The Black Rabbit (The End)

Welcome to "The Roaring Twenties" ? a time of Prohibition, prostitution, and social change. Little did the lawmakers know that banning alcohol would increase criminal activity and bring wealth to bootleggers in places like New York City. And for the first time, women defied the old society rules by tossing their corsets and raising their hemlines. It was time for the fairer sex to enjoy their newfound sexual freedom. Chapter OneAugust 25th, 1926Storm clouds gathered in the sky, perhaps foreshadowing the darkening mood of moneyed club owner, Mr. Sterling Rossini, sitting behind his richly-carved mahogany desk, thumbing through the black-and-white photographs. Suddenly, lightning flashed, momentarily lighting up the dimly lit room as one photo, in particular, caused him to pause. He held the incriminating photo with one hand while stroking the sides of his neatly-trimmed black mustache with the other. His eyes remained fixated on the stockinged legs, complete with a garter belt and capped with black stilettos pointed toward the ceiling. A naked man filled the space between those slender legs. Upon closer inspection, he identified the man as none other than his good friend, Duke Hollister, and a knot formed in his belly. Although the camera had failed to capture the woman?s face, the ice on her ring finger left no doubt as to whom the stockinged legs belonged. While the other photos of clothed embraces could perhaps be explained, the image he clasped in his hand left no room for denial.The squirrelly man who had delivered the photographs sat on the other side of the desk, impatiently waiting for his payment and hoping Mr. Rossini wouldn?t choose to ?shoot the messenger,? having heard warnings about his client?s temper. The rain abruptly halted while Sterling remained eerily silent ? maybe the calm before a different storm. Finally, Sterling slipped the photographs into a folder and handed the man an envelope of cash, bidding him an expressionless thank you and farewell. Once alone, Sterling walked over to the bar and made himself a Gin Rickey. Despite the alcohol ban, he had plenty of high-quality gin on hand, thanks to his association with "Lucky" Luciano. Just another perk of being Sterling Rossini. His position of power, however, hadn't kept someone he trusted from deceiving him. With a heavy sigh, he settled in his favorite Italian leather armchair to contemplate his next move. He?d been hurt before by a dame, but nothing like the sucker punch to his gut he felt at that moment. ???A short time later, a body fell from the ten-story-high terrace attached to a swanky apartment. The victim?s bones shattered upon impact, and his blood quickly pooled underneath him, leaving a grizzly scene. Heavy rain returned and spread the blood, providing a widening red ring surrounding the body, keeping curious pedestrians from creeping too close. When the police arrived, they combed the crowd for possible eyewitnesses. "No one's seen a damn thing," grumbled one officer.The other grumbled back a response, "It's New York City, after all. There's no reason to look up with all the smog in the air."While the police continued to work the scene, onlookers stood shocked at the horrific sight in front of the elegant high-rise apartment building on the Upper East Side. In that decade, the wealthy had abandoned their mansions for high-tech luxury apartment buildings equipped with telephones, central heat, doormen, elevator attendants, and such. The upper class enjoyed living high and suspended above the crowded streets below. Gruesome deaths, such as that one, weren?t supposed to happen in that part of the city. A clue finally surfaced when a raven-haired beauty pushed through the crowd of onlookers and threw herself on top of the broken body, sobbing.Chapter TwoApril 1924"Do you think I'm pretty, Mr. Rossini?" He looked down at the broad on her knees, looking up at him with heavily rouged cheeks and hope in her overly-shadowed eyes. No, she wasn't his type ? he preferred brunettes over blondes ? but with his cock positioned so close to her kisser, he decided to charm her. "Sure, doll, you're pretty." She blew him a kiss and then proceeded to smear her red lipstick up and İstanbul Escort down his shaft. Sure, she could get a man hard, but he wanted to see if she'd finish him like a pro. Sterling relaxed back in his high-back fine-upholstered chair in his luxuriously furnished office and closed his eyes while his newly-hired hostess showed off her oral sex skills. So far, so good. Her golden curls were spread across his lap while she confidently bobbed up and down on his length. "I need you to take the whole thing, sweetheart." If his cock loved her, he'd offer her a room above the club, and she'd be allowed to make some extra dough (minus his cut), pleasing some of his special club patrons. It was a good deal for the few chosen gals ? affordable, nice housing in the building where they worked. Convenient for everyone. ?Look at me with smiling eyes, babe. A man wants to know you?re enjoying his cock.?Her thick-lashed baby-blue eyes fluttered upwards to lock with his darker brown eyes, and he felt his sensitive head squeezed within the tightness of her throat. He smiled, picturing his growing stacks of money. You'll do just fine, doll. ???As a child, Sterling Rossini grew up in the slums on the Lower East Side of New York City. His first introduction to gangs came while working at his Italian-born father's shop in Lower Manhattan. It was Sterling who negotiated protection from the Five Points Gang after his father had been robbed and brutally beaten by