#chicago exotic dancers

[madelynraemunson]

CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

(Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen's Club series)

strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!reader

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ MDNI

Chapter 015: Eddie, Do You Copy?

Learning about, understanding, and loving all parts of Eddie.

* = somewhat smut

** = smut

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013**, 014**, 015, 016**, 017, 018, 019, 020*

word count: 5.8k words

disclaimers — fluff, grief, flight of icarus easter eggs bc of eddie’s mom, ANGST, talks of childhood abuse/negligence/foster care, implied domestic violence, homicide, cancer, mentions of suicide, mentions of underaged drinking/drug use if you squint, lil modern-nostaglia moment btwn eddie and the boys (as a treat ✨), erica and wayne cameo yayyy

author's note: eddie is so boyfriend in this chapter 🫠 happy holidays, you filthy animals ♥️

“I put the record on, wait till I hear our song. Every night I’m dancing with your ghost.”

♡

Your eyes accommodate the first beacon of light as thirst creeps its way into your system.

6:38 AM.

Quietly chucking the covers off, you find yourself hobbling over Eddie in attempts to get to the kitchen. You can only hope that it doesn’t wake him.

Eddie responds with a low grumble. Followed by some mumbling and flailing. And then you watch as he shifts around, doing his best to return to the state of comfort he was in before his sleep was interrupted.

But if he’s anything like you — which you know for a fact he is — his cranky self is most likely awake by now and just pretending to be unconscious to avoid early morning conversation.

To put it to the test, you press a soft kiss onto Eddie’s forehead. He smiles.

You smile to yourself. Called it.

When you get to the kitchen, you seek out Eddie’s Garfield mug for your reservoir of choice. And as it fills with water, the bedroom adjacent from his captures your attention.

Steve’s door is open. A huge indicator that he’s still not home.

Judging by the energy levels of everyone last night, you assume it’s because they were still out partying. And for Steve’s sake, a part of you hopes it’s also because he went home with somebody.

Once you’ve got your water, you sneak back into Eddie’s room, using the newfound, natural light to really study it.

You would’ve thought it was an extension of Steve’s room, not Eddie’s. Everything’s a posh navy blue, something Eddie wouldn’t be caught dead in if he had been anywhere else.

But the corner of his room is more like him, decorated with vinyls and a Crosley just like your sister’s. There were records of his favorite metal bands: Sabbath and Maiden. Anthrax, Metallica, and Judas Priest. And the unsuspecting like Elvis, The Doors, and Pink Floyd. Even country — both old and new, Johnny Cash and Chris Young — followed by a wide selection of Chicago blues and bluegrass.

The rest of his personality could be found on the bulletin board sitting on his desk.

Hand soap, dryer sheets, FUCKING DO PAYROLL

Eddie’s to-do list. You let out a soft chuckle.

Familiar faces canvas the board. There’s photos of Eddie, Jeff, Gareth, and Grant. A picture of him with his uncle — Young Eddie with his hair buzzed and Uncle Wayne’s a subtle gray, most likely Eddie’s doing.

There’s a photo of Steve and Eddie at a Colt’s game. Eddie and Dustin. And Eddie with Will at what looked to be a D&D convention of sorts.

But one photo catches your eye the most.

‘MOMMY & ME: LIZ + EDDIE , 1994’

His mom’s name was Liz. You graze the picture of Liz holding a baby Eddie in her arms. On her face was a dimpled smile like no other, the love-filled look in her eyes having been shielded by her thick wavy brown hair.

But you didn’t need to see her eyes to know how much she loved Eddie. You see it in how she’s holding him, gently pressed to her chest while she supports his neck, his beady brown eyes staring at her with the same amount of adoration.

It all reminds you of Mom. You’re almost certain there’s a picture of you two like that, but it’s back home with Billy… evidently a forbidden turf to trek.

At least there’s still the memory of it. But like the bond with your twin, it’s also growing to be distant.

Your eyes and tears trickle down to another picture of her on Eddie’s bulletin board.

It’s of Toddler Eddie now with Liz in what looks like a kitchen. He’s standing on her feet and, judging by the motion of the picture, is dancing along to a song that was probably playing on the stereo. Behind the two of them sat piles and piles of CDs, all of which were all of the blues.

“She was pretty, wasn’t she?”

Eddie is behind you now. He smiles at you with a dreamy gaze, beaming at the mere fact that the two women who made him happiest could be visually processed in the same frame.

You gulp.

“Really, really pretty,” you insist. “You have her smile. A-and her hair.”

"Yeah, I look a lot like her," Eddie chuckles with a hint of pride. He grazes the photos of her in the same way you did. "She’s influenced me a lot growing up. Bet that's why my sperm donor can't stand me."

You carefully dissect his choice of words. There’s a lot of resent for Alan Munson on Eddie’s part. You don’t blame him, if what Billy discovered had been true. It’s the same reason you and him resent Dad.

Eddie fixates on the expression on your face. He knows why this is so moving for you.

“It never gets easier, does it?” he questions, hinting at your own ongoing struggle with grief.

You cross your arms and shake your head. Softly you mutter, “Never.”

You feel stupid. Eddie’s doing his best to navigate his own baggage, yet you still found a way to make it about yourself.

He pulls you close and wraps his arms tenderly around your waist. Eddie doesn’t have to say it to reassure you that your burdens are safe in his presence. You can just feel it. Two traumatized individuals understand each other in a way others can’t.

“Time just keeps going,” you speak again. “Everyone moves on and you’re kinda just…stuck in place.”

“World just keeps going. Grief doesn’t care about your plans when it blindsides you, taking you for everything you’ve got.”

You swallow hard as Eddie’s words sink into you.

Tragedy just feels so non-consensual. No one ever asks for it to happen.

You and Billy can’t even go surfing without thinking about Mom. Whenever you try you both always end up fighting. That’s why Max tends to go alone or with her own friends.

“I have to stay away from a whole genre of music because I’ll burst into tears,” you scoff in agony. “Billy and I can’t even listen to Iration without thinking of our mom.”

“Can’t listen to Muddy Waters without thinking of mine.”

You and Eddie sway in place to the tandem of your beating hearts. It’s a breath of fresh air knowing you have each other now.

After a while, he ruffles your hair and spins you around so that you can face him.

"But enough about that," Eddie attempts a smile. He rubs your shoulders and you hum in awe. "This is supposed to be a happy time."

"Happiness and despair can coexist," you sniff. “Duality, remember?”

Eddie smiles. It's a you're right kind of smile. "I was yesterday years old when I learned that."

He kisses your forehead and soon you two are in the shower, rinsing up and mentally preparing for the long day of errands ahead.

You’re the first to hop out and get dressed, eager to devour a bowl of oatmeal before tackling the day.

"Hey… babe?" Eddie calls out to you from his closet.

The pet name almost sounds too natural rolling off his tongue. But then again he is the owner of a strip club, and was married for a few years before meeting you.

“Yeah?” you call back, heart skipping a beat.

“Can you make me a coffee while you’re out there?” he requests. “The usual black drip coffee with some hazelnut? Please and thank you.”

“Of course, hun.”

You can get used to this.

So you make your way back out into the living room and kitchen shortly after, practically skipping. But the person you see in the kitchen — with tired eyes and a bowl of his own oatmeal in hand — stops you in your tracks.

"Morning, Hargrove," Steve responds.

You're so dumb. You've gotta start realizing that when you sleep with one of them, the other may pop in at any minute. After all, it’s their townhouse.

As frozen in place as you are, you do your best to shoot Steve a shy little wave. Again, the look on his face indecipherable.

"Morning..." you pathetically respond.

Steve eventually grants you a wave back. He pokes around at his oatmeal while you make your way over to the fridge, your cheeks flushing a timid red as you do so.

You move in a way that seems like you were way too conscious of your actions. Even Steve notices. But he keeps trying to eat, his spoon clinking against his bowl as he intermittently clears his throat, all an attempt to fill the void of silence.

"Did you have a fun night?" you question. "You know... bar-hopping."

"Yeah, I did," he replies. "Argyle had to get cut off cuz he was being real extra with it."

"Oh geez."

"I know."

“How was Max?”

“She was fine,” Steve shrugs. “The bars use the same 21+ wristbands Hellfire does so we were able to sneak her in no problem. Chrissy made sure she got home safe. The girls were just stoked they finally got to have a carefree night.”

“That’s so good,” you breathe a sigh of relief. “I’m so happy for them.”

“Yeah,” he nods in agreement. “I’m really happy for them too. Seems like they needed it.”

Finally, your friend decides to address the elephant in the room.

"We uhh..." he begins. "We should probably end what we have going on here. Just so no one gets hurt."

“I think that’s a smart idea too,” you mumble as you nod.

You make your way over to Steve, stunned that he doesn’t shy away from you when you invade his personal space. Instead he leans into you, opening up his lap so you can maneuver between his legs.

You know, like how friends usually talk.

“It was fun while it lasted…”

"I know. I just feel so bad..." you choke, rubbing his arm softly. "I’ve wasted your time."

"I wouldn't say that," Steve refuses, shaking his head rapidly. He touches you back, running his hand across your arm. "I've thoroughly enjoyed your company."

Eventually his hand intertwines with yours.

There’s a heaviness in the room and something tells you that Eddie is near, looming at the foot of his room so that your business with Steve remains uninterrupted. He knows there’s some dust that still needs to settle. And he will linger until it does.

"You helped me get out of a really dark place," Steve admits. "And Eds too, I'm sure."

You look back towards Eddie's room.

“It wasn’t my intention to fall for him,” you say. “It just…happened. The connection, i-it’s...”

“I know…” Steve soothes you. “Been pickin’ up on that for a while. If you think I’m blaming you, I’m not.”

Steve urges you to meet his gaze again. And when a teardrop falls from your eye, he uses his thumb to wipe it away. Tells you to stop, before he too starts crying.

"This is... a huge step for him," Steve manages a grin. “I don’t think you realize, Shy Girl.”

"Yeah, I bet," you nod. "After Isabelle..."

"Yeah, Isabelle and everything else that dude's got going on," he confirms. "This is really good for Eddie. I can tell. It’s why I think it’s best that we part ways.”

Steve eventually does cry too, but it’s a rather suppressed one. The both of you take turns wiping each other’s tears, embracing the presence of each other for just a short while longer before needing to distance yourselves indefinitely.

You’re never going to forget Steve Harrington. His charm. His integrity. His everlasting devotion to the ones he loves most, and how he’d — time and time again — go to the ends of the earth for them. A noble soul in the highest regard. A true king.

“Thank you for being so kind,” you say to him. “You made my first week in Indiana a lot less intimidating. I hope you’ll still be around.”

“Of course I’ll still be around,” Steve chuckles. “Look at our friend group. Look at where I live.”

You share a laugh with him again.

“Ain’t no getting rid of me that easy, Hargrove.”

“I can sure try though, right?”

“Now why would you do that?” he banters sarcastically, chuckling into you.

He kisses your cheek softly one last time. Finally, Eddie’s door swings open, prompting you and Steve to asunder from one another.

