Christian fell into the recesses of a dream, with darkness and light; he plummeted through memories, ones that he wished so desperately to live again, lights and the outline of her face. Whispers. Then as always, the dream dropped into blackness. Christian tossed and turned helplessly in his bed.
Meanwhile, Bridgette had decided, even against her father�s will, to go to the saloon across the street. She had become too bored to stay cooped up in the house for one more second, and loneliness was eating her alive. More so, the nagging questions that came into her mind about Christian, were merciless, and she had became consumed in thinking of every possible way and thing that could be bothering him. A cool breeze was in the night wind, softly blowing her hair off her face. She sat and watched the twilight glow, nursing her drink, and zoning out into the sound of the soft-spoken murmurs of the other guests. Then, suddenly she felt courage like no other run into her veins. She would visit Christian, whether others found it proper or not. She began to rise from her chair when she realized there was a major problem. The city of Paris was filled with thousands, and she had no idea where he lived. She sighed as she sat back down, feeling defeated.
�Wreck of a man he is,� she heard a lispy voice say.
�Christian�s really that down?� the other asked in disbelief.
Christian. Maybe they knew. She mustered up bravery and walked over to the table where the men were sitting. One was very short, very short, and another man with a long scraggily beard were seated, drinking glasses that had the tell-tale look of absinthe.
�Excuse me, mousier,� she said shyly to the short man.
�Hello mademoiselle, how can I help you?� his strange voice asked.
�Um�� she began, her mouth dry, feeling her face flush, �I heard you talking about a man named Christian, and I�.�
�Best poet and playwright that ever lived! Terrible shame, terrible shame.�
Bridgette felt the heat of embarrassment come upon her. Surely she had mistaken them. The wrong Christian.�
�Yes now all he does is live in that shack across from the busted old Moulin Rouge, he doesn�t even come out much,� the older man said. Even though his statement was not good, Bridgette felt a smile cascade over her! A residence she could visit.
�Thank you very much, kind gentlemen,� she replied thoughtfully, briskly leaving the fenced in caf�. The night was late and she knew so, but something in her told her to keep walking. Something told her to not stop.
A loud knock on the door woke Christian from his deep concentration. He lazily rolled out of bed, smoothing his hair and buttoning up a shirt, wrinkled that was on the floor. Meanwhile, Bridgette stood nervously on the other side of the door. What to say? She felt foolish and wanted to leave, and another part of her said that she�d take her life before spending another night alone.
�Who is it?� he asked from the other side of the rickety door.
Bridgette hesitated, and then replied. �It�s me, Bridgette,�
Christian look at the mess of his small apartment, threw the empty bottles under his dresser, and then stopped, wondering why he was worried if the place looked good to her or not. He opened the door. She gazed onto his face, a face she had wanted to see for so long. Even unshaven, he was still so beautiful to her, and she felt the hurt again, the hurt she had felt before, but it had worsened, for she now sympathized for him.
�What do you want?� he said more rudely than he meant to.
�Um...I�I was concerned, and I�uh...wanted to know if you wanted to talk or something� she stumbled out.
Christian on any other day would�ve turned away, said no but thanks, but something ran in him he had never felt, the extreme loneliness that had corrupted his soul, being shrouded by his grief, now being unmasked. He looked down at the floor.
�Come in,� he said.
With that, he led her in, he didn�t care what the place looked like, and he could tell that Bridgette either didn�t care or wasn�t surprised. Because of the lack of seating, they both seated themselves on the bed, looking at the Moulin Rouge from the window outside.
�So�� began Bridgette awkwardly.
�It�s alright if you don�t, but do you wanna talk about the Moulin Rouge?� she asked.
Christian sniffled, and stood up.
�There�s nothing to say,� he said coldly.
�I don�t want to budge��
�Then DON�T� he said rudely.
Bridgette was angered by this. She knew something was wrong and she was going to have to get past his stubbornness.
�There is something wrong!� she said rising from the bed and walking towards him. �There is something wrong and I know it and you�d feel better if you said so!! You keep everyone away you run!!�
Then, without any alert, she leaned and kissed him, grabbing his lower lip in her mouth, all her affection poured out for everyone to see. Christian didn�t give much into the kiss, nor did he back up. The demon and angel stood on his shoulders, one telling him about the disgrace he was doing to Satine, how this girl he barely knew. He looked into her eyes, for the first time he had looked at her like this. She was older than he thought, and he stared into the blue of her eyes, and noticed how beautiful she was. How beautiful she had been. The angel and demon continued, but there were no straightforward comments from either side, they both said yes and no. He closed his eyes, and she kissed him again. How Bridgette had longed for this, and yet how weird it sounded to her. To get the love of a near stranger. Yet her trust was completely in him. She ran her hands up his chest as they kissed, not pushing him away but just wanting to hold Christian in her embrace. She set her head into his chest, softly moaning. He rolled her hands onto her back, the zipper of her dress unraveled. Bridgette kissed him harder this time. He grabbed the ties of her corset and loosened them. She reached for the belt buckle of his trousers, her hands fumbled with the clasp. She wrapped her arms up around his neck and pulled Christian down to the bed, her eyes flaring with seduction. Christian�s eyes were locked upon her. He lied on top of her and stroked her brown hair. Then, Christian felt Bridgette�s legs spread beneath him. That night, Bridgette had pushed her usual demeanor. That night, to lonely souls made love, a love that was both heartfelt and heartbreaking.
