Synopsis
Mob boss Helen Byrne loves the new breed of women in the Roaring Twenties. She loves them every chance she gets. But when she finds herself attracted to bad girl Maria Falco, things change. Maria’s boyfriend is Franco Moretti, Al Capone’s right-hand man. Helen has vowed to protect the men in her gang, but her need for Maria is powerful. Is the imminent gang war worth it to her and her men? Can she convince Maria to leave the powerful Moretti for her? And if she does, how will she survive being the target of the most powerful mob in town? Maria and Helen burn hot, but so does Moretti’s firepower. Helen is determined to make Maria hers and hers alone. But at what cost?
Speakeasy
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Speakeasy
© 2014 By MJ Williamz. All Rights Reserved.
ISBN 13: 978-1-62639-168-0
This Electronic Book is published by
Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 249
Valley Falls, New York 12185
First eBook Edition: April 2014
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Credits
Editor: Cindy Cresap
Production Design: Susan Ramundo
Cover Design By Sheri ([email protected])
By the Author
Shots Fired
Forbidden Passion
Initiation By Desire
Speakeasy
Acknowledgments
First of all, and most importantly, I’d like to thank Dini for her love and support. I’d also like to thank Sarah for her encouragement and belief that this book was worth submitting. Next, I want to thank Speed for taking the time to beta read this for me. And a very special thank you to Bremer for brainstorming with me at the beginning of this endeavor and really helping it take off.
I’d also like to thank Cindy for her editing of my creation and, of course, Rad, for still believing and letting my voice be heard.
Dedication
To Dini—For everything
Chapter One
The August night was hot and sticky, as were the women in the dingy room above the Golden Beaver.
“Come back to bed, baby,” the nameless brunette patted the empty spot beside her.
Helen Byrne simply stood at the window, watching the road below.
“In a minute, doll.”
“What are you worried about? There ain’t no cops anywhere near here.”
Helen knew the woman was right. She paid the boys from the West Side well enough to stay away from her speakeasy. But she’d heard there might be federal agents, or Prohis, in town that night. True, they were likely to be more focused on the North Side Gang and their dealings. Or even more likely, on Capone and his endeavors. Still, she refused to be complacent. Sure, she might be small-time compared to them, but she held her own in the underworld of Chicago crime.
She continued to watch the general population walk past the front of the building, which was boarded up to look abandoned. No one gave the place a second glance. The regulars knew to park down the street and walk to the door in the alley. Content that the place was safe, she turned back to her bedmate.
“How long you worked here?” Helen asked her.
“Long enough.”
“How come I’ve never had you before?”
“Maybe I’m always busy when you come by.”
Helen nodded. That could be true. The rooms above the speakeasy were frequently all occupied with women servicing johns. The place turned a pretty profit for Helen, who often partook of one of her favorites. None were available that night, so she ended up with the shapely woman lying in front of her.
“What’s your name?”
“Polly.”
“Not your working name. Your real name.”
“Does it matter?”
“Fine. Polly, play with your tits for me.”
Polly obliged, cupping her large mounds and squeezing them together before sliding her hands to her nipples, which she pinched and tugged.
Helen loved to watch a woman please herself. The familiar arousal started at her core, and soon her body felt like an oven. Her crotch spasmed as she watched Polly’s eyes close in obvious pleasure.
She lowered herself to the mattress and replaced one of Polly’s hands with her mouth. She ran her tongue over the taut nipple, lazily licking it while Polly moaned in response.
“You’ve got a great tongue.”
Helen declined to respond, opting rather to close her mouth on the tip of Polly’s breast and suck it deep into her mouth. She felt Polly’s hand in her hair, pressing her breast to her. She grazed the soft flesh with her teeth while her tongue held the nipple against the roof of her mouth.
Polly wrapped her legs around Helen’s thigh and rubbed her wet center against it.
“Baby, I need you to touch me.”
“You’re kind of impatient, aren’t you?”
“You get me hot.”
“So enjoy it for a bit.”
“Sorry. I’m not used to enjoying it.”
“Well, you’re not with a john. And you may not have another one tonight. Or you might. It doesn’t matter. I don’t like to be rushed. I won’t be hurried, so rut against me all you’d like, but know I’ll fuck you when I’m ready. And not before.”
“Damn it, you’re powerful. You’re so in charge. That gets me wet.”
“Stay that way.”
Helen moved her mouth to Polly’s other breast and kissed around the nipple before taking it in her mouth. She gently ran her tongue around the hard nub while she pinched the other one. The feel of Polly’s wet cunt against her leg spurred her on. She loved the raw sexuality of the whore and thought briefly how horrid it must be to spend most of her hours with a cock inside her, rather than in the arms of another woman, which she so obviously preferred.
