It was a cold, foggy day, and when Elisabeth stepped out of the train, everyone looked at her; the sixteen-year-old girl who had recently bobbed her dark hair was wearing a long red dress, a blue feather boa, orange high heels, and countless colorful pearl necklaces, bracelets, and earrings. Smoking through a long cigarette holder, the lady, followed by her loyal servant, Melanie Johansson, a young Swedish immigrant with dirty hair and a fat, round body, walked towards the man who had been waiting for her for the past hour, Sir Darren Anthony de Lee. A wealthy man from a small town in North Dakota, Sir Anthony was friends with the famous Rockefellers, Sedgwicks, and Vanderbilts. His wife, Catherine Inacan, Lady Anthony, a former model and socialite, was introduced to Elisabeth and her servant, the very gloomy Melanie. As Lady Anthony shook Melanie’s hand, she could see the resentment and bitterness in the Swedish girl’s green eyes; she wanted to be a model, she wanted a life filled with cocktails parties and weekends in the Hamptons, but she was merely a crazed cabaret dancer’s maid.
‘‘Lady Anthony…’’ Melanie began, ‘‘I…’’
‘‘Please,’’ said the silver-haired woman, ‘‘Call me Catherine. Actually, call me Cate. That’s what everyone calls me.’’
‘‘Very well, Cate,’’ replied Melanie.
‘‘Now, now, Mel,’’ said Elisabeth in her rough Icelandic accent, ‘‘You know what I told you about speaking to strangers.’’
Elisabeth, a well-known cabaret dancer and performer, had been hired by Sir Anthony to entertain a few of his posh guests at a party the following day.
The next day, wearing a black leather corset and pantyhose, her body moving with the grace of a Duchess, Elisabeth was on a stage, moving sensually before all of Sir Anthony’s perverted male friends. She gently rubbed her right breast and licked her red lip, winking. It was very hot in the room, most of the men were breathing heavily and panting. Elisabeth touched her hip softly, and, before the men knew it, she took her corset off, revealing two firm, round breasts and a hard stomach. Her movements were getting more and more vulgar. She took a bottle of champagne and poured the clear liquid all over her already damp body.
Ten minutes later, the show was over, and Elisabeth quietly returned to the Anthonys’ guest room, where Melanie was waiting for her, lying naked on the comfortable bed in which Cornelius Vanderbilt himself had slept many years before.
‘‘Elisa…’’ Melanie whispered sensually.
‘‘Oh, Mel,’’ Elisabeth said quietly.
Melanie closed her eye and touched her nude body. She started massaging her vagina gently, using her long fingers; the two women had a night of intense love-making, but, sadly for Elisabeth, while she was going down on her maid, the Swedish servant was thinking about another woman… Or a Lady… Lady Anthony.
The next morning, after a heartily breakfast, the Anthonys informed their guests, the cabaret dancer and her servant, that their friend, Amelia Rosa, a Mexican poetess who wrote heartbreaking poems filled with mask-wearing broken women and wrist-cutters was coming to spend the weekend at their mansion, known as ‘‘The Anthony House.’’
The moment Elisabeth saw Amelia, she knew she wasn’t like all the other women she had seen in her life. There was something warm and sexual about the poetess, but something dark and mysterious, too.
‘‘It’s a pleasure to meet you,’’ Elisabeth said, smiling nicely, ‘‘Perhaps tonight… when everyone is sleeping… you might want to visit my bedchamber… Perhaps we can talk about… poetry.’’
Amelia winked and said, ‘‘Oh, I’ll be there.’’
While Amelia and Elisabeth were talking, Melanie quietly approached Lady Anthony.
‘‘What a lovely dress!’’ she said.
‘‘Thank you,’’ the lady said, ‘‘It was given to me by a member of the Vanderbilt family.’’
‘‘Oh, my, was it really?’’
‘‘Yes. Yes, it was.’’
‘‘Oh,’’ Melanie said, wiping a tear, ‘‘Oh, how I wish I could wear beautiful clothes, too! I wear rags! Mistress Elisabeth makes me wear rags! Rags! Rags!’’
She fiercely grabbed an ashtray that was placed on the kitchen table and threw it against a mirror, breaking it.
‘‘Well,’’ Lady Anthony said, ‘‘Tonight, perhaps you could come to my room and I’ll let you try a few of my dresses… If you want.’’
‘‘I’ll be there!’’ Melanie said.
That night, Melanie was trying on dresses in Lady Anthony’s room, while Elisabeth and Amelia made love in the guest bedroom. At midnight, Elisabeth said:
‘‘Amelia! I have an idea! Let’s go make love in Lady Anthony’s bedroom!’’
So the two women, naked, walked towards the Lady’s room and entered it, locking the door behind them. They heard a moaning inside the room.

‘‘It might be a mouse,’’ cried Elisabeth.
Amelia turned on the lights; Lady Anthony and Melanie were making love on the bed. They were stunned to see Elisabeth and Amelia standing up before them, completely nude.
They all screamed.
‘‘What the hell is this?’’ screamed Amelia.
They were all shocked.
‘‘Well, I have
‘‘Well, I have an idea,’’ said Elisabeth. ‘‘Mel and I have been having an affair for quite some time now, and, well, if you’re all okay with it… we could have an orgy. All four of us…’’
So, they did. All for of them. Elisabeth, the flapper. Melanie, the maid. Catherine, the lady, former model and socialite. And Amelia, the crazed poetess.


this is the end of the first part of my novel