Seduction of Moxie

by Colette Moody

  “And you believed him?”

  Suddenly something slid under the door.

  “What’s that?” Irene picked up the envelope. “It’s for you.”

  “Is that from Violet?”

  “No.” She flipped it over and read the name on the back. “It’s from someone named Fanny Hertz.” She handed it over to Moxie, who was laughing. “What’s so damned funny? Who’s Fanny Hertz?”

  “Mine does.” She tore the missive open and slid out the folded paper inside.

  Darling,

  I realize that you’re sequestered, but I miss your company terribly. Could you possibly slip away? I’m in bedroom 8, and Wil is next door at 7, but I’ll be getting a bite in the dining car soon.

  Come by to see me, or meet me for lunch. Your choice.

  Vi

  “What does it say?” Irene asked.

  “Nothing.” Moxie folded the note back up and slipped it under the neckline of her dress. “Just welcoming me aboard. But I’m getting hungry. Let’s change and head over to the dining car in a bit.”

  *

  When Irene and Moxie arrived at the dining car, it was apparent that idea had occurred to many of the other passengers as well.

  “Wow, it’s packed in here,” Irene said.

  “There’s Vi. Let’s sit with her.” She pulled Irene across the car.

  “Are you sure it’s food you’re hungry for?”

  “Violet,” Moxie said in feigned surprise. “What a coincidence. Is it okay if we sit with you?”

  Violet looked up calmly from her newspaper, a copy of the New York World-Telegram. “Certainly, ladies,” she replied, almost in disinterest. “Ah, the crossword puzzle.”

  As Moxie took the seat next to Violet, she was surprised and a little disappointed by Violet’s cool response. She tried not to frown as she watched Violet borrow a pen from a waiter. “Where’s Wil?”

  “Sleeping,” Violet answered as she started the puzzle.

  “Recovering from last night still?” Irene took a seat across from them.

  “Getting ready for tonight. There’s a whole trainload of men she hasn’t slept with yet, and Wil has very lofty goals.”

  “She’s like a machine,” Irene said, with a tinge of awe in her voice.

  Violet looked at her in amusement. “She is—a well-oiled, foul-mouthed, gin-swilling, dick-licking machine.”

  “God bless her.” Moxie touched her water goblet to Violet’s glass.

  “And God bless Tiny Tim,” Violet toasted back, taking a drink.

  Moxie coughed into her water. “Is Wil sleeping with him too?”

  “To some, it’s a crutch,” Violet teased. “To Wil, it’s a dildo.”

  The waiter took that very inopportune time to return to the table, but if he overheard the conversation, his expression didn’t show it. “Can I get you ladies anything?”

  “I’d like a cup of coffee,” Irene said.

  “Tea, please,” Moxie added.

  “And you, miss? Would you care for another lemonade?”

  Violet nodded, though she grimaced slightly as the waiter departed.

  “Not your first choice, huh?” Irene asked.

  “Lemonade wasn’t even in my first hundred choices, no. But sometimes you just have to make do.”

  Moxie lowered her voice slightly. “You and Wil didn’t bring any libations with you?”

  “You bet your ass we did, toots. But I’m saving them until I can really use them.”

  Cotton suddenly loomed over their table with a look of disapproval. “Ah, here you are. I should have known.”

  “Like now, for instance,” Violet said matter-of-factly.

  Cotton squinted at Violet. “Moxie, why is it that every time I turn my back, when I next see you, you’re with this…person?” He gestured dismissively toward her.

  “Thanks for acknowledging my species,” Violet said, her voice devoid of discernable emotion. “It sounded like it challenged you.”

  Moxie huffed in annoyance. “As you can see, Cotton, it’s very crowded. Violet was nice enough to let us sit at her table.”

  Cotton pulled out the remaining chair across from Moxie and got comfortable. “Where’s the other floozy? The redhead?”

  Violet didn’t look up from her crossword puzzle. “Resting, but I’ll make sure I convey to her your regards. She’ll no doubt be touched to be in your thoughts so fondly.”

  He sneered. “Aw, applesauce.”