“Have you always preferred to be fucked by women?”
“You sure ask a lot of questions.”
“You sure avoid a lot of answers.”
Polly slid her hand between Helen’s legs.
“Someone’s enjoying herself.”
Helen murmured her appreciation as Polly stroked her. She closed her mouth on her breast again and moved her own hand between her leg and Polly’s pussy. She ran her fingers over Polly’s swollen clit before dipping them inside.
Polly opened her legs and Helen took advantage by plunging deeper inside her.
“You feel so fucking good,” Polly said.
Helen continued to thrust in and out of her while she bit down on her nipple and flicked it with her tongue.
Polly took her hand away from Helen and ran her fingers over her own clit.
“You think I need help?” Helen asked.
“I just like the idea of your cream on me.”
“Knock yourself out.”
Helen climbed between her legs and continued fucking her while she watched her rub her clit. The sight of a woman providing herself pleasure made her hornier than just about anything. She felt her own clit throb while she watched Polly’s fingers deftly play.
Polly’s breathing became labored. She panted as she arched her hips toward the source of her pleasure. Helen plunged her fing
ers as deep as she could and held them there, stroking Polly’s soft walls with the tips. She felt those walls tremble then close around her as Polly cried out at the force of the orgasm. She waited until the spasms died, then slipped her fingers out.
“I guess my cream on you worked for you, huh?”
“I guess it did.”
Polly moved her hand back between Helen’s legs as Helen rolled onto her back.
“How come you ain’t found some nice dame and settled down?” she asked while she lazily ran her hand over Helen.
“I’m too busy running the show. Besides, no self-respecting Jane would want to be my moll.”
“Says you. A gal would have to be crazy not to want to be with a charming, sophisticated woman such as yourself.”
“You gunnin’ for a tip or something?”
“’Course not. I’m just surprised you ain’t got a steady.”
“Well, I don’t. And I’m not looking. So quit beating your gums and do what you do best.”
“I love it when you talk tough.”
Helen watched Polly’s eyes as they focused between her legs. They widened as Helen’s clit grew at her touch.
“Baby, you sure got nice stuff.”
“It serves its purpose.”
“Yeah, it does.” She teased Helen’s opening before slipping a finger inside. “You’re so hot and wet.”
“Fucking a woman does that to me.”
“I hope you’ve got another big come in there for me.”
“I’m planning on it.”
Helen took Polly’s fingers deep, enjoying the fullness. Polly turned her hand and pulled them out before quickly sliding them back in.
“You always watch when you fuck someone?” Helen asked.
“Pussies are beautiful. And it looks hot when yours sucks my fingers in.”
Helen was happy Polly was enjoying herself. She didn’t like the girls who felt obligated. That was why she had her few that she returned to. She was pretty sure Polly would be added to that list.
She relaxed and let the feelings take over. She was getting wetter with each thrust. Soon her clit felt like it would split from the pressure.
“Rub my clit, doll.”
Polly obliged, stroking Helen’s clit with her left hand while her right continued its plunging.
The feel of Polly’s talented fingers sent Helen teetering. She held on as long as she could, but soon felt the world fall from beneath her and she tumbled into a powerful climax. She felt her cunt close around Polly’s fingers over and over as the orgasm continued. When the clenching finally ceased, she lightly grabbed Polly’s wrist and pulled her hand away from her clit.
“No more, please.”
“Are you a little sensitive?” Polly laughed.
“Just a little.”
Polly withdrew her fingers and Helen lay still as she tried to catch her breath.
“You certainly know what you’re doing,” she said.
“It wasn’t my first time.”
Helen sat on the edge of the bed and laughed.
“No, I don’t suppose it was.”
She reached for her clothes and quickly dressed.
“Am I going to see you again?” Polly asked.
“You might,” Helen said. She lit a cigarette and fished a twenty out of her money clip. She tossed it on the nightstand. “It’s been swell. I’ll keep you in mind next time I come around.”
She let herself out the door and took the back staircase down to the bar.
Chapter Two
Helen left the oppressively humid air as she ducked in to Mickey O’Leary’s. The air was slightly cooler inside. At least it was moving. She stopped to talk to the owner behind the register.
“How’s business?”
“Not bad. Kevin’s already at your table in the back.”
“Thanks. He already pick up the envelope?”
“He did.”
“Good. Keep up the good work, Mickey.” She turned to walk off.
“You going to have the usual?” he called.
“I am. And don’t skimp on the corned beef.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Helen found Kevin Donegal, her right-hand man, seated by a fan in the back room off the main dining room.
