Free & Easy ((LitShark & Britwitch))

LitShark

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Nov 8, 2002
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The snow was fresh on the ground, spotted and crossed with black where the narrow buggy tires and footsteps had pressed the powder down into mud. Sean Kline’s breath billowed out from around the brim of his hat, rabbit skin gloves tucked inside the deep pockets of his ankle length overcoat. Fresh flakes landed gently on his shoulders and hat, blooming outward into small damp spots of moisture on the tan colored fabric, liquefying on contact.

“They should have been here by now.” Sean groaned, extracting one hand from his pocket to reach into the pocket of his vest, removing a gold pocket watch and flipping open the face. “Something’s gone wrong. We should leave.”

“They’re coming, they’re coming.” The salt and pepper headed, wanna-be wiseguy who Sean had only heard referred to as The Greek reassured him. “You worry too much. Canadians aren’t always in a rush as much as you.”

“Business always comes first.” Sean sighed, raising a wide arc of steam around his hat when his breath met air.

The Greek lit a cigarette, and shortly after, a spotlight on the horizon cut through the low hanging mist over the black surface of the lake. Almost as if The Greek’s cigarette had drawn the boat out of the darkness with flame, in some bizarre gypsy ritual which Sean would never fully comprehend. He nodded over his shoulder to his associate Byron, who was a negro, but otherwise a trustworthy and capable fellow. Byron flashed the headlamps of the oversized, covered truck that would transport the shipment of whiskey. Once it was unpacked, they’d cut it with water and funnel it into old bottles of Scotch so that they could charge double and still undercut the competition’s prices.

In no time, the boat corrected its course, moving toward the flashing headlights. When the bottom met the sandy shoal, men in waders and long underwear hopped over the side, quickly lowering down crates of bottles and running them onto shore. The first among them set his burden down at Sean’s feet, splashed up to his chest in nearly frozen waters and shivering in the snow.

“You’re late.” Sean muttered, extracting his as yet unseen hand from his other overcoat pocket, possessively clutching an oversized roll of high value bills.

“Yeah, well…” The man in waders scoffed, holding his arms out to catch a dearth of flakes which joined the moisture already streaking off his arms. “Goddamn weather.”

“Nonetheless.” Sean muttered, loudly snapping off the top five bills from the thick fold before handing it over to the soaking Canadian. “Breach of contract has consequences, this reduction in your fee should suffice for my time wasted.”

With the stack of bills passed, the man who had come off the ship held the stack up to eye level, closing one eye and squeezing the stack between two fingers. Lifting it and letting it down to test its weight.

“Yeah, okay. We’ll take it. But you ought to remember, you aren’t the only thug trying to get your hands on this stuff down here. We’re taking risks too, on our end.”

“If you think you’re the only supplier who can be bought for the sum I’ve just paid you, you’re the biggest fool living. Now run on back to your captain and make sure he knows not to make promises he can’t keep. Byron, hurry up and load the truck.”

* * *​

The Tiffany’s chandeliers were already lit by the time Sean returned with the shipment. He passed orders down to Byron to oversee the mixing and rebranding of the Canadian whiskey that would allow them to sell it as Scotch. In the several hours he had been gone, Sean’s work had piled up back at the Fleur Du Lys, everyone had questions for him. Which crystal glasses were to be set out and which were to be held back, which China settings were appropriate—mostly shit that Sean couldn’t care less about.

He was in the midst of putting out three fires when Byron came from the back.

“Sir, the performers are ready. Shall I have your personal bottle of Scotch brought down?”

“Performers? We still don’t open for another four hours, what the fuck do I need performers for?”

“Auditions, Sir. For the new Sunday set. Remember that you insisted that all hiring and firing decisions went through you directly.”

“Shit! Of course, yeah—bring the bottle.”

Sean had set up his nightclub to ensure that no strangers ever crossed his path outside of patrons to be fleeced. There was too much that went on behind the scenes of this polished gem that was of questionable legality and morality. He didn’t want any outsiders (even performers) stomping through his carefully arranged operation which had been so difficult to acquire in the first place.

How many had died in the endeavor, to carve out this small piece of downtown Chicago as his own? Jimmy, Ben, Carl, Andre—his mind wandered through the blood-soaked streets which were all still so recent and fresh in his mind as he poured himself three fingers of Scotch from a crystal tumbler. He sat down at the front and center table, his customary spot for watching auditions. It was typically one of his more pleasurable duties to the operation, but the late shipment had fucked his entire schedule all to pieces, now he’d need to multitask.

“Alright already, send out the first act, goddamnit!” Sean called into the wings, glancing up from his thick, leather-bound ledger book, going over the previous night’s receipts as he took a sip from the glass of brown liquor. “Or am I supposed to handle soft-shoe duties as well in this fucking place?”
 
Heels and snow did not mix well and so her progress along the side walk took considerably longer than she'd anticipated. One hand holding her woollen coat closed tightly around her neck and the other held out to the side to help make sure she didn't lose her balance. Rich, dark eyes alternated between looking at the ground to make sure she didn't inadvertently find a patch of ice and looking ahead to ensure she didn't barrel into anyone. For the first, and possibly only time in her life, Adrianna Ciccone didn't want to attract attention to herself.
Hence the walk. The family car would have gotten her there quicker and drier and warmer but would also have necessitated an explanation and that...that just wasn't an option.

She was fairly sure of the way and figured with her felt hat pulled relatively low over her face she could ask for directions if she did get lost. She doubted she'd be recognised this far from home.

Just before she was sure the snowy-mush on the ground was going to soak through her shoes, she found herself outside her destination. The Fleur Du Lys, a place she'd heard of but never visited. Her family tended to do their socialising closer to home and the family business. Another reason for coming so far away from her usual circle. Less chance of been seen and recognised. She peered through the front doors, after finding them locked, gloved hand shielding her face as she all but pressed her nose to the glass.

"Hey you!" The gruff voice nearly frightened the life out of her. "We're closed!" Turning she saw a rather burly man with a sweeping brush, clearly moving the snow from the side walk directly before the building so they could salt and grit it no doubt.

"You startled me," she smiled before noticing it wasn't returned. Adrianna coughed a little awkwardly. "I know, I'm here for the auditions...?"

"Turns go round the back!" His tone was unchanged as he turned away before she could thank him and continuing his brushing.

"Round the back then," she muttered quietly to herself as she followed the small alleyway that ran down the side of the building until she came to a door emblazoned with the words 'STAGE DOOR' in white letters. Raising her hand to knock the door flew open to reveal a girl, not much older than herself, in floods of tears. Make up running down her face in very unattractive rivulets.

Adrianna gaped, open mouthed, as the girl pushed by her and sobbed her way down the alleyway and onto the street.
Shortly after she'd gone from sight a man appeared, to close the door behind her by all accounts.
He looked Adrianna up and down with a confused and impatient expression.

"Can I help you, miss?"

"I..." she wet her lips, her voice suddenly disappearing on her. "I'm here for the auditions but-"

"You're late. But you've a pretty face and the way we're going, we ain't going to have no one for the show unless someone makes the boss smile." He grinned toothily at her. "Well, you comin' in or ain't you?"

It wasn't too late, she could still turn around and leave. That's what her brother would tell her to do. And it was precisely that thought that made her square her shoulders and walk inside.
She was going to show him she wasn't his baby sister any more.

"You can leave your things there," the man gestured to a clothes rack as he led her briskly through the warren like series of corridors at the rear of the stage. "You singin' or dancin'?" The sound of a female voice singing over a piano steadily grew louder.

"I can do both, but-"

"Dancers are up next. You can always sing afterwards, if you still want to."

"But I don't know what-" Adrianna's fingers were struggling to unbutton her coat and nerves weren't helping her chilled digits to work any better. "I mean, what dance-?"

Her question was left hanging in the air as a sharp voice rang out through the air, silencing the wannabe singer on stage.

"Next! Jesus, is the best we could come up with?"

There was a whimper and then a girl came trembling into the wings from on the stage, her face remarkably similar in expression to the one who had run out into the alleyway minutes earlier. Grabbing her things, the girl staggered off into the darkness and Adrianna was struggling with the final button on her coat.

"You better hurry, miss." The man urged, watching as she finally slipped the button from its hole and shrugged off the heavy coat to reveal the shimmering dress underneath. Pale gold, and heavily beaded, it belonged to one of the maids. It was cheap but at a distance it would look good. She had dresses of her own but...they were far too good for this. Cut to finish around her knees and with relatively thin straps holding up the dress she suddenly felt very self conscious. Her long hair was twisted up and pinned in the latest style with a gold ribbon worked through it to keep stray locks from ending up in her face.
A long whistle from the man made her blush.

"Well, don't you look like somethin'. Let's see if you can dance like somethin' too." He took her elbow and guided her to join the end of a line of very nervous looking girls. "Just follow the girl at the front," the man whispered, nodding towards the leader of the line who looked thoroughly bored, "she's one of our dancers and if you do what she does, you've as good a chance as anyone." He winked and before Adrianna could say anything else the piano out front started playing and the line moved quickly onto the stage.

She kept her eyes fixed on the girl he had pointed out and soon she was followed her almost exactly step for step. She didn't dare look away and so, while she had seen there was someone sat watching them, she didn't see anything else.

Her legs flicking and kicking smoothly before she felt confident enough to look up and flash a bright smile towards where the audience would be. Adrianna felt a rush of energy as the bouncy music filled the air, punctuated by the tapping of the heels on the stage. As the song ended she finished with one hand on her hip and the other high above her head. Her heart racing in her chest and cheeks a little flushed from her exertions. Even if she got yelled at like everyone else, she knew she'd tried her best. And it had felt wonderful to do it.
 
Sean had hoped that watching some song and dance auditions would turn his mood around, but it seemed increasingly evident that his mood was turning the auditions instead.