  Violet shifted to Moxie. “Say, are you any good at these?” She waggled the newspaper.

  “Crossword puzzles? A little, I guess.”

  “This one—five letters, goddess of love.” Violet paused for a moment and in the blocks wrote M-o-x-i-e.

  “That doesn’t seem right,” Moxie said softly.

  “I think it is, because from the i I get this.” She wrote I-w-a-n-t-y-o-u in 19 Down.

  “Ah” was all Moxie could rasp out. “I see.”

  “What did you order?” Irene asked as she perused the menu.

  “Roast beef. I recommend it.” Violet returned her attention to the puzzle. “So, a twelve-letter word that means a nighttime activity.”

  “Uh.” Moxie was too distracted to process the clue.

  She watched Violet write M-y-m-o-u-t-h-o-n-y-o-u in 24 Across. “There.”

  “Yes!” Moxie blurted a little too quickly. She was relieved to see Cotton and Irene were still discussing lunch options. “That’s definitely it.”

  “Hmm, eight letters—a honey-like substance.”

  Moxie pulled the pen seductively from her hand and scribbled y-o-u-r-l-i-p-s in the blocks.

  “You are good at this,” Violet said.

  “I hate to interrupt your literary consortium,” Cotton said, “but do you know what you’re ordering yet, Moxie?”

  Violet ignored him, taking the pen back. “Twenty-nine Down. Nine letters, meaning ever-watchful.” She filled the blocks with d-o-u-c-h-e-b-a-g.

  Moxie struggled not to laugh. “Yes, Cotton. I do.” She nodded.

  “Good,” Irene said. “Because I’m hungry.”

  Moxie reclaimed the pen and wrote S-o-a-m-I in 36 Down before handing it back.

  Violet completed 42 Across with T-e-l-l-m-e. She extended the writing implement as though daring Moxie to take it from her.

  Moxie was feeling up to the challenge, and she filled the puzzle blocks with Y-o-u-m-a-k-e-m-e-a-c-h-e.

  Violet tore the pen from her hand and scrawled “Meet me in bedroom 8” at the top of the puzzle.

  She wrote “I’ll try” beside it, prompting Violet to jot “Try very, very hard” in a shaky script.

  At that moment, Cotton sneezed.

  “Fuck you,” Violet said innocently.

  “Thank…” He caught himself in the midst of reflexively thanking her for a blessing. “Never mind.” He continued to glower, while Violet avoided his eye contact.

  “So,” Irene said awkwardly. “What’s the news today?”

  “Not much different from yesterday, I’m afraid,” Violet replied. “Poverty is still crippling the vast majority of the population, and shockingly, President Hoover’s sage policy of telling people to pull themselves up by their bootstraps somehow still isn’t working.”

  “You’re blaming the president for the Depression?” Cotton asked, his voice laden with derision.

  “No, but I am blaming him for not doing a goddamn thing about it, while around him, people are starving.”

  He sighed. “This is why women should never have been given the vote.”

  Moxie could feel it coming, and she inwardly braced for the gathering storm. “Oh, shit,” she whispered, glancing nervously at Irene.

  “Because you prefer empty-headed, closed-mouthed little dishes who fetch your pipe, bake pies, and lie back and daydream of someone more attractive than you—long enough for you to ejaculate into her orifice of choice? Does a woman who not only understands current events but has opinions about them really threaten you tha
t much?”

  “Me? Threatened by a woman? Ha!”

  Her gaze narrowed. “Then why are you here, guarding Moxie like she’s made of gold bullion?”

  Cotton said nothing but looked livid as the waiter arrived with drinks and a plate of crusty bread.

  “Bread,” Irene proclaimed. “Thank God.” When the waiter studied her strange response she added, “I really love bread.” She stuffed a small piece in her mouth as though to further illustrate her statement.

  “Yes, miss,” the waiter said coldly. “Sir, may I get you a beverage?”

  Cotton’s head was in his hands. “I suppose a gin would be out of the question,” he said weakly.