“RISE AND FUCKING SHINE!” Eddie announces his entrance. “Both my soul and thine.”

You get out of Eddie’s way so he can go over and hug Steve good morning. Eddie then breaks the hug with a peck on the cheek and rough slap to Steve’s ass. Steve winces but you can tell he enjoys it.

“Mwah!” Eddie cheers. “Love you, babyboy. What you got going on today?”

“Oh, just gonna work on the online biz for a bit,” Steve mumbles as he ushers his hands through some paper. “Then ’m gonna start recruiting peeps for my other new job.”

“I forgot you dropship now,” Eddie says. “How’s that going?”

“Really fucking good,” Steve smiles. “I shouldn’t count on it too much though. It’s why I also have Newby’s. Speaking of which…”

Steve hands you a flyer. You take it from his hands.

NEWBY’S COFFEE ROASTERS: Even Superheroes Need Coffee!

Steve explains to you that a new coffee shop is taking over Family Video’s old suite. The owner grows his own coffee beans and all syrups are organically made from Hawkins locals. And since they’re a Mom and Pop shop, they were really going to need some help.

“If Maxine is still looking for a job, she’s more than welcome to apply,” Steve says. “We’re gonna need baristas. And we’ll be coworkers so whenever she’s on, I can drive her to work.”

“That sounds like an awesome gig for her!” Eddie pitches in. “Free coffee for employees too, I’m guessing.”

Steve nods at Eddie’s remark.

“That’d be amazing,” you blush. “Thank you, Stevie.”

“Thank you, Stevie,” Eddie parrots you. You elbow him playfully.

“Yeah, anything for you guys. I’ll put in a good word for her to Bob. He’s the owner. Great guy.”

“And what about this owner, huh?” Eddie chimes in. “Hope you can pull some strings and snag me some of those magic beans as well. I’m gonna need it. I also don’t mind paying full price cuz it’s goin’ to Newbs.”

“T’yeah with your job? You can have all the beans you want.”

“Mm, speaking of which,” Eddie scoffs as he stares at the time on his Apple Watch. “It’s almost time.”

Steve imitates Eddie’s gesture. Your eyes dart between the two of them, confused about the context of the whole ordeal.

“What are you guys-” you begin.

“Ah, buh-buh!” Steve stops you. “Wait for it…”

You look at the time on your phone to feel some sort of involvement as well.

7:59 —> 8:00

Eddie’s phone rings.

"An everyday thing," Steve tsks, shaking his head, resuming his breakfast as he does so.

"First problem of the day," Eddie looks at you. "It’s always something with Hellfire. From the moment the day begins...Yello?"

It’s Lucas. Sinclair never really calls unless it’s a dire situation, so you listen closely, doing your best to make out what he’s saying on the other line.

"I can't come in tonight,” is what it sounds like.

"Uh, why the fuck not?" your man demands. He places a sassy hand on his hip. "We need you for front of the house."

"Erica's sick and my car is in the shop."

"I'll pay for your Uber, you're coming in."

"I think it's covid. I don't wanna spread it to anyone if l've been exposed."

"It's not fucking covid, you guys have been jabbed more times than I can count for school."

The two continue to bicker back and forth like they’re brothers. Steve excuses himself from the narrative, going over to the kitchen sink to wash the dishes.

You watch Eddie as he lights up a pre-roll, taking a frustrated drag from it while he listens to Lucas’s, probably bullshit, excuse.

Eventually there’s a scuffle on the other line. Something something, “GIMME THE DAMN PHONE” followed by a “NO” followed by a “PHONE. NOW”. Eddie’s drags from his blunt grow increasingly slower.

Then another person speaks. The voice belongs to a girl. She sounds slightly younger than Lucas. And she sounds sick. And angry.

"Listen here, Ed-NERD Alan Munson," the girl hisses sassily. " I KNOW I did not just hear you tell my brother that he is coming in even when HE TOLD YOU why he can't. It's giving desperate. It's giving exploitation of your employees. If you want my brother to come in for a half shift at your stupid gentlemen's club then you best pull up to our residence, YOURSELF, with them spicy chicken wings level Creeping. Death. My tongue? It needs to be on FIRE. My eyes? They need to be burning from the temperature and sauce. My sinuses? BOYYY, you better be-LIEVE they oughta be SO CLEAR, I could cough up a loogie, SPIT IT OUT THE WINDOW, and have it smack you RIGHT UPSIDE THE HEAD SO HARD you won’t even THINK about forcing my brother to do something he isn’t comfortable doing again. Keep trying me, motherfucker. THE FUCK WRONG WITCHU."

Steve is flabbergasted. Eddie's mouth is wide open. You would’ve thought Lucas’s sister was on speakerphone but she wasn’t.

You're scared of Erica Sinclair. And so is Eddie, the way his eyes widen at her spiel. If Lucas's sister ever got into a heated argument with Billy, Billy would go home crying.

“And some sweet potato fries," she adds softly. "Please. Do we have a deal?"

"At your service," Eddie deals her a salute through the phone, even though she can't see it. "Anything Applejack wants, she gets. I'll be over after my Meijer run."

"As you should, sir."

Eddie turns to you after he hangs up the phone. "Don't ever own a business."

——————— 🛒—————

“WE GROW UP AND MOVE AWAY... The seasons pass, but the monsters stay.”

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

Hellfire is Eddie’s baby. The man lives and breathes that strip club.

As much as you’ve already harbored that suspicion, you didn’t realize his work-life balance was practically non-existent. Running errands. Frequent call-outs. Always having to prepare for the unexpected. But that’s the price one pays for owning a business. It also only seems to get harder and harder when you’re a handsome business man like Eddie, someone with the drawing power like that of a 13,000 gauss magnet.

“Mike to Munson, do you copy?”

You and Eddie have hit the road now, ready to start your errands run before your shift begins. As Eddie drives, he has you hold his phone up for him while he speaks to the boys in their group FaceTime call.

“Copy,” Eddie responds. “Thank you for covering ground, dear Paladin. It is because of you we are no longer… short staffed.”

God, they’re such dorks. You’d cringe if Eddie didn’t have the sex appeal of a Roman god.

“It’s the least I can do,” Mike insists. “Taking inventory as we speak. We need more ground chili and pop cans. Cola and Fanta, please. When you go to Meijer.”

“Done deal,” Eds nods. “Who’s doing side quests?”

“Me!” Will chimes in. “Doing silverware, stainless steel, and just helping Jonathan open up the bar.”

“Thank you, Byers-squared.”

“And I’ll sweep and do windows,” Dustin adds. “We’ll figure out the front house situation as it unfolds. Gonna be a little late. Getting gas.”

Eddie places a firm palm over your hand. He smiles at you when you look over.

“Running errands with Shy Girl, we’ll see you soon.”

“Pulling in now. Over.”

“Us too. Over.”

“Over and out, boys.”

————- 🚐———-

After your Meijer run, you and Eddie stop by CVS for Wayne’s medications and the ‘morning after’ pill. And shortly after that, you two haul ass to the other side of town to scoop up Nina.

Eddie gives the young dancer a ride to work almost every day. He also smokes her out before the shift, evident by her waltzing in stoned out of her mind all the time. It brings you peace knowing the whole story now, and that there truly is nothing more to it than that.

“Your boyfriend really needs a new car,” Eddie huffs to Nina as she climbs into the backseat. “Been telling him that shit’s on it’s last good tire.”

Figuratively and literally. The 90s Buick that you caught sight of shortly before Nina shuffled in can only be described as a lost cause. Nina knows it too, the way she scowls at the thing.

She tsks as she clicks her seatbelt in place.

“Duh, Eds. What do you think I’m saving up for?”

Eddie holds up an eighth.

“I can think of a few things,” he chuckles. “I take it you’re a fan of all things eco mode.”

“Hey, it’s 2022, of course we’re going green.”

Eddie grins. “I like how you think, sweetheart.”

Nina looks over to see who’s in the front seat. Her eyes glimmer when she realizes it’s you.

“Oh, hey Shy Girl!” she cheers.

You smile at her contently. Securely.

“Hey, Neens.”

Eddie starts up his van once again.

“Alright everyone,” he says as he shifts gears. “Hold onto something. We’re on a tight schedule so expect some Eddie Stops.”

“Not this again,” Nina mutters.

“Oh boy…” you add.

SKRRRT!

———— 🏠 ————

After dropping both Nina and the groceries off at Hellfire, you and Eddie set out to Forest Hills Trailer Park to visit his infamous Uncle Wayne.

“Wayne’s the man,” Eddie boasts as he drives on. “Taught me how to fish. Somehow taught me how to drive. Automatic and stick.”

He laughs at that one.

“Even took me out of the foster care system when I was 16. I lived in his old room for years while he took the pull-out couch in the living room.”

“Foster care?” you echo as he nods. “He was tired of you jumping from home to home?”

“Nah, I just kept running away,” Eddie cackles. “If a kid was ever in the police station for something, nine times out of 10 it was probably me. I was stressing way too many people out, Uncs probably felt bad for them.”

“But he also loves you, I bet,” you grin. “You’re his nephew, Eddie.”

Eddie smiles too. “Yeah, somethin’ like that.”

Eddie pulls into an empty dirt road just yards from the estate. You two climb out of the van together, slamming the doors in unison.

Eddie leads you up the stairs by the hand, then uses his other one to wave at old neighbors close by.

“Hey y’all! How ya doin’?” he exclaims. He lowers his voice when he speaks to you. “Those are the Johnsons. Their sons were frequent customers of mine in high school.”

Your eyes widen in shock. Eddie waves to another pair of neighbors.

“And those are the Jacobsons. I bought their sons alcohol their senior year for homecoming. Buncha lightweights though. Wouldn’t recommend.”

“Well aren’t you a hero,” you jest.

“Hey, someone’s gotta pay the bills,” Eddie shrugs, half-jokingly. “You would think 40 years at The Plant gave you a decent insurance plan but that wasn’t the case. Had to help Wayne out for a fat minute. Still do every now and then.”

Eddie shifts closer to the door and gives it a couple knocks. He leans his head towards the doorframe, placing his lips just inches away from the chipped, painted wood.

“Wayne Munson,” Eddie bellows in his playful, deep voice. “It’s your friendly neighborhood pharmacist here. I’ve come with your percs, your piss pill, and your Motrin.”

Percocet and Motrin.

Two very strong pain killers. Hearing those names send chills down your spine. Those are the same meds Mom overdosed on when Billy found her.

But given Wayne’s circumstances, it’s not too much of a concern. According to what Eddie has told you, his uncle had just retired and is very frail. Heavy machinery and long hours can do that to someone. Just constant, chronic pain.

The door swings open and you hear Eddie greet Wayne like a grateful man would greet his dad. “Hey, Old Man! How are you?”

“Hello, there my boy. Agh, watch it. ‘s hurtin’ again.”

It didn't seem like anyone was at the door when you look over. But that was because you were looking about two feet too high.

