Seduction of Moxie

by Colette Moody

  Moxie blinked several times, trying to take it all in. “Why are we here again?”

  “We all have our reasons, sister,” Wil answered as she pushed past them and disappeared into the crowd with Julian.

  “What does that mean?”

  Violet set her terrier on the floor. “Well, Julian’s here to find himself a man,” she explained. “Preferably one of his famous back-alley frolics. Wil’s here to make a different type of connection.”

  “Oh?”

  Violet looked somewhat sheepish. “She’s here to get some cocaine—the ‘white lady’ she referred to. As you can see, you can get anything in a buffet flat.”

  “So why are you here? What’s your vice?”

  “Baked Alaska,” she said, one corner of her mouth rising infinitesimally.

  Moxie had lost the physical ability to hide her disapproval. Did these people have no scruples whatsoever? “Baked Alaska, the dessert? Or is that code for something too? Like having flaming heroin blown into your ass with a straw?”

  “No, it’s the dessert.” She paused conspiratorially. “But I like to eat it off a dead hooker.”

  “And cheesecake just won’t do?”

  “It’s too heavy. Makes me feel bloated.”

  “Well, that’s no good,” Moxie said, laughter betraying her words. “You don’t want to feel that way every time you come across a dead hooker.”

  “Exactly. That’s a waste of a perfectly good naked carcass.”

  A tall, dark-skinned man dressed in women’s clothes and dolled up to the nines approached them, his long false eyelashes fluttering like blossoms in a breeze. “Did I hear the word naked ?”

  Violet’s face lit up and she kissed him briefly on the mouth. “Sweetie, you look fabulous!” she told him.

  “As do you, sister.” He traced her cheek lightly with his slender index finger. “How are things?”

  “You know me. Everything’s jake. Moxie, meet Lady Dulce La Boeuf. Lady Dulce, this is Moxie Valette.”

  He seemed to study her for a moment as he took her gently by the wrists. “Honey, I could just eat cobbler straight out of your ass with a spoon.”

  She froze at both his words and his appearance in a mixture of shock and confusion. “Is that a good thing?”

  “Absolutely,” he assured her.

  “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it,” Violet said with a wink. “So, what have we missed tonight?”

  “You missed my singing, you silly bitch. But I suppose I’ll forgive you.”

  Violet chuckled. “Moxie here is a singer too.”

  He tilted his head curiously. “Is that so? I like you already, doll face.” Despite her initial misgivings, Moxie felt a bit more at ease upon hearing his words. Well, his words coupled with the fact that she was crazy about the beaded ivory dress he was wearing. “You know who’s upstairs?”

  “Who’s that?” Violet asked.

  “I was just heading up to see Smokey Bender.”

  Violet seemed interested and clapped once. “Let’s go up and see him.”

  They started toward the staircase and Moxie leaned forward so Violet could hear her. “Who is Smokey Bender?”

  “He’s…a performer.”

  “Hmm, why did you hesitate?”

  “Because he’s an acquired taste, so I didn’t want to call him an entertainer. You may not find him entertaining.” They reached a room at the top of the staircase filled with people, and the three of them crowded just inside the doorway. “There he is. This will be a treat.”

  “Why is he taking off his pants?” Moxie asked in concern. A small, wiry man who appeared to be in his mid-fifties pulled his trousers down and stepped out of them, then folded them neatly and handed them to a woman to his left.

  “You’ll see,” Lady Dulce murmured.

  “Is this some genitalia puppet show?” Moxie was aghast as the man then did the same with his underwear, turned so he was facing away from everyone, and bent at the waist. He reached out again to the woman holding his clothing, and she handed him a lit cigar. The crowd seemed pleased, and some onlookers clapped and offered words of encouragement.

  He inserted the cigar into his rectum and, to Moxie’s amazement, began to draw and expel smoke. The applause grew louder.

  Lady Dulce whispered conspiratorially, “How about that?”

  “That is one unbelievable asshole,” she answered.

  “Wait until he blows the smoke rings,” Violet added.

