"Toot, Toot, Tootsie"
Maintaining it's high standards of what was once a dancehall. Now a speakeasy lounge of people with sophisticated taste and style. With an environment that attracted a certain flair. If intimacy was one's caviar, and cannabis made your dreams come true.
Down a long dark alley of gin joints, you could find me drinking the swill. My office in the bowels of a "blind pig," speakeasy club. It was a place of bohemians and jazz bands. Running all day I was in need of fixer, slowing me down to a low simmer. A revenuer by day hibernating at night in the arms of a flapper. Girls with small breasts, putting silken legs on display as they danced the Jitterbug, At Musette's, "House of Cards."
I wasn't there to expand my small circle of my friends. I was there to inhale sexual musk and opium plumes an and ounce of pussy in the flesh. To savor with my tongue and give a few dollars. There was usually lipstick on my collar before the fat lady sang.
It was a brothel, it was my crutch, leaving my inhibitions behind. Leaving the lights of Main Street and entering the world of one's dream. Not quite like an episode of a black and white movie. Pictures hung on the wall of Garbo, Capone, Fairbanks, Clara Bow and Mary Pickford. Also one of me dressed in a tux. I knew Musette, more than well.
She had helped me when I was in need of a friend. Saving me from myself, she would often raise my spirits. She wasn't perfect and neither was I. Now she was my wife, in good and bad.
When not fucking I was watching the gals performed, and the gay men sought out men. It was like a religious experience. Thinking, I was being saved. Like at a carnival there were exhibitionists, bondage fans, bisexual college girls, cross-dressers and everyone else. Even spectators.
My drink of choice was Absinthe as she scooched a little bit closer. As if the night belonged to her, She kissed my neck, her hand resting on my thigh. Her breath like soft cotton brushed my lips as a soft sigh exploded. Her tongue as if the serpent in the Garden of Eden. Absinthe ( La fée verte) the green fairy was musing me. It was my elixir and stirred my blood.
She unbuttoned my trousers. Looking down at my cock and started walking her fingers up and down the shaft, Feeling it's head and balls. Longing for her tongue.
Then she took my cock into her mouth, with her tongue working it. Clamping a hand on my balls to hold my dick in place, flicking her tongue on my dickhead. Feeling the rising of cum about to explode.
Her skirt was short and rode up her thighs past her silk stockings as the jazz horn blew. She was no Coco Chanel but she was confident in what she proposed. Living life to it's fullest as she embraced my cock with her lips.
She swirled her tongue around the head of my cock, sucking harder and slathering my cock with her drool. Teasing me with her eyes as she slurped. Releasing it with a pop. "Oh, yeah," I said, quivering with the excitement.
Taking her in my arms and unbuttoning her dress, I fondled her small breasts. Feeling Musette's heart beating. Raising her hips and smiling, her legs wrapped around my torso and squeezing.
The band was playing and the blond at the mic was singing "My Dear Mister Shane." I rammed my cock into her pussy forgetting that we were not alone. But I served at the behest of Musette as she boogie-woogie her hips. Driving me in deeper. Listening to the sounds she made. Her pussy clenching on each stroke unwilling to surrender my cock.
Feeling her mouth sucking my kiss. I knew we were in love with our sighs as the singer began to sing, "Hard-Hearted Hannah."
We turned out the lights as the band packed up. Hearing the echo of Al Jolson sing, "Toot, Toot, Tootsie."
Written by adagio
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