Your eyes travel to the level at which Eddie bends down and there you see Uncle Wayne, having wheeled himself to the door to greet Eddie with a warm hug.

Oh this goes deeper than you thought.

A nose cannula. Yellow grippy socks. The wheelchair that housed his thin, fragile body. The navy blue Pacers beanie that concealed the fact that the man had very little hair.

Wayne’s face was extremely chiseled in, deeming him malnourished and underweight. The bags under his eyes that drooped heavily against his sockets took up a good portion of his face — nearly half.

You look at the place behind him. His trailer had lots of rails installed, Ensure protein shakes for adequate nutrition, and the pull out couch was set up to look like a bedroom, with a collapsible dresser right beside it that was nearly lost in a sea of orange medicine bottles.

The realization nearly knocks the wind out of you.

Wayne is sick. He almost looks terminal.

It feels like the ground had opened up and swallowed you whole. Your knees feel wobbly like gelatin, but Eddie is too busy reuniting with his father figure to notice. When he turns back around, he pulls you into him, with the biggest smile on his face.

“There’s uh, someone I want you to meet,” Eddie says to Wayne, his cheeks now a deep shade of pink. “This is Shy Girl.”

“Shy Girl,” Wayne smiles the same bright smile that Eddie has. “So you’re the THEE Shy Girl that my Eddie’s been rambling to me about. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, sweetheart.”

You meet Wayne where he’s at, shaking his cold hand at eye level and giving him the warmest smile you can.

“It’s nice to meet you as well, Mr. Munson.”

“Mr. Munson,” Wayne smirks cheekily. There’s a hint of who he used to be when he does that. He was most likely a firecracker just like Eddie, evident by how the two start poking at each other in a teasing manner. “Didn’t realize we were at a business meeting. In that case, we shall not waste any time. You and Eddie can come on in now, Miss Hargrove.”

Butterflies form in your stomach. You never told Wayne your last name.

And soon you’re in Wayne’s trailer, Eddie’s old home before he grew his wings and left the nest. A bittersweet energy floods the room. It only becomes more prominent when you see Eddie and Wayne holding hands as they make their way inside.

“Welcome to my office,” Wayne proceeds, carrying on with the banter. “I’ve got some tea in the cupboards, as well as some stale saltines because this one over here thinks I should watch my sodium intake. You’re more than welcome to help yourself.”

“Thank you so much,” is all you’re able to say.

“No worries, doll.”

Wayne darts his gaze back over to Eddie. “Anywho. Now that the formalities are over… son, I need to take a shit.”

The same dry humor too. You giggle and glance over at Eddie while he grimaces at Wayne in annoyance. But, since it’s not his first rodeo, he obliges, unlocking Wayne’s wheelchair to wheel him over to the commode that was concealed behind a DIY curtain.

“Did you do your exercises today?” you hear Eddie ask him.

"I tried. Got tired ‘bout halfway through.”

“What are your oxygen levels looking like?”

“Satting 88 percent without my oxygen. 93 percent on three liters.”

“That’s what we like to see. Good job, baby. I’m proud of you.”

You stand off to the side, giving Wayne as much privacy and dignity you can throughout this very intimate ordeal.

While Eddie is away with him, you keep yourself distracted with Wayne’s mug collection, as well as the array of trucker hats that decorated one of the four walls. You take a look at what’s on the TV: The Price is Right is just about to go on a commercial break. And on the coffee table rested an assortment of dated magazines, all going back to as early as 2008. Ah yes, recession core.

Within a few short moments, Eddie comes back out. You study him as he makes his way to the kitchen to wash his hands, making faces at the friendly neighborhood cats who liked to make themselves at home on the porch.

“Anyways!” Eddie exclaims. “I’m gonna start making Erica’s wings cuz we got everything here.”

He starts back over to you.

“But before I do, want me to show you my old room? It’s like a huge time capsule. Wayne hasn’t touched it since I left.”

You can barely meet his eyes. Eddie is acting way too normal about this. Or maybe you’re too dramatic.

He sees you frowning, thinking.

“…You okay?” he attempts with you.

"Eds... I didn't know," you whisper softly.

But Eddie smiles a bit. "That's okay. I initially didn't want you to know."

"How bad is it?"

"Stage 3. Lung cancer."

"How long has he had it?"

"Siiiince… March of 2020?” Eddie recalls. "We initially thought it was covid because of all the pulmonary stuff..."

He gestures around his own lungs.

"So what started out as a — rather intimate — nose swab turned into a biopsy that turned into getting a team of specialists….”

He glances over at Wayne to make sure he’s still okay.

“To having uncomfortable talks with the case worker about...exploring other options... And then to me being his full-time caregiver."

"March of 2020..." you recall. "Isn't that the same time you and Isabelle got divorced?"

"We were finalizing it..." Eddie corrects you. “But that’s neither here or there.”

“And Hellfire?”

“We were struggling for a bit not gonna lie,” Eddie chuckles. “It was during the start of covid and no one wanted to leave the house. Even when the babes were smoking hot.”

Holding up a palm, you stop him from explaining any further.

“So let me get this straight,” you state. “Your piece of shit dad UNALIVED your mom in cold blood when you were a kid, your father figure has cancer. You somehow manage to care for him full-time all while basically living at Hellfire, your business that your ex wife tried to SABOTAGE; which led to you getting arrested and released on bail up until your trial where you were then proven NOT GUILTY. But even then, your reputation still remains slightly tainted because almost everyone in Hawkins is a narrow-minded, self-righteous prick who weaponizes religion to get an upper hand? And they know you’re an easy target so that’s exactly what they did in this case, making your life and Wayne’s a living hell when it was the last thing you two needed at the time?”

“It be like that sometimes.”

Eddie flashes you a sarcastic, ‘I’m alive’ peace sign. He’s not helping.

Your heart just about shatters.

Eddie has suffered so much. But he hides it so well with his never-ending sarcasm and Munson magic.

And to think all of this — Hellfire, Wayne, and divorcing Isabelle — went down a couple years ago. He still had his childhood to sort through. If that's even plausible.

“It’s also kinda why Chrissy and I were screwing around,” Eddie adds, snapping you out of your thinking. “Apparently I was constantly depressed and she wanted to keep me distracted and all. Again, fun. But very short-lived.”

You fall into him and squeeze him tight. Eddie is almost taken aback by it. But nevertheless, he returns the favor.

"Are you alright?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" you demand. "You have all of this going on and you're asking me if I'm alright?"

Oh, how lonely Eddie must’ve felt through all of this. You just want to hold him. Take away all of his pain.

It’s always the angels on earth who get sent to hell and back. Eddie deserves the world, and you’re going to go your best to give it to him.

"Are we alright?" you question him.

"Of course we're alright," Eddie insists, ruffling your hair like it’s the silliest thing you’ve ever asked him.

He pulls away from you. Rubs your back delicately as you soak in all of this new information.

“You sure you want to sign up for all of this?”

You are absolutely more than sure.

“Now why would you even ask that?” you choke. “You know my stubborn ass. I’m not backing down without a fight.”

“Yeaaah,” Eddie squints. “I guess you are pretty stubborn.”

You fall into one another again, kissing each other like it’s the air you need to breathe. Eddie delicately cups your face with his hands, relishing in the last couple of smooches before he pulls away.

“I like stubborn though.”

“You and me, Eddie.”

“You and me, sweetheart.”

“Eddie!” Wayne calls, innocently interrupting the moment. “I’m done, boy, now come help me get up.”

“Comin’!” Eddie cranes his neck, shouting in Wayne’s general direction. He kisses you one more time on the forehead before excusing himself. “Be right back, babe.”

You and Eddie leave for Hellfire shortly after spending a little bit more time with Wayne.

The entire ride there, you let Eddie talk about his memories with his uncle… how he’s attended homecoming rallies, talent shows, graduations, and the less-than-celebratory court hearings — loving Eddie unconditionally through thick and thin. He was there for Eddie’s senior prom, snapping photos of him with the boys and his date Ronnie, who was also his best friend at the time.

Wayne was also there for Eddie’s wedding, even though he didn’t particularly like Isabelle. Again, every milestone, Wayne was there for.

You fawn over Eddie as he continues to talk, the spark in his eyes never leaving for as long as it’s about his loved ones. You can only hope he talks to Wayne and the others about you in the same way.

You can’t believe this is real life.

From here on out, it’s going to be you and Eddie. And you’re going to be by his side no matter what, because he’s proven to you that he is committed to doing the same.

From here on out, it’s going to be Shy Girl and Eddie… and nothing… NOTHING will ever change your mind or get in the way of that.

🏷️ tag list: @chrrymunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n , @corrodedcoffincumslut , @bebe07011 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills , @chelebelletx , @imonhereforareasonsadly , @eddies-trailer-babe @hideoutside , @motherfckerr , @jxpsi , @lindseyj23, @sidthedollface2 , @manda-panda-monium , @elvendria , @micheledawn1975 , @hereforshmut , @siriuslysmoking , @nymphetkoo , @m-chmcl-rmnc , @justinelittlewoodsworld , @ahoyyharrington , @keepittoyourselftellnobodyelse @kellyxo1 @emsgoodthinkin @winchester-angel @chloe-6123 , @redbarn1995 @angietherose @kiyastrf94 , @purplewitchcauldron @kellsck @joyfulfxckery @munsons-mayhem28 @dragonfire @emma77645 @drivelikenina @livosssblog @thinkingth0ts @hugdealer @ellielunamckay

[correlance]

Theory: Valentino was the famous 1920s actor Rudolph Valentino, the "Latin Lover".

Who was Rudolph Valentino?

Rodolfo Pietro Filiberto Raffaello Guglielmi di Valentina d'Antonguella (May 6, 1895 – August 23, 1926), known professionally as Rudolph Valentino and nicknamed the "Latin Lover", was an Italian actor based in the United States who starred in several well-known silent films from 1921 to 1926, including The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, The Sheik, Blood and Sand, The Eagle, and The Son of the Sheik.

Valentino was a sex symbol of the 1920s, known in Hollywood as the "Latin Lover" (a title invented for him by Hollywood moguls), the "Great Lover", or simply "Valentino". His early death at the age of 31 caused mass hysteria among his fans, further cementing his place in early cinematic history as a cultural film icon.

Valentino was born in Castellaneta, Apulia, Italy…unable to secure employment in Italy, he departed for the United States in 1913. He was processed at Ellis Island at age 18 on December 23, 1913. Valentino never applied for American citizenship, and retained his Italian citizenship.

Arriving in New York City, he supported himself with odd jobs such as busing tables in restaurants and gardening. Around 1914, restaurateur Joe Pani who owned Castles-by-the-Sea, the Colony, and the Woodmansten Inn was the first to hire Rudolph to dance the tango with Joan Sawyer for $50 per week.

Eventually, he found work as a taxi dancer at Maxim's Restaurant-Cabaret. Among the other dancers at Maxim's were several displaced members of European nobility, for whom a premium demand existed…Valentino left town [in 1917], and joined a traveling musical that led him to the West Coast.