“Where do you think you’re going? Come back here!” Sean demanded of some young little number whose performance had suffered most notably from nervousness. “Listen you, there are plenty of places and stages around here for you to go and practice, work on composure, work on dealing with high stakes—my stage ain’t one of those places! You go up there, flouncing around with a mug on your face like you’re watching your cat Mittens get strangled, it grates my patience—‘cause it wastes my goddamn time! I don’t even know who you are, but I know that you’ll never make your way back onto that stage for as long as I’m living. You got me? Pathetic! That’s what you are, you little bitch. Now get out of my sight before I vomit all over my good shoes. Go!”

Perhaps he was drinking a bit more than usual too.

The poor girl sprinted from the stage, her silent tears breaking through into deep chested sobs as she clattered into the wings on her dance shoes. Sean admitted to himself silently that he may have come down a bit hard on the broad, but shrugged it off as he poured himself another glass. It wasn’t like any of these girls were connected, they didn’t have influential friends or relatives. Who would choose a life like this if they had any choice in the matter? He could be as cruel as he pleased, it was his place, his show, his rules.

Still, he felt bad for making her cry.

Next was some sex-bomb-blonde who thought that she could seduce her way into being owed favors by Sean, with her breathy-whisper, bedroom-voice talk-singing she was trying to get away with. She was beautiful, sure—but beautiful women’s mystique wears off quickly once you fuck them, Sean knew all too well. She may have been more pathetic than the last group of dancers with ol’ Stone Face who he’d just read the riot act.

“Next! Jesus, is this the best we could come up with?” Sean called through the sorry excuse for a performance into the wings. The busty broad just snatched up her sheet music and sauntered off in an indignant huff. He should have saved the good rant for that one.

Jaqueline returned, leading her next group of hopeful chorus girls onto the stage like lambs to the slaughter. Jaq looked slightly frazzled and exhausted from repeating the very basic but nonetheless physically demanding choreography for one group after another and was sweating more than Sean thought that a lady ought to. Still, she was French and therefore was given absolute artistic control over the show—absolute so long as it pleased Sean, and Sean was a man of simple (some might say predictable) tastes.

What Jaqueline lacked in her typical enthusiasm was more than made up for by the ad hoc company. Perhaps motivated by Sean’s harsh treatment of their predecessors, the second group of dancers was downright passable as a whole. There were a few dour Debbies in the mix, but the prevalence of well-timed and enthusiastic efforts of several others overshadowed the poor performances and made the sum total altogether watchable.

There was a redhead in the middle whose tits jiggled when she kicked and had a natural smile that resembled laughter. A blonde near the end who seemed to have the steps memorized already after only a few minutes practice. Then there was the girl on the very end of the line, in a beaded gold dress who had one of the best “Play Out” faces that Sean had ever seen.

Sure, Goldie was looking back at Jaq’s steps to be sure on the choreography more often than seemed professional, but she more than made up for her lack of technical efficiency with her bright, radiant grin and mirthful eyes. Yes, she was something special, though Sean couldn’t quite say how he knew it… While most of the girls avoided looking at him as though it might burn their eyes, Goldie was unafraid of direct, flirtatious eye contact with the club-owner.

Sean admired that kind of brass in a dame.

When the song ended, Goldie struck a pose with a beaming grin that was so endearing that Sean had to cover his mouth to prevent an outburst of gleeful laughter. She had a way of making him feel like there was a big joke going on that only the two of them were privy to. He liked that.

“Alright, thank you very much Jaqueline. Good job girls, that was absolutely watchable. You—you—and you, Goldie. You three stick around for callbacks. The rest, thanks for coming. You weren’t the worst I’ve seen today.” Sean announced, pointing out each girl from the line as he called them, like a fiancée shopping for a wedding band. “Don’t call us, we’ll call you.”

With that, Sean clapped his hands one solid time to clear the stage and began pouring himself another drink. Hugo, the stage manager slipped back from behind the curtain to bring over the headshots and resumes of the girls he’d chosen.

“There’s only two here.” Sean said sternly, waving the pieces of paper in the air. “What about Goldie?”

“We’re finding out more about her now. You see, she was a little bit late—“

“Useless. Just bring her out here, I’ll talk to her myself.”
 
Adrianna was practically trembling as she waited for the reaction from the smartly dressed man who had been watching them. He seemed fairly happy with at least something that he'd just seen, which helped quell her nerves ever so slightly.
"Good job girls, that was absolutely watchable. You—you—and you, Goldie. You three stick around for callbacks. The rest, thanks for coming..."
She didn't really hear anything else he said after that. A second was spent realising she was 'Goldie' and then a warm haze seemed to settle of her and she only realised when she was in relative darkness that they were no longer on the stage.

The unsuccessful girls were shrugging on their coats with varying degrees of fury while the other two he had pointed out were busy checking their reflections in a dimly lit mirror. She just stood and grinned to herself. She'd made the callback. She could hardly believe it. Callback. She'd done it! Even if this was as far as her little adventure went, it would be something she'd never forget. She'd proven she could do things if she put her mind to it. Wait until she told-

"Headshot?" A voice cut through her elation. It was the man who'd let her inside.

"Sorry?"

"Headshot. I need your headshot to show the boss." His head tipped back in the direction of the main room.

"Oh, I," even white teeth caught on her lower lip as she frowned, "I don't have one."

"Your resumé'll probably be enough anyway. Pretty sure he wouldn't forget your face in a hurry. I wouldn't." He winked and Adrianna felt herself blush.

"I...I don't have one of those either, you see I've never-"

"Wait there." The man sighed a little wearily, disappearing into the shadows with the papers of the other girls in his hand before a door opened somewhere in the distance and there was a flash of light from the other side as he slipped through it.

The time seemed to freeze while he was gone, Adrianna could feel her victory leeching away and into the dark. She should have known she'd need something with her, even if she'd had to make it all up, she should have had something. She could hear the other two girls whispering, about her no doubt. She tried not to hear them, tried not to feel the scratch of failure prickling at her shiny achievement.

The door reopened and the man walked up to her smoothly. She took a deep breath, ready for the words she was certain were coming.

'Sorry, miss, but...'

"Mr Kline would like to speak with you."

"Who? Me?" Her eyes widened as he nodded.

"You can go out through that door." He glanced back the way he had just come.

"Oh, oh, ok," She nodded, fingers reaching up to check there were no pins about to clatter out of her hair. "Th-thanks." She smiled awkwardly before heading towards the door.

The room on the other side was grander than it had appeared from on the stage. The stage lights meant the performers could see very little past the first few tables. Now she was walking amongst them she could see just how many there were. All laid out beautifully, with damask cloths and sparkling silver flatware. Up above a crystal chandelier sparkled dazzlingly. Trying not to stare, she made her way towards the only table with anyone sat at it. Stopping just before it and waiting for the man on the other side to look up.

"Sorry, Mr Kline, about my papers I mean." She started abruptly. "I just didn't think. I mean, I should have, I know but...I didn't. Anyway-" her brain was screaming at her to stop babbling before he took her for a complete idiot. "Sorry." She took a second to try and compose herself, eyes dropping from his to the white tablecloth bashfully before looking back up to his face. "You wanted to see me?"
 
Sean was in the midst of going over last week’s numbers with Byron when he spotted Goldie slipping through the stage door onto the floor. A wave of his hand dismissed Byron, and he finished going over the long list of drink orders and food purchases for the last five nights. He made a point of not lifting his head when the potential new dancer entered into the main service floor. It was difficult to maintain his composure as the girl seemed to carry with her that engaging stage presence he’d first noticed in her performance. Unlike most, she seemed to become lovelier as she drew closer—as opposed to the average dancer girl who was most lovely from a distance.

When Goldie began speaking, Sean looked up with slightly surprised eyes. Most that worked for him (even those who’d been in his service for some time) would have been far too cautious to initiate verbal contact with him, much less to stammer on like Goldie was. It ought to have made him impatient, but somehow, with this girl it was irrepressibly endearing.

When Goldie finally ran out of nervous chatter, Sean used his toe to push the seat opposite his own back from the table. Still not looking at her, he turned a second tumbler and filled it halfway with the rarified Scotch from his own reserves. He put the finishing touches on his managerial responsibilities and closed the leather-bound ledger book with all his purchase orders stored neatly inside. He at last looked up to Goldie, handing the book over his shoulder to Byron who snapped it up en route from one emergency to another.

“You give good face, kid.” Sean smiled across the table, clipping the end from a Cuban cigar and wetting the severed end between his lips. “Not everybody does anymore. Good face is important in entertainment.”

After one final preparatory dab from his tongue to the slimmer end of his cigar, Sean struck a match on the edge of the table and held the flame to the dry tip. He puffed the end in his mouth, drawing the flame in amongst the dried leaves, dying them orange and then returning to the wooden matchstick, only to be sucked in again at the opposite edge, until the entire quarter-sized end was radiant orange with flame. The white smoke wrapped around Sean’s head and draped across his shoulders.

“Most of these other girls, they dance like their next meal depends on it. As often as not, that’s the case anyway—but you’re not like that. You don’t dance desperate, barely even deliberate—but you love it. That love shows through. Can I see your hands?”

Without much waiting for compliance, Sean nabbed his cigar in one hand and took Goldie by the wrist, holding it above the table for inspection. His grip was gentle, but his scrutiny seemed serious. His thumb trailed slowly down the center valley of her palm.

“Smooth. Like polished porcelain. Unburned by stoves, unscarred by shuttle tosses, unbruised by abusive lovers. Most of those girls headed out the back door have hands like railway workers, sending them out that back door means they’ve got to go back to whatever it is wearing their hands away to the bone. Good hands are also important.” Sean knocked a thick grey ash from the end of his cigar, exposing the rounded orange ember, working its way down.

“I’m not going to stick around for callbacks, I’ve got other errands to run before we open—but if you’re brave, you might be able to help me with something. Our burlesque girl, she comes out between the acts, struts around to a vamp and peels her clothes off. She doesn’t look to be here yet and her outlook for showing doesn’t look good. If you’ve got the brass for it, you could fill her spots in the lineup tonight—we can call it your callback. You gotta be comfortable though—or at least fake it well. Face and hands are critical for burlesque. I think you’d be great, if you’re comfortable with stripping down to your underthings in front of a room full of strangers.”

