I never would have noticed her if it weren't for the hat. I mean, let's be honest here, cigarette girls are a dime a dozen, and the way I went through nightclubs, I'd seen a hundred dollars' worth already. Her hat came bobbing through the crowd, keeping that hot swing beat, with those short maple-wood waves under it shining in the lights off the big bandstand. Call her what you want, a dame, a doll, a pinup waiting to happen, anybody could see that there was something about her that begged for your eyes. It wasn't just the hat.
But it sure as hell was a good way to keep tabs on her. I leaned back on the bar and amused myself watching the way she went zigzag through the crowd at the edge of the dance floor. The black feather stuck up like an exclamation point, like she was just so damn excited about selling you her Lucky Strikes or Marlboros or what have you. Black, of course, to match the tight black number she had on. The skirt was down to her calves almost, but not hiding a great pair of gams with that big slit up the side. A red sparkly flower at the top of the slit matched the hat, and black gloves gripped the sides of her tray. The hat's little mesh veil was saucily raised up on her hair like she had nothing to hide. Mark my words, though, son. Even if they're only hiding their true hair color, well, Blondes always have secrets.
Her technique was great. When she sold a pack to some joe, she tilted her head to let her chocolate brown eyes peek out from under deep dark lashes with a sultry sideways look and a smile. Her lipstick was the same smooth red as the hat but just a shade glossier than satin. I itched to touch it with a fingertip and feel the slick way it covered her soft lips. Her nose wrinkled when she laughed at their stupid comments, and she would lean forward to show the tray again when she did. You could see them reaching for another pack as they took a long look at her bosom, brought up nice and tight by the tray's straps. The cigarette girls at Frankie's are normally dumb as rocks, so I wondered if he knew she was in here, or if she had cut a deal. I don't know how long I stared at her, but I know I wasn't finished when I had to stop.
She might have remained an object of my idle curiosity, if only she hadn't wobbled on those anklebreaker heels and spilled her and her entire tray straight into my boss's lap. You might think a big guy like me can't move that fast, but there's no fat under this suit. I'm no Jesse Owens, but I was through that crowd in seconds. Never let it be said that Johnny Mac slacks on the job.
Of course, I also wanted to be the first one to lay hands on her. The cute way her full white underpants showed under the flipped-up skirt made it look like Paolo was about to spank her tipped over his knee. But as I reached them, she was already pulling herself up, apologizing as she went, cheeks red as the hat. Paolo was giving her the leer down that tight dress, his free hand never leaving the Martini on the table. It was beneath him to help, of course. Hell, it was beneath me, but I like to think I'm a gentleman when it comes to blondes, bottled or not. Her smokes were all over the place, and I bent down by Paolo's chair, grabbing the packs and handing them to her.
That is, until the shot. Both of us were on our knees, and when the shot came her warm brown eyes looked full into mine and she was not surprised. Not one bit surprised. So I knew I had to grab her and carry her away, before she gave up everything. Marco was there, and so was Jimmy. They could have seen it in her face like I did. Paolo fell to one side, his blood ruining all the cigs on the floor, plus my socks. Marco and Jimmy were lying under the table now, aiming all around at nothing. I thought the shot came from the dance floor, but I didn't want to know. Everybody was shrieking and screaming, running. It would have been easy for her to get trampled, so I picked her up. Besides, now I knew that I owed her one.
We shoved our way through the panicking crowd, my left arm tight around her shoulders, and I got her out to my Packard Six at the corner. After I got her settled inside, I patted the little angel on the hood for luck as I ran around to my side. It was all still good. Marco and Jimmy could catch me later. Nobody knew. Except maybe the girl, and I could handle that.
As we raced through the dots of light that the streetlights made on Wilshire, she finally spoke. Her voice was low, throaty. It gave me chills. And a hard-on.
"The name's Valerie. And that was almost ten dollars' worth of cigarettes."
Blondes. Without saying a word, I reached into my jacket and brought out a fifty. She took it in two gloved fingers and held it up.
"I don't have any change."
I gave her the look. The one I practice in the mirror, the one that makes guys who don't know me piss their pants, and the ones who do, to run the fuck away.
She giggled.
A gloved hand pointed at the corner. "Turn left here."
"Why?"
Her hand came over to rest on my knee. "Because my house is on the next block. I think I can find some change there."
I followed her directions and pulled up at a tiny bungalow, the kind that starlets rent at the Beverly Hills Hotel on their first paycheck, except that this was all the house there was. It looked like a kitchen and a bedroom, if you liked sleeping on the stove. I'd been in cars that were bigger.
She pushed the switch and a small table lamp came on. It was draped with a scarf in a rose pattern, which gave the tiny room a soft pinkish glow. The outline of a Murphy bed took up one wall, and the screen across the corner draped with clothes told me I was right about the house. I was standing in the living/changing/dining/bedroom, and the door I could see in the kitchen had to be the bathroom. The house was claustrophobic, but it smelled like her perfume, sweet and springlike, so I didn't mind.
Valerie glided right behind the screen without a word, elegance with ripped stockings. I flopped down in the only chair and watched her clothes make a slow, tantalizing pile. She just had to be a professional. I decided to check in and let everybody know I was going to be back later. I hoped it was a lot later. And I hoped that the fifty covered whatever I was about to get.
"Can I make a call?"
Her voice was muffled by the screen, but it still spoke straight to my dick.
"I don't have a phone."
That figured. Cheap house, no phone. I was surprised there wasn't a roommate too. I pictured the two of them in their nighties, with rollers in their hair, squished together in the Murphy bed at night. My dick liked that idea. I rearranged.
She came out from behind the screen in a pale yellow kimono robe printed with red flowers. When she paused in front of the lamp, the sudden illumination of her silhouette from behind made me suck in my breath. I wondered where the white panties had gone.
The light made her seem very young, giving her face and hair a golden pink glow. Without the hat, her hair was all short waves and curls. Even tousled like it was, she looked like a movie star. I wanted to stand as she walked toward me, and not have such bad manners, but my prick was not about to cooperate. I figured she was used to it anyway. I held out my hand to her, and that fabulous smile came on full strength. I pulled her down sideways in my lap. If she was even halfway decent in bed, I might set her up in a better place. Maybe Paolo's murder was a fate thing.
She stayed sitting up, looking into my eyes, then spread out her hands like she was bowing. "Do you like my 'change,' Johnny Mac?"
I laughed. "Does this answer the question?"
I shifted until my rock-hard prick was poking her thigh. Then I put my hands on either side of her little waist, feeling the warmth of her skin bleeding through the silky robe, and slid them upward until my thumbs were just under the swell of her breasts. Like I thought, she had nothing on underneath.
Valerie shivered and leaned close to me, her hand sliding around my collar. The long sleeve of her kimono fell back down her upraised arm and trailed down into my lap. Her hand was a slight pressure on my neck as her red lips brushed mine softly and withdrew, making me want to grab her head and pull her back. I resisted the urge, and she did her teasing kiss again almost immediately, but after the first brush of her lips, she pressed against me for longer this time. I tested her with a touch of my tongue, and she answered immediately with hers, opening her mouth to mine.
