Sinful_whispers
~ThE PeRfEcT ImPeRfEcT~
- Joined
- Jan 28, 2006
- Posts
- 11,482
(Closed for myself and Jon-Rico)
Prohibition was in full swing. Liquor other than “medicinal” whiskey and sacramental wine was illegal. Federal enforcers prowled the landscape, busting drinkers, raiding speakeasies, and sledge-hammering stills. Bootleggers tried to stay one step ahead of the lawdogs, determined to keep a thirsty nation happy. Gangsters operated at will, their pockets full of cops, politicians, and wads of cash. Jazz was the hot sound, the nation jumped to the sonic creations of Jelly Roll Morton, King Oliver and a young Louis Armstrong many making their sounds known in gangster owned speakeasies fronted by sexy strong willed wild women.
The law just passed given women the right to vote, many that were once church going table mannered females were changed into what were known as ‘flappers’. Those were grown women that you could spot easily with the short skirts, sequined dresses and bobbed hair. They dared to smoke cigarettes, drink cocktails, powdered their knees paint their lips bright red. They knew all the dances; they hung out in all the speakeasies and nightclubs dancing the Tango, the Black bottom and the biggest dance craze of all the Charleston. These women knew all the passwords to the speakeasies, they stayed out till dawn and exceeded the speed limits, and they partied and drank like the boys and never thought twice about doing it.
One of the most famous women among the underground was Kitty Montana. She'd been an actress in silent-films, a bare-back circus rider, and a singer in vaudeville before fronting speakeasies for the mob. Her clubs were raided and ‘padlocked’ by the police so often that she wore a tiny set of handcuffs on a chain around her neck that had been made for her as a gift. Born and raised as a southern belle, she loved the attention, fame and fortune. Once dark-haired turned peroxide platinum blonde to fit into her new lifestyle in her newly fronted club in Harlem called the Cotton Gin, she was out to seek her fame once again which came easy to her.
The infamous Cotton Gin, an upscale speakeasy was her newest lifeline she was set up in. During raids the bartenders could press a button to trigger a system of levers which flipped over the entire bar shelves, sending the bottles through a chute to crash on the ground. It was the busiest speakeasy in the area during Prohibition, and became a popular hangout for the gangster types, mainly because they owned it. It had the best floor shows, the most beautiful of ladies, and it had Kitty Montana most of all.
When Kitty entered a room, conversation stopped as every head turned her direction. She was devastatingly beautiful, an erotic apparition in a blond bob. Her heavy-lidded gaze, half-hidden behind a thin plume of smoke drifting up from a long cigarette holder, studied everything in detail. Her pale legs, displayed to perfection beneath a short frilled skirt, caused men to bump into things and spill their drinks. They fell about themselves, each wanting to be the fist to bring this angel another cocktail. None of which brought joy to the wives in the room. They were more likely to entertain violent fantasies, born of dark green jealousy. Men found Kitty ravishing and mysterious, women thought her wanton, shallow, and annoyingly unintelligent.
So it isn’t surprising that Kitty preferred the company of a certain kind of men, and men in general. She was fully aware of her effect on them, and she enjoyed it. She also thought too many of the women she encountered lacked any facility at all for interesting conversation twittering gossip bored her to death and too few of them could keep Kitty’s pace, drinking and dancing until well past sunrise day in and day out and still keep the crowd entertained and wanting more. She would awaken, take a cold shower and start drinking a pitcher of vodka and lemonade missed by eleven AM and continue till the early evening and then she would take a short nap, awaken and join the nightlife of her club till the next time the sun would rise; this would be her routine day in and day out.
When the great crash of the stock market took lace and prohibition took effect Kitty was down on her luck, being used to the limelight and an audience she found herself in need of money and company. An infamous gangster had his eye upon her, and offered her not only male companionship but everything else that went with it, namely a job where she could entertain, get the attention she was used to and party till the break of dawn. She couldn’t stay true to one man, she had many that she dated and was seen with, none were regular men off the street they were all famous for one thing or another which neither of them minded but one Antonio ‘machine Gun’ Morella. He was a well known gangster, when he spoke others listened.
Antonio had been using Kitty to front his places for about a year now; she knew more than most women did as far as how things worked from gambling to bootlegging to the numbers racket. The past week had been a good one profit wise; everything was calmer than normal which was eerie. But it didn’t stop business, if anything it blew the numbers on the books. They always say its calm before the storm and that was it, the storm was about to hit.
