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Book: Unlock Yourself (The Desires Unlocked Trilogy E-Short Part 0.5) by Evie Blake
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Authors: Evie Blake
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air, she has no idea to where she is hurrying. She knows no one in Berlin. Where should she go? She stops on a street corner, and listens intently. She can hear sounds, muffled and enticing, and yet if she looks up and down the street all the houses are dark and shuttered.
I need a fairy godmother, she thinks, and within an instant of this thought she sees the figure of a young woman walking towards her, down the empty snow-laden street.
Afterwards Ludwika would often wonder about the timing. Had she called the girl to her? Was the girl her guide? One might think so, especially after what happened. And yet there was nothing remotely fairy godmotherish about the creature who approached her that night.
The girl is slight, ephemeral, and slightly vampish. She is not in the least maternal looking. In the first instance she is wearing no coat, just a tight fitting black cloche hat upon her head to protect her from the snow that continues to drift slowly, swirling around them in a dizzy spell. This singular girl wears an exquisite yet skimpy dress in the flapper style, all shimmering black silk, and a pair of black satin shoes which manage to hold her upright despite their height, and the slightness of the heels as they skid on the slushy pavement. She is tall with long slender legs, a fluidity of movement which instantly reminds Ludwika of a dancer. Her skin is so pale it is almost the same shade as the snow and as she comes closer Ludwika can make out her face. She has never seen such perfection, each feature so fine, as if drawn in black ink. She possesses an Oriental delicacy, and yet she is a Westerner. She has a heart-shaped face; no rosebud lips, no baby-sweet girliness, yet a dainty mouth, almond-shaped eyes, and strong dark eyebrows. She can look a man straight in the eye. The girl sees Ludwika and she is smiling as if they know each other; as if they are comrades.
Ah, she says. I have been looking for you.
To Ludwika’s astonishment the girl links arms with her, and begins to march them down the street. She is tucked in close to her. She smells of a summer garden, blooming and giddy with jasmine and honeysuckle, despite their freezing urban environment.
Where are we going? Ludwika ventures to ask this tantalizing creature.
To the party, of course – the party of all parties, Belle, the girl says to her.
My name isn’t Belle, its Ludwika; that’s ‘Louise’ in English.
The girl stops walking and turns to her. Her face is sparkling with delight.
Oh my, Louise? Why, we have the same name, my dear, she says. I just wanted to call you ‘Belle’, because you are.
Her namesake takes her to a part of the city her husband never showed her. This is the Berlin of her dreams. Jazz bursting out of sparkling clubs, laughter and sultry cabaret singing calling to her, each doorway they pass an opportunity for wantonness. Yet Louise keeps walking her through the falling snow. Ludwika is shivering now, and she wonders how Louise could not be cold, and yet she appears unaffected, padding silently like a cat across the broad white boulevard.
They pass through three gateways, and up a narrow staircase until finally they reach a tall brick building. They enter through a narrow doorway, the light within beaconing her, and she feels as if she is entering into the bowels of a golden cave. They stand in the black-and-white tiled lobby, a chandelier of a million diamonds glinting above them. She slips off her cape, heavy with snow, and it is taken from her by a young woman with short slicked back black hair and arched eyebrows, wearing a trouser suit with such shiny buttons she can see her own astonished reflection in them. Louise removes her hat. Ludwika covers her gaping mouth with a gloved hand in awe, for Louise is sporting The Look. She has seen plenty of young women with short bobbed hair – some even dressed as men – since she arrived in Berlin, and yet here on Louise the style takes on a different persona. It is no
I need a fairy godmother, she thinks, and within an instant of this thought she sees the figure of a young woman walking towards her, down the empty snow-laden street.
Afterwards Ludwika would often wonder about the timing. Had she called the girl to her? Was the girl her guide? One might think so, especially after what happened. And yet there was nothing remotely fairy godmotherish about the creature who approached her that night.
The girl is slight, ephemeral, and slightly vampish. She is not in the least maternal looking. In the first instance she is wearing no coat, just a tight fitting black cloche hat upon her head to protect her from the snow that continues to drift slowly, swirling around them in a dizzy spell. This singular girl wears an exquisite yet skimpy dress in the flapper style, all shimmering black silk, and a pair of black satin shoes which manage to hold her upright despite their height, and the slightness of the heels as they skid on the slushy pavement. She is tall with long slender legs, a fluidity of movement which instantly reminds Ludwika of a dancer. Her skin is so pale it is almost the same shade as the snow and as she comes closer Ludwika can make out her face. She has never seen such perfection, each feature so fine, as if drawn in black ink. She possesses an Oriental delicacy, and yet she is a Westerner. She has a heart-shaped face; no rosebud lips, no baby-sweet girliness, yet a dainty mouth, almond-shaped eyes, and strong dark eyebrows. She can look a man straight in the eye. The girl sees Ludwika and she is smiling as if they know each other; as if they are comrades.
Ah, she says. I have been looking for you.
To Ludwika’s astonishment the girl links arms with her, and begins to march them down the street. She is tucked in close to her. She smells of a summer garden, blooming and giddy with jasmine and honeysuckle, despite their freezing urban environment.
Where are we going? Ludwika ventures to ask this tantalizing creature.
To the party, of course – the party of all parties, Belle, the girl says to her.
My name isn’t Belle, its Ludwika; that’s ‘Louise’ in English.
The girl stops walking and turns to her. Her face is sparkling with delight.
Oh my, Louise? Why, we have the same name, my dear, she says. I just wanted to call you ‘Belle’, because you are.
Her namesake takes her to a part of the city her husband never showed her. This is the Berlin of her dreams. Jazz bursting out of sparkling clubs, laughter and sultry cabaret singing calling to her, each doorway they pass an opportunity for wantonness. Yet Louise keeps walking her through the falling snow. Ludwika is shivering now, and she wonders how Louise could not be cold, and yet she appears unaffected, padding silently like a cat across the broad white boulevard.
They pass through three gateways, and up a narrow staircase until finally they reach a tall brick building. They enter through a narrow doorway, the light within beaconing her, and she feels as if she is entering into the bowels of a golden cave. They stand in the black-and-white tiled lobby, a chandelier of a million diamonds glinting above them. She slips off her cape, heavy with snow, and it is taken from her by a young woman with short slicked back black hair and arched eyebrows, wearing a trouser suit with such shiny buttons she can see her own astonished reflection in them. Louise removes her hat. Ludwika covers her gaping mouth with a gloved hand in awe, for Louise is sporting The Look. She has seen plenty of young women with short bobbed hair – some even dressed as men – since she arrived in Berlin, and yet here on Louise the style takes on a different persona. It is no
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