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Speakeasy
Smashwords Edition. Copyright © 2011 by Lynn Mixon.
When Anne’s husband decided to take her out to one of Al Capone’s nightclubs, she expected a boring night surrounded by over muscled goons. That was until she saw the sexy nightclub singer in her tight red dress.
When the sexpot invites the two of them backstage, Anne’s thrilled. When she makes a pass at both of them, is it an offer they can’t refuse?
Speakeasy
December 17th, 1927
Chicago, Illinois
I stared at all the people packed inside Club Crimson with dismay. “We’ll never get a table!”
“Don’t be so negative, Doll. I got it all set up.” Carlo gestured for me to follow him and opened a path through the crowd. He hadn’t taken two steps before he was swaying to the bright jazz playing from the stage.
The club wowed me. I’d heard stories, but some things you just had to see yourself. Dark wood, red leather, and shiny glass surrounded us. The dance floor and stage took up the left side of the room, while a huge mahogany and brass bar dominated the right. A sea of tables filled with tipsy partiers completed the scene.
Normally, you wouldn’t catch me dead in such an expensive joint, but it was our anniversary and I wanted to do it right. Even the penny pincher inside me was starting to warm to Carlo’s suggestion.
“Aren’t you afraid of the cops with all this booze out in plain sight?” I asked as we stopped at a table on the edge of the dance floor. Two men who worked for Carlo rose to their feet, took the folded sawbucks he pressed into their palms, and faded into the crowd.
He pulled my chair out for me. “Not a chance. Mister Capone pays a lot of money into the policeman’s fund, if you know what I mean.”
“I worry about you, Baby. Every time I hear something on the radio about those raids or some shooting…”
“Relax, Anne. The boys I work with are the best. They won’t let anything happen to me. I’ll be fine.”
His soothing words did nothing to quiet my jangled nerves, but what could I do? I’d known who he was and who he worked for when we met. I should’ve known better than to fall for a gangster, but Carlo was special. We’d clicked with that first look and there’re been no going back. All I could do was pray for the best and stand by my man.
“You want gin?” he asked, bouncing me out of my thoughts.
“Only if it won’t make me go blind.”
He laughed and headed for the bar. I kept my eyes on him until the throng swallowed him. Damn, he was sexy. That tailored blue pinstripe suit emphasized his strong shoulders and tight butt. Just thinking about his body made me moist.
Mother would howl in anguish if she knew what I planned to do to Carlo tonight. She’d never warmed to him, and I doubted she ever would, so I was sure any thoughts of what we did between the sheets would make her stomach turn. Good girls didn’t do those kinds of things. But I did.
I turned my attention to the people around me. Some of the biggest fish in the city packed onto the dance floor, crammed in like sardines. I spotted the mayor dancing with a woman who wasn’t his wife. Guess that meant a bust wasn’t too likely tonight. No sign of Scarface, though. Thank God. He might be charming, but he gave me the creeps.
The men around me wore exquisitely tailored suits while the women favored loose, sleeveless dresses with dropped waistlines. Most wore Symington Side Lacers to flatten their breasts, giving them a boyish look. They also had fashionably short hair that scandalized women my mother’s age. Very stylish.
The band struck up a number that sizzled. I hoped they’d play the Charleston, so I could drag Carlo out and cut a rug. Nothing revved my motor like dancing. Some of the moves were almost as good as sex. Almost.
Carlo sat down and handed me my gin. “They have some out of town talent tonight. We missed her earlier sets, but she has one more to go. Her name sounds familiar. Sarah Bingham.”
I nearly choked and spilled a little of my drink. “From New York? I love her!”
Her silky voice did things to me that might make Carlo jealous. I remembered one night that I’d fingered myself for what felt like hours while she crooned on the phonograph. Just the thought of seeing her perform turned my earlier dampness into a flood.
Loud applause drew me out of my lascivious musings. Sarah Bingham, with her shoulder length blonde hair and dangerously curvy figure, sashayed out onto the stage. She might be almost forty, but age didn’t matter. She looked amazing. Someone had to have poured her into that skin-tight red dress. I don’t know how she could breathe.
One glance at Carlo and I knew he felt the same way. I could see the lust and desire in his eyes. It was hypocritical of me to feel jealous, but I did anyway. Just a little.
I had no reason to worry, though. He’d never stray. All that would come of our mutual drooling over Sarah Bingham was some incredibly hot and sweaty sex tonight. And maybe into tomorrow morning.
I poked Carlo without looking at him. “Put your eyes back in your head.”
He laughed, making me smile.
Women like her often featured in my most secret fantasies. I’d never been able to make those dreams come true because it seemed whenever I met someone I thought might be interested, I was already in a committed relationship. I’d been tempted a few times to see if my lover wanted to experiment, but I didn’t know how my little green monster would react to seeing my man naked with another woman. Even if I was involved.
