by Lexie Ray
I swallowed and took the bottle, squirting a bit of the lube onto my fingers. It was cold and vaguely sticky. Closing my eyes, I jammed my hand into my thong and rubbed myself with it. The wetness was unpleasant and uncomfortable. I washed my hands afterward.
“You’re as ready as you’ll ever be,” Cocoa determined. She brought out her ever-present red lipstick and swept the color over my lips.
I looked at myself in the mirror. Who was this Jazz? I didn’t recognize her.
“So I just go and lie down and open my legs?” I asked.
Cocoa nodded. “Simply put, that’s about all you do,” she agreed. “If it hurts, think happy thoughts, like what you’re going to spend all that money on. Mama takes a cut, but it’s all yours.”
“Ice cream,” I said, “then pizza.”
“Delicious,” Cocoa said, smiling.
She opened the door and led me out of the bathroom. “Look who’s all ready for you, darling,” my roommate called.
I stepped out from behind her and stared. The Don was sprawled out across the bed, completely nude. His erection stood out angrily away from his body. For a man in his forties, he was remarkably well preserved, I observed. His limbs and trunk were hairy but fit, the foreshadowing of a belly earned by excess his only flaw.
He grinned and put his hands behind his head. “Looks like I made a good investment in Miss Jazz, didn’t I, Cocoa?” he crowed.
“You sure did, Don Costa,” my roommate said, taking my hand and twirling me around. “Look at this pretty thing, already wet for you. Enjoy yourself, darling.”
Cocoa took her leave and I was alone with the Don. He beckoned me to approach the bed.
“Do—do you want me to get a condom?” I asked. “There are lots in the bathroom.”
“I don’t think we want one of those, do you?” Don Costa said, running his hand up and down my flat stomach. “This is your first time. I want you to feel everything.”
The Don always got what he wanted, I thought. I had to make it happen.
He lunged forward suddenly, scaring me, and pulled me onto the bed. His kiss was rough, demanding, and tasted like vermouth. I tried not to gag, tried to reciprocate, tried to think happy thoughts. I was doing this for Mama. I was doing this for the nightclub, so the girls could keep working. I was doing this for me, to earn money so that I could survive on my own.
I slipped my tongue into his mouth, almost afraid I’d get drunk just from the way it tasted. I thought about the boy I’d kissed on the bus that day, the way he had gingerly hefted my breasts in the palms of his hands. What was he doing now, I wondered. I bet he wouldn’t guess what I was doing now.
I moaned politely as the Don grabbed a handful of my ass, squeezing it like he was judging its ripeness. He fumbled with the clasp of my bra and I pulled away.
“I want to keep my bra on,” I said softly, thinking about all the scars that it hid.
“Why?” Don Costa groaned. He pressed his erection almost painfully into my thigh.
“Because it’s new,” I said. “Because it’s pretty.”
“Simple girl,” the Don said. “I’ll buy you a hundred bras.”
He managed to unfasten the clasp and I reluctantly let the bra fall away from my body. Don Costa thumbed my brown nipples and I gasped at the unexpected pleasure. He paused when he noticed the burn marks. I bore them all over, but the majority of them dotted my breasts.
“Who did this to you?” he demanded quietly. “I’ll kill him.”
It was the first time that night that I knew I liked the Don.
“He’s already dead,” I said, making myself smile. It was true. Jack was dead to me. Mama had said that part of my life was over.
Don Costa continued his exploration of my body a little more gently. I flushed as I realized that he must think I was fragile, damaged. In a sudden rush, I realized that it was probably to my advantage.
He reached my thong and slipped his finger in, caressing my slippery lips. His touch made me arch pleasurably, banishing the fears that he’d try to purposefully hurt me. The Don may have been a powerful man, but he wasn’t another Jack. Only I could make him another Jack, and I refused to. Jack had injured me down there once, but my pussy didn’t seem to remember. It responded in the only way it could to his insistent, knowledgeable touches.
