Blood, Bullets, Booze & Broads (closed)

[Maka]

New York City, 1920


Joey Pellegrino knew he was going to die, that hot, sticky summer's day in the backroom of Dino's Bar & Grill, when he reached into his coat pocket and felt nothing where there should have been an envelope stuffed with crisp twenty dollar notes.

An entire week's take from every speakeasy, brothel, restaurant and clip joint on the East Side. Cipriano Family funds, already earmarked for police bribes, for political donations, for lavish parties, for arms purchase. And it had just gone, just evaporated. Sweat broke out on Joey's broad, bulging forehead and his thoughts spiralled frantically. Money couldn't just disappear, could it? It was too heavy, too weighed down with all the blood and dirty deeds it took to acquire it.

"You don't have the money, do you, Joey?"

The huge figure behind the desk sounded almost sympathetic, almost like an outsider interested in Joey's own plight, and not the whereabouts of the money. Don Cipriano. The Sicilian nightmare.

Joey shook his head.

"Don! I can explain! I was in Times Square, there was those crowds, somebody musta lifted the... "

The figure was shaking its head sadly.

"Steal from you, Joey? Steal from a Cipriano courier? Put yourself in my position, Joey. What would you think?"

Joey swallowed.

"I'd think... I stole it," he whispered reluctantly, as though hypnotised by the large, pale eyes in the shadowed, bulbous face staring at him.

Don Cipriano nodded.

"That's right, Joey. That's the way a two-bit hoodlum like you thinks. 'smatter of fact, I believe you."

"Ya... ya do?

"Oh yeah, Joey. Let's face it. You ain't got the guts or the brains to do it this way, to come to my office and tell me in person. Nah, you ever got the great notion to steal from me, you'd be hightailing it out of town right about now. That's how you'd do it."

Joey heaved a sigh of relief. The air he inhaled tasted like fine wine. He was going to live.

"So... you ain't gonna kill me?"

Don Cipriano chuckled.

"Oh no. I'm gonna kill you, Joey. See, you think like most wise guys think. Don't matter what the truth is, most guys gonna hear you lost all that money, they're gonna think you stole it, just like you said you would."

Joey said nothing. Don Cipriano continued, his voice eminently reasonable.

"Now how's it gonna look, me letting a guy off, when everyone thinks he stole from me? I'll tell you what. It looks like I'm going soft. Pretty soon, word will get around to the Irish, to the blacks in Harlem, to that son of a bitch Jack Clayton and his mob on the docks.... and my name, the Cipriano name, ain't worth shit. And your name's the only thing you got in this racket, Joey."

There was a click of a pistol being cocked.

"So don't take it personal, uh? And you can take comfort in one thing, Joey."

Cipriano aimed the pistol square at Joey's face.

"I'm gonna find the light-fingered bastard who robbed you. And when I do, he's gonna pray for the quick, clean death you're about to receive."

The words still hung in the air as he squeezed the trigger and the gun exploded in his hand.

 

[Angelika0]

Evelyn Rose was a name that not many people knew about. Thomas Thorne, however, was starting to become more common place around the thieves and underworld rats that roamed the alleys of New York City. Thorne was a ghost that no one had ever seen. Ever the slight-of-hand, he was quickly gaining reputation as the slickest pickpocket in the city.

Evelyn Rose was a streetrat that dressed like a boy and went about her life unnoticed and overlooked. She liked it that way. No one payed her any attention except to throw the occasional penny at her when they realized she was a girl. They pitied her. Her big eyes and skinny frame helped to procure her food. When that failed, she relied on the skills of Thomas Thorne to make sure she wouldn't go hungry. No one ever saw Thorne.

Evie sat in the alley behind a bar counting her bounty. A few necklaces she could pawn, half a loaf of bread and an apple she could eat for dinner and a pretty fat wallet she had picked from some sap in Times Square. She had targeted him as he left a brothel on the East Side with a satisfied smug on his face. Knowing what kind of cash he was surely caring, Evie figured all she would have to do was lift his wallet off of him to secure herself a nice ticket away from here.

Opening the wallet, however, she swallowed hard. There was far too much money in there to just have come from a brothel. Her experience on the streets warned her that she had stepped into a dangerous territory. Staying under the radar did NOT include stealing from Gangs. Especially, as she concluded from the rest of the contents of the wallet, not from Cipriano's gang.

Evie heard voices from inside the bar gossiping from today's events. The words "Cipriano" and "Thorne" caught her ear. Shit. She thought. They might not know what Thomas Thorne looked like, but they had recently been developing his patterns and she hadn't been the most careful recently. Evaluating her options, she knew escaping the city wouldn't be an option. Cipriano had contacts in every major city from here to Chicago and she had no where else to run. Swallowing her pride she made a decision.

