Muffled piano music plays outside the door to Jessica's dressing room; she plays no music of her own, sitting in the quiet with her eyes closed while the warm yellow light from the bulbs surrounding her mirror glows softly and the scent of endless bouquets of roses hangs in the air. She savours this solitude, this moment in which nothing and no one demands her attention or performance. When she is unobserved, she is neither good nor bad, neither temptress nor victim, neither singer nor song; she simply is.

ao3