Chapter 5 - Females learn their place

As Camille Leclerc gracefully glided down the bustling streets of Marseille on her rollerblades, she effortlessly drew admiring glances from passers by. Her fiery red hair caught the sunlight, casting a radiant glow around her, while her striking green eyes sparkled with vitality and curiosity. At just nineteen years old, she possessed a rare combination of youthful exuberance and timeless elegance that captivated all who beheld her.

Born into a family rooted in the pursuit of social justice, Camille’s upbringing was shaped by her father, a distinguished human rights lawyer practicing at the UN criminal court in Paris. From an early age, she was inspired by his unwavering commitment to defending the vulnerable and marginalized, a passion that would later influence her own aspirations.

Camille’s journey into the world of rhythmic gymnastics began at a tender age, driven by a natural inclination towards grace and movement. With dedicated training and unwavering determination, she made the French Olympic team. Standing at five feet five, she possessed a lithe yet powerful physique, perfectly suited to the demands of her sport.

But Camille’s interests extended far beyond the confines of the gymnastics arena. A true Renaissance spirit, she had already become a talented filmmaker, benefiting from her adoring father’s funds. she was passionate about filmmaking. Drawn to the power of storytelling, she envisioned a future where she could use her creative talents to shed light on pressing social issues and advocate for positive change.

Her smooth white legs effortlessly swayed through the streets of Marseille, meeting in a small tight pair of denim shorts offset by a loose top exposing her bra top underneath. She sucked on a lollipop as she moved as if to taunt the male onlookers leering at her.

Camille enjoyed the attention, but really her mind was buzzing with ideas for her next short movie. With each graceful turn and twist, she imagined the scenes unfolding before her, weaving together narratives of hope, resilience, and the enduring human spirit.

Edward Pembroke marveled as this teenage vision approached him, moving at high speed and then effortlessly stopping at the restaurant table by the seafront. Nonchalantly, she glided to his table, a smile gracing her lips.

“Karim Al-Faraj, I presume?” she asked in French.

“Ah, Camille,” grinned Edward Pembroke. “You recognized me!”

“Well, Karim, can I call you that? No offense, but you do look like a man who is interested in making a movie about gay Algerian ballet dancers!” Camille smiled, her dimples breaking out, her pearly white teeth gleaming against her pale skin, her green eyes shining, and her red hair adding a fiery contrast.

“Haha, guilty as charged,” Pembroke, or Karim, replied, his outfit as vibrant as his personality, with a flamboyant scarf and a bright pink shirt, exuding a distinctly theatrical and stylish flair.

The two happily made small talk, as Karim complimented her outfit and moves. His obvious homosexuality made Camille feel at ease, this man was no sexual threat to her!

Camille confidently took the next step, to talk business. She had been thrilled to hear he was eager to fund and work with her on a short movie having been impressed by her work. “Karim, your idea for a short movie about gay Algerian ballet dancers is brilliant. I’m really passionate about using film to address social issues. I want to help any way I can.”

Originally,” Karim began, his voice taking on a serious tone, “I had a very specific vision for the film. But your work on deconstructing French colonialism in modern Algerian cinema ... well, it blew me away. That’s when I knew I wanted you to work on this with me.”

Camille’s heart warmed. “Karim, I deeply respect your heritage. I’m truly sorry for the way France has treated Algeria in the past. It’s a disgrace the way Algerians are treated here in France. It’s horrible how people think all Arabs are sexist towards white women when every Arab I have met has been a gentleman. White people really need to atone for...”

Karim chuckled, a warm, rumbling sound. “Camille, the past is the past. We’re focused on the future, on telling a story that resonates with today’s Algeria.”

“Well...” said Camille “I defer to you. I would just be the director. Do you have an idea for the actors? I know several dancers, and they are all gay!”

“Yes, I know a few...” smiled Karim. He also smiled inwardly at the realization that beneath her confident tone, Camille was a fool. She had fallen for his ‘script’ that he had lifted from an Algerian drama group online, eager to tick all the boxes of anti-racism and anti-homophobia to advance her movie-making career. A career which, he suspected, depended not on her lackluster skills and uninspired films, but rather on her daddy’s money.

“Camille, your enthusiasm is truly infectious,” Karim said, his smile never wavering. “I cannot wait to get started!”

One thing which Pembroke could not disagree with was that Camille was an excellent acrobat. It was a skill he would have to develop further in training, for the benefit of the Crown Prince. This silly airheaded girl should learn that her body was all that matters and not her stupid notions of art and culture.

Camille rolled away on her blades soon afterwards, giving Karim a cheeky farewell wink as he was able to admire her perfect body gliding away. Pembroke wondered what work her human rights lawyer of a father had done which had annoyed the Crown Prince so much. He could not wait to see her again.

Pembroke had been enjoying the French Riviera for the last few days, like so much of his sojourn around Europe since accepting Ahmed’s deal. He soon lost the gay persona of Karim and was Edward Pembroke, in a a casino in downtown Marseille, gambling at blackjack, drinking and leering at waitresses.

“Monsiour Pembroke? Or should I say, Monsieur Eduard Benaïssad?”

Pembroke suddenly sobered up and whipped around. It was Ahmed Al-Masri, his boss.

“Ahmed! I did not expect you here, I suppose this is not a coincidence.” Pembroke tried to appear professional but knew it must look like he was fooling around with the Azmarian Royal Family’s money.

“As a matter of fact, I am here on business. There are some troublesome dissidents who are based in France. One of them fell out of a window yesterday, and tomorrow one is going to drown in the sea.”

“Well, you will be pleased to know, that I am on track” smiled Pembroke.

“Really? It seems to me all you’ve done is fuck around Europe on our money. You’ve met most of these girls, and for what?” Ahmed was getting annoyed. “His Excellency is getting impatient. Another girl died recently. It was, I was assured, a tragic accident during a sex game gone wrong. Well, it’s a shame, a waste of a beautiful young Eritrean girl who is now shark food in the Red Sea. Foreign governments are starting to get more concerned about their young pretty citizens disappearing while working in our state, so it’s getting harder to get replacements fast enough.”

“You’d think he would just hand them down, like second-hand clothes. Very selfish of him” replied Pembroke nonchalantly.

“No. Once these girls enter the harem, the only way out is as a corpse soon to be disposed of. And it’s the same with these girls, including that Camille LeClerc.” Ahmed continued, grimly. “I hope for their sake they impress him or they will not last long. And for our sake, a happy Crown Prince means better political prospects for me!” Ahmed seemed lost in his own dreams.