Around midnight Evelyn found herself at the abandoned docks where the small mob of Jack Clayton was rumored to be. Her shoulder-length brown hair was tucked into her cap and her bound breasts and ragged baggy clothing gave her the appearance of a boy. Taking the persona of Thomas, she silently roamed the docks, attempting to find the entrance to Clayton's center-of-business.

 

[Maka]

Jack Clayton sat very still.

He was seated on a metal barrel in the echoing warehouse, surrounded by the activity of his men, with not even the twitch of a muscle or the flicker of an eye, as stock still as the statue of a young, fierce pagan god from the times before Christ. He could have been a youthful medieval warrior king on his throne, surrounded by his retainers, or a haughty Roman consul. In the trenches, he had learned the value of silence and stillness.

Jack was a tall, lean young man with a powerful, tightly muscular body. The hair beneath his hat was smooth and dark, his eyes were grey and cold like those of a dead man. He was always dressed sharply but conservatively. Others in his profession opted for diamond tie-pins or gold cuff-links, but not he. When he moved, he moved with a terrifying pantherish grace and economy.

The shipment had come in on time -a cargo of premium Scotch loaded up in the Old Country, where the laws were more liberal and the lawmakers more cynical. His men bustled about unloading it, stacking it away but Jack paid them no heed. He had long since primed and honed his organisation into a smooth, well-functioning piece of machinery like the bullet-scarred, still-ticking silver watch that hung at his waist.

A flicker of movement caught his eye beyond the warehouse's open doors, and at once he was on his feet. O'Leary, keeping watch on the door, followed the movement of his boss' eye and then pounced on the small, slender figure peering within. There was a scuffle.

O'Leary was a broadshoulder, bearish Irishman but he moved with a deceptive speed. Panting heavily, he laid both hands on the slim shoulders of the newcomer and frogmarched them into the warehouse, to meet Jack's eye.

G-man? One of Cipriano's mob? Homeless derelict? Jack drew closer to inspect the intruder, his face expressionless.

"What are you doing here?"

 

[Angelika0]

Silently approaching the only movement on the docks, Evie realized she had found them. They were quietly and quickly unloading a shipment of what could only be illegal booze. Suddenly she felt hands grab her shoulder and she swore under her breath as she was found out. Not saying another word, she allowed herself to be brought before a man she assumed to be Jack Clayton himself.

The only rumors she had heard about him had expertly captured his stark demeanor. Evelyn kept her eyes down, trying to retain her boyish visage for as long as possible. She was small, even for a 18 year old girl and could easily pass as a 14 year old boy, especially when talking since her voice was a little higher.

"I beg your pardon, sir." She said, with the voice of Thomas Thorne. "I don' want no trouble."

She looked up, only briefly, to judge the expression on Clayton's face. Catching his eyes and not receiving any reaction from him, she looked back down, hoping to continue her ruse.

"I 'ave something I think you might find useful, sir. Jus' somethin' I came across..." She said, reaching for the wallet in her inside jacket pocket.

 

[Maka]

Jack had long ago learned to study people.

The voice was wrong. The intruder was imitating the high, cracking, and uneven timbre of an adolescent boy, but couldn't disguise the smoothness and clearness underneath. And when the ear took that in, the eye recognised the subtle curve of those slender hips, a certain something about the stance... this wasn't a boy at all.

Ignoring the disguised girl's words for the moment, he stepped forward and cupped her chin in his hand, bringing her face up for his silent regard. Large eyes regarded him with fear under the baggy, too-big cap. Her delicate features were smudged and dirty, but there was still something heartrendingly charming and captivating about them. If she'd been scrubbed and bathed and forced into a Saks Avenue dress, there was no doubt that she could have been accepted by the most discriminating observers as a beautiful young debutante, not the waifish street-rat chance had made her.

"Maybe so," Jack said. He permitted her to complete her movement, noting the wallet she produced. "But first things first. What's your name? Your real name, girl."

 

[Angelika0]

Evie silently swore when he forced her to look him in the eye. She did her best to hide her fear and look back at him confidently. His grey eyes seemed to stare into her soul. She knew he could easily see through her guise.

She opened her mouth to say her fake name when he continued on. Shit. He had figured her out.

"My name is Evelyn Rose." She said, her voice normal and almost proper. Plan A had failed so now she was going to use whatever feminine wiles she had for Plan B.

"I have here a wallet containing the business of the Cipriano gang." She extended it out to him, hoping for it to be considered a peace offering.

"I understand what me having this means. And I ask for your protection, Mr. Clayton. I offer you my services." She said, confidence returning to her voice.

