Maren finishes reading Parisian Pleasures, a romance she wrote during a production of Verdi’s La traviata. She also looks ahead to season two, and speaks about how she enjoys speaking with you, her audience.
The music played during this episode:
- Excerpts from a public domain version of La traviata by Giuseppe Verdi.
Follow Maren on Instagram: @supermaren
Facebook: https://facebook.com/maren.montalbano
Replays of the livestream Bodice Ripper Project show (October 2, 3 & 4, 2020) are available for purchase here
Purchase Maren’s debut book, Pandemic Passion: A COVID-19 novella on Kindle.
Transcript
(orchestra tuning)
Hello and welcome to The Bodice Ripper Project, an exploration of sexuality, feminism, and the journey to self-empowerment through the lens of romance novels.
I’m Maren Montalbano, opera singer, coach, and writer.
In this episode, I finish reading Parisian Pleasures, a story I wrote during a production of La Traviata. I also reflect on the season, talk about YOU, and look ahead to season two.
So make yourself comfortable, loosen your bodice, and let’s begin!
(intro music plays)
Welcome back. I am so glad that you have stuck with me this far, all the way to episode 10. It has been such a joy to go on this journey with you.
This is the last episode of the season, but I will be back for a second season in January. I just need some time to, you know, spruce up a few things. I’m changing up the format a little bit. I’m going to include some interviews with people, composers, writers, other creative people, so that I can continue my exploration into sexuality, feminism and the journey to self-empowerment, which is the reason for putting together this podcast.
And I want to talk about that for a second. Reflecting back on this entire season, I’m thinking a lot about the, you know, the why, why did I do this? I’m really using the romance novels as a vehicle to examine the things in my life and in society.
And I’m doing that because I think that there are some people who might be in the same place that I am, same part of the path, that I am when it comes to exploring my own sexuality, my own feminism, and where I am in my own journey to self empowerment.
I want to walk that path with you. And maybe observe some things that you may not have noticed, perhaps that will help bring you further along the path.
I find that my growth happens when I notice new things.
And I’m just offering a new thing for you to notice, because I want you to grow, because I want all of us to grow, because that’s going to make the world a better place.
It’s funny because I had this whole thing written out of things to say. I was like, “Let’s examine this subtitle, the journey to self empowerment.” And I, I just, you know, I started reading out these bullet points and I’m like, this is ridiculous, you know? You have gotten this far. You understand. I don’t need to explain any of this to you. Um, and in fact, much like a good joke, the moment I start explaining something, it sort of loses its magic. So, um, I think I’m going to not explain so much, uh, that’s difficult because I am a nerdy person and, um, I, I do like a good explanation.
But what I’m learning along my path is that sometimes you have to trust the people who are listening to you.
I’ve been reading a lot of marketing books and, and listening to a lot of marketing podcasts and trying to figure out like, how to figure out your ideal client avatar and, who are you speaking to? And the moment you get clear on who that is, that’s when you are going to be successful.
And I do agree with this, but it’s not a simple straight line to figuring out who my ideal audience member is. Because I see the individuality in all of you, and I don’t even know who you are. All I know is that you have found this curious and you’ve pressed play.
And if you found this curious and you pressed play, that means something in me is similar to something in you.
Because I, I look at the insights from this podcast. I look at the insights from my Instagram. I look at all of the different things. And what all my data tells me is that, yeah, I appeal to women, but I appeal to men equally, which is a surprise to me.
I think the thing that you all have in common is this curiosity, a love of this type of writing. Perhaps you know me and you like me already, perhaps you don’t know me, but you’re beginning to like me. I hope so. I mean, I already like you because you’re listening to my podcast!
And when I plan out these intros, I really do imagine myself sitting in my living room with you, just having like a nice, fun, intimate conversation. You’ve come to listen to me, read some dirty stories, but you know, we’re chitchatting right now. We’re having a cup of something. Could be tea, could be coffee, could be something stronger. But we’re relaxing together and we’re getting to know each other. And I so appreciate you listening to me, get vulnerable, think things through.
