One Night in Chicago

[ariosto]

Chicago in October can be cool and crisp with the wind slapping your face or it can be gray and bitter with the wind slapping your face. Monday had been a day of the first variety.

Frank Moore strode down the steps of the Art Institute into the mad rush of 5 o'clock traffic and the teeming masses on Michigan Avenue desperate to flee the City.
He wouldn't be fleeing anywhere tonight. His small but comfortable apartment on the near north side could wait a while.
Tonight, in about an hour and a half he was supposed to speak to a class of writers, wannabe writers that is, at Columbia college.
He'd spent the day in the research library of the institute compiling notes for his next book featuring renaissance artist/crime solver Pero Matti. The first book called Renaissance Gumshoe had sold modestly well, enough for an advance on the second one and a very small claim to fame but it was not the books he'd be talking about tonight.

He sat down on a bench near Buckingham Fountain, now lying inert, the worlds largest birdbath waiting for the fisrt frosty flakes of winter to fall. He sat down and thought about Deirdre Collins the woman who asked him to speak to her class. She'd known him since his early days. The days of booze and coke and broken dreams. Before three years at Jolliet wrung him clean...clean...clean.
So tonight he'd talk about his personal triumph. ' Ex-Con to Succesful Writer and How I Did It' by Francis Kennedy Moore.

An hour passed in which he became increasingly nervous over the task at hand.
Waiting wasn't doing much good.
He stood up and stretched to his full height of five ten. Frank was not a tall man but powerfully built. His nose had been broken once in a bar somewhere and he resembled a boxer more than a writer.
He took a last look at the lake and the darkening sky above and walked away, crossing Michigan Avenue, still very much alive with traffic at 6:30 and turned north.
Columbia's main campus building was a block ahead.
He found himself behind a very shapely body, in a thick sweater and tight jeans.
Pale gold hair...very nice! and he noticed...books. Text books...

"Excuse me Miss,"
He said walking up beside her...startling blue eyes.
"I'm looking for Columbia College. I'm supposed to address Miss Collin's writing class in twenty minutes. Afraid I've never been here before."
He smiled apologeticaly.

The pretty woman, for indeed she was, stopped and appraised him for a second.
"Sure, be glad to help." she said and returned the smile.
"Just follow me."


A closed thread for StarXChylde and Ariosto. Two veterans of the City.

 

[StarXChyld]

Liz Majick

She was late again. Even though she worked a mere five blocks north of the college and quit work at 5:00, she never seemed to make it to her 6:30 class on time. Somehow she would lose herself in the tiny boutiques that dotted the boulevard from her office to the college. She’d arrive just after her professor, Miss Collins, would begin the lecture and Liz would smile apologetically as she fumbled with her packages and books, slipping into a seat in the back of the class.

At 27, Liz Majick was reinventing herself. Recently divorced from her high school sweetheart and taking her first "real" job as an administrative assistant for the VP of Marketing at Murphy, Murphy and Nelson, she decided that she would go back to school and get her degree in Creative Writing. Her ex-husband would no longer stand in the way of her education.

At Immaculate Conception High School, they had been the ideal couple. Marc Majick was the Varsity Q.B. and she was the captain of the cheerleading squad. He had been voted "Most Athletic" and she had been voted, "Prettiest Blonde". At 5’8 with long silky hair cascading down the back of her tight sweaters, big expressive blue eyes tucked under dark lush lashes, a tiny waist and long legs that made her pleated skirts seem even shorter, she was a living breathing replica of Barbie. And she knew it.

When Marc first started dating her, the whole football team had taken bets on whether he’d get lucky or not. A few of them had gone out with Liz throughout the four years of high school but quickly given up on her when they realized she was all tease and no action. If anyone attempted to touch her anywhere below the neck, she would instantly end the date right then and there. No excuses and no second chances. Marc found out just how hot her kisses were and what they did to his dick and decided to take the challenge all the way to the altar. He had been her first and only lover in 27 years.

Marc liked it that way. He’d insisted that she not work outside the house, only relenting when his brother needed a secretary at his insurance company. He wouldn’t even discuss the idea of her attending college. She quickly became his prisoner of love, only being allowed out in public with him at her side. He isolated her from the rest of the world like a prized possession.