  “They amended the Constitution because of dirty boozehounds like you,” Violet snapped, waggling her finger at him. “Waiter, might I be moved to a different table, please? This man offends my delicate sensibilities.”

  “I’m sorry, miss. I don’t believe there is anywhere else for you to sit right now.”

  “I understand,” she said, touching the waiter’s hand softly. “You’ve been very kind. Who would I speak to about having him removed from the train?”

  “Hey,” Cotton shouted.

  “That would be the conductor, miss.”

  “Thanks so much. If he continues to bother me, I’ll be sure to report him.”

  The waiter nodded and left the table hurriedly.

  “What about my drink?” Cotton called after him. His attention snapped back to Violet. “Look here, bitch, that wasn’t funny.”

  “It wasn’t meant to be,” she replied flatly. “It was meant to demonstrate two things to you. First, just because you’re a white man of means, you’re not superior to anyone. I don’t answer to you, and you don’t control me. If I want you gone, I can make it happen. Secondly, I don’t like you. And the more time I spend in your company, the stronger that feeling gets.”

  “I will not be spoken to in this manner,” he spat.

  “You will, and you just were. Try to remember just how shitty it feels the next time you do it to someone else.” Violet stood and picked up her dog from beneath the table. “Ladies, Clitty and I would love to stay and continue discussing politics with you, but your lunch guest is a hinky bastard, something Clitty has very little tolerance for. Good day.”

  As Violet walked out of the dining car, Moxie was crestfallen. So much for spending time together.

  “If I’d known that was all it took to make her leave, I’d have been—what was it? hinky?—as soon as I sat down.” He looked smug.

  “Oh, you were,” Irene said, stirring her coffee. “Trust me.”

  “What is hinky, anyway?” he asked her.

  “A shifty ass,” Moxie answered.

  Cotton began to hum to himself.

  *

  When Wil finally stirred and ventured into her semi-private drawing room, it was well into the afternoon. Violet was slumped in a chair, dejected and bored.

  “Good Lord, has some ecclesiastical militia invaded us?”

  Violet shifted her eyes left, studying her for a moment, but otherwise did not move.

  “Tsk, tsk.” Wil sat across from her and began to brush her hair. “I’ll take a guess and say that things with Moxie have not progressed as you hoped.”

  “If that means not one damn bit, then your guess is right on the money, doll.”

  “Is she waffling?”

  “Not that I can tell. It’s her entourage that’s gumming up the works. They’re always with her.”

  Wil looked sympathetic. “And her agent seems to be a real rank piece of meat.”

  “I need to get them out of the way.”

  “Do you want to shove them off the train?”

  “I do, though obviously that can’t be the plan.”

  “It’s exciting, though—planning to rub someone out. Makes me feel like I’m from Chicago.”

  Wil’s elation bothered Violet. “Let’s try and devise something slightly less lethal.”

  “Well, there’s always the old standby.”

  “You mean fuck him?”

  “Exactly! I’ll charm his cock right into my hand.”

  “Hmm, I’m not sure you want that particular cock anywhere near you, Wil.”

  “Well, that’s why I said my hand and not anywhere, you know, good.”

  Violet chuckled. “I don’t doubt your seductive prowess, but earlier he referred to you as the other floozy. He may not be as willing as your average joe.”

  “What? Goddamn it, I’m the floozy, and he better believe it.”

  “Well, you may be handicapped by your association with me, coupled with his abysmal personality.”

  Wil looked resolute. “Madam, I have yet to meet a heterosexual man who doesn’t want a slice of this pie, if you get me.” She pointed to her genitals.

  “Oh, I get you, all right. Subtlety is not your strong suit. Would you like to wager?”

  “You know I would.” Wil managed to look confident and promiscuous at the same time. “What are the stakes?”

  Violet considered the question. “How about a night on the town?”

  “Which consists of what?”

  “Winner’s choice,” she said with a grin.

  “That sounds very attractive. You have a bet, darling.”

  “Wil, you don’t know how much I want you to win.”

  “Until you just proposed the stakes, I wanted you to win.”

  “Completely understandable. He is, after all, a douchebag of the highest degree.”

