by Lexie Ray
He scooted away from the table and patted his lap again, spreading his arms for both Cocoa and me. Without exchanging a glance, we perched on his lap. I balanced as lightly as I could, trying to ignore the hand trailing up my bare leg. As long as Mama was on the stage, everything was going to be okay.
Mama smiled sweetly as the pianist ended the song with a jazzy flourish.
The nightclub exploded. The Don whistled piercingly into my ear, but I barely noticed. Cocoa and I clapped madly. Everyone was doing the same. Mama stood up there like a queen and soaked in all the appreciation.
She continued her set, mastering all the jazz standards and putting her own stamp on them. Her well-oiled voice skated and curled up and down the musical scale. Some of the customers danced on the floor during some of the songs, but the Don and his companions stayed put. Cocoa and I got up twice to bus the table and get more drinks.
After nearly two hours, Mama took a sip of water from a champagne glass and cleared her throat.
“That’s all for now,” she said. “I’m going to take a short break and come down to say hello to everyone. I’ll be back on later.”
The curtains closed and the lounge music resumed. The low roar of the crowd got louder and I noticed the Don’s grip on my hip again. It was like a period of magic ending in favor of reality.
I wasn’t surprised to see Mama heading to our table first. Cocoa and I were still seated on the Don’s lap.
“Well, what did you think, Don Costa?” Mama asked, her grin telling everyone she knew exactly what he thought.
“The voice of an angel,” the Don declared.
“Here, here,” Georgie said.
“And how are Cocoa and Jazz treating you?” Mama asked, looking at us. “I must say, Don, that you look happier than a pig in mud.”
“You know my vices well, Mama,” he said. “And I can’t help wanting what I want.”
I couldn’t contain a gasp as he forcefully groped my breast.
I expected Mama to be angry, to tell him off no matter who he was. You couldn’t do that to an employee no matter who you were, right?
Instead, she simply looked at the Don with something close to regret.
“I’m afraid I have to discourage you with Jazz,” Mama said. “This is her first night. She’s inexperienced. I don’t want you to be disappointed. Only the best for you, Don Costa.”
I tried not to feel stung, knowing that Mama was just attempting to protect me.
“Don Costa, isn’t there anything I can do for you?” Cocoa chimed in. She pushed her red lips out in a pretty pout. “Aren’t I your favorite anymore? All this attention you’re lavishing on Jazz is making me jealous.”
The Don spluttered out a laugh. “I never thought I’d have a pair of your girls fighting over me, Mama,” he said.
“We’re eager to please,” she said, smiling widely.
“Cocoa, sweetheart, you know I love you,” the Don said, pinching her rouged cheek. “But a man can’t eat steak every day of his life. Sometimes, he needs a little fish, too.”
He laughed at my yelp when he roughly handled my crotch.
The “everything” of Mama’s nightclub was becoming clearer to me with each passing second.
I looked up and shivered. Mama’s smile was downright chilly.
“Don, please excuse Miss Jazz and I,” she said. “We’re going to step into my office to talk a little business. Cocoa here will keep you warm while we’re away.”
“I hope you’re not going to try to spirit her away for the night,” the Don said, the hint of a threat apparent in his voice. “I wouldn’t want to have to go looking for her.”
Mama laughed like she’d just heard the funniest joke in the world, but the chuckles were joyless. “Honey, where would I hide her from you? You own this club—and practically this entire city.”
This seemed to satisfy the Don while scaring the crap out of me and he released me from his lap. He owned the club—and the city? Then the “Don” thing really was a mob title. I clasped my hands together to keep them from shaking.
Mama put her arm around my waist and walked me across the floor toward the office. She smiled graciously and waved at all of the well-wishers sitting at the various tables.
“I’ll be back to talk soon, I promise,” she called out multiple times as we made our way through the tables.
“Talk?” someone called back. “Come back and sing soon!”
She laughed, seeming genuinely pleased. “You’re too kind.”
But when we entered the office, Mama’s smile faded. For the first time, I saw a harried businesswoman just trying to keep her life’s work running.
“The situation with the Don is worse than I thought,” Mama said. “He seems to have really taken a shine to you, child, and it’s not hard to see why. You’re a gorgeous creature. You’re a lot more innocent than the rest of my girls. You’re eager to please. He can’t resist you. No man would be able to.”
“I didn’t do anything to ask for this,” I said, my voice trembling. “I just tried to be nice. I don’t really know what’s going on.”
“What’s going on is that the Don wants to sleep with you tonight, Jazz,” Mama said bluntly. “There ain’t words to pretty it up. That’s the cold, hard truth. The most powerful man in New York wants to sleep with you and he always gets what he wants.”
“Can’t I say no?” I whispered.
Mama sat down on the edge of her desk. “A dozen of my girls would be clawing at each other to be in the situation you’re in,” she said. “Sure, the tips from running drinks and food and letting the customers flirt with you are nice. But the real money comes in from the sex.”
“The sex?”
Mama shrugged. “Everyone has sex. Why shouldn’t you sell it? It’s the most natural thing in the world.”
The “everything” that I had been missing out on fell into place. The nightclub was just an elaborate front for a brothel.