 

[Maka]

His men were watching in silence, knowing that no matter what was happening, Jack was the one in control. Jack took the wallet from the girl, weighed it in his hand, opened it, and rifled through the contents. Over a thousand dollars. Jack's expressionless face registered nothing.

So she was the one. Jack had heard of Thomas Thorne, of course -a gifted pickpocket making a name for himself along Broadway. He'd also heard that earlier that day, Thorne had stolen from Joey Pellegrino, a Cipriano associate -and he'd concluded, along with everyone else, that that would be the last anyone would ever hear of Tom Thorne.

But Thomas Thorne turned out to be Evelyn Rose. It was a smart move. Being a boy kept unsavoury types at bay -some unsavoury types, anyway. And girls, especially pretty girls, were more noticeable than the city's hordes of nondescript urchins. And coming to him was another smart move. The Ciprianos would move heaven and earth to restore the dent in their finances and the terror of their name. Not a gang in the Five Boroughs would shelter a thief who stole from them -not a gang except Jack Clayton's band of cold-eyed outlaws. They weren't the biggest or the best-connected. But they absolutely didn't give a shit about Don Cipriano or anyone else and they were happy to prove it.

In fact, the only move Evelyn had made that wasn't smart had been stealing from the Ciprianos in the first place.

"I see," he said. His ice-grey eyes remained intent on Evelyn's face. "And just what services are you offering me?"

 

[Angelika0]

Evie watched his expressionless face as he took the wallet and registered everything. His eyes looked back at her and pierced her. She refused to falter. More than confident in her abilities she replied, her voice unwavering.

"The skills of the infamous Thomas Thorne. Who, I'm sure you know, recently stole from the Cipriano gang." A cocky smile found its way onto her lips. She knew she was good. Everyone did. The only reason she hadn't aligned herself to one gang yet was because she was extremely cautious for many different reasons. This Jack fellow, however was very promising. She liked what she had heard about him and how his gang worked. She was an outcast like them. She hoped he could see that.

 

[Maka]

Evelyn was able to hold his gaze. Jack liked that. Even among his men, battle-hardened veterans that they were, there weren't many that could claim as much. She was ragged and slender and hungry, but there was a bright light of confidence in her eyes. She was cocky -arrogant, some would say. That was exactly what Jack and his men were called, by the city's power-brokers and kingpins. It never bothered them.

But he didn't smile.

"We take you in, we go to war with the Ciprianos," he said. "That means blood on the streets, and that's bad for business. Are you going to make us enough money to balance things out?"

 

[Angelika0]

Evelyn didn't fully realize what her actions had caused until he voiced them. But she would do anything to survive, and having his protection was the best way to go about living. His unrelenting expression stared back at her, attempting to break her composure. She would bet her life on her gifts, her confidence in this would never falter.

"You have a sampling at the amount I can bring in." She motioned to the wallet. "And that was just because I was bored." Her cocked smile stayed on her lips, refusing to be scared away. "I can work any job you give to me. And I never..." She emphasized. "...get caught."

 

[Maka]

There was an appealing twist to Evie's cupid bow lips, and her head was cocked at a provocative angle. Absent her baggy cap and too-big clothes, and the surroundings of rusted metal and dark, rippling water, she could have been a pretty schoolgirl plotting some harmless mischief. For just a moment, Jack found himself thinking of his little sister, with whom he'd long ago broken off all contact. But she didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

He moved closer, until he was towering over Evie and she had to crane her neck to look up at him. He made a deal with himself. If she flinched, if she blinked, if she made the slightest motion, he'd send her on her way and no doubt the next morning, that trim, slender body would be being fished out of the East River. If she didn't have self-control enough to stay still now, she'd never been a serious pickpocket at all -just an amateur who got lucky, and he'd be leading his men into a war for a fool.

But she didn't. That smile stayed curving her lips, and her body remained frozen. He was close enough to hear her heartbeat. It had been hammering like mad earlier but now it was still and calm. She knew what she was talking about, when it came to thievery at least.

Instead of replying to her directly, he addressed his men instead.

"See this girl?" he asked. They were loading the last truck up, but they frozen in place at the sound of their master's voice.

"She's with us now."

 

[Angelika0]

Evie could feel her heart banging against her chest as he moved closer to her. He stood about a head taller than her and she had to look up to retain eye contact with him. She knew what he was doing and she removed her mind from her body, her heartbeat slowed and she kept perfectly still and did not back down. She considered lifting that watch off of him that she had eyed earlier, but wanted to gain his acceptance. As much as she wanted to show off she figured stealing from him wouldn't have been the best choice.

