Member-only story
Captured
by the stroke of a brush
Red lipped and pretty-eyed, she wore a shimmering black ballgown low cut at the crack. Doing us more favors was the slit up the thigh revealing porcelain skin I dared myself to look at. She turned her head in my direction and I quickly glanced down. Embarrassment clung to me like a wet shirt. This feeling dissipated when I saw the wandering eyes of half the men fixated on the dark-haired belle.
This was the woman I was instructed to film from a distance. I adjusted the camera lens inside the inner pocket of my sport-coat. Madam Larousse was the Louisiana socialite of the decade. She was a generator of seemingly infinite wealth and the hot topic of much gossip and speculation. She was exceptionally skilled at taking that gossip and doing absolutely nothing about it. No one could accuse her of anything — except her fifth ex-husband.
People knew of the four previous ones, but they were never heard from again. In the meantime, she did nothing but throw extravagant parties at her second husband’s summer home she won in the divorce. All individuals in the neighborhood were given formal invitations. This did not exclude anyone chose to make an appearance. There was not a single person in New Orleans who hadn’t at least heard of Madam Larousse and her extravagant home.