  Moxie’s current inebriated state, coupled with the parade of the bizarre before her, left her unable to distinguish sarcasm from the laws of physics. “Really?”

  She laughed softly. “No, not really. But he will extinguish a candle in a minute or two in what will appear to be a very uncomfortable manner.”

  “Christ almighty,” she whispered, watching him ignite a fart with a cigarette lighter.

  Wil and Julian appeared in the doorway then, and Violet signaled them over. “Lady Dulce, you remember my wonderful friends Urethra Dejeuner and her fiancé Red Nobgobbler, man-about-town.”

  Lady Dulce was clearly amused. “How could I forget?”

  Wil suddenly ducked and tried to hide behind Julian. “What is it?” he asked, scanning the crowd.

  “It’s D.B.,” she answered softly, pressing her back up against his.

  Moxie looked at Violet. “Who’s D.B.?”

  “An old conquest of our gal here. Apparently it didn’t end well and, really, when has it ever? Ah, there he is, by the window.”

  Moxie, Lady Dulce, and Julian immediately looked at him in interest, and when the gentleman saw that he was being stared at by not one, but a group of people, his expression changed to one of grave concern. He looked down suspiciously at his fly.

  “I thought that man’s name was Floyd,” Lady Dulce said.

  “D.B. is a special nickname Wil gave him,” Violet explained, her voice breaking with a hint of laughter.

  Wil cleared her throat. “It stands for douchebag, because sex with him felt a lot like being flushed out with a bag of lukewarm Lysol.”

  “Ouch,” Lady Dulce whispered.

  “I’m sure somehow he remembers your evening together more pleasantly,” Julian said before taking a sip of his drink.

  “It would be hard for him not to, I’m thinking,” Moxie said with a wince. She looked at her new friend in drag. “‘Dulce La Boeuf’? Is that Italian and French?”

  “Si and oui. Loosely, it means sweet meat.”

  “Or sweetly, does it mean loose meat?” Moxie asked, drunkenly cackling at her pun.

  Lady Dulce laughed too and brushed Moxie’s elbow in a familiar way. “You want a drink, doll?”

  “Only if it means I don’t have to see Mr. Cavity here put anything else in his anus.”

  “You have a deal. Come on.” He took her by the hand and pulled her out of the room and back downstairs.

  Julian raised an eyebrow. “Are you just going to let your date leave with the first woman with a penis she meets?”

  Wil was still hiding behind Julian. “Now, now, Jules. Not everyone can have the same appreciation of the anal arts that you do.” She peeked around him to see what Smokey Bender was doing now. “Holy Christ, is that a weasel he’s putting in there?”

  “It’s someone’s mink stole,” Violet explained flatly.

  Julian grimaced. “Does Smokey reimburse for the cleaning bills?”

  Violet wasn’t paying much attention anymore. “So what do you both think of Moxie?”

  “She’s charming.” Wil stole a look to ensure that D.B. had not spied her from across the room.

  “I’m sure her husband thinks so too,” Julian said.

  “Oh, darling,” Wil said. “You can’t possibly think that girl is married.”

  “No?”

  “Absolutely not. She just wanted to make sure Vi here didn’t cop a feel.”

  “That’s what I was thinking too,” Violet said. “Her husband is awfully convenient.”


  Julian raised an eyebrow. “Or maybe you just don’t want to believe it.”

  She sighed in frustration as she idly watched Smokey Bender launch a cocktail wiener across the room and the crowd rapidly part to avoid it. “I don’t know, Jules. There’s something about her that fascinates me.”

  “Her jugs, perhaps?” he asked. “After all, what can be more fascinating than a pair of perfect jugs?”

  “No,” Wil said. “It’s her ass, isn’t it? Wait, no. Her gams. I vote for the gams.”

  “Besides all that,” Violet explained, “I feel drawn to her.”

  “And her jugs, ass, and gams,” Julian added glibly. “Understood.”

  “Well, sister,” Wil said. “You only have tonight to make it happen. So why are you standing here watching some fella push hors d’oeuvres out his fanny? Go find her.”

  *

  2:40 a.m.

