‘I see you’re worried, Zillah. But you’ve no need to fear. I won’t throw you over. We’ve done very well together, have we not?’

He reached out and ran the side of his finger along my cheek. I held myself completely still.

‘I’m sure you saw that some of the chaps tonight were quite excited, but I’ll always prefer your kind, I think. You mulattos have the same appetites, all the curves, and yet you’re so much more feminine.’

His finger continued its trail. The nail, ever so slightly too long, grazed my neck. Soon it would reach my collarbone.

‘Your act. It’s inspired by a real one, you know. I met her when I was twelve years old. She was from the Dahomey tribe. Have you heard of them?’

At the base of my throat Crillick withdrew his hand. I struggled to hold back a cry of relief.

‘She had not a stitch on from here to here.’ He traced the tip of his index finger from his neck downwards. His fingers skimmed over the fine buttons of his dress shirt until they reached the waistband of his breeches. It was where he would’ve touched me were it not for Vincent’s tightly tied gown. I shuddered at the thought.

‘She was not as tall as you, but a fine figure nonetheless. She was with her mate and three others. A whole tribe to be had on contract. The bidding for their services was something fierce but my father didn’t raise his paddle once. I couldn’t understand why, and he wouldn’t say. I thought of her several times over the years, and then when I saw you, it came to me. I could recreate her.’

That day when I had auditioned for Crillick’s. I had gone there expecting to be a chorus girl at best. I remembered the way Crillick’s eyes had lit up when he saw me. How he had demanded I show him my legs and forced his fingers into my hair. I hadn’t been auditioning for Crillick’s public show, but for his private fantasy. No wonder he had been so eager to give me a part despite my lack of experience. And he had built up my act to the point where I was headlining. My outfit, the dancing, even down to the props he’d brought back from his trip. All designed to stoke his desire. And I had played right into it, believing somehow that it had to do with my own abilities, my talent and independence. Oh, the shame. In this moment, I knew that whenever he came to watch me, I’d feel dirty. And now he’d not only be thinking of the Dahomey woman, but comparing me to the Leopard Lady too. I had to get us both away from him.