Sean tipped the last of his own tumbler full of liquor down his throat and returned the cigar to the corner of his mouth. He leaned back and released Goldie’s hand, crossing his arms over his chest.

“What do you say, Goldie? Do you have the sand to step up and take it off?”
 
He didn't reply straight away. Adrianna took that to be a bad thing, anxiously her teeth fastened on her lower lip and she waited. Feeling more and more out of her depth with each passing second. This was a mistake, a big huge mistake. The only silver lining to this storm cloud of error was that no one else knew. If her brother found out he'd never let her forget it. After he killed her, of course, for doing it in the first place.

There was a sudden sound as the chair on her side of the table suddenly moved towards her. She held back a yelp of surprise, a fact she was privately proud of, and glanced from the chair to him and back again. Was she supposed to sit down?
A drink was poured and set down.
Wetting her lips, she smoothed her dress and slid down onto the chair. The tumbler with its richly coloured contents remained untouched. She didn't drink and this was not the time to try for the first time.
When at last his tasks were finished he sat back slightly and smiled. His face changing from serious and business like to something more approachable. Not overly friendly, there was still a spark of something she couldn't name that shone in his eyes as they looked her over.

“You give good face, kid. Not everybody does anymore. Good face is important in entertainment.”

"Thank you." She smiled shyly as he lit his cigar. Her eye absent mindedly following the loops and curls of smoke that rose up from the match before they turned in to puffier, more cloud like, formations.

“Most of these other girls, they dance like their next meal depends on it. As often as not, that’s the case anyway—but you’re not like that. You don’t dance desperate, barely even deliberate—but you love it. That love shows through. Can I see your hands?”

"My hands?" She frowned, lifting up her hands in confusion and looking down at them. It seemed she hadn't misheard for his hand took hers and drew it towards him across the table. She felt her breath catch as his long, strong, fingers curled easily around her wrist. His skin surprisingly smooth. And warm.

“Smooth. Like polished porcelain. Unburned by stoves, unscarred by shuttle tosses, unbruised by abusive lovers. Most of those girls headed out the back door have hands like railway workers, sending them out that back door means they’ve got to go back to whatever it is wearing their hands away to the bone. Good hands are also important.”
His hand continued to hold hers, lightly, carefully but without hesitation. Adrianna's eyes darted from his face as it considered her to their hands and back again.

“I’m not going to stick around for callbacks, I’ve got other errands to run before we open—but if you’re brave, you might be able to help me with something. Our burlesque girl, she comes out between the acts, struts around to a vamp and peels her clothes off. She doesn’t look to be here yet and her outlook for showing doesn’t look good. If you’ve got the brass for it, you could fill her spots in the lineup tonight—we can call it your callback. You gotta be comfortable though—or at least fake it well. Face and hands are critical for burlesque. I think you’d be great, if you’re comfortable with stripping down to your underthings in front of a room full of strangers.”

She felt her eyes widen before she could do anything about it. Her hand suddenly released and his drink finished while he waited.

“What do you say, Goldie? Do you have the sand to step up and take it off?”

"Well, Mr Kline, I," she felt her voice tightening with nerves but she soldiered on regardless. "I can't say it was something I'd considered until now. It is, of course, a wonderful opportunity and for that I am very grateful."

But burlesque? Really? Her brother would kill her. Then her mother would. And then her brother would probably have a second go. Which is precisely why she continued as she did.

"But I would be a fool indeed if I let such a chance go by so, yes." She smiled, the same bright smile she had flashed from the stage. "I would love to try. I confess that I have very little experience of, well, that line of performance."

Of anything related to it either. Her mind added cruelly. She had been doted on by her older brother since their father's death, a fact she had grown up knowing but not really remembering. She had been so young when it had happened, she barely remembered him at all. Her brother's care had been all consuming, the best tutors, the best friends, the best of everything. Their home had become the most beautiful gilded cage one could imagine but a cage it was nonetheless. A young driver had smiled at her one day, smiled and nothing more. But her brother had seen it and so the driver had been released from his position by the next day. He had been so overzealous in his protection that here she was sneaking out to try and live a little in the world he was so desperate to keep her away from.

"But I can promise I won't let you down, Mr Kline." Another bright smile. "I'll give it everything I've got." As the realisation of how her words could be taken she felt heat flooding her cheeks. "So to speak." She laughed, nervously, fingers taking hold of the tumbler more out of a need to do something than any real desire to actually drink whatever he had poured for her. Nevertheless, the glass found its way to her lips and a generous sip was taken. The whisky burning at her throat and making her eyes water. She coughed, setting the heavy glass back down and pressing the back of her hand to her mouth. Catching his eyes with a bashful expression as she fought to catch her breath and overcome the sudden wave of nausea that swept through her. "This would be another of the things that are on my list to be experienced."

* * *​

A few hours later, Adrianna's heels were beating a hurried rhythm against the sidewalk. She had returned home, given the dress back to the maid, along with a couple of twenties to make sure the loan stayed between the two of them and that the story she'd told of staying the night at a friend's would be passed on. Now a small bag bounced against her leg as she all but marched back towards the Fleur Du Lys. Inside were a couple of dresses of her own this time. She'd taken a pair of scissors to them both to try and make them a little more suited to the kind of performance she would be expected to give. Assuming she made it in time, she was going to be cutting it fine as it was.

Before leaving the club earlier she had been shown to the costume room, filled with feathered and sparkling garments from floor to ceiling, she'd tried on a few pieces of underwear as they were something she definitely couldn't bring from home. Basques and corsets and so on. She'd blushed as the very plain spoken wardrobe mistress had laced her into one of the black satin pieces of lingerie.

"Lucky there's not much of you to cinch in," a cigarette had been poised at the corner of her mouth throughout the brief fitting, Adrianna had found herself idly wondering if this rather matronly lady had ever been on the stage herself but she doubted it somehow. "That said, you've curves enough to keep them interested," her eyes had lingered on the cleavage created by the basque and Adrianna had coloured a shade or two pinker. "They'll like you. Just smile and always make them think they're going to get more than you ever intend to give them. Burlesque is a tease, a game. You're sweet, it'll be easy to have them hanging on every move you make."

With those words echoing in her mind, she was soon back at the club. This time going straight to the stage door and knocking on it sharply. A different face peeked out this time. Just as harried as most of the faces she'd seen earlier but not one she recognised.

"Yeah?"

"I'm in the show tonight."

"Course you are, kid, and I'm playing King Lear on Broadway next month. Come back when you're old enough."

"I am!" She insisted, bristling at being so quickly dismissed. "Adrianna, Mr Kline told me to come back tonight. A call back of sorts."

The eyes left her and glanced at something inside.
"Got no Adrianna on my list, honey."

"What about....Goldie?" Somehow she managed not to roll her eyes.

"Now that's a name I got!" The face broke in a totally different expression as the door was opened. "Come on in. Changing rooms are that way." He nodded towards where she'd found the fitting room earlier, glancing down at the watch at his wrist. "Find one that's empty and get ready. But be quiet. Curtain goes up in about fifteen minutes. You'll be on in twenty. So don't be all night about it either."

With that he left her to find her own way. Finding a room that had no one in it and no clothes left to indicate someone would be coming back in any time soon. She found she couldn't lock the door, so she wedged the chair against it instead. Stripping in lightning speed she shimmied into the basque that she'd picked out and pulled the stays tighter around herself. It was awkward but she managed it. Next came stockings and then one of the dresses she had brought from home. It was a relatively modest outfit when she'd started, reaching the floor with small capped sleeves and a modest neckline. After her scissors had done their thing, there was now a large slit running up to halfway up her thigh, the sleeves had gone to be replaced with thin straps and the neckline just skirted the top of the basque. It had looked lewd at home, with the basque now making the most of what she had been blessed with it looked almost too much. She had to laugh when she realised it was similar in shade to the dress she had auditioned in. A warmer tone of gold but gold all the same.

"I think I'm going to get stuck with that nickname if I'm not careful." She grinned, turning one way then the other to check her reflection in the slightly grubby mirror.
Too late to change now though. She quickly smudged dark make up around her eyes and carefully pinned up her long dark hair. A carefully placed pin meant that when she wanted, she could send the dark lengths cascading down with a simple move. Pulling on elbow length gloves she was as ready as she could ever be.

Soon she was waiting anxiously in the wings, the singer on stage coming to the end of her final song, and Adrianna found herself trembling. She'd made the mistake of peeking out from behind the curtain and seen the room was full. Every table had two or more people at it, waiters moved smoothly between them with drinks and food and while they weren't watching every second of what was happening on the stage, she knew they were taking it in. She scanned the faces looking for Mr Kline, but she didn't spot him. Perhaps it was for the best. If she was going to trip and land on her face, she wasn't sure she wanted him to be there to see it. Better hear he wasted his time from someone else.

The song ended and there was a drum roll. It was time.

She felt frozen to the spot. She couldn't do this. She just couldn't.

"Now or never, Goldie!" A voice hissed behind her while someone nudged her none too gently in the back and before she could do anything about it, she was on the stage.

The drum roll turned in a march like beat and her feet began to move without her really telling them too. Her hips began to sway in an exaggerated sashay as she crossed the stage and then doubled back to stand in the centre. Keeping her smile on her face and reminded herself that this was a means to an end, she bend slightly at the waist to pick up the bottom of her dress and lift it to reveal the split, parting the fabric to show her stocking clad legs beneath. At the first catcall she dropped the material and continued with her walking.

"...make them think they're going to get more than you ever intend to give them..."
With her smile growing she did just that, a glove peeled off here, a shoulder strap lowered there. Long dark hair sent tumbling down around her shoulders. By the time she was ready to unhook her dress, she could feel the eyes burning into her. She had the audience in the palm of her hand and as much as it shocked her. She loved it.

