more than anything, but I missed you so much, Mad! And the outdoors. I missed the outdoors, too.” Gregory had been a little sick lately, so it was utmost important that she and Lucian kept him inside to recover.

Ashton looked around at her surroundings, taking another swig. “Out of curiosity… Why are we at the Moulin Rouge?” Ashton had quit her job, unable to bear the idea of Gregory growing up with a mummy who worked in a night club. She hadn’t stepped foot in the garish neon building out of fear for getting glitter in her lungs. In fact, she never even looked at it anymore as she passed by to get to her favourite bakery. So why now? Why did Madeleine find it appropriate to be here?

[The Exodus]

Madeleine de Chandon

The world swirled around in crazy colors as Madeleine danced down the streets of Paris. A big, paper shopping bag swung from one hand; in the other, Madeleine gripped the neck of a champagne bottle. Her high heels clicked against the cobblestones as she moved, whirling dervish like, through the red light district. She paused, occasionally to take a drink or to rest her feet, but she was a woman on a mission and as far as she could tell, it was the most worthy mission in the world.

She’d called Ashton and told her—maybe a little cryptically—to meet her at the Moulin Rouge. Neither woman worked there anymore, so it was bound to sound like an odd request. Madeleine didn’t care. It would all make sense to Ashton soon enough. Right now, Madeleine was too gleeful to sort it all out. The bag swung precariously as she rounded the corner and the Moulin Rouge came into view.

There it was. The big windmill. Madeleine felt like Don Quixote, approaching its four blade-like arms and ready to conquer. She didn’t know how the story ended, but she was pretty sure Don Quixote kicked that windmill’s *ss. So too, would she defeat the Moulin Rouge.

It haunted her dreams, the Moulin Rouge. She’d shut her eyes and she’d be walking across its stage. The bright lights stabbed her dream-eyes and she could hear the crowds roaring. She thought, at first, these dreams were dreams of glory or memories of the past.

And then the first rotted apple core sailed through the air and smacked her in the chest. Madeleine would notice, suddenly, that in these dreams she was stark naked. And before she could use it to her advantage in the dream or rush off the stage, she’d be pelted by fruits and vegetables. Voices would howl at her, jeering insults.

Tramp. Wh*re. Ingrate.

And she’d wake up drenched in sweat and not breathing.

She wondered sometimes, if these were dreams or predictions. She was tempted to find a psychic to analyze her dreams, but Madeleine wasn’t shelling out money for something she could do herself.

She’d rather buy booze and eggs.

She stood opposite the Moulin Rouge now. It looked so large against the night sky. The neon lights blazed red. It swam in front of her like red fire, the windmill. Suddenly, Madeleine felt as tiny and insignificant as she dreamt. She popped open the champagne and took a bracing swig.

And now, the waiting game.

Madeleine wondered if Ashton would even show up. She had a baby now. And a fiancé. Lucky girl. About the fiancé, not the baby. Madeleine was determined not to envy Ashton for something she never had, never had any real interest in having. But she envied the fiancé thing. She’d had one once. The last time she’d seen him, they’d fought. Clearly, they weren’t engaged any more.

You know, the dreams started that night, after fighting in the bar with Myron.

Ashton had a pretty life. In the coming months and years, she’d grow into the niche of mother and wife. And morbidly Madeleine knew that once Ashton was snugly secure in those roles, there would be no more nights like this. Nights like this would therefore taste sweeter than the wine she held so tightly. And they’d get even sweeter as they aged n the oak barrel of her mind. Mature. But undrinkable. You couldn’t relive the past, right? You only live once.

She awaited Ashton’s arrival. Madeleine’s skin tingled as a breeze blew through the otherwise warm night. She tried to remember being this excited in recent months. She couldn’t.

Ashton came into view. They embraced, greeted one another and slipped into comfortable silence, downing the champagne together.

The suspense was killing Madeleine. She watched with half-lidded eyes as Ashton drank from the champagne bottle.

“Thank you,” said Ashton, pulling her hair out of the mommy-updo, “for getting me out of the house. I love my son more than anything, but I missed you so much, Mad! And the outdoors. I missed the outdoors, too.”

Madeleine raised an eyebrow. She didn’t say anything. Motherhood sounded like jail-time to her. Maybe worse than jail. At least they let you outside for an hour every day in prison.

“Out of curiosity… Why are we at the Moulin Rouge?”

Madeleine’s face split into a grin. She set the bag down on the ground.

“That,” she said. “Is an egg-cellent question.”

She pulled a carton of one dozen eggs out of the bag and her grin went even wider, so wide Madeleine thought her face might crack.

“Let’s say ‘sayonara’ to this place in style. What say you?”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Ashton Greene

If Ashton was honest, there were times she envied Madeleine: her devil-may-care attitude, her beauty, her freedom… But then she looked at her family; her fiancé, her son… and all those little green, gelatinous globs of envy slipped away into nothing. And in their place stood golden, glittery stars of pure luck and blessing.

And now, here she was, having the best of both worlds, a mother who was also having a fun night out with her best friend.

But what the hell were they doing here, of all places, standing in the red shadow of the touristy windmill that loomed over them like a hungry four-armed monster, threatening to swallow them back up, and engulf them again in its scantily clad world of flames, feathers, and sex?

Ashton could only guess. And then, as if reading her mind, “That,” she said. “Is an egg-cellent question.”

Ashton’s green eyes fell on the bag in her friend’s hands and grew wide with excitement as she procured a dozen eggs.

Leave it to Madeleine to plot such a fun curtain call.

“Let’s say ‘sayonara’ to this place in style. What say you?”

Ashton didn’t have to think about this. “I say, Madeleine, that this is the best plan you’ve hatched in a while.” Before grabbing the egg offered her, she reached once again for the champagne, inhaling a long gulp. Her head spun. She hadn’t had this much to drink since before she got pregnant. Laughing, she plucked up an egg and hurled it hard against the wood and brick of that hideous building she once called home.

[The Exodus]

Madeleine de Chandon

“I say, Madeleine, that this is the best plan you’ve hatched in a while.”

Madeleine laughed. See, she could do lame puns with her friends. She didn’t need a boyfriend to make lame cracks about her antics.

Get it? Like you crack an egg?

Ashton took an egg in her hand. Madeleine, too, grasped one in hers. It was cold still, and hard in her hand. Excitement tingled in her palm and ran like electricity up her arm. Oh, this was going to be fun. Drinking, joking, and delinquency. Nothing better.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Madeleine said pulling her arm back like a baseball pitcher. “Count of three?”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Ashton Greene

“Whenever you’re ready,” Madeleine said pulling her arm back like a baseball pitcher. “Count of three?”

Ashton laughed and patted Madeleine’s arm. “How much alcohol have you had? I’m already on egg two!” Ashton pointed to the yellow and white splat that ran like liquid plumber between the cracks on the red brick and dripping off the wood paneling. “I’m more than ready to see this building get what it deserves,” Ashton said, holding yet another egg in her hand, giving it a satisfied throw at a window, cracking it and the egg both, smearing it with the embryo of an unfertilized chicken egg, laughing.

“I love this.”