And I guess it’s easier for me to think of you just as a friend and reach out to you from my heart to your heart.
Honestly, I love telling these stories. I’m having a ball recording them. I really am. Especially Parisian Pleasures because I’ve got all these crazy stupid accents, that I’ve basically boxed myself into a corner because now I have to perform them in the accents. And I’m trying to remember if I actually ever got to the end of this particular story during La Traviata. And I’m really not sure I finished reading it aloud to the chorus.
I remember that this particular production was, there was a lot of stuff going on. So I think I may have been writing this mostly for my own entertainment than for the entertainment of those who wished to hear it.
An earlier version of me would apologize for that, but I have no regrets. I love my kooky spy story that as you’ll see, has a very quickly wrapped up ending because, obviously, it was one of those things where I had created this storyline, and then all of a sudden it was the last performance and I’m like, well, gotta wrap it up. So, um, I hope you enjoy that part.
So with that in mind, let’s hear the end of Parisian Pleasures.
Just to give you a recap, Babette Babineaux is the King’s most trusted spy, and Dirk McCullogh is a brawny Scotsman, who is in Paris for some unknown reason. They meet in a bordello, sparks fly, and when last we left off, Dirk had discovered Babette in his office, wearing men’s clothing.
Babette, startled, bumped her head on the table as she stood up sheepishly. “Monsieur!”
Parisian Pleasures
Chapter 4
“Monsieur!” Babette’s surprised cry hung in the air between them.
Dirk closed the door quietly behind him. “Call me Dirk.”
She nodded warily. “Dirk.”
He stared at her for several moments, taking in every inch of her sleight frame. Her male garments did nothing to disguise her femininity; rather, the curves of her hips were accentuated by her breeches, and though her long blonde hair was tucked under a cap, a few long wisps had escaped and were caressing her cheek. Though her breasts were clearly bound, he knew from experience what treasures lay in store just beneath that coarse linen shirt.
Babette took advantage of the silence to compose herself, smoothing her hair and pursing her lips. “I am sure you must have a few questions…”
Dirk did his best not to smile. He advanced slowly, not wanting to spoil his chance with this amazing creature once again. “I do,” he said soberly. “And the first question is, what in the name of all that’s holy were you doing under my table?”
Babette shifted uncomfortably. “I…”
“Lost an earring, did you?” He reached down and moved the solid wood table aside, flexing his tremendous arms with the effort.
“No, I merely…” as the table moved, an envelope that had been tucked into a crack on the underside of the table fell free and floated slowly to the floor. She dove for it, but Dirk snatched it away from her grasp.
“Here, lassie, what’s this?”
“It’s mine! I…er…dropped it and…”
“Oh?” He looked at her skeptically. “You wrote me a love letter, did you? After what you said to me last night, I didna think you cared that much.” He started to open it.
“NO!” She lunged at him with ferocity this time, startling him and knocking him onto the settee. She lost her balance and landed on top of him.
Their eyes locked. Dirk felt Babette’s heart begin to race in concert with his. Still holding on to the envelope with one hand, he secured both arms around her waist and shifted so that she laid more fully on top of him. Torn between trying to get the envelope, now directly behind her, and extricating herself from his embrace, she wriggled helplessly from side to side.
Chuckling, Dirk tightened his hold. “Keep squirming like that, lassie, and I promise you’ll get more than you bargained for.”
She froze, and her eyes flickered with competing thoughts: surprise, passion, and finally determination. “Au contraire, monsieur,” she murmured as she began undulating suggestively. “I only ever enter into bargains when I know I will end up on top.” Her face was so close to his, but when he lifted his head to kiss her, she laid a finger on his lips and gently pushed his head back down. Babette then began to unbutton his doublet and shirt, placing a kiss on each bit of bare skin that was revealed. He sighed and let the heat of her kisses wash over him, relaxing his hold on her just enough to begin to stroke her back. Her kisses continued to get lower and lower, and his member began to throb with anticipation. He closed his eyes and moaned.