Evelyn felt a tremendous load lift off of her chest when he spoke those words. She's with us now. echoed in her head.

"You have my loyalty, sir. You won't regret this." She said softly, only to him.

 

[Maka]

The relief on Evie's lovely face was evident as she pledged herself to him. For a moment, Jack let himself feel pleasure at her joy, before ripping it from himself. Taking Evie in was purely a business decision. It was sink or swim in this life, he'd learned that long since.

"See that I don't regret it," was all he said in response, turning away from her.


The trucks were bound all across the city, supplying the speakeasies bold or desperate enough to buy Jack Clayton's product and risk the wrath of the established syndicates. Clayton found buyers, all the same. Part of it was the quality of his product. He'd made contacts, over in Europe, people who could supply him with the real hard liquor and not the vicious bathtub gin they distilleed over here. Long before returning home, he'd heard rumours of the Volstead Act, read Temperance League pamphlets with keen interest. And the plans had formed in his mind.

His clientele was still small, just like his gang, but that didn't matter. Jack would rather have a small but competent and loyal group of associates than an empire mostly composed of corrupt, stupidly selfish morons.

He ushered Evie into the last of the trucks to leave, then took his position on its running board himself, and slapped the side. It took off into the streets.

Home, at least for the moment, was a room above a brothel not far from Washington Square -a house undistinguished from all of the rest on its row. Mo the madame, a large and fleshy woman, greeted the arrival of the Clayton truck standing at the open door. She watched with interest as Jack hopped down and Evie clambered out the back of the truck.

"What's this, Jack? You bringing us a boy to make into a man? It's on the house, sweetie", she added with a wink at Evie.

"Look closer", said Jack, as he strode inside.

"Oh."

Mo did look closer, taking in the striking, delicate features beneath the cap and the large, expressive eyes, the quiet grace of Evie's stance and movements.

"You know, Jack," she said thoughtfully, "With a bit of feeding up, this one could be a real moneymaker."

"She's already a real moneymaker," Jack said indifferently. "Or so she claims."

Without any further explanation, he strode down the hall, past some open and closed doors. The girls behind the open doors, still awaiting customers, sat up as he passed by, with a series of rustling movements, and watched him hungrily. Jack Clayton was an object of fascination to the girls of Mo's brothel. They had never known any man like him before, even with their exceptionally wide experience of men. He moved quietly, like a hunting beast, without any of the empty swagger or bluster of the typical gangster. He was effortlessly intimidating -none of the girls except Mo herself dared to banter with him or tease him, but it was not based on physical threat; he'd never hit any of the girls.

In fact, he paid them irritatingly little attention. It was obvious to their experienced eyes that a man like Jack Clayton needed women and had an appetite for them -it was all there in the exciting, frightening intensity of his gaze and the whipcord motions of his body. He'd be an animal in bed, it was transparently clear. Yet he took no advantage of Mo's generous offer of free use of any girl in her brothel -even though his men did. It was clear, much to the girls' pique, that he was receiving satisfaction elsewhere.

But that did not stop some, especially among the younger girls, from fantasising about what it would be like to be with him all the same. Sometimes, while being taken from behind by some paunch-bellied salesman or tourist, they'd imagine that it was instead Jack's hard body thrusting against them, Jack's muscular arms holding them in place... and often subsequently delight their oblivious johns with a long, quavering orgasm.

But no such reserve was held towards Evie, following in Jack's wake.

"Who are you, sonnie?"

"Your parents know you're out here this late?"

"Hey, I think I gotta lollipop for you, honey... "

One redheaded girl padded out into the hallway and brushed Evie's cap off her head, letting the smooth brown hair beneath cascade down to her shoulders.

"She's a girl!"

Fascinated, the prostitutes gathered around Evie, animatedly discussing her appearance, her shabby clothes, touching her bound breasts and rear end with professional interest. Jack, after a single glance backwards, simply ignored the commotion but Mo barked a reprimand and instantly the girls fled back to their rooms.


Jack's room was on an upper floor. He had the entire floor to himself -could in theory have had an entire suite of rooms, but all he wanted was a small space in what had been the servant's room. There was a camp-bed there and a camphor lamp. Other than that, the room was entirely bare, without even a carpet over the floorboards.

He motioned Evie inside.

"You can sleep next door for tonight," he said, indicating the much larger master bedroom. "In the morning, we'll find you somewhere permanent."

 

[Angelika0]

Evelyn thought she saw a flash of emotion run across his features, but whatever it was was gone before she could get a better look. As the men continued going about their business, she sunk into the shadows, a place where she was the most comfortable. She watched as they unloaded boxes and loaded them into trucks. And she watched as they started to drive away, one by one until there was one truck left. Clayton motioned her into it and she gladly followed, figuring he had a use for her or wanted to keep an eye on her. Nevertheless, she didn't want to stir up any trouble and decided it would be best to follow orders, as long as they benefited her.