A flick of her fingers and the dress fell to pool around her ankles. There was a chorus of yells and shouts and with a final coy smile and a wink, she took up the same pose she'd ended her audition with and the curtains rushed closed before her. The applause on the other side filtering through as she gathered up her costume and quickly got off the stage. Shaking all the way to the dressing room she was caught between laughing and crying. She'd done it and, going on the response, done it well.

While she tried to gather her thoughts there was a knock at the door and the dancer from the audition poked her head around it.
"Where the hell did that come from?" She teased, a wicked sparkle in her eyes. "I'm going to get you a drink from the bar, you deserve one. You're not on again for another hour so just relax, Goldie. I'll be back in a few."
As she closed the door behind her, Adrianna flopped down into the chair and closed her eyes.
"That...that was terrifyingly good." She grinned to herself.
 
Sean smiled for what felt like the first time all day, a real smile—not a glad-handing impersonation—something about this dame was so irrepressibly endearing, he couldn’t help it. She obviously wasn’t much of a drinker, a fact that already gave her an edge in terms of longevity over her predecessor—but the way she held her flawless hand over her mouth as she tried to stomach the potent drink was enough to coax a smile out of him.

Goldie’s agreement to take up the challenge of working as the burlesque emcee of his variety show did little to wipe the smile from Sean’s lips. Though he knew that rationally she was merely agreeing to work under his employment, it felt (as always) like he was acquiring her on a deeper level—his own personal little dancing doll, to do with as he pleased—though he doubted he’d do much aside from share her with his paying customers in a purely performance oriented capacity.

Nonetheless, he was glad, genuinely glad to add his pretty, pampered, young Goldie to his company.

“You’ll have to let me see that list of yours sometime, kid. We’ll see if we can’t check a few more boxes off of that thing.” Sean smiled with a knowing wink as he took the tumbler from in front of Goldie and drained the rest of the Scotch down her throat. “Five o’clock. Stage door. Jaq will make sure you’ve got whatever you need.”

*~*~*​

Sean’s office overlooked the club from a story above the main floor with a perfect view of the stage—though at the moment people were mostly setting scene elements and arranging props for the looming opening of the house. Within the hardwood and brown leather of Sean’s impressive office, three of the seven heads of the major crime families were gathered.

There was Don Luccio, the hard-nosed Italian who had earned his reputation through brothels and loan sharking operations before evolving into the bootlegging business. The Luccio Family ran the South Side, everything from 63rd to 138th, all the way to the water—though the colored gangs were gaining more and more influence as time went on. Luccio’s territory gave him ample opportunity for disposing of bodies when called upon—for a price, of course. His Achilles heel had always been his temper, he had a reputation for flying off the rails at the slightest provocation. He owned the police though, which made him a very important friend and a fatal enemy.

Then there was Micky Donnovan, the Irish head of a vast crime network based out of Massachusetts but with ties extending well beyond. Chicago had been one of his first targets for expanding his operation, due to its vibrant nightlife and proximity to the border. The fact that he owned and operated several speakeasy clubs within Sean’s sphere of influence made their alliance tenuous at best, but Mick was a smart man (in spite of his heritage) and could be reasoned with more often than the average WOP thug, and his authority was unquestioned among his subordinates.

Lastly, there was Calamity Johnson—the first and (to Sean’s knowledge) only negro thug to earn a seat at the table with the who’s-who of organized crime. In spite of his nickname (Sean assumed it was a nickname, but had never heard him referred to as anything else), Cal was an even tempered and calm sort of person. The kind that would have been called an intellectual if he’d been any color other than black. Sean had never even seen Cal raise so much as his voice, but whenever problems arose for him, they evaporated quickly, quietly and permanently without so much as a newspaper clipping to commemorate the departed. Sean had heard a rumor that Cal knew a way of melting bodies down in acid until nothing remained—but it seemed far too fantastical to believe.

“So why are we here, Kline. I’m a very busy man, as you know.” Luccio, ever the impatient one spoke first.

“What am I, sitting around with my thumb up my ass? I’ve got businesses to run too—but the way things are now, I’ve got no room to operate.” Sean said calmly, his back to the group, watching customers begin to filter in and take their places in the cabaret seating around the now immaculate and vacant stage. “This Ciccone kid, he’s got no respect for nothing. That’s the problem with these young thugs—you give them room to work—they want a bigger piece of the pie, you give them a bigger piece—they want a seat at the table, you give them a seat—they want to sit at the head of the damn thing. It’s never ending.”

“To my knowledge, the cease fire has been respected.” Cal weighed in, a man of few words, but when he spoke he cut right to the quick. “On both sides.”

“Sure, he’s stopped dropping my guys—but he’s doubled down on recruiting, so now I can’t even find replacements for those that he did kill. He’s building a damn army—on my fucking turf and I’m not just going to sit around and wait for him to bring the hammer down. I want that punk dead!” Sean turned back from the window, letting his contemporaries see the passion etched across his face. “He disrespected me, worse than that—he came out of it looking like the victor. This cease-fire is giving him all the leverage he needs to go around saying that he runs central Chicago, and with respect, it’s time to prove him wrong.”

“War is bad for business.” Donnovan chimed in, lighting a cigarette. “I understand your frustration, but if you go after Ciccone, everybody’s business suffers.”

“Your business suffers if I don’t provide you with booze.” Sean countered.

“What makes you think we can’t get it from where you get it from? A little birdie told me that your Canadian connect is increasingly dissatisfied with the state of your relationship.” Donnovan retorted, never one to let anyone else get the last word. “Do you really think that your role as middle-man gives you leverage over me?”

“Get the fuck on then, and find your own connect.” Sean answered, calling his bluff.

“Enough!” Luccio intervened, and when Luccio said it was enough—it was. “The cease fire remains in effect. I have no sympathy for your inability to recruit or your bruised ego. Learn to coexist or get left behind. There’s no other choice.”

*~*~*​

Sean was bitter with how the meeting had gone, and his angry drinking evidenced that dissatisfaction. The one bright spot in his evening was managing to catch the end of Goldie’s first set from the back of the house. In spite of everything, she had a knack for brightening his mood, like she could reach inside of him and turn his mindset like a dial.

True to his intuition, even standing at the back of the house as he was, Goldie’s vibrant expression and sincere enthusiasm made him feel like she was right next to him, rubbing his shoulders and whispering that everything was going to be alright.

How did she do that?

There was something about her that felt oddly familiar, but Sean couldn’t place it—at least not in his current state of drunkenness. For now he didn’t care, he just wanted to watch her, see her wearing less and less until she barely had anything covering that sensuous body of hers.

Right then he made up his mind and summoned the stage manager in the wings all the way from the back of the house with a simple inclination of his head. When the man arrived, breathless and frazzled at being so out of place in the midst of his performance.

“When she’s finished—not before—but when she’s finished, send Goldie up to my office. I’ll pay her out of the cash drawer tonight, at least until we can get her on the books.”

“Good thinking boss, we ought to start by finding out her real name.

“You getting smart with me?”

“No sir, I’ll have her come up as soon as she finishes.”
 
Soon enough she was back on the stage, another dress and a slightly different routine. This dress was also gold but this one had no straps to hold it up. Tight around her bust, it seemed to defy gravity as she swayed around the stage. Heavily beaded, it seemed to tinkle as she moved. She smiled coyly when she met the eye of a man in the audience, feeling a little heat rush to her cheeks when he winked at her. He mouthed something too but she was too nervous to register what it was. She leant against the side of the stage to ease off a glove this time, trailing it across her chest before letting it drop soundlessly to the floor. By the end of the act she was once again in the corset style basque and stockings with precious little else and as the curtains closed she felt the same rush she had earlier in the evening. It wasn’t dancing, not at all, but it was performing and that…that was a feeling she was sure she could quickly grow addicted to.

Smiling all the way back to the changing room she had just sunk into her chair when there was a sharp knocking at the door. Frowning she got up and opened it a little. On the other side was the stage manager. He looked unimpressed.

“Yes?”

“Mr Kline wants to see you, now, in his office.” The manager announced abruptly, already starting to turn away from her and continue with his neverending list of jobs.

“What…now? You mean, right now?” Adrianna swallowed anxiously, hiding behind the door slightly. Stood only in her basque, stockings and heels she felt suddenly aware of how little she was covered up, even though minutes before tens of people had been looking at her in exactly the same state of dress, it seemed different without the lights and the drum. “Can’t he wait a few minutes? I should get dress-“

“Look, I’m busy, kid. I ain’t got time to be running messages back and forth, and certainly not from you. He said to send you to his office as soon as you were finished. So here you are, finished, and here I am, sending you. He’s not a fan of being kept waiting either so I’d get that pretty little behind up there quick if you knew what was good for you.” With an exasperated sound, the manager shrugged and headed off down the corridor at a frantic pace.

Closing the door, Adrianna glanced at herself in the mirror. Stage make up still on, hair curling down her back and the sheen of the black satin shining as she moved, she couldn’t just go as she was but…she might not have time to change. Getting out of the corset alone would take several minutes. Minutes she might not have. Unrolling the bundle of clothes she’d scooped up to bring with her off stage, she quickly pulled the strapless golden dress from her second act back on. The hook at the front meant she appeared fully dressed in the blink of an eye, even if it was both somehow over dressed and under dressed all at the same time.

Seconds later she was scurrying along the maze of corridors that led around the side of the main room and up towards Mr Kline’s office. One hand holding up the front of the dress so she didn’t trip on the stairs, the other held almost protectively over her cleavage. She wasn’t used to showing off so much of herself. With every step she tried to figure out why she had been sent for. Surely she hadn’t been that bad.

The slightly confusing directions she’d gotten from a stage hand had been enough to get her to where she needed to be and soon she was stood at the door to Mr Kline’s office. A second was taken to catch her breath and she knocked. Trying to pull up the front of her dress over her bust a little so not quite so much skin would be on show, it didn’t really do anything. She heard his voice call out after a beat and she pushed open the door tentatively. She had no idea if he had called her here to congratulate her or fire her. Both options seemed worrying, whichever one it turned out to be.

