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Post by Harry Flashman on Dec 26, 2007 18:19:55 GMT -5
And who, gentle reader, is this imposing figure striding through the immaculately furnished salon, the Cafe D'Etoile, a tiny cup of very very black coffee in his hand, and a copy of today's newspaper ironed and folded beneath his arm.
Why surely it can't be? But it is. The English lion himself, Flashman of Afghanistan. Bearer of the Queen's own medal for gallantry, the man whose name rang around the world after the valiant single handed defense of Piper's Fort. The man who saved Jellalabad!
Note the manly bearing, the broad shoulders, the noble features, (ladies feel free to take in the handsome smile, the dashing whiskers, the glint in the eye and the other necessary accoutrements).
He sits, why as though he were any other man, with modest disregard for his fame, and opens the newspaper to read.
Righto Flash, he thinks, let's see if we can make any new friends of influence here who'll help me get one over on that bloody tribadist at the opera.
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Post by Valmont on Jan 1, 2008 17:22:20 GMT -5
*Thank god, not every establishment in this city had been taken up by the nouveau riche and the young turks Paris seemed to be churning out these days. Valmont surveyed the room with veiled satisfaction before selecting a small table and seating himself.*
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Post by Harry Flashman on Jan 2, 2008 4:29:51 GMT -5
*Aye aye Flashy, there goes a likely looking fellow*
Flashman looked up from his newspaper and caught Valmont's eye as though accidentally, following up with a friendly smile and nod.
Then he frowned as though a thought had occurred to him and he leaned slightly toward the newcomer and said quietly.
"Sorry to intrude Monsieur, but I'm rather new in town and wondered if you could recommend a decent hotel..." He'd taken in the cut and value of Valmont's attire so he was confident in adding "..somewhere with a little more quality if you understand me, what?"
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Jeri
- Masterful Virgin -
doncha wish your shrink was a freak like me?
Posts: 32
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Post by Jeri on Jan 2, 2008 11:49:06 GMT -5
*Jeri went into the cafe around noon and ordered a triple shot cappuccino.*
What a morning. My first patient and she's either a schizophrenic or suffering from what appears to be a dissociative identity disorder. Note to self: schedule an SCID-D to possibly confirm diagnosis and begin treatment within Ms. Anderson's next two sessions, hopefully.
*She took her coffee to a table by a window and sipped it gratefully before flipping open her files and getting to work. On her lunch break, but so what?*
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Post by Valmont on Jan 2, 2008 12:12:30 GMT -5
*Valmont eyed the man over his coffee. He dressed well enough, though obviously English. Anyone who was anyone had a house in town. But Valmont was not vindictive when there was nothing at stake. He could assist his fellow man-about-town.*
"If you're looking for a place to stay while you find a house to let, there is A Much Nicer Hotel than the Hilton. I cannot speak for every resident, but they are clean, and service is good, and I hear they're discrete."
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Post by Harry Flashman on Jan 2, 2008 12:17:48 GMT -5
"Splendid, exactly what I needed. Flashman's the name, sir, Harry Flashman. Pleasure to meet you,"
He offered Valmont his hand.
He glanced across at the newly entered lady with the copious notes.
"I say, Paris is becoming rather a haunt of blue-stockings what? Clerkishness is such a waste of beauty in my opinion." He hoped Valmont would not be too shocked by a little bawdy badinage. He didn't look like he would be. Anyway, French.
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Post by Valmont on Jan 2, 2008 13:08:14 GMT -5
"Vicomte de Valmont," *Valmont said smoothly, shaking his hand none too briskly. He looked around to notice the woman Flashman spoke of and sniffed.*
"And paper, I shouldn't wonder," *he said.* "The only figure she out to be worrying about is her own."
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Post by Harry Flashman on Jan 2, 2008 14:22:15 GMT -5
"Haw haw, good one, m'lord, good one," Flashy had a gift for toadying the aristocracy, even the Frog variety. "Still, we can keep an eye on that for her, what?"
Time to get to the heart of the matter. This fellow had more 'rake' about him than an agricultural hardware merchant, so there was no need to pussy-foot around.
"Actually," he said, "would appreciate your opinion on a matter concerning... well something a little delicate. I was paying some compliments to one of those fine creatures at the Opera the other day and was given the right-about by a ferocious gorgon who seems to be their Mother Superior. Wasn't being improper, not above half, so it seemed.. well a bit prim. Is there something I've missed about the whole arrangement?"