“Cocoa was right,” Don Costa said thickly. “You are already wet.”
“You make me wet,” I said, blushing furiously and feeling ashamed of myself. If my mother could see me—see how far I’d fallen, seducing a mob leader, lying and spouting off disgusting dirty talk—her shock and disappointment would be crushing. Maybe as crushing as my own disappointment when she ceased being my mother, drowning in the fantasies the bottle of gin fed her.
The Don pushed me onto my back and climbed over me, still slipping his finger up and down my lips. He eased my thong down and smiled.
“I’m going to be your first,” he said. “And you always remember your first.”
He leaned down and kissed my neck while simultaneously guiding the head of his cock to my entrance. I responded almost automatically to his kisses, leaving a trail of red lipstick over his cheek.
I cried out as he thrust in completely, my body struggling to adjust to the unfamiliar invasion. I tried to think of anything else—of ice cream, of pizza, of money, of this being over, of Mom being alive again, of getting the hell out of here. It hurt too much, it was too much.
I realized I was clawing at the Don’s back with my sharp new manicure and tried to stop, worried he’d get angry if I made him bleed.
“Don’t stop, you little hellcat,” Don Costa grunted. “I just made you a woman. You deserve to try to take something from me.”
He started to thrust in and out of me and I yowled at every movement. The lubricant Cocoa had practically forced on me helped ease the way, but my body was having trouble adjusting to the Don’s eager but brutal pace. He was too excited and I just wasn’t physically ready for this onslaught.
I bit his neck to try to smother my cries and Don Costa laughed low in my ear.
“I love a girl who gives as good as she gets,” he said, ramming into me even harder.
Sweat beaded on my forehead and ran down my chest as I wrapped my legs around his waist, squeezing and trying to slow his pumping. It felt like he was going to break me in two if he didn’t slow down.
He worked his hand between my thigh and his ribcage and pushed his thumb against the hard bud of my clitoris. I saw stars, forgot myself, lost everything. All his ramming didn’t seem so bad anymore, just as long as he kept his finger right there—right there. I moved my body against his, my breasts bouncing, feeling dirty, feeling desperate and empty.
I didn’t understand what I was working toward until it happened—a shattering climax that surprised me with its intensity and suddenness. I howled, not caring what I looked or sounded like to the Don, not caring who heard me. I didn’t care who I thought I was. The only thing that mattered was the orgasm, the painfully short white nothingness. I felt like crying when it released me from its hold.
The Don sucked in air between his clenched teeth and gave one last massive thrust, driving into me. The water of his completion filled my body. The mob boss moaned in my ear, suckled on my neck as he emptied his cock into me.
After a few final thrusts, he pulled out of me and flopped down on the bed, making it creak dangerously. We panted side by side, and sounds began to return. I hadn’t even realized that my senses had been drained, boiled down to only the sense of touch. Mama was well into another set, it appeared, the lyrics and tune muffled but just audible.
A wretched wave of nausea washed over me and I rolled off the bed.
“Be right back,” I said, trying to smile.
I managed to get the bathroom light on and the door closed before the bile came. I collapsed in front of the toilet, my body heaving, vomiting even though there wasn’t anything to throw up. It was all water, perhaps some bits of breakfast t
hat my stomach had been trying desperately to hold onto.
It was almost as if my body was disgusted with itself.
I flushed the toilet and rinsed my mouth out in the sink. The water still running, I splashed my face and wet a washcloth I found on a shelf. The Don’s semen was trickling down my legs. I cleaned myself up, rinsing the washcloth again and again, making sure I wiped down every surface of my skin.
By the time I left the bathroom, the Don was already half dressed.
“There she is,” he said, grinning. “Was I a little too much for you, doll?”
I smiled shakily and said the most flattering thing I could think of. “It was just so big.”
Don Costa threw his head back and laughed. “I can tell we’re going to get along great,” he said. “I know this won’t be the last time we enjoy each other’s company.”