  “Where the hell did she go?” Violet asked herself in frustration. She and Clitty had been through every room in the house at least once and didn’t see Moxie anywhere. Based on how many people were milling about, however, she wasn’t close to panicking. It would have been easy to miss her in the crowd.

  Wil approached her in a room where people were gathering to watch a couple have sex on the floor. “Hey, Jules seems to have found himself a human almond frappe—all nuts and foam.”

  “Is that so? Is he somewhere shamefully lying about how much money he makes?”

  Wil propped her hands on her hips. “Well, I’m fairly certain he can’t be saying too much, what with that fella’s dick in his mouth and all.”

  “I suppose that’s a good way to avoid awkward conversation.”

  “And I found your gal while I was at it,” Wil said.

  “Tell me she isn’t trapped under a cluster of fornicators.”

  “Even better than that,” she replied blithely. “She’s downstairs singing a duet with Lady Dulce La Boeuf.”

  Violet stared at her in disbelief, searching for some sign that she was putting her on. “Seriously?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it, if I were trying to seduce her.”

  “Point taken.” She snapped her fingers to call Clitty, who—along with Wil—fell in step behind her, and headed downstairs. As they rounded the corner at the foot of the stairs, first she heard Moxie, and then she actually saw her. She and Lady Dulce were standing near the pianist, who was playing a song that Violet had never heard before. Their harmony was impressive, even if the lyrics weren’t.

  Don’t dare call me a flapper.

  Fitzgerald’s not my man.

  I’m wallowing in the crapper,

  because my stocks are in the can.

  Now I want to survive,

  though I don’t mean to be crass.

  It looks like to stay alive

  I’ll have to peddle my ass!

  Can’t bear to stand in a breadline.

  Hoover’s just not my guy.

  I’m living off of moonshine,

  How else will I ever get by?

  Now I want to survive,

  and don’t think that I don’t have class.

  But it looks like to stay alive

  I’ll have to peddle it—

  Don’t belittle it.

  Won’t you diddle it?

  That should settle it—

  Have to peddle my ass!

  On the final note, both Moxie and Lady Dulce spanked themselves, and the rowdy audience applauded enthusiastically. Violet walked toward Moxie, clapping and nodding her approval. “Well, that was quite a tearjerker.”

  Moxie’s cheeks were flushed, and Violet had no doubt that she’d had more to drink since she’d last seen her. “I love ballads,” she replied, her brown eyes sparkling.

  They stood mutely for several moments, until Lady Dulce gave Moxie’s back a playful push, sending her only inches from colliding with Violet. “Take a break, doll,” he said, nodding to the pianist. “I’ve got this number.” The dulcet tones on the piano began, and he started singing Irving Berlin’s “What’ll I Do?”

  “Dance, sailor?” Violet asked.

  “You…and me?” Moxie looked self-conscious.

  Violet took a step closer so their chests were nearly touching. “You and me.” She held her hands out, offering to lead. Moxie looked around at the crowd nervously. “If you think you’re going to get stared at here, sister, you’re sadly mistaken. You could sodomize a monkey right in this room, and all you’d get from these folks would be pointers.”

  Moxie laughed and shrugged off her discomfort. After all, having seen a man do magic tricks with his rectum, dancing with another woman not only seemed innocuous, it felt as respectable as holy sacrament. She placed her right hand in Violet’s outstretched left one, and when Violet grasped her waist and pulled her closer, her breath caught. At some point, Moxie realized that her feet were moving and that she was, in fact, dancing. But she was so tipsy her head seemed filled with a thick fog.

  “Out of courtesy, I’d recommend that you stay away from the cocktail wieners,” Violet suggested.

  Moxie was confused by the unusual advice. “I’ll do that. You know, you’re not too bad at this.”

  “I do have other talents besides acting.”

  “I’ve noticed.”

  “Is that so? Do tell.”

  Moxie felt herself blush slightly as her body swayed against Violet’s. “Well, you’re quick-witted and intelligent.”

  “A clever ruse—nothing more.”

  “And you can certainly put away the booze.”