And I was about to have my first client.
I felt physically ill but tried to calmly assess the situation. I couldn’t even really say that this was the worst thing to ever befall me. Jack had been very bad. The streets had been perhaps even worse. So this—sleeping with a mob boss for cash—this was just par for the course, right?
“Anyone can say no,” Mama said. “You can try to say no. But this man has been making the rules for years. I’ve known him for a long time. He gave me the money to start this place and continues to pour money in when he’s a customer. The Don can shut this place down if there’s something he doesn’t like about it. That’s why we always try to do things that he likes.”
He could shut Mama’s nightclub down? I thought about all the girls who would be out of a job, out of money, and thrown out on the streets.
All because I didn’t want to sleep with the Don—even though he was going to pay me.
Mama had been so kind to me, and my selfishness was going to kill her dreams.
“I’ll do it,” I said finally.
“Jazz, you don’t have to,” Mama said, but the relief was plain on her face.
“I want to do it,” I said. “It’s the least I could do. You took me off the streets. We’re family now.”
Mama grabbed me and held me close. Her perfume was cloying, almost suffocating, and I had to hold my breath.
“You’re a good girl, Jazz,” she said. “You’re a good girl.”
“There’s just one thing,” I said. “Well, a couple of things. I have some scarring from, well, you know.”
“That’s fine, honey,” Mama said. “He’ll notice it or he won’t.”
“The other thing is …” I hesitated. This was embarrassing, but I had to come clean. “I haven’t really had that much experience in the bedroom.”
During high school, I’d had some crushes. I never really dated before, but I did let a guy get to second base once while we rode the bus.
And the things Jack did to me I associated more with pain than with sex.
&
nbsp; Mama was giving me an assessing look. “Are you telling me you’re a virgin?” she nearly demanded.
I nodded slowly. “More or less.”
“Which part is more and which part is less?” she asked sharply.
I flinched. “I’ve never laid down willingly with a man and had real sex.”
Mama smiled—a smile I’d never seen before. It scared me a lot.
“We’ll name a price he thinks he can refuse,” she said. I realized she was talking to herself. “But then we’ll sink the hook into him and he’ll know he can’t refuse—not an offer like this.”
Mama walked out of the office without saying anything. I understood only belatedly that I should follow.
When I arrived at the Don’s table, Mama was whispering in his ear. Cocoa watched me with a thinly disguised expression of horror. I remembered what my roommate had told me earlier—that I didn’t have to do anything I didn’t want to. Did I really have that choice? Mama said Don Costa could shut the place down. Could I simply say no and let that happen?
Very few people had choices in life, I slowly realized. I was definitely not one of them—not now. Maybe not ever.
Mama leaned back and looked at the Don, waiting. He eyed me, grinning lecherously, until he reached into his suit jacket and withdrew a thick wad of money.
“Sold,” he said, licking his finger and counting out the bills.
Mama scooped up the cash as soon as the Don laid it on the table, stuffing it down into her ample cleavage.
“Cocoa, show Miss Jazz and Don Costa to the best room in the house,” Mama said. “Jazz, I’ll keep your things safe until you come get them.” She laid her hand on her breast and I knew she meant the money. How much of it was mine?
Cocoa cut across the dance floor and started to mount a set of stairs I had seen but assumed had led to more living quarters for Mama’s girls. The Don followed Cocoa, slapping her buttocks playfully as she walked up the steps. I followed the Don, feeling weak and lightheaded.
Cocoa reached a room and opened it. Flicking on a light revealed thick red curtains covering the expanses of walls. The bed was on a raised platform in the middle of the room. Off to the side was a bathroom. The dusky lighting gave everything a romantic feeling, but I couldn’t help feeling sick.
“Cocoa, did you know that Jazz is a virgin?” Don Costa mused. His grin was a little loopy and I could tell that all those martinis had made him tipsy.
“Jazz is a good girl,” my roommate said firmly. “Of course she’s a virgin. Now, we’re going to go get her ready in the bathroom. You stay out here and make yourself comfortable.”
Cocoa took me by the elbow and escorted me into the private bathroom, shutting the door behind us.
“Are you really a virgin?” she hissed. “Or is that something Mama invented?”
“I really am,” I said softly.
“Jesus.” Cocoa put her hands on her head, looking like she wanted to tear her hair out. “Okay, stay calm.”
I wondered if she was talking to herself or to me. She opened a cabinet to reveal an assortment of condoms and lubricants. Grabbing a handful, she slammed the door shut.
“Take off your clothes,” she said. “Leave your bra and underwear on.”
I obeyed immediately. Cocoa obviously had more knowledge about this than I did. She looked genuinely upset and like she wanted to help me.
“I bet you wondered why Mama insisted on matching lingerie sets under your uniform,” my roommate muttered, draping my blouse and skirt over a hanger.
“I thought it was just because she liked nice things,” I said innocently. My bra was black lace and the thong matched it perfectly.
“She does like her nice things,” Cocoa agreed irreverently. She uncapped a bottle of lube and held it out to me. “Put this on your pussy. Try to work it inside. Don’t be shy. You’ll thank me later.”
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 anoth
er 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.