I retrieved my underwear from the floor and stepped in to the thong. My pussy felt wet, slippery, strange. The Don fastened my bra for me as I held my hair up and out of the way. He turned me around and kissed me again, almost softly.
He reached into his billfold again and drew out two Benjamins. He tucked them into my bra, getting one last grope in for good measure.
“These are for you and you alone,” he said. “Mama doesn’t get a cut of these. Your official ‘tip’ was included in the money I gave her, so she doesn’t have to know about this little tip.”
“Thank you,” I said, a little confused. Was Don Costa encouraging me to lie to Mama?
“I’ll make the offer one more time,” he said. “All you have to do is give me a name. I’ll make the son of a bitch who burned you disappear.”
It was tempting, but I only smiled and went looking for my uniform.
After we were both fully dressed, Don Costa held open the door for me. Cocoa waited out in the hallway.
“Hey there, lovebirds,” she said, beaming. “How’d everything go?”
“Like a dream,” the Don said, slapping me on the ass as I walked past him and into the hallway.
“Well, you were in there long enough,” my roommate jokingly scolded. “You’ve squandered practically the whole night.”
“I wouldn’t call what we did squandering a night,” he said, grinning suggestively. Cocoa whooped and laughed, slapping her knee.
“I knew it,” she said, still giggling. “Our Jazz is a good girl—everywhere except the bedroom, is that what you’re telling me?”
The Don winked rakishly. I knew my smile probably looked sickening on my face, but I wore it like a mask.
We went back downstairs, where the crowd was feverishly applauding Mama. Her set was over. I realized that I had no idea what time it was. Was everything really almost over? The world had slowed down while Don Costa plowed into my body. Customers had changed inside the nightclub and the line outside had vanished.
“We’ll be closing in thirty minutes,” Mama announced to groans and disappointed shouts. She held her hands up. “Now, now, you know I can’t slow down the march of time. I can only help you enjoy it a little better.”
There were wolf whistles and catcalls to this statement.
“Finish up your dinners, finish up your drinks, settle up your tabs, whisper sweet words to that special someone,” Mama rattled off. “And tip my girls. They live to make you happy.”
“Are you okay?” Cocoa whispered to me. I nodded quickly and smiled.
The curtains closed and Mama emerged on the floor again. She made a beeline for the Don’s table.
“Well, well,” she said saucily, putting her hands on her hips. “Look who decided to return to grace us with his presence.”
The Don laughed almost sheepishly. “What can I say, Mama?” he asked. “You have a fireball on your hands with this one. I’m lucky I didn’t come away burned.”
I flinched at the obvious reference to my scars but didn’t say anything.
“Well, it looks like you wore Miss Jazz out,” Mama said. “I’m going to send her away early. I bet a shower and bed will do her a world of good.”
She marched me across the floor and to the staircase leading up to my room.
“You’ve done good, honey,” she said, kissing me wetly on both cheeks. “You’ve earned more money than any other girl tonight.”
I felt like I was going to faint, but I tried to smile for Mama. She was proud of me. I had helped the nightclub by sleeping with the Don.
She patted her breasts. “I’ll keep your money safe,” she vowed. “It’s not safe in here to just leave it scattered around. I keep all the girls’ money in my office. If you want to buy something, all you have to do is ask and I’ll get it for you.”
That troubled me a little, not knowing how much I made and not having immediate access to it. Then I remembered the two hundred bucks stuffed into my bra, remembered I had a secret to keep from her.
“Okay, Mama,” I said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I had to drag myself up the stairs and to the room. The soreness of my body was new and vaguely unpleasant, but it was my mind that was in the worst shape. How could I avoid doing that again? I wouldn’t ever be able to refuse the Don—that much was clear. My only perk was those two hundred- dollar bills. I concealed the money in one of my dresser drawers.