All that changed when he’d bought a computer and set it up in their dining room. Soon, Liz discovered a whole new world and would spend long hours in front of her monitor, making new friends, discussing current events. . .discovering sex. . .

Liz couldn’t tear her eyes away from her computer screen the first time she stumbled across a porn site. It excited her in a way that Marc never had. Marc was pretty much your typical "Wham, Bam, Thank-you, Ma’am" type. He wasn’t interested in pleasing Liz in the bedroom as long as he got what he came for. Liz didn’t know any better and accepted their lovemaking for the norm. The porn websites taught her differently. It didn’t take long for the marriage to fall apart after that.

"Excuse me Miss,"

She was hurrying to class and if she made the elevator, she’d only be 10 minutes late. She glanced absently over her shoulder, the wind whipping her hair sharply against her rosy cheeks.

"I'm looking for Columbia College. I'm supposed to address Miss Collin's writing class in twenty minutes. Afraid I've never been here before."

He was older than she was. By how many years, it didn’t matter. After the age of 40, she wouldn’t consider him a possible "date" anyway. He was as tall as she was in her high heeled boots and he had a funny looking nose but there was something about his eyes. They mesmerized her as he smiled apologetically.

"Sure, be glad to help." she said and gave him a dazzling smile, flipping a handful of hair over her shoulder. "Just follow me."

 

[ariosto]

The class was about what he'd expect a night creative writing class to be.
About a dozen people, men and women who all were looking for ways out of their current lives, looking to open up paths for their frustrated and of course towering imaginations to spill forth in a shining rainbow of letters that would take them smoothly to the pot of gold.
Miss Collins, a veteran of half a dozen grammaticaly flawless short stories that had appeared in a few obscure literary quarterlies, introduced him as the 'well known and best selling author of a captivating series of historical detective novels who had triumphed over adversity through the magic of the written word.'

The class coughed politely, adopted eager expressions and waited.
Miss Collins began to trim her nails.
Liz Magick...(magick!?)...was in the second row center...she smiled.

"Okay...First of all there's no magic in the written word...not in the writing. It's just damned hard work.
Second, I wrote a book...A book. I might write another one, I'd like to anyway.
Third, I triumphed over my adversity mainly because I didn't want to spend the rest of my fucking life in jail..."

Miss Collins looked up, arched an eyebrow, the rest of the class
leaned forward, listening intently.

"Fifth...never underestimate the power of the word 'FUCK'."

And so it went.
He gradually warmed up to the idea of talking to these people, to these kids...he had them all by a dozen years or more...and before he knew it the class spun out and was over.

Deborah Collins cornered him as he was leaving and moved in close...exception, he didn't have her by a dozen years, not by a long shot...
She smiled and attempted to look...intriguing.
"Wonderful rapport with the kids, Frank...Can I call you Frank?"

"Yeah, sure..."
He saw Liz heading for the door.

"How about a bite to eat? Where are you staying, maybe I can run you home?"
Some of the students smiled as they passed. Miss Collins was a desperate woman.

"Ahh no thanks. I believe Miss Majick will give me a lift."
Liz looked up startled to hear her name.

"Wontcha dear?"
He winked,
"Give me a lift, that is."

 

[StarXChyld]

A Change of Plans for the Evening

Liz had sat enthralled as Frank Moore spoke to the class. Each time he used the word “fuck”, she felt a stab of excitement race down her spine, and he used it exactly 28 times in his short but intriguing speech. By the time she was filing out of the class with the rest of the students, her white cotton panties were uncomfortably damp. She couldn’t wait to race home and indulge herself in her naughty little secret of cruising the porn sites on her computer with her trusty “rocket” tucked neatly between her thighs.

She was almost out the door when she heard Mr. Moore call out her name.

"Ahh no thanks. I believe Miss Majick will give me a lift."
Liz looked up startled to hear her name. How did he know her name, she hadn’t volunteered it on their way in to the classroom.

"Wontcha dear?"
He winked,
"Give me a lift, that is."