The truck pulled up to a brothel, which didn't surprise Evie, seeing as many mobs and gangs use them for places to stay or conduct their business. She wasn't a stranger to brothels and might have ended up in one if she hadn't met James, who had taught her the trade. Well, not so much taught as noticed her talent and expanded on it. After she became Thomas Thorne, she spent a great deal of time in brothels, making deals with the Madames and rifling through poor Johns' possessions as they were occupied with the girls. They were always easy money and provided a good place to sleep. And no one messed with her or gave her unwarranted attention when they thought she was a boy.

Evelyn hoped to slip in unnoticed when she heard the Madame call to her. Comforted that her disguise was working she kept her head down. That is, until damned Clayton spoke a few words to the Madame revealing her. She was going to have a few words with him. Thorne was her protection and has saved her life on many occasions. Obviously she was in no danger here, but still, he needed to learn to be careful.

Following him inside, it was obvious Jack was a welcome sight here. Most, if not all, of the girls lit up at his presence. He just swaggered through as if they weren't there. Evie raised an eyebrow as she observed him. Surely, a man like him could get any woman he wanted. He maybe even had a girl up in his room waiting.

Evie didn't get much further in her thoughts as she was suddenly surrounded by the girls, trying to work their tricks on her. Before she knew it, her cap was off and her hair fell around her face and down to her shoulders. Well...no going back now. She rolled her eyes as the girls gasped and gawked at her like she was a freak at a carnival show. Hands were all over her, feeling for her breasts, pulling at her hair. Evie was in the process of figuring out an escape plan when she heard the booming voice of the Madame scatter them.

Relieved at the freedom, she quickly followed Jack up the stairs and into a room, bare except for a bed and a lamp. This was loads better than anywhere she had slept in months and she was grateful for the accommodations. She opened her mouth to thank him when he mentioned next door. Confused, Evie cautiously approached next door, figuring it would be similar or worse than this room. Surprisingly, it was even grander. Definitely not the Ritz, but nicer than anywhere else she had slept in her lifetime.

"Thank you." She said turning back to him and making eye-contact yet again before going back into the master bedroom. In the middle of the room was a rather larger four poster bed, behind it by the window was a bathtub and a boudoir. Evie went over to the washbasin and carefully poured water into the bowl. She hadn't seen water this clean in a long time.

She jumped as she heard a girl's voice from the doorway. "Miss?" It asked. Turning to look, Evie noticed a small-framed girl in a corset. She couldn't have been older than Evelyn herself. "Would you like me to draw you a bath? The Madame said that you're welcome to anything."

"Yes, that would be lovely. Thank you." Evie said as the girl disappeared, getting the water. Moments later Evie sat naked submerged in warm water. After scrubbing her skin almost raw, she marveled at how pale she looked without all the dirt and grime acquired from the streets. She had washed her hair with some of the soap left behind by the girl and it hung wet against her back and over her shoulders. Being clean was such a rare occasion for her. She loved it, but knew it would be only temporary. Her guise worked best if she was dirty.

 

[Maka]

Ever since the war, it had been hard for Jack to find sleep. He slept less than others, just a handful of hours a night, and even for that scant time, he often just lay there. Peace and silence bothered him. They called to mind all the nights that he'd lain out in the open, his body tense, waiting for the first crack of rifle fire or the hiss of the terrible mustard gas.

And so, after a period of laying outstretched on his camp bed in the darkness, staring blankly up at the ceiling, he let his focus drift. He could hear the splash of water next door. Evie, his unlikely new recruit, must be bathing. He thought about her -about her strange, appealing combination of startled alley-cat reflxes and the unexpected confidence that underlay it. A mixture of hard and soft, firm and yielding, like her lithe young body.

It wasn't hard to understand Mo's claim about her. Evie could easily have been the star attraction of any cathouse, not just because of her pretty looks and slender body but because something about every one of her movements and glances just... sang to a masculine observer, on a savage primal level. It was somehow easy to imagine her giving herself wholeheartedly to the act of lust, at once challenging and surrendering to the fortunate man...

Jack got up, and paced into the room beyond. He had stripped off his shirt before lying down, and his chiselled, starkly muscular chest gleamed in the low light of the master bedroom. He did not knock but simply silently entered and sat down on the bed, casting a brooding gaze towards where Evie sat in the bathtub.