I showered, enduring the hottest water my skin could handle. I stood in there for what felt like hours, listening to the girls coming and going in the bathroom, the other showers, chatting about their tips, the night they had, what they were going to do with the money tomorrow. I let the water run over me, the steam so thick all I could focus on was breathing, not thinking.
I wrapped a towel around me and shuffled across the hallway, not so much as glancing at my flushed skin in the mirror as I left the bathroom.
I sat on my bed and held my face in my hands. I didn’t move as the mattress sagged next to me and Cocoa put her arm around my bare shoulders. I didn’t even know she was in the room.
“Do you have any questions after your first night?” she asked softly.
“No,” I whispered. How many showers would it take to wash this feeling away?
“Take this.”
I let my hands drop and looked at what Cocoa was offering me. She held out a pill and a small bottle of water.
“This’ll take care of you for now,” she said. “Tomorrow, I’ll take you to the clinic and get you on some birth control.”
Cocoa had probably been with the Don often enough to know his habits in the bedroom, including his forgoing of condoms. I swallowed the pill and Cocoa pulled the covers over me. Too tired to process anything that happened, my eyes closed, my brain shutting down as a promise for the blissful nothingness of slumber.
As I drifted off, I realized something. Now I really did know everything about Mama and her so-called nightclub.
Chapter Three
Life went on after I lost my virginity to a mob boss, I was unsurprised to find. I did the chores I was assigned, opened and closed the club, learned how to flirt from Cocoa and the other girls, and gave all my tips to Mama for her to squirrel away in her safe. She didn’t give anyone a choice about that.
I asked for money several times and she always gave me the amount I requested, but it still made me uneasy for her to hold all of my earnings. There had to be hundreds of my dollars in that office safe. Whenever I felt angry about it, I turned my mind to the secret tip from Don Costa.
It didn’t surprise me the next time that the Don came in to the nightclub to enjoy himself with his companions that I was pulled to serve him. By then, I could carry a tray of martini glasses filled to the brim with vermouth, vodka, or gin as well as any other girl there.
My continued innocence in the bedroom turned him on thoroughly. It pleased him when I repeated actions that he’d taught me, the little tricks to make him feel good.
My only concern was that it hurt Cocoa’s feelings. Blues had told me that first night that Cocoa always got the Don, but it looked like he preferred me over her—for now. It was
just as the Don had said that night. Sometimes a man preferred steak, but sometimes he wanted fish for a change. Soon, I was sure the Don would develop a taste for chicken or lamb or pork. I was just the dish of the moment.
When his attentions inevitably waned and he displayed more than a passing glance at another of Mama’s girls, that girl started serving the Don’s table.
It was something of a relief. At least I wouldn’t have to have sex with him anymore.
But then, Mama called me over to a table one night, not long after the Don had taken another girl.
“Mr. Lamprey, I want you to meet my newest girl, Jazz,” Mama said. She was lying. A new girl had started just a few days ago. I had already been there for more than a month.
The man was pale, almost sickly looking, but I could tell from the cut and material of his suit that he was very rich.
“The pleasure’s mine,” Lamprey said, looking me up and down.
Mama leaned forward in confidence, drawing both of us closer.
“Now, this stays between us,” she began, “but Jazz used to be Don Costa’s girl when she first started out.”
“Is that true?” Lamprey demanded, staring at me with his limpid blue eyes.
“Yes, it is,” I said, looking at Mama and wondering what her game was.
“How many men could say they tasted the leader of the Italian mob’s spoils?” she asked, raising an eyebrow suggestively.
I scowled. Mama was pimping me out to this Lamprey guy. How could she do this to me? I thought I was done with the sex when the mob boss lost interest in me.
“I don’t think the Don would like it very much if another man touched me,” I spat, but it was the wrong thing to say.
“You’re right,” Lamprey said, the arousal making his voice throaty. “The Don wouldn’t like me touching you at all.”
He took out an expensive-looking wallet and I counted the bills as he flipped them out. It was nearly $5,000 dollars.