Kitty was up on the small stage singing while the band behind her played, Sonny was at the door sitting there letting those in that knew the password to gain entrance. Antonio was in the back room at the tables when there was a sudden loud sound and then the sound of machine guns going off, bullets flying everywhere, the glass chandeliers were falling to the ground in a crash, glass everywhere just like the blood splatter. The band took cover as did kitty, hiding behind anything they could use as a shield hoping to not get hit by the bullet spray. There were bodies slumping over left and right as kitty peeked out behind a corner table that was pushed over for her by a band member that she used for cover. She saw Salvador Bonatelli and four or five of his men in their dark black and white pinstriped suits wearing fedoras and wingtips Italian shoes. Sal looked at Kitty as he turned and walked out the door, making eye contact for a few moments, then he left.
Suddenly there was silence, dead silence infact. Nobody moved as they listened to the sound of tires squeal upon the asphalt. A few minutes had passed by when people began to come out from hiding, standing and making sure they were not hit by the bullet spray, seeing who was hit and who, dead as well as alive. Kitty crawled out from the table and stood up feeling her knees shaking under her as she flipped over a chair and settled upon it trying to take what had happened in. She moved slowly around those living as well as those dead. There were men and women slumped over their tables and chairs, some laying on the floor in puddles of blood, Kitty made her way to the back room and looked around the gambling area seeing if they took the fire or if anyone made their way back there.
As she came upon the entrance to the gambling area, she could see deep dark shadows lying over the tables, she searched for a light and flicked it on, and there was Antonio and four others slumped over the table, in their own pools of blood. The cards and chips were spread around the table as well as on the floor, she knew then that this was turning into a bloodbath between the families. Kitty knew now she was marked, she was an eye witness that could place Sal and his men at the scene; she could finger them and send them to prison. She wiped the tears from her eyes and grabbed the pile of cash on the table they were playing at and stuffed it in her garter the opposite one she kept her silver flask in filled with hooch.
People were hurrying to get out of the Cotton club, she was among them, she knew she was marked and in danger. She quickly cleared out the register and quickly grabbed any cash in sight she could find on her way out the back door of the place. She hated stealing from those dead but she knew this was the start of a feud and she didn’t want any part in it. She grabbed a bottle of gin and Antonio’s keys and out the door she went. She stumbled down and quickly got up, and slide in the driver’s seat of his armor plated car and sped as fast as she could to her home. Kitty quickly packed a bag with her most valuable possessions and hit the rode in the darkness of the night.
Once loaded with booze now sober as she pulled over and leaned over the steering wheel of the car, crying, as she couldn’t believe what her life had turned to now. She grabbed the flask from her garter and unscrewed the top, drinking it down till it was empty and then was about tocontinued on her no destination journey, looking back in the rearview mirror as she couldn't see headlights in the darkness as she was about to pull out.
Prohibition was in full swing. Liquor other than “medicinal” whiskey and sacramental wine was illegal. Federal enforcers prowled the landscape, busting drinkers, raiding speakeasies, and sledge-hammering stills. Bootleggers tried to stay one step ahead of the lawdogs, determined to keep a thirsty nation happy. Gangsters operated at will, their pockets full of cops, politicians, and wads of cash. Jazz was the hot sound, the nation jumped to the sonic creations of Jelly Roll Morton, King Oliver and a young Louis Armstrong many making their sounds known in gangster owned speakeasies fronted by sexy strong willed wild women.
The law just passed given women the right to vote, many that were once church going table mannered females were changed into what were known as ‘flappers’. Those were grown women that you could spot easily with the short skirts, sequined dresses and bobbed hair. They dared to smoke cigarettes, drink cocktails, powdered their knees paint their lips bright red. They knew all the dances; they hung out in all the speakeasies and nightclubs dancing the Tango, the Black bottom and the biggest dance craze of all the Charleston. These women knew all the passwords to the speakeasies, they stayed out till dawn and exceeded the speed limits, and they partied and drank like the boys and never thought twice about doing it.
One of the most famous women among the underground was Kitty Montana. She'd been an actress in silent-films, a bare-back circus rider, and a singer in vaudeville before fronting speakeasies for the mob. Her clubs were raided and ‘padlocked’ by the police so often that she wore a tiny set of handcuffs on a chain around her neck that had been made for her as a gift. Born and raised as a southern belle, she loved the attention, fame and fortune. Once dark-haired turned peroxide platinum blonde to fit into her new lifestyle in her newly fronted club in Harlem called the Cotton Gin, she was out to seek her fame once again which came easy to her.
The infamous Cotton Gin, an upscale speakeasy was her newest lifeline she was set up in. During raids the bartenders could press a button to trigger a system of levers which flipped over the entire bar shelves, sending the bottles through a chute to crash on the ground. It was the busiest speakeasy in the area during Prohibition, and became a popular hangout for the gangster types, mainly because they owned it. It had the best floor shows, the most beautiful of ladies, and it had Kitty Montana most of all.
