Little Coquette (Chapter One)

“Sabine!” the voice as it called her name was short, a heinous mixture of disdain and ignorance. It was also unnecessary, as the girl who owned such a name was already well on her way to the one who called it. The girl place done light stepping foot in front of the other with the smallest amount of focus, her gaze forward as she’d been taught. The voice sounded again, shrill and pitchy against Sabine’s very own thoughts.
“Yes?” Her tone was as level as a valley, though it was hard to breath and think at the same time in the dress her mother had placed for her. Nimble fingers slid the silk fabric of the garment against her flesh, a near frown tugging at her lips. The dress was nothing she wanted, with its ruffles and high neck.
“Oh, how wonderful you look!” The woman stood in front of Sabine, assessing her briefly, hands clasped to her chest in a medley of mock theatrical display. Sabine nodded, watching as her mother flitted around her and arranged everything into order, all the while chittering about the upcoming night and the importance of finding the right suitor. “One that best fits your needs.” Her mother chimed, an elaborate look informing Sabine that her needs were actually the family’s, and thus her actual needs wouldn’t come to play at all.
Sabine caught her reflection in the mirrors surrounding her, staring at the ghost of herself in the painted glass. She uttered a lowly scoff at the ribbons and bows she’d been decorated with, her new fashion something not completely unlike that of a pink crinoline Christmas tree. She’d begged all morning, on the way to the fitter’s, that she should have something elegant and black, perhaps short, with diamonds to wear from her ears. This dress was none of that, and she was quite sure she would have no trouble avoiding a man with any sense at all in the dress she’d been given. She gave a few nods in reproach to her mother’s words, staring at herself with a frown. The party tonight would, as her mother had reminded her since she’d arranged it, be the event of the year, with all the trimmings. Trimmings, Sabine knew, included men made of money and the best-of-the-best protective services. She longed to walk through the town and indulge herself in life, though the closest she’d come to indulgence or the town had been when she’d spoken to the mail carrier one day, and he’d been fired on the spot. Sabine shivered beneath all of the fussy cloth, shaking her head in dismay. Her mother left her alone in the room, which Sabine quickly allowed herself to steal to the window, gazing out from her diamante prison and to the streets beneath. The streets, with their people, their sickness and their fun. She was reminded of her teachings on Buddhism, daydreaming to herself about just how alike she and the young prince had been. Of course, the young prince didn’t live in Beverly Hills, and she was sure she never wanted people to rub her stomach for good luck. The world was beneath her, literally and in her mother’s eyes, though she carved more than anything to taste the poison injected fumes of the traffic, to be hustled and cheated by a magician, or to find herself in just one of the many stories shed read about in paperback romances she had smuggled into her room late at night. This daydreaming, as it were, continued on through most of the evening, which suited Sabine just fine, as she’d been ordered to keep herself in her room for most of the night. Eventually, her daydreaming turned to real dreaming, her pristine figure slumped against the window sill. When she awoke, she was aware of the party stirring through the yards of her house, it’s rumbling music and noise cluttering her still sleeping thoughts. Perhaps because of this, Sabine found herself rifling through her many closets for a new outfit, something she could wear without heaving to explain why she’d been dressed like a porcelain doll, rather than a human. Quickly, and with little difficulty, she shed the fluffy party dress and slipped on an outfit she hoped would blend in enough to fit her into the townie crowds. She had been told before that she was quite beautiful, by artists and male figures alike. Her mother was a strong featured woman, with bony cheekbones and stern, eloquent beauty, fashioned through generations of old money and high standards. Sabine, she was thankful, had none of these traits, instead blessed with a heart shaped face and large blue eyes which sat on either size of a small, straight nose. Her lips held a mischievous smile, which, in accordance to who beheld it, could be interpreted as child like or coquettish. As she stood in front of her mirror once more, all long legs and curves in a pair of leather leggings and a matching jacket, she knew this was true. Corn silk hair tousled against her back, and she flashed the glass a soft grin, opening the door to her room. Her mother was at the back door, dropping quite a few names to a seemingly wary couple who had complaints about the noise. She found her way to the front door with unhinged ease, slipping through the small crack she’d allowed for herself and into the night air. Sabine smiled, relishing in the easily broken restraints as the cool evening air whipped at her face.
The air reminded her that she needed to be running from the house, rather than strolling on front of it, and run she did. The faster she ran, the faster she felt she needed to run. She didn’t know where she was going, the strangled imperialism of Beverly Hills streets choking her as her lungs burned fire. Her feet ached and her sides hurt, breath had become ragged as she turned off of the well manicured streets. Sabine was only just then aware of her need to step over garbage and avoid holes in the sidewalk as she ran, and she skidded to a halt.
The world was dark around her, the sky lit up with a dingy orange glow. She turned, her baby blues drinking in and intoxicating her on the new lands around her. The thudding baseline from her house was back, and she turned towards it with a gasp. A building emblazoned with several neon advertisements and large flashing sign that read “The Beastro” stood between her and the adventure she sought after. Her feet, so tired and aching, protesting each step moments ago, carried her weightlessly to its door sand she entered it as quietly as she’d left her own home. The noise amplified as she met it, a wall of stereo crashing upon her. No one looked up, and no one offered to take her coat, and she was in Heaven. Sabine took her seat against the wall, ordering a drink and flashing the waiter a smile.
It wasn’t long before a man seated at the other end of the bar caught her attention, but she remembered everything she’d seen on television and pretended to ignore him for the most part, flashing a nonchalant smile and flipping her hair delicately. Legs uncrossed and crossed, pausing widespread for a moment. She could feel him stare. By the time her drink arrived, he was at her table, staring down at her with a grin. He was quite handsome, Sabine could see, with calm features and a delicious looking build. His hand extended and, after swallowing a large portion of the perfume-tasting drink, she took it, allowing him to lead her to the center of the floor. They danced to each song, and her inhibitions had been swallowed with that gulp of fluid. He pressed closer to her, and she was able to feel his bulge slip against her panties, causing a blush and a jolt to her figure. Regrettably, she soon followed him back to her drink, which was still stationed at the table. With no one to have ever warned her about the danger of unattended drinks, she finished it quickly.