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Post by Valmont on Jan 2, 2008 15:02:18 GMT -5
*Valmont pursed his lips. Trust the Englishman to come up against the woman upon first arrival, when those of his own class knew very well to work around her.*
"Madame Giry is an institution," *he said dismissively.* "And what she doesn't know cannot hurt you." *He sighed.* "I'm afraid that since her tenure, we've all become somewhat crafty. Those delicate little flowers get around, don't you know, far beyond the confines of the Opera. Seek them elsewhere, out of her range."
*He leaned forward slightly.*
"You've also the unfortunate timing of coming 'round just when her private life has fallen apart. Makes her focus more on the job than her bed. More's the pity."
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Jeri
- Masterful Virgin -
doncha wish your shrink was a freak like me?
Posts: 32
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Post by Jeri on Jan 2, 2008 15:07:42 GMT -5
((Damnation, Kris, you're playing both sides of this game! ...good luck.))
*Jeri had nearly finished her coffee and glanced at the delicate gold watch on her wrist.*
"Shit."
*She had to get back to the asylum--and fast. Gathering her files quickly, she managed to knock the rest of her coffee onto her cream-coloured silk jacket.*
"Double shit!" *she hissed, feeling like crying little girly tears because the jacket was NEW, Goddamnit, and had cost half a month's rent on a decent flat in London. She refrained however, grateful at least that her meticulous paperwork hadn't suffered a direct hit. Jerking off the jacket, she thanked God it was somewhat warm out and she wouldn't freeze to death in the dark brown camisole she had on underneath. Her striped trousers and low-heeled shoes gave her height she didn't need, but she liked them anyhow. In theory. In practice, she cursed smart tailoring and businesswear as she realized she would have to run along the cobbles to get back in time for her next session. Muttering swears, she yanked off her shoes as she left the cafe. At least it wasn't raining.
...now where in this stupid city would she find a dry-cleaners?*
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Post by Valmont on Jan 2, 2008 15:12:44 GMT -5
((Yes. I'm frequently caught in those "left hand doesn't know what the right hand's doing" situations. Thanks.))
*Valmont eyed the young woman as she left. Trousers! Of all things. What would modern women ruin themselves with next?*
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Jeri
- Masterful Virgin -
doncha wish your shrink was a freak like me?
Posts: 32
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Post by Jeri on Jan 2, 2008 15:16:50 GMT -5
((Voting and VW Bugs.))
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Post by Harry Flashman on Jan 2, 2008 17:20:36 GMT -5
*Sniff*
Modern fashions, thought Flashman, were damned inconvenient. Still, very evocative of the overall outline which wasn't a bad thing.
He turned to Valmont.
"So this Giry harridan's off the mutton so all her girls have to have a meat free diet for a while? Hardly fair. I suppose it's too much to ask for some sporting cove to put his own reputation on the line to keep her dazed and docile while the rest of us have a fair run at the chorus line then? Damn shame. Hear this new Italian girl's a fair stunner though, spoken for is she?"
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Post by Valmont on Jan 2, 2008 17:29:02 GMT -5
*Valmont raised an eyebrow at Flashman.*
"It would take a braver man than I," *he said.* "As to the other... that all depends on how you play the game, my good man. Some would say nothing, and no one, is spoken for."
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Post by Harry Flashman on Jan 2, 2008 17:38:24 GMT -5
Oh this fellow's a professional, thought Flashman happily. He'd met them occasionally and he could always tell after a few moments' conversation. They treated seduction as a game of chess with everyone on the other side and no second prize. Damn good fun to be around, if tiring, and occasionally they exhibited a reckless streak for duelling that led to claret being spilled.
Flashy with his finely honed nose for danger was usually long gone by that point. He had duelled of course (rather famously) and had come out of it with great credit having stood up against a (hah) half-French lunatic with a reputation as a great pistol shot and humiliated him.
God the memory of that morning still brought him out in a cold sweat from time to time. He did not want to repeat the mistake.
However there was little sign of danger here in this fancy Frog coffee shop so he gave Valmont his bluffest most straightforward Flashy smile.
"Well spoken sir, well spoken. Well, here's to playing that game, eh? Here's to it."
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