[…] With his dancing success, Valentino found a room of his own on Sunset Boulevard, and began actively seeking screen roles. His first part was as an extra in the film Alimony, moving on to small parts in several films. Despite his best efforts, he was typically cast as a "heavy" (villain) or gangster. At the time, the archetypal major male star was Wallace Reid, with a fair complexion, light eyes, and an All-American look, with Valentino the opposite; he eventually supplanted Sessue Hayakawa as Hollywood's most popular "exotic" male lead.

[…] With the Douglas Fairbanks type being the supposed epitome of manhood, Valentino was sometimes portrayed as a threat to the "All American" man. One man, asked in a street interview in 1922 what he thought of Valentino, replied, "Many other men [say they] desire to be another Douglas Fairbanks. But Valentino? I wonder…"

Women in the same interview found Valentino, quote, "Triumphantly seductive. He puts the love-making of the average husband or sweetheart into discard as tame, flat, and unimpassioned."

Some journalists were still calling [Valentino's] "masculinity" into question, going on at length about his pomaded hair, his dandyish clothing, his treatment of women, his views on women, and whether he was "effeminate" or not. Valentino hated these stories, and was known to carry clippings of the newspaper articles around with him and criticize them.

In July 1926, the Chicago Tribune reported that a vending machine dispensing pink talcum powder (face powder) had appeared in an upscale hotel's men's washroom. An editorial that followed used the story to protest the supposed feminization of American men, and blamed the talcum powder on Valentino and his films. The piece infuriated Valentino, and he challenged the writer to his choice of a boxing or wrestling match, since dueling was illegal. Neither challenge was answered.

Shortly afterward, Valentino met with journalist H. L. Mencken for advice on how best to deal with the incident. Mencken advised Valentino to "let the dreadful farce roll along to exhaustion" (i.e. "do nothing"), but Valentino insisted the editorial was "infamous", [and must be answered for in a one-on-one fight].

After Valentino challenged the Tribune's anonymous writer to a boxing match, the New York Evening Journal boxing writer, Frank O'Neill, volunteered to fight in his place. Valentino won the bout, which took place on the roof of New York's Ambassador Hotel.

Heavyweight champion Jack Dempsey, who trained Valentino and other Hollywood notables of the era in boxing, said of him: "He was the most virile and masculine of men. The women were like flies to a honeypot. He could never shake them off, anywhere he went. What a lovely, lucky guy."

Mencken found Valentino to be likable and gentlemanly, and wrote sympathetically of him in an article published in The Baltimore Sun a week after Valentino's death:

"It was not that trifling Chicago episode that was riding him; it was the whole grotesque futility of his life. Had he achieved, out of nothing, a vast and dizzy success? Then that success was hollow as well as vast—a colossal and preposterous nothing. Was he acclaimed by yelling multitudes? Then every time the multitudes yelled, he felt himself blushing inside…the thing, at the start, must have only bewildered him, but in those last days, unless I am a worse psychologist than even the professors of psychology, it was revolting him. Worse, it was making him afraid…here was a young man who was living daily the dream of millions of other men. Here was one who was catnip to women. Here was one who had wealth and fame, and here was one who was very unhappy [in spite of that wealth and fame]."

[…] Valentino was also the "sex symbol" of his time in the 1920s. The sheet music cover for "Rodolph Valentino Blues" written in 1922, to quote the lyrics, "Oh Mister Rodolph Valentino / I know I've got the Valentino blues / And when you come up on the screen / Oh! You're so romantic, I go frantic at the views!

[…] [Prior to his death], Valentino was fascinated with every part of movie-making. During production on a Mae Murray film, he spent time studying the director's plans. He craved authenticity and wished to shoot on location, finally forming his own production company, Rudolph Valentino Productions, in 1925. Valentino, George Ullman, and Beatrice Ullman were the incorporators.

[…] Valentino once told gossip columnist Louella Parsons that: "The women I love don't love me. The others don't matter." He claims that despite his success as a sex symbol, in his personal love life, he never achieved happiness.

[…] In 1919—just before the rise of his career—Valentino impulsively married actress Jean Acker, who was also [romantically] involved with actresses Grace Darmond and Alla Nazimova.

Acker became involved with Valentino in part to remove herself from the lesbian love triangle, quickly regretted the marriage, and locked Valentino out of their room on their wedding night. The couple separated soon after, and the marriage was never consummated [on account of Acker being a lesbian]. 

The couple remained legally married until 1921, when Acker sued Valentino for divorce, citing desertion. The divorce was granted, with Acker receiving alimony. She and Valentino eventually renewed their friendship, and remained friends until his death.

[His second marriage to actress Winifred Shaughnessy, known by her stage name, Natacha Rambova—an American silent film costume and set designer, art director, and protégée of Alla Nazimova, his ex-wife's lesbian lover—ended far more poorly.

The two married in 1922, remarried in 1923, and divorced in 1925. Towards the end of their marriage, Rambova was banned from his sets by contract. The end of the marriage was bitter, with Valentino bequeathing Rambova one dollar in his will.]

[…] From the time he died in 1926 until the 1960s, Valentino's sexuality was not generally questioned in print. At least four books, including the notoriously libelous Hollywood Babylon, suggested that [Valentino] may have been gay, despite his marriage to Rambova. For some, the marriages to Acker and Rambova, as well as the relationship with Pola Negri, added to the suspicion that Valentino was gay, and that these were "lavender marriages".

Some claim that Valentino had a relationship with Ramón Novarro, despite Novarro stating they barely knew each other. Hollywood Babylon recounts a story that Valentino had given Novarro an art deco dildo as a gift, which was found stuffed in his throat at the time of his murder. It is believed that no such gift existed.

There were also claims that he may have had relationships with both roommates Paul Ivano and Douglas Gerrad, as well as Norman Kerry, and openly gay French theatre director and poet Jacques Hébertot. However, Ivano maintained that it was untrue, and both he and Valentino were heterosexual. Biographers Emily Leider and Allan Ellenberger generally agree that [Valentino] was most likely straight, [though others have disputed this].

There was further supposed evidence that Valentino was gay; documents in the estate of the late author Samuel Steward indicated that Valentino and Steward were sexual partners. However, evidence found in Steward's claim was subsequently found to be false, as Valentino was in New York on the date Steward claimed a sexual encounter occurred in Ohio.

[Valentino died on 23 August 1926, at the age of 31, due to complications from perforated ulcer surgery, resulting in sepsis (bacterial poisoning), a collapsed lung, and other fatal conditions.]

[jedijoe]

City

City

Chicago exotic dancers say club failed to protect them

[agentcable]

Chicago Fire Season 5 Ep. 13 "Trading in Scuttlebutt"

Boden and House 51 face consequences after he makes a split-second decision at an accident scene. Severide considers a major decision. Herrmann does a good deed. Brett looks to make some personal changes.

If you want to watch the series for yourself, stop reading! This post contains spoilers to the storyline.

Herrmann is closing up Molly's. A man asks for money to buy a suit for a job interview. Herrmann asks the man what's going on. When the man talks bout his kids and needing the job, he gives him money and wishes him luck.

At Firehouse 51, they say he's a sucker for helping the stranger. Herrmann felt the man needed help and he had to do it. Otis says he's using it for drugs.

Stella learns from Severide that he got a job offer. He says it's Battalion Chief in Springfield, but before she can respond, Gabby asks for her help. Stella leaves, telling Severide they aren't done.

Gabby and Stella find Sylvie working out. When they ask her what's going on, she says they should encourage her to get in shape, not stare. A call comes in, and all crews leave.

At the scene, they find a truck with cement sewer poles on it. The firehouse work together to lift the pole and remove their patient. Chief Boden orders Chief Anderson to stop because the straps are about to break. He says they have to act fast. He tells Boden, "We got her." The straps break. Boden orders everyone to stop lifting and secure the pipe. Anderson is not impressed. Lt. Matt Casey says they have to work fast because he doesn't know how long it will hold. Once the patient is clear, they release the pipes, which crash around them in the same spot.

Back at the firehouse, the guys tease Herrmann about the money he gave the man. When Otis says Boden saved Anderson, Boden says he is just glad he caught it when he did and tells them to get lunch.

Stella says Severide is taking the job because Anna lives there. He says he's thinking about it and will visit to see what they offer. Severide asks for her for opinion because she's his friend. She says he'll be in Springfield for 10 minutes and then leave for Chicago. She doesn't really know him.

Chief Boden calls Mouch and Herrmann into his office. He asks if they are going to the party, if their wives are going, and what they are wearing. It's his wife, Donna, asking. Herrmann promises to text Cindy. He asks them to keep quiet about the sewer pipes because Deputy Chief Anderson just got promoted and he wants to protect his image.

Sylvie and Gabby are at Chicago Med when Sylvie says she wants to make some changes. Maggie interrupts, asking if they are okay since the new chief almost got them all killed. The rumor is running wild. Gabby and Sylvie receive a call and leave.

They arrive at an office party where there is an exotic dancer lying face down. They think she's overdosed. She wakes up and says her chest hurts, then has a seizure. Sylvie asks if she took something. A woman says they saw a man give her a speedball in the bathroom. They shock her heart and she says she wants to go home. The older man offers them money, and Sylvie says "Men suck!"

Matt Casey is fixing a cabinet door when Severide asks if he wants to be chief. Matt says eventually and asks why. Severide says he's thinking about the future. Matt says that's how you get into trouble. Severide agrees.

Gabby returns to the rig and sees Sylvie learning German. Gabby laughs and asks what's going on. Sylvie says she's had no luck with men. Gabby's life is perfect. Gabby says she's had a lot of bad breakups before Matt. She thinks her "Matt" is out there and she shouldn't change to find him. Sylvie asks how Antonio is doing. Gabby says he isn't doing great, so Sylvie asks her to stay close to make sure he is all right. Gabby promises.

Mouch, Otis and Joe Cruz keep asking Herrmann about his con story. He tells them to read "The Giving Tree". Herrmann walks away as they laugh at him.

Deputy Chief Anderson says Chief Boden talks about him behind his back. He says he's a wild card who disrespects the chain of command. Boden replieis "Look whose trading rumors." Anderson threatens Boden, sayhing he doesn't want to make ehim an enemy.

The next morning, Boden is walking with Matt and Severide. He says Anderson has a fragile ego. Severide thinks Boden should remind him he almost got firefighters killed. Boden says that isn't how he operates. He says as chief, you have to move on. It's like being a lieutenant.

Severide goes to Springfield Fire Department, where he meets Chief Dennis Mack. Mack wants to make the department the best in the world. He takes Severide to meet some firefighters.

Gabby and Matt are at home. She suggests setting up with Alderman Matt and Sylvie. He thinks it's a bad idea to mix his work and the firehouse. Matta asks what she's doing. She says she's not doing well since breaking up with her brother and wants to help. Matt says he doesn't want to talk about Sylvie's love life.