Just then, her weight was gone from above him, and he was hit with a blast of cold air. He sat up, opening his eyes, and saw her pert little bum, breeches and all, leap out the window. He groaned, leaned back, and covered his head with his hands. She had taken the envelope and disappeared, the little minx!
Chapter 5
Babette’s boots clicked along the cobblestones as she ran nimbly down the alley. Her horse, Randolf, tied to a post at the corner, lifted his head at the sound. “Good boy,” she murmured as she quickly untied his tether and climbed into the saddle. “I think it’s time to visit the king, don’t you?” She patted her coat pocket to make sure the envelope was still tucked securely inside.
Randolf whinnied in agreement, and within moments, they were galloping towards Versailles.
From the shadows in the alley came a disapproving “Harrumph,” and Dirk’s butler, Wilson, emerged from behind a door with a sour look on his face.
****
Once at the palace, Babette was ushered into a chamber where several maids were called to dress her in more presentable attire. Stripped down to her underthings, she stood in the middle of the room with her arms outstretched as they bustled around her, securing her corset as tightly as humanly possible, tying on ribbons, and dousing her with perfume. Once the gown was suitably arranged, they turned their attention to her hair, covering it with a wig and proceeding to powder the wig vigorously.
The door to the chamber opened, and through the fine haze of the powder, she saw the rich red robes of state that could only belong to one person. Her maids immediately bent their knees, and she bowed her head, sinking into a low curtsy. “Cardinal Richelieu,” she murmured, eyes still downcast. “I am honored by your presence.”
“The king did not anticipate your arrival so soon after your cover had been set up.” He waved his hand, and the maids scurried out of the room.
“Of course not, your eminence.” Richelieu, who ruled France alongside the king, had brought Babette up through the ranks of his spy network, and it was he who had suggested she approach Baron von Schtullerform. She rose from her curtsy and walked to the pile of clothes in the corner. “I intercepted a letter from King James to his agent here in Paris and thought it would be of interest to His Majesty. It concerns Spain and a possible marriage match between the Infanta and the Prince of Wales.” She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out the envelope.
The cardinal took the letter from her, and Babette continued to dig through the pockets of her old clothes. “I also received a missive from Marguerite de la Marck, Countess d’Aremberg.” Her brows furrowed as she moved from one pocket to the next, each time coming up empty. “She failed in her mission to protect Elisabeth of Valois, I am afraid. King Philip has exiled her, and she is on her way back to Flanders now.”
Richelieu watched her search through her garments with some concern. “I would not expect an agent of your caliber to have lost so sensitive a document.”
Her movements became increasingly impatient as she looked through each pocket, pouch, and seam. “I…I don’t understand.”
Just then, a familiar Scottish brogue rumbled, “Perhaps I may be of assistance, lassie?” A panel in the wall opened outward, and Dirk stepped through, more splendid and manly than she had ever seen him before, dressed in a fine silk shirt and great kilt. His eyes twinkled with mischief as he held up her letter. “I think you dropped this on your way out earlier this morn.”
In stunned silence, Babette’s gaze flew back and forth between Dirk and the cardinal, neither of whom looked very surprised to see each other. Richelieu had the power to put her to death if he discovered that she had failed in her mission with Baron von Schtullerform, and Dirk could very well have fabricated something about her to make it seem that she had been disloyal. She hoped it wasn’t true.
She stole one more glance at Dirk before fixing her eyes firmly on the ground. His stockings were perfectly molded to his herculean calves, and Babette couldn’t stop thinking about what mighty muscles he had under that kilt. He must have rushed to get to the palace this soon after her abrupt departure, and yet he showed no signs of perspiration at all. Her breathing got shallower as her thoughts jumbled about, anticipating any number of things each of these powerful men could do to her.