The office wasn’t overly large but it was well furnished. He was a successful man and she knew the room wouldn’t be anything less than grand but it wasn’t gaudy. There was precious little brass and gilt on show. Just lots of polished wood and leather furniture. Adrianna could tell just from looking around that he knew where to put his money and that didn’t include wasting it on ornaments or baubles for his desk.

“Hi. You wanted to see me, Mr Kline?” She smiled nervously, coming around the door to stand just inside the room, hands clasped behind her back with her fingers twisting anxiously. “I hope I did alright, down there, I’d hate to think I’d let you down.” Her eyes met his and she felt heat creeping back into her face again and she had to look away for a moment. “I tried my best, I just hope it was enough.”
 
Once the business of meeting with the local bosses was finished, Sean began drinking in earnest. He was frustrated and angry that the others hadn’t sympathized with his plight or appreciated his deference to the establishment and refused his request to suspend the ceasefire. At the bottom of his fifth tumbler of Scotch, Sean decided to make himself comfortable and began hanging up his suit on the rosewood rack beside his desk.

The coat was hung first and then the meticulous task of unbuttoning his vest followed and joined the coat on the multi-tiered rack for preserving clothing. His tie was unknotted, hanging limply around his neck and he was just in the midst of uncuffing his sleeves, slipping the gold fleur-du-lys icon of his cufflinks through the button holes. Just as he was finished rolling back his first sleeve, an unexpected knock came at his door, startling him a bit. He’d forgotten that he’d sent for the lovely burlesque girl altogether.

“Come on!” Sean called through the door, fixing his cufflink through the hole again about a quarter of the way up his muscular arm.

When he saw her, Sean instantly remembered that he’d sent for Goldie and why. It wasn’t uncommon for Sean to have dancers sent up to his private office, nor was it unusual for them to emerge some hours later in various stages of dishevelment. One of many fringe benefits of being the man in charge—which was good, since the drawbacks were weighing so heavy on Sean’s mind. He was consumed with fear and anger over the moves being made against him and his interests, Goldie would be a good distraction from the politics of the streets.

“Ahh, Goldie, lovely as ever. Welcome.” Sean smiled, fixing his opposite sleeve to match the first as he turned back toward the center of the room. “Come on in, make yourself comfortable.”

It was lost on Sean how impossible his request of Goldie was, in her skimpy costume and unforgiving undergarments, for her to make herself comfortable would have required quite a bold feat of undressing that her visible nervousness seemed to preclude. She blushed faintly as Sean’s eyes caressed her barely covered chest for longer than he realized and she squirmed faintly in nervous tension, making nervous chatter about her performance, apparently worried that she was summoned for negative reasons.

“Oh stop. You were fantastic!” Sean chuckled, walking over to lean on the front edge of his desk. “You’re a natural, kid. Don’t sweat it, I did throw you out there to the wolves on short notice. Rest assured, I’m plenty impressed with what you did out there.”

Leaning back, Sean wavered slightly as he flipped open the cash box that rested opposite his humidor on his desk. He pulled a crisp twenty-dollar bill from the box and creased it in the middle.

“You’re not on the books yet, so we can’t track your hours. I wanted to make sure you were taken care of before you left so that you didn’t think I just threw you out there with no compensation.” Sean smiled, realizing too late that he’d grabbed too much money. Most dancers would be lucky to clear twenty dollars in a month, but he couldn’t reach back now without making a fool of himself. “Consider this an advance on your next few shows until we get the bookkeeping all squared away.”

With the folded bill held between his index and middle fingers, Sean beckoned Goldie closer with the bill, indicating that she should approach to accept her generous pay. This time, he didn’t even thinly disguise his lingering gaze as it wandered over her luscious body and exposed skin. He enjoyed watching her move, both on and off the stage. He wanted to drink her up.

“You’ve got the knack, kid. You really do.” Sean smiled as she approached, reaching out with his hand not holding cash to lightly brush a lock of hair behind her ear and then moving down to the back of her neck. “I look forward to both of us making lots of money off of each other.”

When the space between them was little enough to be tense, Sean swiftly broke the tension by planting his lips on hers, guiding her into the deep, liquor scented kiss with his hand on her neck. The bill was passed, his fingertips trailing over her hand as the exchange was made, slipping around to the small of her back and drifting lower.

Inside his slacks, Sean’s cock was growing hard, he could feel it and felt certain that Goldie could feel it too. He wondered if she’d excel at her offstage duties the way she did at her onstage performance.
 
“Oh stop. You were fantastic! You’re a natural, kid. Don’t sweat it, I did throw you out there to the wolves on short notice. Rest assured, I’m plenty impressed with what you did out there.”
Adrianna beamed, cheeks flushing pink with pride as she tried not to look too giddy in response to his praise.
"I'm glad to hear it, Mr Kline." She smiled, eyes widening as she saw the money appear in his fingers. Her family was well heeled but she knew the value of money and guessed that such a wage was nigh impossible for a dancer to earn so quickly.

“You’re not on the books yet, so we can’t track your hours. I wanted to make sure you were taken care of before you left so that you didn’t think I just threw you out there with no compensation. Consider this an advance on your next few shows until we get the bookkeeping all squared away.”
"Of course, thank you," Adrianna watched the folded bill bob backwards and forwards in his fingers a few times before she realised he was silently inviting her to come and collect it.

She slowly walked over, tongue moistening suddenly dry lips. Realising, as if for the first time, how much taller than her he was. His frame was lean but going by the shape of his forearms exposed beneath the folded sleeves of his shirt she could tell he was strong. She glanced up, not wanting to be seen staring at her employer as she was and saw that his own eyes were no where near her face. Her cheeks grew several degrees hotter when at last his eyes forced their way up from her body and returned to her own.

“You’ve got the knack, kid. You really do."
"Thanks," Adrianna fought the urge to flinch as his hand moved towards her face, his fingers oddly warm as they grazed her cheek while moving the errant lock of hair back behind her ear. Unable, however, to shop herself shivering as the same hand continued to move and stroked down the back of her neck.

They were close. So very close. She'd never been this close with anyone she wasn't related to and certainly not with anyone who made her feel so...tingly.
“I look forward to both of us making lots of money off of each other.”
"I...I hope so too," she smiled awkwardly, hating how girlish her voice suddenly sounded. Nothing like the vampy character she had projected on the stage. "I'm sure-"
His lips stopped hers before they made her sound any more naïve than she already did.

He tasted like whisky and something richer, his lips smooth and unexpectedly gentle. A tremor that started somewhere in the depths of her core worked it's way all the way up her spine, making her shiver and sigh softly against his mouth. Somewhere in the middle of the deafening roar that was her heartbeat she felt his other hand press the money into her palm before skirting around her waist to rest upon her rear.

Adrianna felt herself leaning into him, the inches between them vanishing with every passing second, until the heavily beaded front of her dress was resting against his shirt. Her chin was tilted up to keep her lips in contact with his and her hands moved to rest lightly on his chest, the twenty clutched in one of them.

"Well," she forced herself to lean back. Both to catch her breath and to try and calm herself down, "that's another thing I can cross of that list of mine." She admitted bashfully before adding quickly. "Never kissed my boss before."
She was certain he thought she was at least a little experienced with men, if not as experienced as other girls she was sure he knew. She could feel a firm heat between them, pressing against her as she leant against her, and as much as she thought it would make her nervous, it only made her more excited.
Her tongue moved over her lips, gathering the strong taste of his drink and that other flavour that was him and him alone and using the pause to try and rein in her desire to talk too much.

"Is this how you welcome all your new employees?" She smiled, coyly. Both hoping that it wasn't, and hoping that whatever it was...it wasn't over.
 
Sean sighed a little through his nose, caressing Goldie’s cheek as his tongue just gently slid against her bottom lip, feeling its plush silkiness against the tip of his sensitive muscle. When she broke the kiss, his hand widened around the firm globe of her ass, pulling her back against the now rigid staff of flesh that was pressing up against the beaded front of her dress through his slacks.

“No, I don’t.” Calvin smiled in response to her flustered response and question as to whether he did this with all the dancers. Not all, only most. “I wish you wouldn’t think of me as just some boss, though. I’d rather you think of me as a benefactor. Someone who can look after you and help you to achieve your ambitions. That’s what I’d like to be to you.”

With that, his fingers combed their way up into her hair and he grabbed a fistful to anchor her and pulled her into a ferocious kiss, his tongue no longer a humble supplicant. His tongue sought hers out like a guided missile and caressed against it urgently, beckoning it into another uptempo number.

His hand bend double, pressing the back of her dress up between her thighs somewhat forcefully as he squeezed her hard enough to make his forearm muscles tense. He made a noise, neither a sigh nor a moan—a sort of grunt—Uhngh! as he pulled her against his rigid cock where it was along his thigh. He released her hair in favor of unbuckling his belt, he wanted to feel these beads against bare skin.

With a few turns of his hips and a swift unzipping, Sean set his cock free and felt it slip against the smooth plastic beads of her costume. This time he moaned, breaking the kiss and looking into Goldie’s eyes.

“You know what to do with one of these, huh Goldie? You ready to cross some more firsts off of whatever list it is you got going?”

Sean smiled, this was as much of an audition as that little number this afternoon. The Burlesque style had packed the house, he’d be seeing a lot more of Goldie if she could keep up with Jaq’s fastidious choreography—unless she couldn’t please him. Sean was vain enough to dismiss her if she gave his patrons so much but couldn’t give him what he wanted from a featured dancer. Just because she could distinguish herself on stage wasn’t enough for him, he needed a girl who could distinguish herself behind closed doors too. A girl like that could be useful in a lot of ways.
 
“No, I don’t. I wish you wouldn’t think of me as just some boss, though. I’d rather you think of me as a benefactor. Someone who can look after you and help you to achieve your ambitions. That’s what I’d like to be to you.”