a rival gang. Sterling's mother had supplemented his education with fine arts, literature, and music teachings. On his own, Sterling figured out that appearances were everything in that city, and he spent most of his money on fine suits and shoes. As he aged, he became known in his neighborhood for his sophisticated persona. He dreamed of owning a club and made calculated, sometimes above-the-law moves to ensure that dream came true. By 1920, he renovated a building on Fifty-Fourth Street to become a jazz club named The Black Rabbit. As a natural charmer, he made important connections with mobsters like Lucky Luciano, socialites, and celebrities. His shrewd business sense told him alcohol would be a big draw to his club, so the building had been designed with secret doors and stairways, leading to a speakeasy below ground where patrons could enjoy additional music, illegal alcohol, gambling, and sexual favors by his select working gals. He negotiated a deal with Lucky for a supply of alcohol and protection from police raids in exchange for a percentage of his profits. Years passed, and by 1924 his club had become one of the most popular in New York City. He'd forgotten the dirty slums he'd grown up in until one day he passed a homeless man warming his hands over a trash fire in the alley. The man's considerable size drew his eyes to him, and then he realized he knew him. "James? James Elliot? Is that you?" The heavy-set man, towering to at least six feet five inches, stared back at Sterling but didn't speak a word. Confident he knew the man, Sterling walked towards him, saying, "I'm Sterling Rossini. We grew up on the same street. You rescued me from a gang beating one time, then we became friends." The man screwed up his forehead, squinting at Sterling, then recognition crossed his dirt-smudged face. "I remember." Sterling noticed his crooked nose that had obviously been broken a time or two and never properly mended. "You went on to do some boxing, correct? Then, I never heard from you again." Sterling gestured to the filth surrounding him, "How did you end up here?" The man tried unsuccessfully to smooth the wrinkles from his ratty coat ? his discomfort with his appearance obvious. "I met my Anna, and we got married, so I gave up boxing." Tears rolled down his face. "I went to fight in the Great War and came back to find her gone. A moviestar type had seduced her and dragged her off to California." He wiped his face with the back of his hand. "I? I couldn?t handle it. I guess I made some bad decisions." Sterling walked up to him and squeezed his shoulder. He'd always liked James. His towering presence and strength intimidated people, which had proved an advantage when dealing İstanbul Escort Bayan with the city?s rougher element. Most importantly, Sterling viewed him as loyal, and finding people he could trust in New York City proved difficult. An idea formed in his head, and he warmly smiled at the man, ?James, this is your lucky day.?Chapter ThreeMay 1924James was grateful for his new life working for Sterling and didn't want to screw it up. Since he worked evenings, he slept during the day, but memories of Anna had him thrashing about in his bed earlier, unsettling and disrupting his focus. His wife had been the sweetest angel he'd ever met ? that's what he called her ? his sweet angel. I miss you so damn much, baby. Please come back to me.Painful longings drove him to the edge again, so he went looking for a means to forget and unwind ? a whore.New York City housed no shortage of brothels, so James picked a direction to start walking and quickly came upon one. They were easy to spot with a broad on the doorstep, shamelessly flaunting her licentiousness to a potential trick. James brushed past them and entered the building, finding the parlor just inside the door. The prostitutes, not yet claimed, lounged about in red faux-velvet chairs, and he picked the first whore he saw. In his eyes, no prostitute differed from any other; he just needed to get his cock wet. His choice, a blonde-haired looker, wore a black chemise with a dull sheen revealing its cheaper fabric, and her legs were crossed high enough to expose pink knickers. She looked up at his towering frame, then her eyes lowered to his trousers. She?d seen cocks of all sizes in her occupation and had created a fun game ? guessing its size. By the looks of his massive hands, feet, and broad body, she guessed his trousers concealed a pretty big cock. She led him down the hall to her room, and as soon as they were inside, she looped her arms around his neck and smiled sweetly, asking, ?What?s your name, handsome??With her body pressed against him, her cheap perfume hit his nostrils, and he wrinkled his face. Its purpose was no doubt to douse the unmistakable stench of sex. In contrast, his Anna had always worn a light floral scent dabbed on her neck and between her breasts. The pain accompanying the memory annoyed him, so he pulled her hands away, refusing to look her in the eye. ?I?m not here to talk.? Before she could respond, he aggressively pushed her back against the wall and trapped her small hands above her head in one of his enormous hands. His other hand grabbed her pussy through her knickers. The whore moaned, which only served to fuel his aggression. Wasting no time, he yanked her knickers down and plunged two fingers deep inside her, almost lifting her off the ground with the force of entry. "Not so hard, handsome," she whimpered, but her pleas fell on deaf ears as a third finger penetrated her. The more she squirmed, the harder he finger-fucked her. Once she grew wet enough to