  “Now that’s a talent to speak of. But please note that you have had much more to drink this evening than I have.” Violet’s right hand moved on Moxie’s hip ever so slightly, but the light caress both startled and excited her.

  “I—I have?”

  “Yes,” she whispered provocatively near her ear. The sensation gave Moxie chills. “Anything else you want to give me credit for?”

  “Isn’t it my turn yet?”

  “I suppose so. You have a beautiful voice,” Violet said, her mouth so close to Moxie’s neck that she could feel her warm breath.

  “Oh.”

  “And you have got to be one of the sexiest women—who doesn’t realize she’s sexy—that I’ve ever met.”

  “Can I add what a smoothie you are to your list?” Moxie’s voice sounded deeper and throatier than she would have liked.

  “Me?”

  “Oh, most definitely you. You have more lines than a telephone operator.”

  Violet pulled back to look into her eyes. “While that may be, you really are beautiful.”

  “Thanks.” It was a moment before Moxie realized that Lady Dulce was no longer singing and the song had changed to something upbeat and jazzy. Her head was spinning.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I think I need to sit down.”

  Violet led her back to where Lady Dulce and Wil had perched on a plush leather sofa, preparing even more drinks. Moxie sat next to them, feeling self-conscious that she had just been so intimately entwined with Violet. She slouched into the cushions uneasily. Violet sank into an armchair and snapped her fingers for Clitty, who trotted over and curled into a ball at her feet.

  “So, that was nice,” Wil said, her voice thick with innuendo. She offered Moxie a glass of an alluring amber liquid. “And so is this.”

  “What is it?”

  “A sidecar,” she explained. “You’ll love it.”

  Violet looked cautious. “You know, it may be a good idea to stop drinking.”

  “This is good,” she exclaimed, drinking some more of the tart cocktail.

  Violet sighed.

  “And you said you’re not a drinker,” Wil said, tapping glasses with her. “Even I’m impressed, kid.”

  Lady Dulce chimed in. “That says a lot. I’ve seen her drink for over twenty-four hours straight.”

  Wil chuckled. “Remember that time the coppers gave us the buzz?”

  As Wil
began her tale of bold, drunken debauchery, Moxie’s attention kept drifting elsewhere. Her eyes settled on Violet, who had a rather nice profile, she decided. She really did look like a beautiful movie star. Her face was so striking and expressive, and her light eyes mesmerized Moxie.

  What was going on? How did this woman, a stranger, really, draw her in this way? Why was she having to force herself not to stare? Why had she enjoyed that dance more than her last dozen dates? Well, she really hadn’t had much of a sexual history, she mused. It wasn’t like she was able to properly compare the sensations that Violet elicited to the ones her old beaus evoked.

  Hell, it had been well over a year since she had even gone on a date. Most of the time the fellas were so dull she didn’t even bother to accept their invitations. The ones she had gotten involved with seemed attracted to her initially, but somehow the relationships always culminated with them pulling out their dick, usually in the most inconvenient locations. Sometimes it took a few weeks for it to happen, sometimes just a few minutes. Every man she had known seemed like a large jack-in-the-box. If you decided to play, at some point it would come flying out at you. And even though you knew what to expect, it somehow always startled you and, in her case, left her wondering what to do with it.

  She gazed again at Violet. Was she so different from those palookas Moxie had dated? Violet seemed just as intent on making time with her as all the others had, though she was a slightly better dancer than most.

  Good Lord, was she actually considering Violet as a prospective lover? Had the drink, coupled with her abysmal love life, somehow skewed her perspective? When she got up this morning, she knew two things—she was not cheap, and she was not a lesbian. What odd turn of events would make those two certainties blur from fact into ambivalence in the span of a day?

  Julian reappeared and took a seat across from Violet. He now looked somehow rumpled, and Moxie wondered if he had found what he came here for.

  She glanced back to Violet and watched her index finger ever so lightly trace her lower lip as she seemed to take in Wil’s anecdote with interest. Somehow the thought of the touch of that hand, combined with the feel of those lips, intrigued Moxie. Violet was nothing if not sexually charged, and in some way distractingly magnetic.