Miss Bingham didn’t dress like a flapper and no one could ever call her figure boyish. Style be damned, she was all sex. What captivated me the most were her eyes. They had to be the bluest I’d ever seen.
The band lit into her most popular tune and I sat entranced, listening to her siren-like voice as she joined them. I only remembered to sip my gin when Carlo nudged me. He’s lucky he didn’t try to talk while she was singing or I’d have dumped that pricey booze over his head.
He grinned slyly when she ended her third song. “Now who’s staring? Should I be worried?”
I narrowed my eyes, but I couldn’t help smiling. “She’s the real deal, all right. I’ll forgive your drooling. Just remember who takes care of you.”
He flashed a confident smile at me. “That’s easy, Doll. The prettiest woman in the club, who just happens to be you.” He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. “You know you’re the only girl for me.”
My face split into a wide grin. “Ha! You lust over plenty of girls. You’re just smart enough to stick with me. Now hush so I can hear her.”
The rest of her set was terrific and I got my wish for a Charleston right after Miss Bingham left the stage. Carlo spun me around the floor and I gave him my very best moves. I took every opportunity to rub against him, and to touch and kiss him. The way our heat was building, we wouldn’t be staying long.
I caught a glimpse of Miss Bingham a few minutes later. She’d come back to the curtains and was looking out over the crowd. As silly as it sounded, it felt like she was staring at us.
We ended our run around the dance floor with a slow song that had me plastered across Carlo like a second skin. His dick dug at my belly, doing its level best to find its way under my dress. We definitely wouldn’t make it back home before I jumped him. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d given his driver a show, riding my lover all the way home. Having someone watch turned me on big time, too.
I let Carlo lead me to the bar for a nightcap. I should’ve been exhausted, but instead, I was bouncing on my toes and ready to go. He grinned at me, no doubt guessing what he was in for as soon as we got to the car.
“Excuse me.”
I turned in surprise to find a young man standing beside us. He wore the starched white shirt and black bow tie that all the male staff at the club wore.
Carlo smiled at him. “Yes?”
“Miss Bingham asked that I extend her personal invitation to you and your lady to join her back stage for a private meeting.”
Carlo grinned. “We’d love to. Anne’s a huge fan.”
“Excellent. May I ask your names, please?”
“Carlo and Anne Giovanni.”
The man made an elegant half-bow and gestured for us to go toward one of the doors behind the bar. “This way, please.”
“My God,” I squealed as we followed him through the crowd. “I can’t believe I’m really going to meet her! Did you set this up?”
Carlo shook his head. “I wish I had that kinda pull, Doll. I’m as surprised as you are.”
The noise level dropped as soon as the door closed behind us. Club staff filled the hall, rushing in all directions on tasks that I’d never be able to guess. Our guide nimbly led us through the organized chaos to another door.
This one had an intense gathering of men crowded in front of it. It sounded like they were trying to sweet-talk their way past the two hulking brutes guarding it. They weren’t your run-of-the-mill bouncers, either; they had to be Capone enforcers.
In the space of thirty seconds, I heard pleas, attempted bribes, assurances that they were close friends of Miss Bingham, and threats of consequences if they didn’t let the man in question through. There were a few “don’t you know who I am’s” tossed in for good measure. Men. They’re nothing if not consistent.
None of the attempts moved the goons an inch, especially the threats. Considering who owned the club, I wasn’t surprised. Scarface was scarier than the Devil himself and these boys knew they were safe.
Our escort silently beckoned over the horde’s heads. The guard on the left nodded and made enough room for us to slip through the door his partner opened on cue.
Needless to say, that made us very unpopular. I hoped no one took it out on Carlo. He might be a tough guy, but I was sure some of the men denied entrance were meaner and more powerful. I felt greatly relieved when the door closed behind us.
Our guide led us past the door marked with Miss Bingham’s star to the furthest door in the hall. “We thought it best to have a little room switch, just in case someone gets through. And Miss Bingham values her privacy. Even the regular staff doesn’t know which room she’s in.” He rapped twice on the door.
“Come.”
The man opened the door a smidge. “Carlo and Anne Giovanni, Miss Bingham.”
“Thank you, Charles. You’re such a dear. Show them in, please.”
I murmured my thanks to Charles as we entered. The room was more lavish than I expected. A sizable vanity sat on the right side of the far wall. The biggest floral arrangement I’d ever seen took up more than half its surface and expensive makeup was scattered across the rest. A large, etched tri-fold mirror sat on top of it, making the room look even bigger. A rack of luxurious gowns sat along the left wall and next to it a silk brocade dressing screen. The clotheshorse in me longed to start rummaging.