"I do, I mean, I can, I mean-" Her flustered attempt at making sure she hadn't offended him was quickly stopped in it's tracks by easily the most thorough kiss she had ever experienced. It was deep and a little rough and she had felt an odd pulse between her thighs when his hand had wound into her hair as it had. It made her feel like her spine was simultaneously melting and hardening to push them closer together. As his tongue danced back and forth confidently with hers following meekly in it's wake, she grew more away of the hard heat pressing into her dress. Adrianna was finding it harder and harder not to wonder just what it looked like, would feel like...

Then his hands moved and she felt it more definitely against her dress. Rubbing back and forth against the beaded patterning across her stomach. He paused his kiss enough for her too look down. There was no way she could have hidden the widening of her eyes as she saw an erect shaft for the first time. It looked larger than she'd thought and all together more tempting.

“You know what to do with one of these, huh Goldie? You ready to cross some more firsts off of whatever list it is you got going?”

She shook her head before looking up and meeting his eyes with hers once more.
"I think I can figure it out..." She smiled shyly, licking her lips as a hand tentatively reached towards him.

She'd heard maids and drivers, business associates of her brothers, sharing stories of their own encounters with the other sex. She didn't live in a convent after all. She knew the types of things couples did together, the kinds of things good girls like her were never supposed to know about, never mind do.

Gasping when her fingertips grazed him for the first time, her eyes flicked back up to his for a second before she wrapped her hand around him and slowly stroked from the base to the tip and back down. He was so very hot in her hand, so hard and yet...so smooth. She stroked again, trying to define in her own mind how it felt. Again and again she ran her hand along him, small fingers tight around his girth, before the desire to look more closely came into her head.

She wanted to see him, see it, properly. Slipping smoothly onto her knees, the dress tinkling as it pooled on the floor around her, she was able to look more closely at his cock. Watching as her hand pumped back and forth, listening to the sounds he made before noticing a small bead of liquid forming at the tip. Frowning curiously she leant nearer. Before really thinking about it, she moved closer still and tentatively licked the bead away. Then looking quickly up the length of his body to make sure she hadn't done something wrong.
 
Sean sighed deeply and leaned his head back against the cool glass of the window overlooking the main floor of his now mostly empty nightclub. Goldie’s hand was as soft as if she’d still been wearing her silken costume gloves, but she wasn’t—that was all her. Her hand wasn’t rough or calloused from thankless manual labor or demands of a malcontented lover, her movements weren’t practiced or expert, as if she was touching a man for the first time.

Most—hell, every dancer who compiled a resume worthy of being hired on at the Fleur had earned their chops by doing this type of “favor” for everyone from stage hands to owners—but Goldie was different. When their eyes locked, Sean thought he could see genuine awe and curiosity behind them, but maybe she was just a convincing actress. It didn’t make much difference to Sean, though—the “little dame lost” routine was doing it for him.

She started stroking him, thoroughly, tenderly and soon his head began to spin from the whiskey.

“Oh God, yes—that’s it. Use that tongue, Goldie. Get it nice and wet.” Sean sighed, eyes pointed up at the ceiling as the unmistakable caress of a tongue delighted the sensitive flesh of his cockhead.

Instinctively, Sean’s hand came down to grasp the back of Goldie’s head, his hands slipping in amongst her brunette curls—not pushing or pulling, just leisurely along for the ride.

“Take it in, go on. No need to be shy now. Just take it into your mouth.” Sean looked back down, seeking her eyes as he went on, “Suck my cock.”

He gripped her hair a little tighter now, staring deep into her eyes as he moved his hips forward to push the head of his cock past her lips and into her mouth. He groaned out loud and used his grip on her hair to push in deeper.

“Play with my balls too, be gentle, but give them a nice stroke.” Sean instructed, releasing the pressure on the back of her head and pulling back with his hips.
 
“Oh God, yes—that’s it. Use that tongue, Goldie. Get it nice and wet.”

Before she could try to lick him again, she felt his hand land on the back of her head. His fingers combing through her hair and finding a comfortably hold. Instinctively she licked again, this time more than the tip coming from between her lips, a long slow lick across the head. Mimicking the motion she'd make with an ice cream, again and again she licked. Gradually making the end of him wetter and wetter.

“Take it in, go on. No need to be shy now. Just take it into your mouth. Suck my cock.”
Her eyes looked up and met his, she smiled with the tip of him against her lips and then his hips and hand ensured she did as he wanted.
His cock felt heavier than she'd expected when she felt it slip into her mouth and rest upon her tongue. He also felt larger too, her lips stretching to take him in. Obediently she relaxed her jaw, making her mouth wider and more open for him. She'd felt an odd thrill deep in the pit of her stomach when his hand had tightened in her hair and then another when he groaned. A thrill of something like pride when it became clear he liked what she was doing.

“Play with my balls too, be gentle, but give them a nice stroke.” She nodded slightly and increased the pressure in her mouth as she pushed forward to keep him in her mouth as his hips retreated. She lifted a hand to cup the weighted flesh at the base of his shaft. They felt warmer and softer than she'd have thought. She cupped them in her palm and rolled them slightly, massaging them.

She almost laughed to herself when she realised how she must look. The flashy dress that barely contained her figure, on her knees, with a man's cock deep in her mouth...and he didn't even know her name. Not really.

She knew she should be appalled with him, with herself, for doing what she was. She knew her brother would be. Which is possibly why she tried to take Sean a little deeper into her mouth as she imagined how furious he would be with her.

Adrianna was so focused on thinking about how much she would anger her sibling that she only realised she'd moved too far forward when his cock pushed against the back of her throat and she gagged. Eyes watering as the sensation made her instinctively pull back and away from him, trying to catch her breath when he came out of her mouth.

"S-sorry," she said softly, the hand that had held his balls moving to rest upon his thigh, "I...I guess I got a little carried away there." She smiled, in spite of the tears glistening in her eyes as she looked up at him. "Maybe I can't cross that off my list entirely just yet."
 
“Nah, don’t be sorry Goldie. That’s how you’re supposed to do,” Sean smiled, stroking the side of Goldie’s face as she looked up at him, “you really are new to this business, aren’t you?”

Sean let her catch her breath, gently moving a lock of her chestnut colored hair back behind her ear with two fingers. He couldn’t help but wonder again if she was just putting him on, playing the role of innocent, doe-eyed inexperience. Of course she wouldn’t know how to use her throat, she was just a sweet, innocent dame lost in the woods—and he was the big, bad wolf. He decided to huff, and puff, and make her take his cock down.

“You know how you get to Carnegie Hall, don’t ya?” Sean smiled, angling one hand at the back of Goldie’s head as the other moved across her forehead to gently tug her head into a backward leaning angle. “Practice—say ahhh-!”

When Goldie’s mouth fell open, Sean wasted no time in thrusting himself down on her, jabbing his cock into her throat and pulling her head roughly into his lap. Sean pushed until his cock was fully sheathed into Goldie’s sweet, little throat with his balls resting against her chin. He drew his hips back just enough to let her pass a little hiccup of air and then he was shoving himself back down, stuffing his cockhead into the clenching, suction cup of her throat. He released her head all at once then, his hips still bearing forward.

“C’mon, take it down yourself this time—show me how much you like being my girl. C’mon, don’t get discouraged, c’mon. Nobody said being a dancer was going to be easy.”

Sean pulled his hips back, finally withdrawing himself from the warm, clenching refuge of Goldie’s throat. Clear strands of saliva, mucus and throat jelly clung to him, linking his shaft to the back of her throat as his bubbly, dripping cock pulled away.

“I think I might like to fuck you tonight, kid. This whole innocent routine’s got me hard enough to crack marble. But first, I need you to show me how quick you can learn. I want you to swallow me down and lick my balls with your throat stuffed. If you can do that—I think you’ll be quite satisfied with working here. If you can’t… we already have more auditions scheduled for tomorrow.”
 
“Nah, don’t be sorry Goldie. That’s how you’re supposed to do, you really are new to this business, aren’t you?”

She nodded with a shy smile. The brush of his fingers across her face making her squirm slightly. There was something in the tone of his voice, that gleam in his eyes, something that touched a deeper part of her psyche. A part she wasn't even sure she could name let alone understand. She liked the way he looked at her.

“You know how you get to Carnegie Hall, don’t ya?” His hand swept through her hair and she tilted her face upwards obediently, shaking it slightly. “Practice—say ahhh-!”

She opened her mouth and began to make the sound he had told her too when the noise was instantly muffled by the forceful rentry of his cock into her mouth. Deep and then deeper, thrusting into her throat while the hands in her hair made sure she cooperated. Her hands flew to his thighs, instinct making her try to push away while her eyes were suddenly flooded with tears. She couldn't breathe, her mouth filled entirely and her throat invaded, but what worried her the most was the heat still building between her thighs.

He withdrew enough for her to slurp a breath around him and then he claimed her mouth and throat again. She could hear the gurgling sounds of her body trying to do what it was supposed to do while he continued to speak from above.

“C’mon, take it down yourself this time—show me how much you like being my girl. C’mon, don’t get discouraged, c’mon. Nobody said being a dancer was going to be easy.”

Then he was gone again, hands leaving her head and cock withdrawing from her throat and mouth once more. Bobbing enticingly before her while she fought to breathe, coughing and gagging.

“I think I might like to fuck you tonight, kid. This whole innocent routine’s got me hard enough to crack marble. But first, I need you to show me how quick you can learn. I want you to swallow me down and lick my balls with your throat stuffed. If you can do that—I think you’ll be quite satisfied with working here. If you can’t… we already have more auditions scheduled for tomorrow.”

She should go. What he was doing was far beyond wrong. He had clearly taken advantage of his position and while she had gotten on her knees willingly what he had just done was surely bordering on a crime. But Adrianna didn't get up. She didn't flounce haughtily from the room like a young lady of her social status should, she just knelt there. Her cheeks damp with the tears his cock had caused, chest heaving within the tight costume, her hands still braced on his thighs.