“Me?” Liz cocked a questioning brow in his direction, “I mean, ah, sure. I guess that’s fine.” So much for her evening plans. But being raised in a strict Polish-Catholic household had taught her to always defer to her elders. If Mr. Moore needed a lift than it was her duty to oblige him, right?

She led him out to the street in an awkward silence, consciously aware that his eyes were taking all of her in. Usually she enjoyed the admiring glances of strangers but something about Frank Moore made her feel, well, vulnerable. Maybe it was his criminal background, he hadn’t stated what he went to jail for. She suddenly wished she’d worn a little more demure outfit to class instead of her tight red cashmere sweater and equally snug jeans.

Once they had crossed Michigan Avenue, she shifted her books to one arm and pointed to the entrance of the underground parking garage. “It’s only a little ways further. I always park here cuz’ it’s cheaper than the lots by the school.” She gave him a shy sideways glance from behind her long lashes. “Sorry.”

“Fuck. I could use the exercise.” He patted her shoulder reassuringly but the rush of tingles from the use of “that” word, combined with his unexpected touch made her shudder. “You cold? Maybe we should stop for a drink to warm you up. Whatd’ya say?”

Even as her brain was screaming “NO!”, her head bobbed up and down obediently. “Sure. That would be fine,” she replied politely. Silently she cursed her good old Catholic girl manners as she followed Frank Moore back across the street to the Russian Tea Room.

 

[ariosto]

Frank was surprised.
He hadn't figured her for the Russian Tea Room type, in fact places like this made him uptight and uncomfortable.
He wanted a shot of whisky, maybe two or three but that would be like farting at the Lyric Opera.

"Ahhh...whatever she's having. Make it two."

She ordered a shot of whisky....good whisky with a soda chaser but still a shot of whisky!

He grinned a bit lopsided, artifact of a broken jaw, but at least he'd kept his teeth...some women said it was a warm endearing smile...sure, whatever.

"How'd you know my name Mister Moore?"
It looked like she'd bust through that sweater any minute.
*Down boy*

"Deduction my dear Watson...deduction." He winked.
"And please call me Frank...if you call me Francis I'll have to deck ya."

It turned out that he'd been supplied with a list of students in Miss Collin's class a few days before. Of the five women there
only two had social security numbers indicating they were local to the area and he did not think that the name Wassana Muhammed Washington quite fit the petite blonde gal sitting across from him.

"So you are a detective at heart!"
She smiled warmly.
He liked this kid.

"Maybe I'll try that next...get a license...pack a rod..oops can't do that, I'm a con."

Shit he was packing a rod right now! He fantasized about tearing that sweater off her and sucking those full sweet tits, while he went on....
"I can get my rocks off taking pictures of bald executives fucking there secretaries...That'd be fun and I'd make money too."

He ordered another drink for both of them, getting easy with the girl, flowing warm now, never realising how she must be viewing this roughtalking blue collar guy who wrote exquisitely intricate and fiendishly clever books about an elegant renaissance sleuth named Piero Matti.

 

[StarXChyld]

Liz was unsure of what to make of Frank Moore. While he was entertaining and obviously very worldly, his crass, rough demeanor frightened her. She had never met a real live ex-con before. Something about the taboo was fascinating.

The first shot of whiskey had been to calm her rattled nerves. The second shot loosened her tongue and she leaned forward, chin propped on the back of her hands, "So tell me. Why’d ya go to jail? What did you do?"

Her wide blue eyes studied his face as she waited for his response. She couldn’t tell if she’d insulted him or not with her rather abrupt question but the liquid courage was coursing through her veins and she fancied herself Barbara Walters interviewing some infamous killer.

 

[ariosto]

"I got behind on my alimony."

Liz' brow knit and she stared into her drink.
This wasn't going well.

"No...I suppose you want the truth..."
She looked up at him wondering what was coming next.

"Reckless driving. No big deal except the old guy in the car I sideswiped had a bad ticker."

He downed the last of his whisky and stood up.
"Vehicular homicide with mitigating circumstances, like I wasn't quite drunk and the geezer was driving at 25 mph in the fast lane. Too bad he was bird colonel on an Army base."

He held out his hand.
"Thanks a lot Miss Majick.
I read your story. Debbie sent me a sample of everyones writing. I liked yours a lot."