Just the upper half of her nude body was visible, but it was a breathtaking sight. Her pale, freshly washed skin seemed to glow with a soft light of its own -her hair, dark and wet, hung about her bare shoulders. Her face had softened with the pleasure of her bath. She looked younger now than she had on the street, and more innocent. Her breasts were not big, but they were the young, firm and healthy, with pink nipples tipping them like little strawberries. Jack's eyes devoured her hungrily, but his face remained impassive.

 

[Angelika0]

She knew he was there. Evelyn's heightened senses detected it. The quiet weight change on the floorboards, the soft depression on her bed. Evie kept her gaze on the window, never revealing her awareness of him. She let a few minutes tick by. She let him think he had caught her unawares. Let him think he had control of the situation. Evelyn Rose was always in control.

"Couldn't sleep?" She said quietly, but she knew he had heard her. She remained facing the window. If she was correct, which she always was, he would be seated on the bed to her rear left oblique. From his position he could surely see her nakedness. The rise and fall of her chest as she gently breathed in and out brought her handful-sized breasts just above the water. She made no move to cover herself, as modesty had left her years ago.

Evelyn leaned back, letting her head rest against the bathtub's headrest. She rolled her head to the side, locking eyes with Jack instantly. Just as she assumed he was staring at her. But instead of looking like most men would in his position, his features lacked of lust or any other emotion, really. Then again, he wasn't like most men, that she had figured out quickly.

But all men desired that one thing that only a woman could provide. No matter how hard they tried to hide it or push it away, they were all predictable. Evelyn Rose had been raped exactly one time in her life. She has since managed to evade, escape, or control the situation. She had quickly learned to use her sex to get what she wanted, all the while making the men think they had control. She knew just how to act, how to move, and what noises to make to convince them of their dominance. She had not felt anything from sex since she had lost James. Love and Lust were just cards played in this game.

 

[Maka]

"Couldn't sleep?" Evie asked softly, without looking at him.

"Mm," Jack said noncommitally.

He had not been trying to sneak up on her, but all the same, he always moved with a soft and catlike tread. It was impressive that she'd been able to detect his presence. It was also striking that she continued to calmly soap herself, not blushing or stammering or making any effort to conceal her firm, round young breasts. Like Jack himself, she'd had many of the weaknesses and hypocrisies of society burned out of her in some harsh crucible. That boded well for their partnership.

At last, Evie rested her sleek dark head against the bathtub's rim, and turned her gaze towards Jack. Jack met it expressionlessly.

"Where are you from?" he asked abruptly. "When did you come to New York?"

 

[Angelika0]

Evelyn simply raised an eyebrow at his inquiries. Having mostly finished washing this point, she brought up her hands out of the water and turned her attention on the dirt lodged under her nails.

Her past was all she had. Where she came from and how she came to New York was her memories and hers alone. They molded her into who she was today and she had only told these things to James. The only person who she had trusted. Which made his betrayal so much worse.

"Mr. Clayton." She addressed, not forgetting his status. "A lady in my profession does best, the less people know about her. If I were to reveal my secrets and history, I would end up in the east river."

Evelyn grew tired of sitting in this tub, which had quickly became dirty. She eyed a towel and a silk bathrobe hung in the corner, in the opposite direction of Clayton. Slowly standing up, the cool night air met her wet skin as the water dripped from her pale naked form back into the tub. Her nipples were hard from the chill, her firm breasts high on her chest due to years of being bound. She was surely showing a few ribs like a dog on the street due to the malnutrition that had plagued her whole life. Along her side and down to her her hipbone she sported a long pink scar along with a few others hinting at a rough incident and life on the street. She gave Jack a knowing look, allowing him to take in her body before stepping out and walking towards the corner.

"I like talking about my past no more than I'm sure you like talking about yours." She said with her back to him as she dried herself off and slipped on the robe, loving the lush feeling of silk against her skin.

He was a veteran of The Great War, that much she knew. Wars changed men. They hardened them on the outside while mentally torturing them on the inside. Their actions during the war greatly affected their actions afterwards. They either couldn't handle violence or they couldn't get away from it Evelyn almost pitied them. And was thankful for her lack of a cock that kept her from being one of them.

 

[Maka]

Water streamed from Evie's nude body as she stood up in the bathtub. She shot Jack an enigmatic look, giving him ample time to take all of her in. His gaze moved up and down her body with cool, unabashed appraisal. She was a strange, pale vision in the moonlight streaming into the room -small, wiry, scarred, bone-thin from hunger, and yet enchanting and powerful and with a mysterious, inner dignity.