There was something else in the air now, she could sense it. There was his need, his desire for her, but there was also another need. Her own. She wanted to do what he asked, in part to please him and to see that smile again, but in part to see what would happen if she did. So many feelings were rushing through her inexperienced body that she was at a loss to truly understand. She'd gone to the theatre to prove to herself she could do things without her brother hovering over her to ensure the end result was 'fixed' in her favour. She'd gone back to see how it would feel to perform, really perform, to an audience. She'd gone to his office worried that the door to this exciting, intoxicating new world was going to be closed to her. That door might close again and she couldn't think of anything worse in that moment.

Taking a deep breath and fixing her eyes on his she opened her mouth wide and took the head of him back into her mouth. After a slight pause Adrianna slowly took him back inside. She pushed until he bumped the back of her mouth and forced herself to continue. She gagged as he slipped into her throat but she didn't stop. A fresh tear rolled down her cheek as her lips reached the base of him and she flicked the tip of her outstretched tongue, squashed beneath his cock, against the soft sacs dangling just before her mouth. She stayed like that, for as long as she could stand it. It couldn't have been long, seconds perhaps, but as she drew back she was privately proud she hadn't given in to the urge to retch that had swept over her.

Once sitting back on her heels she smiled hopefully up at him. Realising that in her desperation to keep the job she shouldn't even have she had opened herself up to doing something far more intimate with the man stood over her she felt a twinge of panic. What she'd just done was bad enough but to...could she even say the word he used?

"I haven't...I mean," her cheeks flushed bright red as she glanced down at the floor, making herself look back up into his face, no doubt stoking the 'innocent routine' he seemed to be enjoying so much, "...I've never..." She couldn't bring herself to say it, she felt embarrassed admitting it to him. Worried that to say it might stop him.

If her family had anything to do with it, her first time would be on her wedding night with a husband they had probably pre-approved, if not found for her. Not in an office with a man she'd known for less than a day.

She knew which one she wanted right then, which one her body needed.
 
Sean sighed and groaned loudly as Goldie throat-stroked him like a practiced whore, struggling to contain her gag reflex but succeeding. Determined, that was a good trait for a showgirl. When she slid back up his length again, Sean’s eyes rolled back in his head and his lids fluttered for a moment. Damn she felt good. The bashful, adoring look in her eyes—the sweet, way she kept smiling up at him—Sean felt a familiar sense of foreboding. Her charms were working on him, he was catching feelings for her already.

When she said, or almost said that her innocence wasn’t an act, Sean’s eyes grew wide and he sobered up quickly. A virgin? No, she couldn’t be—not a dancer. Yet, her face held no hint of duplicity, her eyes were plaintive and sincere. A virgin. Sean instantly regretted threatening her with replacement. The little-dame-lost routine wasn’t a routine at all. She was an honest-to-goodness angel in the flesh. This called for a change in tactics.

“Come here, Goldie.” Sean said softly, taking her fingers into his hand and helping her to her feet. “Look, I—I’m sorry about what I said, alright? The job’s yours, you’ve earned it.”

Sean slid his arm around the small of her back gently and pulled her closer, his still hard cock pressed against the outline of her thighs through the dress. He slid his palm slowly across her cheek and leaned in to kiss her sweetly, wiping away a tear from her cheek.

“If you really haven’t before, not ever, I don’t want to pressure you into it. I’m a gentleman, after all. But if you do—want to, I mean. If you want to do it right here and now, I can show you wonderful things.”

With that, he kissed her again, not sweet and gentle like he’d been the first time, but ferocious and lustful—a sexual kiss that brought his tongue into the sanctuary of her mouth. While the one arm remained around the small of her back, his other hand moved down to caress and gently squeeze the firm globes of her ass. He wanted her, that was true—but not at the cost of putting her off of men for good, if she was reluctant.

He wanted—no, he needed her to want him too. He needed her to know that she did and admit it.

***

“Shut up!” Frank Ciccone hissed through the burlap sack that served as a mask for him and his two associates. “Just hurry up and load the truck, we don’t want anyone noticing we’re here.”

“I’m just worried, I think that it’d be safest if we killed ‘em. We’re breaking the cease-fire anyway by rippin’ Kline off, we might as well make sure that nobody can identify us. Who knows what those mooks think they saw.”

“I’m tellin’ you no. A cease fire is just that, a cease fire. Long as we don’t off nobody, we’re in the clear. Luccio all but told me so himself. Let’s just load the truck up and get the hell out of here.”

Frank stacked another wooden crate filled with bottles, rattling faintly against each other within, in spite of the straw packed in around them. The cloth covered truck was almost full with crates, packed in together and stacked six high. When they were finished, they’d make off with just over fifty gallons of hooch. Enough to put a noticeable dent in Kline’s bottom line and set Frankie up to make pure profit off the bar for over a month. It seemed like one had to be a crook to survive in the bootleg business.

The guards had been knocked unconscious, the element of surprise worked in Frankie’s favor and neither had been able to draw their weapons before getting dropped by the butt of a shotgun. Their pistols only added to the overall value of this raid. They were tied up and no longer a threat, but Paulie wasn’t convinced.

“I’m tellin’ you. Those guards know it was us, they’ll tell Kline so when they wake up, whether they got proof or not. At least if we off them, he won’t have anything to go on except his own knee-jerk intuition. Then if he moves against us we can rally the other bosses to us and—“

“Shut the fuck up!” Frankie hissed again, grabbing Paul by his collar and dragging him behind the truck as a pair of headlights passed the warehouse, “the only one who’s gonna bust us is you. Now finish loading the truck.”

The crew finished packing the truck with every last crate they could fit, even loading five more into the cab of the vehicle (not usually recommended for bootlegging runs). They didn’t want to stash the crates at the club, since that would likely be the first place that Kline and his goons went looking for them, so instead, Frankie and the others moved every last drop of the stolen booze up to the apartment that Frankie shared with his kid sister.

The crates stacked up from floor to ceiling around the perimeter of the living room and through most of the halls, though Adrianna’s room and the shared bathroom were spared at least. Each crate bore the name of its former owner, painted in black across the wooden exteriors. All around the already snug fifth floor walk-up, the walls were pushed in, reading: KLINE, KLINE, KLINE, KLINE, KLINE, KLINE, KLINE.
 
His expression changed in an instant, his voice switching to something far more gentle as he helped her to her feet. Something in his eyes and voice and the touch of his hand sending a tingle down her spine and stoking the heat in her cheeks.

“Look, I—I’m sorry about what I said, alright? The job’s yours, you’ve earned it.”

He pulled her close and kissed her again, her arms stole up around his neck. Partly just to feel him closer to her and partly to hold herself up. The tender kiss making her knees feel more than a little weak all of a sudden.

“If you really haven’t before, not ever, I don’t want to pressure you into it. I’m a gentleman, after all. But if you do—want to, I mean. If you want to do it right here and now, I can show you wonderful things.”

"I-" Adrianna had been about to say she didn't feel pressured when his next kiss blew her world apart. If the first kiss made her feel dizzy, this one almost sent her to the floor in a dead faint. His arms held her impossibly close, one hand exploring her behind while the other rested a little higher to keep her front pressed snugly against his. She tried to keep up, her tongue mimicking his as best it could but it was a dance in which she was clearly a novice and he a master. This was the second time she'd been kissed with such passion and she could already tell it was something she could rapidly grow addicted to. The heat between them making her think that there might well be something else she could find herself wanting to share with him again and again.

The kiss slowed although she was sure it was purely to allow them to catch their breath and nothing else. Her hands moved to rest gently against his chest and pushed just enough to let her lean back and allow his face to come into focus, not trying to leave his embrace only give herself a little breathing room to say what she wanted to say.

"Well, firstly, thank you. I really enjoyed tonight and I'm sure with more shows, my act will only get better. I am, truly, grateful for the chance you gave me and I won't let you down." Her tone was earnest and sincere before something far less innocent sparkled in her eyes and her voice dropped a little, growing more of a whisper meant only for his ears.

"And secondly, I know I'm not exactly like the other girls in this place. You're a smart man, you don't need me to tell you that. I've lived a life with people constantly telling me what to do so I understand all about pressure and I want you to know that I don't feel pressured." She kissed his cheek, the action sweet and instinctive. Her hands pushed a little more firmly until his hold on her released enough for her to take a step back from him. One step and no more.

"I know what I want," a hand rose to the front of her dress, hovering over the centre of her cleavage for a second before nudging the clasp beneath the fabric that released the heavy material and sent it rushing to the carpet in a tinkling whoosh of beads. Adrianna stood before him in her basque just as she had on the stage, legs encased in stockings up to her thighs. "I feel like today is the day for trying new and exciting things and I know who I want to try this with."

She smiled shyly before tentatively closing the gap between them once more and trying to kiss him as he had kissed her.
 
Sean smiled when Goldie’s voice dropped and her eyes shone with a mirthful, but deep seeded desire and she told him what he wanted to hear. She wanted him to take her, to claim her virginity and make her his. Sean knew well how to do all of these, but experience had taught him to tread carefully down the unbeaten paths—to ensure that both parties knew full well what was being given. What was being taken.

The smile didn’t last long, as Goldie shed her costume gown and lunged into an eager and passionate kiss. Her urgency excited him and as their bodies converged, his cock left a faint smear of precum across her thigh in the exposed portion of leg between her stockings and panties. He kissed her back, sliding his hands greedily along the curated curves of her body, encased as it was in tight negligée, pressing the heels of his hands up under the generous swell of her bust and caressing roughly as his fingertips curled around the top edge of the bodice. As his tongue writhed against hers, his hands pressed together, pushing her breasts together and unclasping the front hooks of her basque in the same motion.

As their tongues danced together between their linked mouths, Sean slipped his hands inside of her mostly open basque, the bottom few hooks still clasped around her waist, but her breasts fully exposed to his rough caressing. He pushed her indelicately against the desk, hard enough to topple the ledger book and half-drunk glass of whiskey. The crystal glass shattered, but Sean didn’t care.