"Are you going?"
She wasn't sure if she was disapointed or releaved.

"Yeah, I am. I'm sorry that I can't say the right things to impress people with my soft warm inner self...but that's the way it goes."
He smiled, a strangely warm smile in that worn, rugged face.
"My own worst enemy, I guess...I'll take care of the tab on the way out and like I said...You got a lot of talent, keep at it."

He melted into the crowd wishing desperately that the words that flowed so freely from his pen could fall like shining pearls from his lips as well.

 

[StarXChyld]

Liz sat for a moment, stunned. What had she said to cause such an about face with him? She looked up at the cashier station. He had just finished paying the check and was walking out the door. She didn’t want it to end like this.

Bolting from her chair, she grabbed her purse and coat and ran after him. He was a the corner of Michigan and Monroe, just about to cross the street to hail a cab.

Willing the light to change red to give her time to catch up with him, she ran as quickly as she could. The light changed just as he began to cross and he stepped back up on the curb. She ran up and tapped him on the shoulder, panting for air. He turned and waited for her to catch her breath.

Her cheeks were flushed and the wind was whipping her long blonde hair around her face as she struggled to find her words. The first of the season’s snowflakes floated down around them and one landed on the tip of her nose, melting quickly.

“Please. . .please Mr. Moore, “ her blue eyes were locked on his earnestly, “Please. Let me drive you home.”

 

[ariosto]

They took Lake Shore north through thinning traffic, both wondering exactly what to say or do next, passing the time in small talk. Something neither of them was very good at.

"You say your staying in Evanston?"
She ventured.

"Yep. I'm kind of housesitting you might say... for a friend of mine. He's in Europe now."

"Oh..."
She jammed on the brakes. There was the usual bottleneck getting off the 'Drive'.

"I know it's not on your way at all." He grabbed the dash.

"That's okay, really."

Silence...

Slow acceleration...moving again.

Frank gambled...
"Listen, I'm not a bad cook. the house where I'm staying has a gourmet's pantry and hundred dollar frying pans. Let me pay you back with a good supper...how about it?"

Jesus...but she was a sweet looking babe.

 

[StarXChyld]

Dinner with Frank Moore?

Cooking was a passion of hers and he was making her an offer she couldn’t refuse. A gourmet kitchen with professional cookware was the equivalent of asking a kid if they’d like to go to Disneyland.

“Dinner?” She slammed on the brakes as an old bum scuffled out in front of her bumper on Diversey Avenue. He bounced an empty gin bottle off the hood of her car and continued on his merry way, grumbling to himself under his breath. “Sorry about that.” She said it more to Frank than to the bum. “Dinner sounds great.”

They were stopped at a light and she turned to study his profile in the darkness of the car. There was something intriguing about him that made her want to be near him, if only for tonight. He turned and caught her staring. She smiled nervously and turned her attention back to the road. Yes, there was definitely something that was drawing her to Frank Moore. . . like a moth to the flame.

 

[ariosto]

Liz looked around the solid suburban house as Frank busied himself in the kitchen.
"Nice place...what does your friend do?"

Frank uncorked a bottle of good wine and placed it on the table.
"He's a cinematographer...documentary stuff mostly."

She put down the plaque she'd been examining.
"Have I seen anything of his?"

Frank smiled, "Now on that score I couldn't say. You probably have if you've watched PBS very much or if you ever saw 'Chicago Steam' at your local adult theater....no wait it's on video tape now. You can rent it."

Liz took the proffered glass and sipped. The smell of the garlic sizzling in the oil was making her ravenous.
"Chicago heat?"

"Yeah. It's how I met Cal. He shot a porno flik or two in the early days and I met him on the set..."
Frank laughed,
"The set was a motel room at the Heart of Chicago!"

"Oh really?"
Liz crossed her long legs. She noticed Frank had taken off his sweater. He had very broad shoulders.
"What were you...an actor in it?"

He'd walked back over to the stove.
"Yeah, I was in fact. Me and Ron Jeremy and about six young gals like me who needed a couple a hundred bucks real bad."

Suddenly she had a million questions she wanted to ask him.