Severide gets a letter and an offer for the job in Springfield. Chief Mack says he can think it over. Severide wants to check out the city. He goes to Seattle Med and finds Anna talking to a cancer patient. She says she's missed him and wanted to call him every day, but her life is here. He kisses her and tells her about his job offer in Springfield. She asks him not to do this for her. She doesn't want him to give up Chicago for her. He kisses her again as she tries to push im away. He says he'll do it for the right reasons. She asks what those are. He says he's trying to figure it out.

At the party, Anderson says Boden damaged his reputation. He angrily tells Boden they're not good. Someone lower in command tells him how to conduct a rescuee. He talks about the bad things that have happened at Firehouse 51. He says this could end his career.

Donna says they should go, and Anderson is rude to her. Boden says he'll record Anderson's negligence and how firefighters almost died.

Herrmann disappoints his son when he forgets to go to his calls as "dad of the week". Stella finds Severide in the locker room and asks him why he barely knows Anna. It's about him, not her.

Every day, he looks in the mirror and sees his dad, Benny. He thinks this is his chance. Stella understands but says she'll miss him because they're friends and they're good together.

Otis arrives and wants to know about the fight between Anderson and Boden. Herrmann doesn't want to talk about it, so they make fun of him again. He leaves the table and sits with Sylvie, who tells him not to worry. He asks Lt. Matt Casey if they can go for a drive.

Herrmann arrives in the classroom with the crew. Matt, Otis, Stella, and Mouch help him play with the children, who love it. Otis understands why Herrmann gave the man money.

Deputy Chief Anderson comes for a routine inspection of Firehouse 51. He isn't impressed when he learns that Truck 81 didn't file the paperwork for the school excursion. Boden says they'll talk when they get back from the call. Anderson says he'll come.

They find a young teen lying on the ground with a fire escape ladder stuck in him. Sylvie and Gabby tell him not to touch it. Anderson yells for Joe to get his friends out of the alley. Anderson orders them to use different equipment, but Severide uses what they already have. Boden tells Anderson to back off if he wants to take him on. Severide and Squad 3 cut the ladder and save the boy. Severide is proud of Boden. Anderson got in his buggy and drove off. Matt says Anderson has no reason to go after him and he needs to understand that. Boden says he and Anderson need to work together for the department.

Severide learns Stella and Gabby are taking Sylvie out tonight. Sylvie rushes up to them at the bar. She's marrying Jacques from Canada, but he needs a green card. Gabby and Stella take Sylvie home.

At Molly's, Joe and Mouch are at the bar when Greg returns, clean-shaven and nicely dressed. He tells Herrmann he'll pay him back. They shake hands, and he says he got the job. He pulls out an envelope with the money inside. He thanks him and says he doesn't know how much his gesture meant to him. Herrmann says he's buying drinks for everyoone to celebrate his new job.

Anderson thanks Boden for helping him realize he's been going about things wrong. He knows he can't just get rid of Boden, but he can take action. Anderson says the officers will stay put, but the rest of the crew is getting new assignments at different firehouses starting next shift. Boden leaves angry.

[marinafm]

welcome to the marina towers , s ! we're so happy you decided to join us ! check out our checklist here and have your account in within twenty four hours . kristine froseth is now taken.

( kristine froseth . cis woman . she/her ) - the chicago resident , ( aurora mitchell ) , was heard blaring ( gypsy by fleetwood mac ) this morning . the ( twenty five ) year old is a ( baker / exotic dancer ) in the city & has lived the (east ) tower for ( two years ) . since being here , they have been told to be ( - closed off ) , but also ( + eccentric ) , i guess we'll find out soon ! [ s , 27 , est , she/her ]

[carasarchive]

013. "At the Moulin Rouge" (1892–1895)

At the Moulin Rouge is an oil painting by French artist Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec. It is one of many works by Toulouse-Lautrec depicting the Moulin Rouge Cabaret, built in Paris in 1889. The artist himself, Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, is among the painters described as being Post Impressionists, with many of his works depicting the late 19th-century bohemian lifestyle in Paris.

The painting depicts a group of three men and two women sitting around a table situated on the floor of the cabaret. A cabaret is a nightclub with risque entertainment. From right to left, the people seen include writer Édouard Dujardin, dancer La Macarona, photographer Paul Secau, photographer Maurice Guibert, and, facing away, Jane Avril, being most recognized by her red-orange hair. The painting is now on display at the Art Institute of Chicago and is celebrated by the exotic nightlife scene. 

This artwork is exciting, and I love everything about it. I love how everything flows and how consistent the color palette is. I also enjoy the texture of the painting. As you can see in Jane Avril's portrait, her bib trim stands out; you can tell it is some sort of luxury material. I also like the luxurious scene with all the fancy clothes and refined colors.  I find it fascinating that the woman in the foreground's face is depicted as blue/green; upon further research, I discovered that her name is May Milton, and she is a singer. Depicting her in such harsh lighting is an incredibly bold choice, and it inspired me to make more daring choices, even if critiques don't necessarily agree. 

[candacehughes123]

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[mamusiq]

Chicago 💃 Cell Block TangoWarning : no men were harmed in the making of this video

👇 📺 👇

🗣 Comments 🗣 Don't all of you hate it when people run into your knife? It's even worse when they do it not once, not even twice, but ten times! Isn't that the worst? 🗣 Notice how all the women guilty of their crimes dance mostly in white light as they tell their story, and pull out red cloths to show their guiltiness? The white light probably represents the 'light' they're shown in, innocent, but the cloth shows that they really did it. However, the foreign girl dances in a red light, and pulls out a white cloth. She is the only one who ends up being found guilty (red light) even though she is the only one who didn't do it (white cloth) I also think it's interesting how all the other women dance violently and exotically, while she dances gracefully and with emotion. The director did this scene amazingly, in my opinion. 🗣 Did guys notice that the Hungarian girl never sings when the revenge chorus comes up? She just dances along with everyone else but she never sings it and I find it really sad because it just proves her innocence all the more. 🗣 the foreign lady is talking about how everyone was saying her neighbor held down her husband while she killed him. she tried to explain that she didn't kill him, but no one understood her because of her accent/ language. It's truly sad. 🗣 Yeah, the fact that the only actual innocent person in the prison is the one to get hanged just bc she's an immigrant is a bit too reminiscent of real life… 🗣 In the movie, she is the only one who gets executed. 🗣 I love how they all have somewhat elegant words 🗣 Brianna Garrett it’s her husbands last name. She says it in the song haha “I loved Al Lipschitz”…LiPSHitZS" 🗣 Every men kinda saw it coming…except the first one. Poor guy was just chewing gum and got a shotgun shot to the head. 🗣 I was so mesmerized with "Pop"s dance segment and the way her male dancer was so engaged and the way she turned and walked off swinging her hair looking back all the while completely technical…i still get chills 🥶 🗣 Just a reminder to my future husband, don’t piss me off. I will play this over and over again. 🗣 Everyone but Hunyak had red flags which signified how they were rightfully guilty. However, Hunyak's was coloured white which is the colour of innocence. 🗣 Tango vs Ballet. It's a subtle detail but very important 🗣 Is no one gonna mention that insane jump at 6:57?? Do yall know how hard that must have been to coordinate? Like holy shit all these people are so talented 🗣 I honestly love how aggressive they sing, especially velma and the ending chorus section 😍 💃💃💃💃💃💃

me>

[hellcity]

Don’t miss @loulouladuchesse performing LIVE at @hell_city 2023 in Columbus, Ohio!

@loulouladuchesse is the current reigning Miss Exotic World and is ready to make our mainstage even hotter this year when she performs for all the Hellions in Columbus Ohio this May 19th-21st at the @hyattcolumbus in booming downtown Columbus, Ohio!

@loulouladuchesse aka Lauren Ashley Jiles, is a Afro-Indigenous internationally renowned neo-burlesque dancer, teacher, and activist hailing from the Mohawk territory of Kahnawake, Quebec.

@loulouladuchesse began her burlesque career in 2005 in Montreal with troupe Blue Light Burlesque. She has since headlined shows across North America and has performed in New Orleans, Las Vegas, New York, Texas, Detroit, and Chicago.

Be sure to step up to the main stage to check out her amazing Burlesque acts every day of the festival!

#hellcitytattoofest #hellcityohio #hellcity2023 #hellcity #loulouladuchessederiere #burlesque #loulouduchesse #columbusohio #act #performer #performance #columbustattooers #liveact

[chaptertwo-thepacnw]

chicago 1976

[blackjacksclubchicago-blog]

How can strip clubs make your bachelor party perfect and memorable?

So you want to host a perfect stag night for your friend, but you’re a bit confused as to how you can do just that. Well, have you thought about hosting this evening in a strip club? If not, you should really think. A strip club gives the perfect ambiance and people to make any stag night memorable and perfect in every possible way.

However, picking the right Chicago strip clubs for hosting a bachelor party is easier said than done. Since there are a lot of strip clubs out there, it’s pretty obvious that you’ll get confused. So what all things you should look for before hosting a stag night in such clubs? Well, let’s just find out right here.

Great dancers

A strip club is nothing if it doesn’t have killer exotic dancers. An exotic dancer in Chicago should be sexy and should dance like a dream—that’s a must. When that’ll happen, then only you’ll be able to give your friend the perfect bachelor party. A dancer who’s upbeat and knows her moves will always keep the spark in the party alive. So, in simple words, you should find a club that should have the perfect dancers because they’ll only be responsible for setting the party’s mood.

The best environment

Hey, never underestimate the power of a strip club’s environment. A good strip club is the one having the perfect ambiance that’s super relaxing. The surroundings of such a space should be quite welcoming—so if you think that a strip club is having a forbidding atmosphere, then don’t opt for that place.

Mouth-watering food

Any club must have good food because let’s get real—you won’t just sit here and keep watching dances, will you? No. While you’re in such a club, you’ll expect some refreshments coming your way—that’s quite natural. So opt for a club that’s focusing on not just great dancers and relaxing ambiance but also delicious food. For this reason, it’s better if you read the reviews of a strip club’s food before paying for the cover charges. If you find the feedback quite encouraging, then go ahead and host that stag party in the club.

So here’s where we’ll end the post, peeps. If you’ve got any more points to add to this list, then go ahead and be our guest. We’re all eyes. Last, did you like what you’ve just read? Well, if so, share it with others and spread the word.

[mes-popcorns]

Walking home from school just before her 10th birthday, Tura Luna Pascual Yamaguchi (Tura Satana) was reportedly gang raped by five men. According to Tura, her attackers were never prosecuted, and it was rumored that the judge had been paid off. She reports that this prompted her to learn martial arts, such as aikido and karate. Over the next 15 years, Satana tracked down each rapist and exacted revenge. "I made a vow to myself that I would someday, somehow get even with all of them," she said years later. "They never knew who I was until I told them." Around this time, she formed a gang, "the Angeles," with Italian, Jewish, and Polish girls from her neighborhood. In an interview with Psychotronic Video, Satana said, "We had leather motorcycle jackets, jeans and boots...and we kicked butt." Because of frequent delinquency, she was sent to reform school. When she was 13, her parents arranged her marriage to 17-year-old John Satana in Hernando, Mississippi, which lasted nine months.