“Mademoiselle?” Cardinal Richelieu’s stern voice seemed to come from far away. It would do no good to act like a weak woman around these men, she thought. But as she took a step forward, the tight corset, strong perfumes, and powders conspired against her, and she fell down in a faint, right into Dirk’s arms.
Chapter 6
Babette awoke on an ornate bed in another chamber of the palace. Bright midday sunlight peeked through the cracks of the heavy curtains, and she heard the sounds of conversation just outside her door.
Sitting up, she was immediately aware that her courtly attire was gone, although she was still in her chemise and petticoat. Her corset had been loosened slightly but not removed. She took a deep breath and swung her legs over the edge of the bed.
“You canna tell me that you didna know this would happen.” Dirk’s distinctive brogue, thick with anger, floated in from the hallway.
Curious, she walked closer to the door and pressed her ear up against it.
Several voices were interjecting, but she heard Cardinal Richelieu’s dry response most clearly. “Mademoiselle Babineaux is not a souvenir to take home from your Paris trip, monsieur. The king himself–“
“King be damned! The lass is mine!”
The tension was so palpable that she could feel it through the thick wooden door. Shaking her head, she put her hand on the latch and swung the door open to reveal Dirk, the cardinal, Madame Plouffe, and Dirk’s butler Wilson glaring at each other with hostility. Placing her hands on her hips, she smiled dangerously. “Will someone please tell me why nobody has thought to ask me what I think?”
They just stared at her.
Madame Plouffe was the first to move, bustling into the room with solicitude. “Ah, chérie, you must be so cold!” With a glare at the men, she took her shawl off and placed it around Babette’s shoulders, a completely ineffective cover to Babette’s state of undress. Dirk and Richelieu also entered the room, after glancing dubiously at each other. Wilson, with a disapproving sniff, shut the door behind them to stand guard in the hall.
Back straight, eyes flashing, Babette folded her arms in front of her chest. The tops of her small breasts peeked out above her corset, rising and falling with each angry breath she took. “I’m waiting for an explanation.”
Richelieu, looking unusually apologetic, stepped forward. “Mademoiselle,” he began, “I should never have sent you on this mission. If I had known that Baron von Schtullerform’s tastes ran…er…in another direction…” he glowered at Madame Plouffe, who suddenly took a keen interest in the room’s decor.
Babette shook her head. “I still don’t understand.”
“What he is tryin’ to say, lassie,” Dirk said, kneeling down before her, “is that he should have sent you to me.”
Over Dirk’s head, Babette gave the cardinal a quizzical look. “Because you are an agent of King James?”
Richelieu coughed uncomfortably. “You were always a clever girl, Babette. But there is more. I have been in correspondence with Monsieur McCullogh for months, and it was I who invited him to Paris to bring him into our fold.”
“To be a double agent.”
“Précisément. But I did not think he would try so soon to enable a match between England and Spain, right here on French soil.”
Still on his knees, Dirk protested, “But I had no intention of passing on that letter! Babette, you discovered it before I was even able to open it!”
Babette shrugged. “That is true.”
Dirk reached up and grabbed Babette’s hand. His touch sent a wave of heat through her body. “My beautiful Babette,” he began, his rough fingers caressing her smooth palm, “I have loved you since the moment I laid eyes on you. I wish with all my heart to take you back home to Glasgow and spend the rest of my life making beautiful French bairns with you. Tell the truth and say you feel the same; you canna hide it.” He pressed his lips to the back of her hand.
Something about the way he spoke to her caused her knees to go weak, and she thought she would embarrass herself once again and faint. She pulled her hand from his grasp. “Monsieur, I cannot deny that there is an attraction between us.”
From the corner of the room, Madame Plouffe snorted. “You two are drawn to each other like a magnet and iron, chérie.”