Her nipples were firm and pink, standing erect as they were exposed to open air. As he pressed and kneaded the supple flesh, the edges of his knuckles closed around her tits, bulging up between his fingers. He pinched tighter and tighter, slipping his knee between her thighs to grind against her barely clothed sex, pressing and thrusting against her eager, untouched pussy.

Abruptly, Sean pulled away from the kiss, frantically disentangling himself from his dress shirt. As he shed the last of his clothing to the floor, he lifted one of Goldie’s firm breasts to his mouth and began sucking on the erect little bud of her nipple. He allowed his teeth to pinch, just lightly, at the sides of her tit, while his tongue writhed against the tip and lavished attention over that tiny point of flesh again and again. Sean was a thorough type of man, and he made love the same way. This process was repeated on her other breast for the sake of symmetry.

When he was done with her full, heaving breasts, Sean pushed Goldie back by her shoulders, perching her onto the edge of his desk. He knelt in the bundle of fabric that were his clothes and gently, delicately moved her panties away from her wet, untouched sex. He wasn’t shy about going down, shame was contrary to his nature, he buried his face into the hot, wetness of Goldie’s chaste snatch and curled his tongue upward inside of her.

With his fingers, Sean kept the frilly undergarments out of his way with one hand and spread her lips apart with the other, index and middle fingers tucked neatly in between the inner and outer lips, while his tongue writhed and slashed in between, finally curling upward and coaxing at her clit from below. He urged the sensitive little nub outward with the tip of his tongue and then wrapped it in his lips, sucking loudly, the sharp whistle of air ending as he achieved complete suction and began lashing her clit with his tongue as he sucked it.

Sean Kline was a thorough sort of man.

Sean was not, however, immune to the hot passion of the moment and after a few more long moments of efficient foreplay, he returned to his feet, naked and hard—in every sense. His muscular frame was primed and ready, glistening with a faint sheen of liquor-scented sweat and poised for action.

He took Goldie by her now slightly disheveled hair and tugged her from his desk onto uncertain feet, turning her around and bodily shoving her face down toward the desk, allowing her hands to halt her descent before her face touched the lacquered rosewood desktop.

“It’s going to hurt at first, but once you push past that, it’ll feel really keen. Trust me, Goldie.” Sean whispered, his voice soft, even as his grip on her hair was rough and his thick, engorged cock was pressing against the crease of her wet pussy, “Make a wish and count to ten.”

With that, Sean slammed his hips into the firm mounds of Goldie’s ass and forced himself inside of her all at once, tugging her hair until her back was deeply arched. He held himself there, inside, allowing her to adjust. He’d always heard popping a girl’s cherry compared to ripping off a bandage—all at once preferable to slow and protracted suffering.

“I mean it, let me hear you count.” Sean reiterated, drawing back a few inches and slamming his hips home again as soon as he heard her say one.
 
The mood changed again. Adrianna felt him kissed her back and now she sensed he was making no attempt to curb the path his hands were taking across her body. In a simple motion the basque that had taken so long to put on was half open and her breasts were in his hands. His palms were warm and large and they felt so good upon her skin. She gasped into his kiss, as much as her general breathlessness at his kissing would allow her to at any rate, as he pushed her back firmly against the desk and used it to hold her in place while his fingers toyed roughly with her nipples and his leg wedged itself between her thighs. Somewhere in the haze of his kiss she thought she heard glass breaking but she wasn't sure and she didn't care. All she was aware of was how it felt every time his fingers tightened against her. She shivered as the grinding against her core send ripples of excitement racing through her.

Then he was gone. The kiss ended, his hands left her exposed and now heaving chest. She whined before she realised he had moved away to remove the last of his clothing. The doubtlessly expensive shirt fluttering silently to join the rest of his clothes on the floor, revealing the breadth of his shoulders and the firm shaping that told of strength and regular physical activity on his part.

Then he was against her again. She parted her lips expecting, and hoping, the kissing would continue but his mouth found a target somewhere lower and she heard a high pitched gasp escape her open mouth when his lips made contact with her nipple. Her hands moved to rest on his head, fingers curling into his hair while her own head tipped back. Every swipe of his tongue and suckle of his mouth send a rush through her veins that culminated between her trembling thighs. Adrianna's nails raked through his hair while he teased and tormented first one nipple and then the other. She had no idea such a small part of her body could have such a profound effect on her.

If she thought the sensations her nipples had experienced were intense, then the feeling that crashed through her when he pushed her down to sit on the desk and dove between her thighs with his mouth almost killed her. She yelped as his lips and tongue found something between the wet folds of her sex that felt like it was made of lightning. Every time he licked or sucked it, she all but jumped off the desk. His hands ensured she couldn't close her legs against his delicious attack, not that she wanted to stop him, and her own hands were once again in his hair. Torn between pushing him back to give her trembling body a moment's reprieve and silently urging him closer...just to see what would happen. She felt as if she were starting to leave her own body, every nerve was pulsing with the same desire and need and it was by far the most amazing feeling she had ever experienced. Even if it was as terrifying as it was wonderful.

Just when she thought she might have to beg him to stop and let her catch her breath before she passed out he moved away. She was about to smile hazily and tell him how wonderful it felt when it became clear this was only just the beginning. His hand wound into her head and pulled her harshly from the desk, spinning her and forcing her back down with her face almost against the wood.

“It’s going to hurt at first, but once you push past that, it’ll feel really keen. Trust me, Goldie.”

"I...I do..." She whimpered, suddenly feeling that perhaps this wasn't such a good idea. His words were caringly spoken but the hand in her hair was anything but gentle, the way he'd almost thrown her down before him wasn't careful in the least. She could feel him against her, slipping against sodden folds, ready to take her in the age old way.

“Make a wish and count to ten.”

Adrianna had just drawn breath to count when he thrust roughly inside her and all the air in her lungs left in an instant, her head pulled up and back by the hold he continued to have in her hair. The sensation of being filled was beyond her comprehension along with the pain of what must have been her virginity being torn away. Her mouth and eyes were wide open and she shook silently beneath him for a moment or two.

“I mean it, let me hear you count.”

She nodded as much as the grip in her hair would allow, trying to regain the ability to think and breathe.

"One-" Adrianna whispered before the word tailed off into a whine as his hips pulled back and thrust deeply inside her again.

"Two," she continued shakily, grunting as his hips crashed into her again.

"Three," she whimpered, another punishing thrust of his hips pinning her helplessly between him and the desk.

"Four!" Adrianna cried out as he took her roughly, wondering if it would ever get better like he said it would.

But, with each number she counted his thrusts seemed to intensify but so too did the sensations rushing through her veins. The pain was there but the warmth deep inside was building, the tingling where his mouth had been before was growing. By the time she reached ten she wasn't really speaking any more, everything that left her mouth was a wanton groan and her hips were trying to push back against his. It was starting to feel good. It was starting to feel really good.
 
Sean smiled when she said that she trusted him, it made him feel good to know that she wasn’t just performing the ritual of giving him what he wanted out of habit and necessity—she trusted him. Was that really what he wanted? Was he trustworthy? Perhaps not, but he felt good being trusted nonetheless. Misplaced trust was better than nothing, he supposed.

“You’re beautiful,” Sean whispered softly, in the midst of Goldie’s counting, sliding a hand gently across her face to gather a few errant locks of hair that had escaped his fist.

When she reached ten, her voice rose to a crescendo, renewing his ardor and enthusiasm. She was enjoying herself now, he wanted her to know that he was too. Letting her hair trickle through his fingers, letting her head move freely, still pinned in irregular places and completely undone in others. His arm tucked itself behind the back of her knee, while his other hand slipped into the small of her back, reassuring and steadying her as he lifted her left leg off of the ground and straight into the air.

One of his favorite things about dancers was how flexible they could be—and pliant. He lifted until her long, shapely calf fell over his shoulder and he could once more resume his thrusting—less forceful now, more thorough. He leaned his back into slow but complete pushes, his cock filling up and halting when she was full, but not forcing the last bit. He moved within that spectrum, stopping where she stopped and pulling back only partway, back and forth, again and again.

With her leg secure on his shoulder, he reached forward with his left hand to cup and caress her breast, squeezing and hefting it tenderly. He was slowly growing rougher though, and at last, he pushed with the full force of his hips, able to push himself deeper from this angle, jabbing at her back wall for two or three brief pushes and then resuming the mid-range thrusting.

“You’re going to go far in this business, Goldie. I’ve got a great eye for talent and you’ve got it, kid,” his hand grew rougher on her breast, “yeah, yeah, yeah! Oh damn, you’re fucking amazing. Oh shit, I’m gonna—I’m gonna cum!”

Sean ought to have thought about where to cum before this moment, should have planned ahead to decide if Goldie would look better with his white gold splattered across her pretty face or with it glistening across her magnificent tits—he usually did that sort of thing, but this time, his climax crept up on him, took him by surprise and all at once overwhelmed him.

He came inside her.

Sean groaned loudly and released her leg as he pushed himself all the way inside and pumped thick, hot semen into her, glut after voluminous glut. He keeps himself inside until the thick white of his jizz blends enough with her pussy juice and virginal blood to begin dripping. He pulled out, and was back to business as usual.

“That really was fine, Goldie. Let’s meet like this again tomorrow night—you’ll need to get your take from me again anyway. I’ll be sure to have Jaq work up some spiffy number for you—maybe bring in a backup dancer or two,” Sean was dressing again as he spoke, no longer even looking at the girl on his desk as he turned his collar around his tie, looking into the mirror that sat above the bar, beside the hat-rack, “I’m sure you can find your way out through the wings again, have a good rest of your evening.”

Sean retrieved his still smoldering cigar from where it had been steadily burning in the ashtray during most of his interaction with Goldie. He knocked off the ash and put it to his lips, fixing his suspenders as he smoked, waiting for her to leave.
 
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