Satana moved to Los Angeles and by age 15, using fake identification to hide the fact she was a minor, began burlesque dancing. She was hired to perform at the Trocadero nightclub on the Sunset Strip, and became a photographic model for, among others, silent screen comic Harold Lloyd, whose photos of her appear in "Harold Lloyd's Hollywood Nudes in 3-D."

Satana returned to Chicago to live with her parents and started dancing at the Club Rendevouz in Calumet City, where she was known as Galatea, "the Statue that Came to Life." She was offered a raise to become a stripper.

"I started out as an interpretive dancer, but I was offered more money if I took my clothes off, so I did. I started dancing at the age of 13 years old. I became a professional dancer at the age of 15 years old. If the owners of the clubs I had worked in ever knew that I was only 15, I think that they would have had a heart attack."

After singer Elvis Presley saw Satana perform at Chicago's Follies Theater, the two began a romantic relationship that some reports say ended in a marriage proposal she declined (though she reportedly kept the ring). Satana eventually became a successful exotic dancer, traveling from city to city. She credited Lloyd with giving her the confidence to pursue a career in show business: "I saw myself as an ugly child. Mr. Lloyd said, 'You have such a symmetrical face. The camera loves your face...You should be seen.'"

Satana's acting debut role was a cameo as Suzette Wong, a Parisian prostitute in the film "Irma la Douce" (1963), which starred Jack Lemmon and Shirley MacLaine. Her next role was as a dancer in "Who's Been Sleeping in My Bed?" (1963), which starred Dean Martin and Elizabeth Montgomery; Soon after, Satana appeared in the television shows "Burke's Law" and "The Man from U.N.C.L.E." Satana then starred as Varla in the 1965 Russ Meyer film "Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill!"—a very aggressive and sexual female character for which she did all of her own stunts and fight scenes. Renowned film critic Richard Corliss called her performance "the most honest, maybe the one honest portrayal in the Meyer canon and certainly the scariest." Originally titled "The Leather Girls", the film is an ode to female violence, based on a concept created by Meyer and screenwriter Jack Moran. Both felt at her first audition that Satana was "definitely Varla." The film was shot on location in the desert outside Los Angeles during days when the weather was more than 100 degrees Fahrenheit and freezing nights, with Satana clashing regularly with teenage co-star Susan Bernard due to Bernard's mother's reportedly disruptive behavior on the set. Meyer said Satana was "extremely capable. She knew how to handle herself. Don't f*ck with her! And if you have to f*ck her, do it well! She might turn on you!"

Satana was responsible for adding key elements to the visual style and energy of the production, including her costume, makeup, usage of martial arts, dialogue and the use of spinning tires in the death scene of the main male character. She came up with many of the film's best lines. At one point the gas station attendant was ogling her extraordinary cleavage while confessing to a desire to see America. Varla replied "You won't find it down there, Columbus!" Meyer cited Satana as the primary reason for the film's lasting fame. "She and I made the movie," said Meyer. Meyer reportedly later regretted not using Satana in subsequent productions.

"I took a lot of my anger that had been stored inside of me for many years and let it loose. I helped to create the character Varla and helped to make her someone that many women would love to be like."

Santana legally owned her likeness and image. So, whenever Russ Meyer wanted to change the artwork or rerelease "Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill!," he had to get her permission and sometimes pay her all over again. (Wikipedia/IMDb)

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

The Dancer In The Window.

This is a submission for the smut challenge!!! The prompt is:

“Do you think about me when you touch yourself?”

warnings: Smut, Exhibitionist, Oral sex, Self pleasure. Time Travel, angst, dark, horror, mystery.

She was there once again, third night in a row. He took a drag on his blunt, staring at the window across the alley, at the silhouette of the naked, curvaceous woman dancing behind the lighted shade.

The Temptress…

Who doesn’t love New York? There's no other city on the planet with an energy that can compete with New York. The fast pace, the buzzing traffic, the hustle and bustle of the people, the 24-hour life, and the creative spirit make NYC one of the most vibrant places in the world.

Starting in the 1920s, New York had nearly 6 million residents and was a center of manufacturing, commerce, and culture. Immigrants entering through the port and migrants coming by road and rail fed the city's thriving economy. In 1923 New York produced 1/12th of all manufacturing in the nation.

As you probably already guessed, it wasn’t all fun and games. Mobsters assimilated into the scene, bringing criminal activity with them. It wasn’t long before prostitution and other shady businesses became highly prevalent. It’s 2019 and next year marks the 100th anniversary of the start of one of the biggest boondoggles in American history – Prohibition. The Volstead Act, which took effect on July 17, 1920 triggered a lawless 13-year era that effectively bankrolled organized crime, put mobsters like Al Capone, Meyer Lansky, Lucky Luciano and Bugs Moran on the map, led to vicious gang wars in New York and Chicago and put the “Roaring” in “The Roaring 20s”.

When most people think of that era and its speakeasies, they imagine glamorous and romanticized F. Scott Fitzgerald-like establishments like “21,” The Players Club, the Cotton Club and Chumley’s, where good booze flowed, “flappers” flapped and celebrities, mobsters and the rich and famous rubbed elbows and drank in a fun-filled atmosphere.

The building next door was a fancy, 4 star hotel, nothing like the 3 star he was staying in. But that body was the stuff of dreams. Erik was in town on business, staying at the Aloft Harlem on Lennox Avenue and every evening when he got back to his room, come midnight, some slow jazz music went on and the woman started dancing. Swaying her hips, feeling her body up and down as if molding her curves like clay. Exotic, erotic dancing, behind the lit up drapes. Erik added a few stains to the threadbare carpeting, stroking his dick like there was no tomorrow—watching her sway and undulate and writhe to the complex harmony, syncopated rhythms, and a heavy emphasis on improvisation that is jazz music.

She was voluptuous and curvy, agile, breasts ample in profile, seductive hips in motion, legs long and plump. Her hair was loose and cropped, flying all over the place when the saxophone burned hot, clutched in her hands and streaming through her fingers when it smoldered sultry. Erik was there for the floor show every night, mesmerized, blunt dangling from his lips as the smoke clouded his vision, hard-on filling his calloused hand thickly. She cavorted her serpentine shadow for twenty minutes or so. And then the lights went out and the music seized.

The curtain never rose.

The curtain staying down despite his cursed begging.

He had his weapons briefcase sitting in a dark corner of his room, a table set up with his electronics, a camera in his lap, spying on her through his sniper scope. As uncomfortable as it is to wear boots, body armor, gun and knife holsters secured to his legs, thick cargo pants, and a long-sleeve black crew neck, it was necessary.

Erik was ready to tear the seams of his pants, releasing the heavy girth that begged to be touched, licked, sucked, and swallowed with that shadow dancers’ velvety walls. He knew for certain that her pussy had to be a beast with the hold she had on him alone. He hadn’t even smelled her or heard her voice and he was pumping his weighty erection into his oiled fist with raised hips for the past four nights.

Erik had to do something more meaningful than jerk and jack. A man only gets such an opportunity once in a lifetime. Who said he can’t have a little fun while away on business? The job was done, and he was a day overdue at his next stop already, but he wasn’t about to hit the road until he’d seen for himself what was behind that curtain—seen it and fucked it.

Erik crushed out his blunt, adjusted his dick, removed some of his gear, only keeping concealed weapons, and placed his camera on the desk in his hotel room. Erik exited the small suite, looking over his shoulder and both ways before testing the door lock to make sure it was secure. It was only a extra precaution, he could detonate the entire 10th floor if anyone dared break in. It was ten after midnight, and Erik had to move fast before the dance ended. 9th floor. That’s where she stayed. Erik left the elevator and walked with long strides, hustling along the lobby and out the revolving doors into the cool evening.

As soon as his feet stepped onto the pavement outside of her hotel, Erik rushed through the front doors and past valet, ignore the fact that the once modern, sleek, four-star hotel turned into something from the swing era. Erik’s eyes wandered, taking in the old-fashioned decor, the smell of cigarettes, and sweltering heat. If he were still standing outside, he would have noticed that he walked into an ominous-looking brown building on a street of buildings that looked almost identical, so tall they cut off the light on the narrow street. He also overlooked the dimly lighted sign above the entrance door.

HOTEL OLGA.

“How many!”

Erik’s eyes fell on an older, black gentleman with neatly combed steel gray hair, a white dress shirt and a pair of slacks, suspenders, and an ugly scar on his left elbow. He ashes his cigarette before placing it in an overflowing ashtray, blowing smoke from his nose like a dungeon dragon.

“Uhm. I was wondering if you could tell me about a woman on the 9th floor. I don’t know her name but I’m good with faces. She’s tall, thick…”

“There are a lot of tall, thick gals that barge in and out of here all day and all night. Got another description?” The man questions.

Erik simply shrugs before his unkept brows pinched together in thought.

“Straight hair, about,” Erik demonstrates where her hair fell, “To here. Barely touching her shoulders. She plays loud jazz music at midnight—”

“Are you talking about Cora?”

“Cora…”

“She’s a tall gal, chunky, performs at the ballroom?”

“Which floor does she stay on?”

The elderly man chuckled hoarsely, “She lives here. Pays five dollars a week in advance.”

“Five dollars? What kind of hotel is this?” Erik said with an amused expression.

The older gentleman leaned against the scarred wooden counter, his 8-panel floppy cap neatly placed next to him.

“Ninth floor, fourteenth room, Big Cheese. Take these stairs here.”

Erik’s eyes followed where he was pointing. A narrow unstable staircase met his onyx eyes.

“Big Cheese?” Erik said with a lopsided grin.

“The way you’re dressed, I’d say you make a lot of money. What kind of business you runnin’?”

“Not the kind you need to worry yourself over…thanks for the info.”

“No problem, my spiffy brother.”

Erik climbed those stairs three at a time, listening to the voices of men and women seeping from beneath the slits in the doors, inhaling the scents of burned food and old sweat. She was in 914. He knew it was the 9th floor from hours of figuring and fantasizing. All that was on his mind, as if a little voice in his head was telling him what to do, was find her and have her all to himself. The hallways are painted in light grey-green with multiple wooden elements on the ceiling as well as piping and light fixtures. There are several wall lamps between the rooms’ doors. The carpet is designed in black, yellow and dark red polygon stamps. He could hear radios, low chatter, headboards banging from wild sex, and the occasional baby crying. It didn’t take him long to reach her door, not even quick sand could stop him.

Erik knocked on the gray wooden door.

It opened.

“Yes?”

She was naked, skin reminding him of light honey. A woman with the most tantalizing, shapely body he’d ever laid eyes on.

“Are you Cora?”

“Yes?” She said with a light giggle before arching a thinly plucked brow, “And, you are?”

“I’m Erik.”

“Well, hello there, Erik.”

She sat into her hip and Erik could see a sheen of sweat shimmering across her breasts that are bared with hard nipples just for him. His eyes traveled the valley of her gorgeous body and he found that she had a finely-trimmed bush of loose curls decorating her fat pussy lips.