When Kitty entered a room, conversation stopped as every head turned her direction. She was devastatingly beautiful, an erotic apparition in a blond bob. Her heavy-lidded gaze, half-hidden behind a thin plume of smoke drifting up from a long cigarette holder, studied everything in detail. Her pale legs, displayed to perfection beneath a short frilled skirt, caused men to bump into things and spill their drinks. They fell about themselves, each wanting to be the fist to bring this angel another cocktail. None of which brought joy to the wives in the room. They were more likely to entertain violent fantasies, born of dark green jealousy. Men found Kitty ravishing and mysterious, women thought her wanton, shallow, and annoyingly unintelligent.
So it isn’t surprising that Kitty preferred the company of a certain kind of men, and men in general. She was fully aware of her effect on them, and she enjoyed it. She also thought too many of the women she encountered lacked any facility at all for interesting conversation twittering gossip bored her to death and too few of them could keep Kitty’s pace, drinking and dancing until well past sunrise day in and day out and still keep the crowd entertained and wanting more. She would awaken, take a cold shower and start drinking a pitcher of vodka and lemonade missed by eleven AM and continue till the early evening and then she would take a short nap, awaken and join the nightlife of her club till the next time the sun would rise; this would be her routine day in and day out.
When the great crash of the stock market took lace and prohibition took effect Kitty was down on her luck, being used to the limelight and an audience she found herself in need of money and company. An infamous gangster had his eye upon her, and offered her not only male companionship but everything else that went with it, namely a job where she could entertain, get the attention she was used to and party till the break of dawn. She couldn’t stay true to one man, she had many that she dated and was seen with, none were regular men off the street they were all famous for one thing or another which neither of them minded but one Antonio ‘machine Gun’ Morella. He was a well known gangster, when he spoke others listened.
Antonio had been using Kitty to front his places for about a year now; she knew more than most women did as far as how things worked from gambling to bootlegging to the numbers racket. The past week had been a good one profit wise; everything was calmer than normal which was eerie. But it didn’t stop business, if anything it blew the numbers on the books. They always say its calm before the storm and that was it, the storm was about to hit.
Kitty was up on the small stage singing while the band behind her played, Sonny was at the door sitting there letting those in that knew the password to gain entrance. Antonio was in the back room at the tables when there was a sudden loud sound and then the sound of machine guns going off, bullets flying everywhere, the glass chandeliers were falling to the ground in a crash, glass everywhere just like the blood splatter. The band took cover as did kitty, hiding behind anything they could use as a shield hoping to not get hit by the bullet spray. There were bodies slumping over left and right as kitty peeked out behind a corner table that was pushed over for her by a band member that she used for cover. She saw Salvador Bonatelli and four or five of his men in their dark black and white pinstriped suits wearing fedoras and wingtips Italian shoes. Sal looked at Kitty as he turned and walked out the door, making eye contact for a few moments, then he left.
Suddenly there was silence, dead silence infact. Nobody moved as they listened to the sound of tires squeal upon the asphalt. A few minutes had passed by when people began to come out from hiding, standing and making sure they were not hit by the bullet spray, seeing who was hit and who, dead as well as alive. Kitty crawled out from the table and stood up feeling her knees shaking under her as she flipped over a chair and settled upon it trying to take what had happened in. She moved slowly around those living as well as those dead. There were men and women slumped over their tables and chairs, some laying on the floor in puddles of blood, Kitty made her way to the back room and looked around the gambling area seeing if they took the fire or if anyone made their way back there.
As she came upon the entrance to the gambling area, she could see deep dark shadows lying over the tables, she searched for a light and flicked it on, and there was Antonio and four others slumped over the table, in their own pools of blood. The cards and chips were spread around the table as well as on the floor, she knew then that this was turning into a bloodbath between the families. Kitty knew now she was marked, she was an eye witness that could place Sal and his men at the scene; she could finger them and send them to prison. She wiped the tears from her eyes and grabbed the pile of cash on the table they were playing at and stuffed it in her garter the opposite one she kept her silver flask in filled with hooch.
People were hurrying to get out of the Cotton club, she was among them, she knew she was marked and in danger. She quickly cleared out the register and quickly grabbed any cash in sight she could find on her way out the back door of the place. She hated stealing from those dead but she knew this was the start of a feud and she didn’t want any part in it. She grabbed a bottle of gin and Antonio’s keys and out the door she went. She stumbled down and quickly got up, and slide in the driver’s seat of his armor plated car and sped as fast as she could to her home. Kitty quickly packed a bag with her most valuable possessions and hit the rode in the darkness of the night.
Once loaded with booze now sober as she pulled over and leaned over the steering wheel of the car, crying, as she couldn’t believe what her life had turned to now. She grabbed the flask from her garter and unscrewed the top, drinking it down till it was empty and then was about tocontinued on her no destination journey, looking back in the rearview mirror as she couldn't see headlights in the darkness as she was about to pull out.
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