The leanness of Evie's body, with not even an ounce of excess flesh, made even her small breasts stand out alluringly, pleasingly firm and high on that slender frame, above her concave stomach. Her pale pink nipples were rigid in the cool night air. Each breast was a perfect, delightful handful. And when she stepped out, moving across the room, she revealed an enticing, pert bottom, gently swaying with her movements.

Evie dried herself, then gave an unconscious little moue of pleasure as the silk of the bathrobe made contact with her bare skin. Of all things, somehow it was that reaction that Jack found the most arousing.

The whores below would find it puzzling, he knew. Here there were acres of willing, yielding feminine flesh at his disposal and he found himself concentrating all of his attention on one insolent, half-starved alley cat. He knew he would have to call Charlotte, tomorrow, and arrange for one of their meetings. This hunger was too much to cope with. It was very short notice, but Charlotte, he knew, would have no objections.

He made no response to Evie's rebuff but simply sat there in silence, continuing to watch her. Her story would come out sooner or later, he knew. All he had to have was patience.

And Jack Clayton had that in great store.

 

[Angelika0]

Evie always liked looking at a man's face when they first see her naked. Ultimately, it's half what they're expecting due to her small waifish frame. But the other half always takes them by surprise. She's confident, sure of herself, and knows how to move in just the right way to draw their attention right where she wants it to be.

Jack Clayton didn't say much. She liked that about him. He in a lot of ways just like her. Some men talked too much for their own good. Most of the time that's how Evie got what she wanted from them. She wasn't only a thief of tangible things.

Evelyn kept her silk covered back to him for just the right amount of time. She could almost feel his eyes burning holes into her. Turning her head back first, she slowly turned around, giving him a sultry look. She hadn't tied the robe closed, but allowed a thick vertical strip of pale skin peak through only interrupted when it reached the juncture at her legs.

The way he sat there, shirtless, on her bed. The way he commanded the room with his presence was breathtaking. She had never met a man like this before. He had a strong jaw line, and the way his brow was set could make any girl who was at the receiving end of his glare quiver. Evie had control over herself, but couldn't help but to let her mind wonder at what it would be like to lose herself in his arms. To satisfy each other's primal urges as they thrust against each other.

Like Clayton, Evelyn did not let any emotion show, except for what she wanted to. Right now, her features were composed of that of a grateful and enticing damsel. Yet underneath the surface, which she knew he could see somehow, she was ever the minx-like thief who knew she had control of the situation.

"I suppose a 'Thank you' is in order..." She stated as she slowly walked towards him.

 

[Maka]

When Evelyn turned around, her eyes were large and soft -appearing sensuous yet innocent. Bedroom eyes. And her dressing gown just so happened to be parted between her breasts, offering up a valley of soft pale skin for his appraisal.

"I suppose a 'Thank you' is in order..."

She walked slowly towards him, a dreamy sway in her step.

She was offering herself to him, in language as plain and blunt as any spoken words could be. And Jack, who'd been craving her young, supple body ever since he stepped into the room, was going to turn her down.

Because...

Because he was too proud to accept a quid pro quo arrangement.

Because he knew that sleeping with her would affect his judgement as the gang's leader.

Because his enemies would find out sooner or later and she would become a weak point, a way to hurt him.

Because she reminded him of his little sister.


But Jack knew the real reason, deep down. It was because he despised and hated the inhuman system that led to this young girl offering herself to someone, anyone who could protect her, that system of mutual exploitation that had crushed armies of young men in its gears, that raised and demolished and raised and demolished men like Joey Pellegrino.

A small, despised, all-but-extinguished part of Jack Clayton still wanted to help girls like Evelyn Rose, not simply make use of them, whether for money or sex.


He rose to his feet.

"You can thank me by earning money for me."

He caught her gaze with his own.

"That's all the thanks I'll ever need. Good night."

 

[Angelika0]

Evie could detect a hint of conflict behind his eyes. She thought she had him for a brief second before he stood up and denied her. Well, denied her offer, not her per se. It took a strong man to deny her and he was definitely one of those.

As he left, she cursed herself for not taking into account everything about his character. She was getting lazy lately and she needed to get herself in check. Especially now that she was aligning herself to this gang. To this man.

Evelyn sat down on her bed, wrapping the silk around her and trying to process everything that had just happened. With no one around she let her guard down carefully. What was she thinking? The trained thief that James had brought to life in her knew what needed to be done in that situation. But something was buried deep within her that had been awakened the first time Jack had made eye contact with her. The desire to be understood.

As far as her operations with this mob, she didn't need to fuck Jack. She needed to have him trust her. She will make him lots of money, that he could count on.

But why did she parade herself out in front of him like a whore desperate for cash? The trained part of her knew that he wouldn't bite, so it would've been fruitless. But this new part of her, the one she hadn't calculated for, wanted him to want her. Wanted him to need her.