  “Vice-chancellor Douchebag,” Wil announced regally.

  “Is that higher than Monsignor Douchebag?”

  “Yes, but below Cardinal Douchebag.”

  “So what’s the plan, sister? All this waiting is killing me.”

  *

  Moxie flipped over three more cards and sighed. She wasn’t even paying attention anymore, and how sad was that? What did it mean when you faked a game of solitaire, for God’s sake? “C’mon, Irene. I’m dying in here. I just need a little walk.”

  “I know where you want to walk to. Nancy Drew has you all figured out.”

  “So you’re not bored at all?”

  “Are you fooling? I’m going out of my flipping skull. ” She blew her bangs out of her eyes dramatically.

  There was a knock from outside, and Moxie practically tripped as she leapt up to answer the door. Opening it revealed Violet and Wil.

  “Hi there,” Violet said smoothly, lounging against the doorjamb.

  “Hi,” Moxie whispered, her voice suddenly leaving her.

  Wil pushed the door open farther with her foot. “We thought it might be pleasant to pass the time with you three.” She glanced into the drawing room. “Where’s Prime Minister Douchebag?”

  “In his compartment, one car back.” Moxie happily stepped aside to let her guests enter.

  “He has a bum stomach or something,” Irene answered. “Apparently travel food bothers him.”

  “Pity,” Wil said insincerely as she reached deep into her cleavage to retrieve a silver flask. “Because I brought some brandy.”

  Violet’s eyes brimmed with amusement. “And she’s warmed it already, for your convenience.”

  “No extra charge,” Wil added. “I’m full service all the way.”

  “Who would dare dispute that?” Violet asked.

  Moxie retrieved some glasses and set them in front of Wil, who began to pour.

  “Gee, I’ve never had brandy before,” Irene said, somewhat hesitantly.

  Wil held a shot out to her. “Aphrodite’s nectar.”

  She took it and stared into the amber liquid. “Sounds fancy.”

  “Nearly as fancy as we are,” Violet said, holding her glass aloft.

  Irene took a sip, and after a moment her eyes flew open wide. “Holy mackerel!”

  “Now close your eyes,” Wil advised, “and inhale through your mouth.”

  “Is it supposed to burn?”

  Violet sat down and watched
Irene intently. “That’s a sign of quality, sister.”

  “Yes, the burn is bliss,” Wil said.

  Moxie leaned in closely to Violet so she could whisper. “You’re not going to make her sick, are you?”

  “No, Wil’s just a distraction. Though admittedly, she tends to have greater success distracting those with a penis.”

  “As I would imagine.”

  Violet stayed close to Moxie’s ear, but didn’t speak right away, causing Moxie’s body to react to her nearness. “You didn’t come to my room,” she finally said.

  “I wanted to…want to.”

  “You know.” The raspiness of Violet’s hushed tone made Moxie’s breath catch in her chest. “I’m fairly certain I’ve reached whatever my physical limitations are for sexual frustration.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  “What are we going to do about this?”

  Moxie exhaled sharply. “I haven’t a fucking clue, but whatever it is, it needs to happen soon.”

  Violet’s expression fluctuated between humor and ardor. “Once Wil has entranced your gal with her booze and stories, let’s slip out of here.”

  “Cotton will be by in a little over an hour to take us to dinner.”

  “I’ll tell Wil to hurry.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “And he was so big, I had to tell him to scram,” Wil said, sitting cross-legged on the floor.

  Irene gasped. “That can happen?”

  “Sadly, yes. And I’ll have you know this snatch is not what most people would consider petite. I’ve had some fairly large things in there. Comfortably,” she added with a nod.

  “So what did you say to him?”

  “That he was joking if he thought I had a goddamn orifice that could accommodate that. After all, I’m not a fucking manhole.”

  “You said it, sister,” Irene said, sipping from the flask again.

  Behind them, Violet and Moxie sat beside each other, waiting for just the right moment to slip out of the room.

  “Come on,” Violet said softly.

  “Is it wrong that I want to hear the rest of this?” Moxie asked, intent on Wil’s tale of enormous genitalia.