hear her pussy squelching, he withdrew his fingers. ?Maybe we should move to the bed,? she pleaded, moving her hands back to his shoulders and hoping they could find a more comfortable position to fuck. James glanced at the bed and, like every other time, found himself haunted by a vision of his wife. "Turn around," he ordered. She didn't want to turn around but wanted to look him in the eyes. The sex became more intimate when they locked eyes which led to a stronger connection and improved chances that he'd return for another round. But he wasn?t interested in what she wanted, so she?d remain a meaningless object to him. While she stood motionless, struggling to figure out how to work him, he grew impatient and barked louder, ?Turn around.?Alright, I?ll play along, handsome, but you better leave me a big tip. She obeyed and turned her back to him, her legs trembling and struggling to hold her upright. Upon hearing a zipper, she glanced over her shoulder, wanting a look at the cock about to ravage her insides. Oh my, you are a thick one, just like I suspected. I may not have to fake it with you.He lined up his throbbing member between her lips, not thinking about if she was ready Escort İstanbul for him or not. Clenched with apprehension, she braced herself as his massive cock tore into her pussy, plunging deep until his balls smacked her sensitive flesh. ?Oh? oh? oh,? she panted, wincing at the abrupt intrusion between her legs. James pulled almost all the way back out to thrust deep again. Her walls stretched to accommodate his girth? this thick cock engorged with blood. He slammed into her over and over and over until she released her held breath, grateful her narrow pussy finally accepted his size. While his hips maintained their relentless thrusting, he lost himself to the fuck and rested his head on her shoulder, his warm breath heating her neck. The whore moaned in pleasure, waking him from his brain fog and poking at his conscience. He wasn?t there for her pleasure. She means nothing, Anna. With his eyes clenched shut, visions of Anna flooded his mind, stealing the focus from the ache in his crotch. He opened his eyes again and looked down at the plump rump jutted out to meet his cock. You mean nothing to me, whore ? just a hole for my cock. The force of his thrusts would've sent her through the wall if he hadn't held her to him. All she could do was take his fucking, but her body responded in ecstasy despite his roughness. Her hands clawed at the wall, trying to find a place to grip.His knuckles paled as his fingers dug into her hips, squeezing her bones until she thought they'd break. When his thick cock hit her hot spot, she screamed, cumming hard. Nonreactive to her orgasm, he continued his relentless fucking. In and out, in and out, each thrust harder than the last while her orgasm shook her insides. Soon after, his deep-throated grunts and the warmth flooding her insides told her he was cumming. Without warning, he painfully bit her shoulder, then her back, growling into her skin. The whore released a soft cry of pain that again fell on deaf ears because he?d been silently begging forgiveness from his beloved Anna as his cum seeped out of the whore?s pussy. Once fully emptied, his body collapsed against hers, mashing her into the wall with his strength. One hand circled her throat, pulling her head back to him. She rolled her eyes toward him, finally locking eyes, and she trembled in fear at what she saw ? a man plagued by demons. ?You?re not her. No one is her,? James growled, more for himself than for the whore?s benefit. To the whore?s relief, his cock slipped out, releasing her, then she heard his zipper sliding back up. Without another word, he headed toward the door, and she reached for him, calling, "What's your hurry, handsome?" But he shrugged off her hand and slammed the door behind him without looking back. Leaning back against the wall with his cum trickling down her moist thigh, she cupped her swollen pussy and pouted, feeling used. Not only had he wrecked her for other tricks that night, but he'd also left no tip. ????Christ, James, you smell like a cheap whore.??Sorry, boss, I?ll change my clothes.?James turned to walk away when Sterling grabbed his arm and spoke with a softer tone, ?And I?ve told you that you don?t have to pay for it. Any of the biscuits with rooms upstairs would spread her legs for you for free.? ?I don?t wanna know their names,? muttered James."Look, friend, you gotta move on. She's not coming back." "I gotta believe she will one day," he said, then turned and headed for his room upstairs, not wanting his boss to see the tears in his eyes. Chapter FourAugust 1925Dorothy Jean Potts sat staring out the train window, spotting nothing familiar in the new landscape. She may as well have been headed to the moon. Trying to calm her fears, she clutched the pearls hanging around her neck ? the only thing she had left of her mama. I don't know if I can do this, Mama. Fear of the unknown had crept inside her twenty-two-year-old self. Her daddy had passed away four months ago, and a few months later, her mama had died. The doctor said she passed from pneumonia, but Dorothy knew she had died of a broken heart. As she?d sat holding her mama?s hand, Mama?s last words to her were, ?Dorothy, leave this place. There ain?t nothing for you here.??I wanna be a singer, Mama. Maybe go to the big city.??You got the voice of an angel, Dorothy, but it won?t pay the bills. Now, you listen to me. You go find a good man who?ll take care of you. You here? The big cities are full of men with money who?ll take real good care of you.?