The Velvet Cabaret
16 Frost 120
16 Frost 120
The lights inside the main hall were uncharacteristically dim. The crowd was uncharacteristically quiet. The gambling tables were in a lull. Several patrons had wandered in from the hookah lounge to watch the floorshow. It wouldn't be a cabaret if there weren't performances, after all. Nextdoor at the Golden Peacock, the shows were larger, grander, and often more serious. But here, the cabaret was more burlesque. Music, dance, humor, skills—but often with a lot of skin showing. There were seeder establishments where one could wink back at orifices that could be made to wink. Here, there was the veneer, at least, of art. They put the tease in striptease.
"I don't want to do this," said a voice from the stage as the music began.
"Aurin, shut up."
"I'm not a performer," Aurin continued.
"Aurin, shut up." Another voice.
"I hate it."
"Aurin." This time it was several voices, saying various things like, "you love it," "you'll get a treat later," and, predictably, "shut up."
The music continued to patter. The lights came up. The familiar—to any regular patron of the Cabaret—figure of Aurin Kavafis stood on the stage. He never stood on the stage. His smile was comically awkward. With a walking stick in hand, he walked forward to the edge of the stage, twirling it as he went.
"Welcome, strangers."
People laughed. Some shouted his name. Someone definitely demanded he take off his clothes. He winked in the general direction of that voice.
"I appreciate a woman who knows what she wants," he said. "I'm sorry, but it appears that I'm your emcee for... this number and then I will quit the stage for much more talented people." Then, when he spoke, it was clearly in time with the music and if he wasn't an accomplished singer or dancer, the courtesans had obviously pulled him on for comic effect and because most of the patrons enjoyed him.
"Happy to see you. Please, rest, stay... at the Velvet Cabaret." He rolled his eyes in self-deprecation, then laughed when a man's voice called for him to drop trou. Several people present had tried to proposition him like one of the more willing courtesans and he usually responded with something along the lines of them not being able to afford him, but they could get a discount version in Rickter if they wanted to slum it. He did a little bit of fancy footwork, bowed, continued. The dancers were coming out one by one, finding a spot, and striking a comically bored pose. Rather than stand completely still, though, they would pulse in time with the music, clean, crisp isolations of different muscles. They were the talent here, and Aurin actually enjoyed a little stage time with them. Though he claimed to take nothing seriously, he respected the hell out of the courtesans—their art, their wit, and their bravery.
Perhaps that was why so many of them loved him in one way or another. He protected them. He made their jobs easier. And if he was a bit of a curmudgeon, they all figured it was just an act. It was also nice that he never tried to take advantage of his managerial authority to demand sexual favors. There had been bad apples in management before, though Madame Lunaria did not put up with that sort of predatory shit. Perhaps that was why Aurin had lasted so long where he was.
"Ladies and gentlemen, friends beyond the binary, good evening! Do you feel good? I am your host. Welcome," he repeated, "to the Velvet Cabaret." It was, in effect, a stylized version of what many here present had experienced when he was working. He checked in, made sure people were happy, people were comfortable, and while he wasn't a courtesan, he was a bit of a charmer, and told jokes, asked questions, and listened. He truly listened, which was rarer than one might think.
He warmed up to the stage, to the audience, dropping his pretense of hating it, of being uncomfortable. He turned in time to catch the muscled leg of one of the dancers. He looked down at the man's crotch, flush with his leg, then out at the audience with wide eyes as if he could be shocked. They knew him better than that. He have an awkward shove and the dancer spun one hundred eighty degrees into a pose like his colleagues, pulsing with the music. It was an understated thing they were doing, but they were certainly showing off the goods. Almost anything could be turned into a show here, hence the variety show moniker it frequently received. One never knew what one would see at the Velvet Cabaret. Unlike the Golden Peacock, they didn't hand out playbills.
"Leave your troubles outside," he demanded of his audience. "So life is disappointing, your husband's... is disappointing. Forget it! In here, life is beautiful. The girls are beautiful. The boys are beautiful. Even the orchestra is beautiful." Several of them turned to face the audience, revealing the instruments they were playing. The music picked up and Aurin moved to the back of the stage during the dance break, though he had a few comical interactions with various performers, then back to the front when they found their new poses.
"And now to present them. Each and every one... a virgin." He slapped one of their asses with his walking stick. There was immediate laughter. Some of the performers looked amused, others offended, some others something else. It was all a masquerade for the people's enjoyment. "Don't believe me? Go ahead, ask them yourselves."
Several of them added come-hither gestures into their pulsing choreography. The music was slowly building, not in volume or speed, but tension. Those with a musical ear would hear it, the same as before the explosion of dance. More was in store.
"Outside it is winter, but, in here, it's so... hot." A woman cracked her fan open and wafted fresh air toward his crotch while leering at the audience. He hiked his thumb at the dancers. "Every night we have to battle to keep them from taking off all their clothing." He half-turned away before returning to the audience with a conspiratorial, "so don't go away. Who knows? Tonight, we may lose the battle!"
Then, with overexaggerated steps, he snuck off the stage while the real professionals burst into song and dance. The show was impressive—beautiful, titillating, and comedic. From the bar where he took refuge, he watched and enjoyed their hard work, how they charmed the audience in entirely different ways than he did. Then he let his gaze travel over the audience since they were his charges as well. It was his job to keep the good times rolling and that involved both positive reinforcement and the occasional deflection. People under the influence of substances, gambling, and their hormones could be both laughably predictable and dangerously unpredictable. And so he must remain vigilant.
Near the door, his eyes fell upon a young woman with an astounded expression. Ah, he thought, another one. He made his way surreptitiously to her vicinity such that when the larger show gave way to something more intimate—a slender contortionist doing a striptease and quite amazing things with a long cigarette-holder—he eased into her peripheral vision as the lights came up a bit more to encourage drinking and fraternizing while the variety show continued.
"Oh, a fellow red-head," he said. "You are new here. Hello. I'm Aurin. How can I be of service?"
I for sure just riffed on "Willkommen" from Cabaret. I can't promise I won't do something similar with "Hey, Big Spender" from Sweet Charity or "Life Upon the Wicked Stage" from Show Boat. You're welcome.