Richelieu stepped between them. “You cannot leave us, Babette. Your king needs you.”
Babette bowed her head. “And I live to serve my king.” Kneeling down to look into Dirk’s dark eyes, she said, “You are right, monsieur. Dirk. I do feel the same as you. But my honor will not allow me to leave.” A single, crystalline tear trickled down her cheek.
Just then, a loud whirring noise interrupted them, and one of the tapestries that Madame Plouffe had been examining began to shake. Curious, Madame Plouffe pulled it aside to reveal a clockwork mechanism attached to a door, which began to open, revealing a rather distracted King Louis XIII.
Everyone in the room bowed deeply.
The king entered and bid them rise. “What are we here for? Oh, yes, that butler explained it all. Babette, ma chérie,” he took both her hands and pulled her to her feet, “We order you to leave France with this Scotsman. What’s his name again? Derrick? Dusseldorf?”
“Dirk,” they all replied in chorus.
“Yes. Dirk may be a bit heavy-handed at times, but we think he is sincere. And even better, we think he will do anything for Babette. Is that not right?” The king reached down and pulled Dirk to his feet as well.
“Aye, anything.” Dirk’s voice was heavy with emotion as he gazed at Babette.
“Then we will allow Babette to accompany you on the condition that you do everything you can to prevent the marriage between the Spanish Infanta and the Prince of Wales. We cannot have Spain and England getting too powerful, can we, Richelieu?”
The cardinal smiled and shook his head.
“In addition,” the king continued, placing Babette’s hand into Dirk’s, “we order you to marry and have lots of — er…what did you call them? French bairns?”
“Aye, your majesty.” Dirk squeezed Babette’s hand.
“Yes, French bairns, who will be loyal to France. We still have much use for you, Babette, and we hope you and your family will continue working in our secret service even across the Channel.”
Babette grinned. “That I will, my king.”
“It’s settled, then. Let us repair to the chapel for the nuptials immediately, shall we?” He patted both Dirk and Babette on the cheek, then exited the chamber with a flourish, the cardinal and Madame Plouffe following closely behind.
Dirk and Babette could only stare into each other’s eyes, wondering how each of them could have gotten so lucky as to be matched so perfectly. There were no words between them, but their heated touch turned to rapturous sighs as they quickly dispatched with all formality. The king and cardinal could wait.
The End
And I will leave it there.
I hope you enjoyed this season of the Bodice Ripper Project. I certainly enjoyed every single moment creating this for you. And I am looking forward to the next season. I can’t wait to see you again in January. I just know that the second season is going to be even better.
If you have suggestions or ideas for season two, either interviews, people I should talk to, or stories – I have a bunch already written, but I haven’t recorded any of them, and hey, I’m up for writing something new – let me know!
And if you just need to have some more bodice ripping in your life between now and January, there are several ways to stay in touch.
First off, you should sign up for my email newsletter. That’s at bodiceripperproject.com. I’m going to be sending out emails pretty regularly in this hiatus.
And if you haven’t already seen my one woman show, you can purchase an all access pass for $15. Just buy that at bodiceripperproject.com.
And I also wrote, I don’t know if you know this, but I wrote a mini novella. It’s very short, but I wrote it during the first couple of months of the quarantine. It’s called Pandemic Passion: a COVID-19 romance, and you can find it on the Kindle store.
You can always find me on Instagram. That’s where I spend most of my time, feel free to follow me, DM me, let’s get into a conversation. I want to keep the connections open. I consider you my friends now, so let’s not lose touch.
Thank you so much for listening and I look forward to next season.
The Bodice Ripper Project is a production of Compassionate Creative, and was conceived, written, and edited by me, Maren Montalbano. The background music during the story was excerpts from a public domain version of Verdi’s La Traviata. The theme music was also written by yours truly. If you liked what you heard, I invite you to give this podcast a 5-star rating! I’ll see you next time.