This part of her was dangerous. It could get her killed.

 

[Maka]

Jack returned to his camp bed but once again, he simply lay there -motionless but unsleeping, his eyes glittering as he stared up at the ceiling. His mind kept returning to the modest but provocative curves of Evie's body, of her look at him, half-challenge and half-invitation. When fitful sleep found him, he dreamed of her, of her smile, of the way she moved, of the cries she might make...


He awoke at dawn, as always, and made his way through his morning regimen of exercises -striving, as always, with each press-up and weight lifted to drive all conscious thought from his head, to make himself nothing more than an emotionless machine. It almost worked. But his thoughts kept returning to the occupant of the room next door.

By eight in the morning, he'd had enough. He made his way to the one luxury of his set of rooms -a candlestick telephone, kept in a closet off his room, and had the operator dial him through to the Whitbourne residence.

Jonah Whitbourne would not be in, he knew -not that Jack would have cared if he had, if he listened in to their conversation. At six sharp every morning, as regular as clockwork, he had a glass of hot milk, then wheezed his way downstairs to where his chaffeur waited in the Rolls Royce to take him to Wall Street for another profitable day. Leaving Charlotte lying there -unfulfilled, bored, frustrated. Charlotte was a trophy to Whitbourne -something to hang on his arm at social gatherings... not a girl of flesh and blood, not a girl with needs. Which is why she would keep coming back to Jack, despite how he'd hurt her in the past and still treated her now.

Her voice was sleepy.

"Hello?"

"Chelsea Hotel. Midday," Jack said curtly, before hanging up. He knew she'd be there.

 

[Angelika0]

Charlotte was awakened by a ringing. After a few moments of trying to gather her thoughts, she opened her eyes and turned her head towards the incessant telephone, ringing on her bedside table. Where was that damn girl? She was paid to answer the phone so Charlotte wouldn't have to be disturbed. Especially this early in the morning.

"Hello?" She spoke into the receiver, trying to make her voice sound more awake.

"Chelsea Hotel. Midday." Spoke the gruff, recognizable voice that sent a shiver through her body, and awakened her in multiple ways. Charlotte lay back, phone still in her hands as she attempted to control her thoughts. Thoughts of what Jack Clayton could do to her that no other man could do. Her body ached to be touched in a way her husband never touched her. Running a hand up her naked body, she imagined it was Jack touching her soft skin. She felt herself growing wet and she thought of all the things that lay in her immediate future.

She bathed in the perfumed water that she had grown accustomed to being the wife to Jonah Whitbourne. The girl finally brought in her breakfast and Charlotte slipped into her finest negligee. After doing up her hair in the latest fashion and applying makeup, she slipped on the newest necklace and earings that Jonah had bought her. Dressing in a casual, but obviously expensive day dress, Charlotte observed herself in the mirror.

Standing at 5'6", she had honey blonde hair and curves that many a man has been known to get lost in. Satisfied, she called for her driver and made her way to the Chelsea Hotel. She was a little early, but loved to be there before Jack, excitement building as she waited for him.

Walking up to the front desk, she used the fake name that she knew Jack had booked the room under and received the key. Charlotte entered the elevator and then shortly after, their room. She went to the vanity, and started to remove her jewelry. She knew just how Jack was, and didn't want to lose an earring or anything. Shrugging out of her dress, she hung it up in the closet.

Clad only in her negligee, Charlotte walked over to the window, looking down on the city, and the people passing by on the street, wondering where her lover could be.

 

[Maka]

Four years, Jack Clayton and Charlotte Browning -a pair of happy, healthy, idealistic kids, were engaged to be married. Everything was planned -the wedding on Long Island, the honeymoon in Mexico, and afterwards, a job for Jack at Charlotte's father's firm, connubial bliss, a pair of children, and a home in the surburbs.

But America entered the war, and so Jack signed up to help his country's European allies defend democracy and freedom in the Old World. Charlotte sent him letters every day -but soon after he arrived in France, Jack stopped replying. On the day of the armistice, a single trans-Atlantic telegram arrived at the Browning home: WEDDING OFF.

But people could be complicated.


Jack let himself into the hotel room, and saw Charlotte standing at the window in a silk negligee. The midday sun rendered the sheer fabric near translucent, revealing the flawless nude body underneath it. Charlotte could not have represented more of a contrast with Evie -a spoiled, sheltered house kitten beside a lean, fierce alleycat. But Jack relished the experience of making that spoiled kitten purr and scream, beg to be fucked like a backalley whore.

He stole soundlessly up to her and laid his hands on her shoulders from behind.

"How is your husband?" he asked.