“Sorry I’m late.”
“Where you been?”
“Traffic. I don’t know where some of those goofs learned to drive.”
“You could probably learn to drive a little slower yourself, boss.”
Helen stared at Kevin, the twenty-five-year-old farm boy from Omaha who ran away to Chicago when he was barely a teen. They’d been fast friends since they’d worked as sluggers for the Market Street Gang. Paid nicely by the Tribune, they beat up any newsboys they caught selling an Examiner. It was an easy starting point for a life of crime. The two of them kept an eye out for each other. Although, mostly, it was the wiry Helen making sure the slower, bulkier Kevin was kept safe.
“Says you.”
“Says me.”
“Are the others coming?”
“They’ll be here.”
Kevin and Helen always met first, enjoying lunch and discussing the gang before the rest of the lieutenants arrived. They would never speak completely freely in front of the others, but were fairly open with each other.
“How are takes today?”
Kevin handed her several bulky envelopes. She flipped through each one, easily gauging the amount of cash they contained.
“Not bad.”
“We’re having a good month. People are coming to our area since the other clowns are killing each other right and left.”
“No one’s been shot for a while,” Helen said.
“Still. People are being cautious. It’s definitely helping us.”
“Did anyone get hit by the Prohis last night?”
“I didn’t hear nothing. I don’t think they showed.”
Helen nodded, but said nothing as Mickey approached with their sandwiches. As usual, she watched with quiet amusement at the way the men looked at each other. She was certain there was more there than a business relationship, but Kevin never brought it up, and she certainly wasn’t going to.
“Thanks, Mickey.”
“You’re welcome, Helen.” He seemed to force his focus away from Kevin. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
“He’s a good egg,” Helen said to Kevin.
Kevin shrugged.
“He pays us regular and makes good food.”
“That he does.”
Helen took a bite of sandwich and sat back as she chewed. The whore’s words from the previous night had been bouncing around in her head. She’d been pondering if she should settle down.
“You ever think maybe we’re getting too old for this?” she said.
“For what? Making a boatload of money running booze and hookers and protecting businesses?”
“Maybe. Like maybe we should retire or something. Let the young ones run things now.”
“Young ones? Too old? You’re talking nonsense. I don’t see no gray in that auburn hair of yours. What the hell? Where did this bullshit come from?”
“I was just thinking, Kevin. That’s all.”
“Yeah, well, don’t. Not if it means talkin’ crazy. Besides, you ain’t even thirty yet.”
“Not even close.”
“We got a lot of years ahead of us. And there’s a lot of money to be made.”
They finished their sandwiches just as three young men came strolling in, looking nonchalant as they glanced around the place. They all had olive skin and wore their black hair slicked back. The suits they wore were similar to Helen’s and Kevin’s.
“Who do they belong to?”
“They’re with the Outfit.”
“What are they doing on our turf?”
Kevin didn’t answer and Helen stood, buttoned her sports coat, and casually approached the men.
“Are you boys lost?”
“You Helen By
rne?” a lanky young man with crooked teeth asked.
“Who wants to know?”
His companions drew weapons, but before they could pull their triggers, Kevin had dropped all three with his submachine gun.
“Talk about nerve,” he said as he joined Helen over the bodies, his weapon still in his hand as he looked through the window for any others.
“You sure they’re from the South Side?”
“Positive.” Kevin toed the one who’d approached Helen. “This here’s Sal Montero.”
The other four lieutenants for Helen’s Westside Gang strolled in and stopped when they saw the dead men.
“What happened?”
“Someone tried to hit the boss,” Kevin said.
The men drew their weapons and looked around.
“Put those away. It’s almost lunchtime here. Get these guys out of here and get this place clean before the crowds come in. Meet us at the barbershop in an hour. And come with answers.”
She took the envelope Mickey had given Kevin earlier and withdrew some bills. She handed them to Mickey.
“This should cover any inconvenience.”
She motioned to the door and Kevin stepped onto the crowded sidewalk, surveying the scene before he signaled to Helen that it was safe for her to exit. They hurried to his car, and he drove her back to their headquarters behind George’s Barbershop.”
Neither spoke during the drive. Helen was livid that someone had tried to bump her off in broad daylight at Mickey’s. That showed balls and complete disrespect. She admired the gumption, but wouldn’t sit to be disrespected like that.
Gangs were a dime a dozen in Chicago. Most of them ignored Helen’s gang on the West Side because she was small-time. That wasn’t the case with Hymie Weiss’s gang in the North or Al Capone’s Outfit in the South. They were always taking potshots at Helen and her men.
“So what do we do now?” Kevin asked once they were in the hidden room behind the shop.
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