Cora wetted her plush lips with the tip of her neon pink tongue and smiled, “you’ve seen me perform?”

Erik got closer to her, reaching out to grab onto the door frame, his eyes telling her to let him in.

“You could put it that way.” He said before sucking his bottom lip into his mouth.

He couldn’t stop staring at her body. Damn. And she hadn’t even turned around yet. She had large, liquid brown eyes in a smooth, oval face. Her hair is dark and straight on the left side with the right side styled in soft finger waves. Her breasts had him drooling the way they hung plump and ripe off her chest, two-inch wide areolas tawny. Her waist was wide and hourglass and her legs were shapely and shining.

It was too much too close for this sex-starved assassin. Erik wanted to grab that fine woman in his arms, lift her up by her thunderous thighs, and fuck her just like that. Show her that the weight she carried is what he liked. Thrust up into her wet, frothy puss over and over. Cora sensed it and welcomed it. She too found Erik attractive. Tall, towering man. Wide threatening muscles. Fleshy lips. Thick fingers. And domineering eyes. His hair intrigued her and the attire he wore screamed money. A dapper man in a wool summer suit with two tone shoes. Erik could hear jazz playing from a record in her room and it was situated in next to the infamous window she danced in front of.

“Won’t you come in?” She asked with a dulcet voice.

Erik grabbed the temptress by her waist and followed her into the room, the door slowly closing behind them on its own accord. She peeled herself away before glancing back at him with a wink. His eyes looked around and what he saw when he noticed his reflection on a wall mirror startled him. Startled him so much that he felt his heart leap in his chest cavity and nothing scared him. He checked out his fit, twisting from side to side and smoothing his hands down the front of the suit.

Cora took a seat on a small couch near the window and opened a small canister filled with coffin nails before grabbing up a match to light it. She held it between her fingers and brought it to her mouth before taking a puff. Erik ogled his appearance, trepidation smothering him. How did he miss it? The lobby and the man alone was strange. Cora watched him with a hard stare and her cigarette burning. She sucked hard on it and blew out the smoke before rising with a sway of her thick hips towards him.

“Taste this and let’s get down to business, daddy.”

Erik looked from the cigarette to her before lightly pushing her hand away and creating space between them.

“Don’t smoke? Hm…that’s new. Most fellas I know smoke.”

“I prefer weed.”

“You got some of that on you—”

“What year is it?” Erik asked abruptly and with unblinking eyes.

“Well,” Cora pondered before turning her back on him.

Erik had to clench his jaw when he got a good look at that big ass. Dimpled, heavy, and juicy. For a second, he forgot about the inexplainable things happening around him.

“It’s 1924, daddy.”

“19—1924? What?”

The corners of his eyes crinkled with frustration. None of that made any since to him.

“Yes—are you alright? Need a drink? I got a little stash.”

Cora walked up to her bed and lifted the mattress. She retrieved a flask and held it out to him.

“It’s Gin Rickey. Snuck it from a secret club here in harlem. A speakeasy. They got the goods.”

Erik didn’t have time to respond before Cora thrust the flask into his hand. He took one look at it before unscrewing the cap, sniffing the contents and then taking a big gulp. It indeed packed a punch, but Erik was able to handle the burn. He tossed it onto her quilted bed, removed his suit jacket, and instinctively rolled up his sleeves. It was blazing in that room and the window is open from what he could tell.

“1924…how?”

“Time, that’s how,” Cora gives him a strange look, “Now, how long have you been watching me, daddy?”

“…f-four nights—what are you—”

“Enough questions. Did you come here to fuck me or talk nonsense, daddy?”

“I wanna know what the fuck I’m getting myself into with you. As you can see,” Erik finger combed his locs and did a 360, “I’m not from the 1920s, baby girl.”

“The hair does give it away, doesn’t it? I like it, better than that slick back look. It makes you unique.”

She gave him a beautiful smile before sauntering over to him seductively.

“Cora…tell me about you. You don’t sound like your from New York.”

Erik’s eyes were scanning the room for any signs of a joke but nothing stood out to him. It really did look like he hopped into a time machine and entered the Harlem Renaissance. Cora lightly pushed Erik onto the lumpy, stale mattress surrounded by flickering colored lights before climbing onto his lap. The sound of banging and shouting closed in around him, gaining his attention until Cora had a hold of his chin, his eyes brought back on her. She studied his dreads with curiosity, even smelling his hair. Erik caught a whiff of her skin and it made him swallow spit and groan. She smelled like powdery sweet vanilla with warm notes of incense and amber.

“Rudell, Mississippi. After my parents died I decided to get out and pursue my dreams as a singer and dancer. So, I moved to Chicago first, did a few shows there, hardly made any money. Then, a good friend of mines told me about some opportunities here in New York so I came over and now I perform in the ballroom on weekends. It’s a start. Next, I’ll be singin’ at the Cotton Club. A girl can dream.”

Erik sat in silence just staring up at her, watching her blink away the puddle in her eyes that wanted to fall. She dabbed her eyes with her knuckles and began fidgeting with Erik’s shirt collar. He saw the flash of pain and even though she tried to hide it with a smile, he couldn’t forget it. Cora exhaled and bat her lashes at him before leaning in to kiss his lips. She tasted like Gin and cherries. He grabbed the back of her head and prolonged the kiss by invading her mouth with his thick tongue. Cora could feel her pussy pounding against his crotch like a morse code, signaling him to give her wetness some attention. Their wet, slithery appendages danced together like two bodies connected in Tango. She was the first to break the kiss, her faint ruby lips creating a lip print with its normal wrinkles and grooves along his cheeks.

“Maybe I can take you to the Cotton Club…would you like that—”

“Can’t. I…I can’t go. You see…I…I’m stuck here.”

“Show me, through that window.”

Erik wanted to see what the outside looked like from this very room. If it looked how he would expect it to look in the 1920s then he would be fully convinced. So far, he believes that this hotel is run on a 20s theme and everyone, including its occupants, have to play along to keep up with things. Cora climbed off of his lap and held out a hand for Erik to take. Erik slowly took her hand and they both walked to the window. Their eyes connected briefly before Cora peeled the curtain back for Erik to see.

It was bone-chilling. Erik tried his best to appear normal but he was losing his cool. So eerie to look down on Harlem and see what he could see. He stood as still as possible, hoping that Cora couldn’t see that he had the jitters. This killing machine was afraid. Would he ever be able to get back? Was he stuck here forever? The screws in his head began turning. What. The. Fuck. He could see yellow taxies, green, maroon, blue, black automobiles, and fancy looking Cadillacs and Buick’s cream-colored lining the streets. It was bustling and vibrant, the center of an African American cultural movement. Each window told a story.

People ran wild, ready to party with drunken tongues and dancing. Couples holding hands and gazing into each other’s eyes. Aspiring musicians playing their harmonicas and saxophones out the windows. Dark alleyways with prostitutes dangling a leg out of the shadows for horny men to see. His mouth began to feel dry and soon the scene below him disappeared when Cora closed that curtain. His dark and heated gaze met her lonely eyes and she reached out to unbutton his shirt.

“So…you came all this way just to have a piece of me, huh, big daddy?”

Forgetting once again what he just saw as if being controlled, Erik chuckled deep in his throat, “I bet you knew I was coming over here, didn’t you?”

Cora peeled back Erik’s shirt and her sweet lips were on his rock hard abs. Erik closed his eyes and breathed in, unable to fight the overpowering urge to fuck Cora senseless for teasing him so goddamn much.

“Did you touch yourself?” She whispered hauntingly.

It felt like a ghosts whisper.

Erik silenced her again when his lips crashed into hers. Cora squeezed along his solid and intimidating arms and when his sculpted pectorals brushed across her stiff peaks, she mulled.

“I always hoped a man would come here to be with me…so if I danced in the window…I would gain his attention.”

“You don’t have to do all that with me. One look at you and that’s enough for me, Cora.”

Cora turned her face away from Erik and began sobbing. Erik reaches out with both of his hands to grab her round face so she could see how serious he was.

“You’re beautiful, Cora. What happened to you?”

A haughty chuckle flowed from her mouth and then she tried her best to control her tears that ran black from her mascara. She quickly wiped her face and tried her best to smile but it wasn’t meeting her eyes.

“Just promise you won’t leave me tonight, Erik. No matter what happens.”

“Cora…what do you mean—”

“Promise me, Erik. Please.”

Erik twisted his lips in thought before slowly giving Cora a nod.

“Aight. I’ll stay. But you gotta tell me what’s going on.”

Cora sniffles, “After you do all the things you’ve wanted to do to my body, Erik.”

“Whoever left you by yourself to pick up the pieces is a real asshole, baby. Fuck him for that shit. You deserve so much better.”

Cora’s eyes snapped up to his when she heard what he’d said.

“Don’t you ever feel like you’re not good enough. You are. Every part of you. Niggas should have to work hard to get near you, ain’t the other way around. Remember that.”

Erik’s eyes dropped down to Cora’s lips and once again the heat of his desire for her bloomed once more. The way she looked. The way she smelled.

“Go stand in front of that window again and move like you do at midnight, please, baby.”

Cora dropped her eyes away from Erik and a blush formed on her face. She looked back at him through her lashes and turned to align the tone arm with the record. Bessie Smith began playing and Erik recognized this song and figured this must be a favorite of hers.

I've got the blues, I feel so lonely

I'll give the world if I could only

Make you understand

It surely would be grand

I'm gonna telephone my baby

Ask him won't you please come home

'Cause when you're gone

I'm worried all day long

Cora saw the tent in Erik’s pants and she imagined how good it would feel inside of her. He sat in a chair facing her, his hand on his crotch and eyes never blinking.

“Do you think about me when you touch yourself, Erik?” Cora asked while swaying her hips back and forth in slow motion.

“Ever since I laid eyes on you. Hell yes. Poke your ass out for me…just like that, Miss Cora.”

The sound of his zipper was loud within his ears and so was the old wooden chair with chipped paint that he sat one. Erik raises his hips and brings his pants down to his knees before grabbing his girthy dick through his briefs. He openly stroked his dick to show her how he did it every time she danced. Cora wanted desperately to see it for herself so she continued to seduce him with her moves while focusing on him. She circled slowly, sweat dripping down her spine.

“Keep doing that…mm…fuck…shit…keep dancing just like that, baby…spread your legs.”

Cora widens her thighs and thrust her hips out at Erik with a pop of her lower back, ass gyrating out of control each time she did it. His breathing became heavy and the more he stroked he could feel pre-cum dribble over his fingers. He needed to fuck her.

Cora could hear the sound of his hand jerking off his thick dick. When she looked back and saw his hand come down at the base of his shaft making his nut sack bounce she gasped.

“You have such a big, pretty dick, big daddy.”

Cora’s hands are in her hair and she’s going all in—hips swaying, and moans spilling from her mouth.

“You got a beautiful fucking body, Cora. Big thighs…big ass…big tits…big stomach…I fucking love all that shit. Keep going, baby, fuck, ima cum all on that ass, girl.”

Cora could feel Erik rubbing his dick on her ass so she shook a little for him. His eyes had grown darker and his lips were parted, a soft hiss from his open mouth causing Cora to moan. His sweat had his body looking like he’d been splashed with a bucket of water.

“Yeah…I been beating this dick to you…it’s your fault…you gonna let me nut on this big ass butt, Cora? Huh?” Erik said with a deep voice.

“Yes, daddy, give me that tasty treat…cover me in it…unh…yes…I want it.”

“Ooooohhhhhh, fuckkkk.”

Erik placed a hand around her neck and emptied himself all over her lower back and ass. He spanked her flesh with his dick before rubbing the tip against her skin.

“Erik,” Cora whined, “Fuck me, big daddy.”

“Promise me you’ll stay here and beat my pussy up, daddy. Please give me some good lovin’ all night, daddy. Make this pussy feel good…give it to me all night long.”

“I’ll fuck you so good, baby, you won’t be about to get out of bed, you hear me?”

“Oh, yes,” Cora moaned.

Cora turned and her arms coiled around Erik’s neck and her lips moved against his, body fitting his like a heated glove. They only came up for air when a loud thump from a drunken occupant startled them. They went back to wildly kissing, Erik’s paws all over her silky, curved back and filled them full with the heavy, rounded meat of her butt. He gripped and squeezed her bloated cheeks with enthusiasm. Cora moaned into his mouth and followed up with more tongue.

Erik takes off his drenched shirt and he was left with his briefs hanging from his hips barely. Cora didn’t let go of him for one second as they made their way to the bed. Erik pressed his erection into her belly, pumping skin-on-skin, gathering up her butt again and lifting her right off the the bed and into her lap, squirming her body to the beat of his dick. Erik stuck his tongue out as far as it could go and let Cora suck on it, her pouty lips pulling hard.

She eased her head back, sliding her mouth off his tongue. She brought her breasts together and smashed them into Erik’s face. He nibbled on her breasts and grabbed them himself to suck with a wide open mouth.

“You see these titties when you watched me perform?”

Erik grinned, grinding his dick against her stomach, “Right across the street. Through the curtains.”

Cora turned her head and looked at the window, “Uh-huh?”

“Not like now,” Erik juggled her luscious tits, “big ass titties…”

“Mmm!” Cora moaned.

There was probably more than one man peeping there late-night show but Erik had a plan before he left this city—getting into her pussy. Now, they could see what happened when a man had the balls to act. Erik hefted her tits and dipped his head to paint her areolas with his tongue and lips. She shuddered, breasts jumping in his hands. Huge and soft, Erik was a wild man sucking on her nipples.

“Let me taste you…”

Cora slid down out of his hands, landing on her knees on the carpet, his dick high above her head and swollen to the point of eruption. Cora stared at Erik’s fat rod, watching it twitch with twinkling eyes. When her fingers laced around his pulsing erection, Erik threw his head back and groaned. Cora cupped his balls and stroked his dick while looking up at him with her big brown eyes. Her parted lips were an inch away from his mushroom cap.

“Eat this dick, baby…”

“All for you, big daddy.”

Cora’s mouth opened wider, engulfing his hood, wrapping her in wet, dangerous warmth. Erik jerked, watching and feeling Cora slide her lips down his pulsating length, swallowing his dick whole. Erik bucked his hips, almost blasting in her mouth when she peppered kisses on his balls. Erik could bet that those other men watching were jealous of the way Cora inhaled his ridged length. Erik blew air from his cheeks and his eyes shut slowly, amazed at how packed tight he is in her throat. She wet-vacced his dick, lips sealed tightly and tongue flowing, up and down, mouth and throat sensuously stretching to accommodate and envelope.

“Fuck…”

Cora sucked fast, sucked slow, locked him, kissed him. Erik had to hold his hand out to stop her before he covered her face like he was her personal face painter.

“You gotta stop, Cora, I don’t wanna cum yet. Let me taste you.”

Erik picked her up, instructed for her to climb onto his face, and right above him, pussy-level, he caught a whiff of her intoxicating scent and almost choked on his own spit from Joe heavily he salivated. She was sodden, dripping with moisture, lips swollen and slick on the outside, hair smooth and shiny from her arousal, pink and gleaming on the inside. Erik stuck out his tongue and touched her flaps with the tip. FUCK. He stuck his nose in it and breathed in. FUCK. His dick jumped.

“Big daddy! Yes!” Cora gasped, jerking.

Erik slid his hands around her thighs and onto her fleshy ass, digging his fingernails into the smooth, stretched skin. Erik licked up her slit from deep in between her legs to the top of her trimmed black fur, dragging her pussy in one long, hard, wet stroke.

“Ooooh, baby! Don’t stop!” Cora moaned.

Her body was jumping in his hands. Cora stared down at him trembling. Erik looked up at her and grinned, his lips glistening with her dewy goodness. He lapped her pussy, stroking her inner lips with his tongue, gulping down her sugary juices.

“Fuck, you taste damn good, girl.”

Erik spread her lips wide and sucked on her clit. Cora collapsed forward and clawed the mattress. She weeped and Erik continued on until she released into her mouth. She looked back, staring glossy-eyes down at him. Erik flicked his tongue back and forth over her clit and Cora opened her mouth but no sound came out. Erik gave her ass a hard slap and she came for him once again. Erik kissed her clit and lifted Cora off of him, bringing her down on her back and throwing her ankles over his shoulders. Erik probed her pussy with his hard shaft and with his hips he plunged inside.

They both groaned.

Erik couldn’t believe the pure, velvet heaven wrapped around him. She’s juiced beyond succulent thanks to him. Her body bounced on that stiff bed with his frantic thrusts, bodies sweaty and melded together. Fat dick to fat pussy. Cora’s breasts bounced and hit her chin, heels rocking into his upper back. Erik reached under her and spread her cheeks, toes digging into the bed and thrusts deeper.

“UNH!!!!!”

“Yeah, this my pussy, Cora. This big daddy pussy?”

“Jesus!!! That feels soooo fuckin’ nasty!”

“Answer me,” Erik gripped her neck, “Big daddy pussy, baby? Yeah?”

“Yessss!”

Erik pumped his hips over an over, never tired, body dripping sweat, eyes locked with the temptress. She grabbed for his face and cried out, tears staining her blushed cheeks. Erik sat up on his knees and pushed her thighs so wide open her stomach pushed up to her breasts. She looked down between her breasts as best as she could and that’s when Erik rocked into her pussy hard and long.

“Give it to me…give it to me…give it to me…”

Erik’s impressive muscles flexed with each pounding thrust. Cora grabbed onto the rails of the headboard, twisting her head from side to side, pleading for him to cum.

“Cum…cum, daddy…please…so much dick in me…”

The jazz music rose to a fever pitch and Erik went harder, bed scraping against the hardwood floor.

“Fuckin’ good pussy—DAMN—”

Cora moaned low and long, consuming Erik’s pistoning dick. Erik hammered into her hole and then he bit into the flesh of her shoulder. Erik pulled back, out, almost over the edge. Cora sat up and opened her needy mouth while jerking Erik’s cream-covered dick. She arched her back, ass cheeks bouncing behind her just for him. Erik grunted before blasting inside of her mouth and on her face, spurt after spurt all over her pretty ass face.

“Fuck, I needed that.” Erik said.

He looks down to find Cora eating his cum off of her lips. She found her reflection and played with her sweaty hair, posing for him.

“I look beautiful.” She said.

“Yes you do, baby.”

Baby won't you please come home

'Cause your mama's all alone

I have tried in vain

Nevermore to call your name

When you left you broke my heart

That will never make us part

Landlord gettin' worse

I've got to move May the first

Baby won't you please come home, I need money

Baby won't you please come home

The loud banging returned and Erik looked above and around him, wondering what all the commotion was about. Cora climbed out of bed, quickly grabbed robe, and walked to the tiny bathroom within her room. After she slammed the door shut, Erik saw that as his que to leave so he started getting dressed in the suit that materialized on him as soon as he entered the hotel. He thought everything was going good. He could feel his cum soaking the front of his briefs and he had to adjust his crotch to make it feel more comfortable since it’s still solid.

“Cora?”

Cora slipped from the bathroom with a wash cloth to her face and her hair pulled back with silver clips.

“I was gonna head out…”

Cora paused.

“You’re not staying? You said you would stay.”

Cora snatched the clips from her hair and turned away with a flip of her hand.

“Typical fucking men. You get what you want and then you leave. Can’t even stay one night. Just fuck and go—”

“Cora, hold on, you got out of bed so damn fast without a word I just—”

Cora opened her robe and all Erik could do was stand with his lips shut.

“Don’t leave me alone in this crazy hotel, Erik. Stay…”

Cora walks up to him and wraps her arms around his waist before resting her cheek on his chest. Erik stood puzzled, taking his hand to rub circles on her back. When he looked up, he saw a white man with pale skin, sunken eyes, a thin mustache, and an expensive pen stripe suit staring back at him through the mirror on the wall. He takes off his hat, smoothing back his shiny, jet black hair before giving Erik a wink. Erik leaped away from Cora, his back knocking hard against the wall behind him, record skipping.

“Erik?”

“What the fuck is this?”

Erik’s eyes were flying all around the room. He seemed to have come to his senses. Who was the man in the mirror? How did he get there? He looked at Cora with narrow eyes before snatching up his two tone shoes, forgetting about the laces.

“You’re leaving—”

“Cora. I’m sorry, but some weird shit is happening and I gotta bounce. It’s like one minute, I know things aren’t right and then the next, I’m fucking you and forgetting about everything that’s wrong with this hotel—”

“You can’t leave.”

Cora sits on the bed, folds her thick legs, and tossed back her hair. Erik watched her with an elevated brow and blazing eyes.

“Why’s that, Cora?”

“Because…the Salvager needs to collect a new soul. That soul is yours, Erik.”

@uzumaki-rebellion @honeyandpeaches @blacklytical @tchallasbabymama

[hellcity]

Don’t miss @loulouladuchesse performing LIVE at @hell_city 2023 in Columbus, Ohio!

@loulouladuchesse is the current reigning Miss Exotic World and is ready to make our mainstage even hotter this year when she performs for all the Hellions in Columbus Ohio this May 19th-21st at the @hyattcolumbus in booming downtown Columbus, Ohio!

@loulouladuchesse aka Lauren Ashley Jiles, is a Afro-Indigenous internationally renowned neo-burlesque dancer, teacher, and activist hailing from the Mohawk territory of Kahnawake, Quebec.

@loulouladuchesse began her burlesque career in 2005 in Montreal with troupe Blue Light Burlesque. She has since headlined shows across North America and has performed in New Orleans, Las Vegas, New York, Texas, Detroit, and Chicago.

Be sure to step up to the main stage to check out her amazing Burlesque acts every day of the festival!

#hellcitytattoofest #hellcityohio #hellcity2023 #hellcity #loulouladuchessederiere #burlesque #loulouduchesse #columbusohio #act #performer #performance #columbustattooers #liveact