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Passion bubbles over…



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Posted on: November 15th, 2011 by Madison Lake No Comments
It was mid afternoon on a Tuesday and although on crutches, Liam Irish had been released from the hospital the day before and was now with the others waiting for Officer Billy and his partner, Fred, to arrive at the club. The police cruiser pulled into the back alley out of direct view of traffic, as directed by Della the day before. With the trashing, and then the shooting, they didn’t want to frighten off customers any more than they had already. Della met the two officers at the side door. 
“Hi. You must be Savannah’s brother, Billy,” Della said, looking directly at the handsome young man who was the spitting image of his sister. Then Della looked over at the other, older gentleman.
“This here’s my partner in crime, Fred,” offered Billy. “Fred, this is…”
“Della. It’s Della,” she said, almost choking out the words as she melted under Fred’s gaze. He wouldn’t take his eyes off of her until, finally, she turned away.
“Uh, c’mon over, fellas. I’ll introduce you to the others.”

After over an hour of detailed discussion and questioning, Billy and Fred had gathered enough information and concrete evidence to track down the notorious crook, Dominic Diaz. The group discovered that although Dom had already been arrested several times, he always seemed to get off – either by someone paying his bail bond or someone paying off an officer, lawyer or judge. Billy and Fred had reams of paperwork on the guy, and were more than ready to put him away for a very long time nailing him with what ever they could. In this case it would be theft, attempted murder, and operating illegal sexual services for profit. They figured that was a good start. 
Meanwhile, unbelievable sparks were flying between Fred and Della. It was as if they were meant for one another and had just been waiting to be thrown together. Everyone around the table quickly became aware of this electric energy between them, but neither Della nor Fred seemed the least bit phased, let alone cared what anyone thought. Their easy banter and unguarded looks seemed as normal as if they had been together for years, and although Fred was serious about the case he was there to work on, he afforded himself enough freedom to laugh and flirt to ensure Della knew his intentions. 
During the interrogation process, which was really nothing more than a gathering of information from all possible witnesses, Savannah disclosed detailed events of what went on behind the scenes at The Lady. Although not news to anyone present, some points were shocking. For instance, Genevieve knew many of the girls who danced at the club sometimes brought clients backstage to their dressing room/boudoir after the show, but she seemed surprised that, as a way of making extra cash, a few of them also worked the streets for Dom. On the other hand, having been in the nightclub business for many years, Mitch had long since become accustomed to the other side of life, and had accepted the girls curricular activities as long as there was no trouble, which is where the line had recently been crossed with Dom. However, he was glad Fran had a “headache” and had decided to stay home. This was far too much unnecessary information for her to be privy to. Although all this talk was nothing new to Liam, he still seemed miffed by something. Genevieve noticed his agitation during the discussion, like there was something he didn’t understand. Miguel just sat and listened, like he’d heard it all before.
“Well,” Billy said finally. “That about wraps it up for the time being. Fred and I will head back to the department and begin tracking down this asshole. With his connections and track record, that shouldn’t take long.” Billy stood up and hesitantly, Fred followed. 
“I’ll see you out,” Della offered enthusiastically, and everyone smiled at one another. Della ignored them. 
“Billy, there’s just one thing I’d like to know before you go.” Liam asked. “Besides Dom having been bailed out by insiders over the years, why is it that the rest of you boys have let him run free all this time, let him continue getting away with all this shit, even when you knew he was trouble?”
“That’s easy,” Billy replied without hesitation. “We needed actual proof. Oh sure, we’d had opportunities in the past where we thought we could string him up by the neck, but he’s a wily son of a bitch, and well connected. Somehow that bugger managed to wriggle out of situations he found himself in, and therefore wriggle out of our hands. We’ve needed people like you to risk coming forward with clean, clear evidence.” He paused. “There have been plenty of witnesses over the years, all of whom were too scared to talk once the guy was arrested. Dominic made threats to everyone he duped. Even though those people knew they were being blackmailed, they also knew enough not to take Dom’s threats lightly.”
“So, why now?” 
“I think you can answer your own question, Mr. Irish.”
Liam thought for a minute. “Safety in numbers?”
“Absolutely. You folks have stuck together to make this happen. That’s the secret to success in these cases. It’s pretty hard to fight a gang.”
“Well, if that’s the case, Savannah and the girls could have come forward ages ago,” suggested Della. “They’ve known about Dom and his antics for longer than the rest of us.”
“Sadly, the girls didn’t feel they were enough of a force to scare the bastard off and remain safe,” replied Billy. “With time they might have been, but frankly I persuaded Savannah not to try. Dom’s too powerful a force in the underworld. I didn’t feel confident enough to let her risk her life or theirs to get him.” Billy looked supportively at his sister, and Savannah returned the attention of her protective big brother with glowing pride. “I think things have just naturally worked out, don’t you?” He said, in closing.
Liam and the other’s couldn’t help but agree, so they said their goodbyes as Della walked them to the side door.
“Thanks ever so much for coming out this afternoon,” Della said as she held the door open for the two men. “Fingers crossed that this all works as planned. Good luck.”
“Bye, Della. We’ll be in touch.” Billy walked to the cruiser that was parked a few feet away, close to the side of the building. Fred lingered, glancing between the car and the side door of the club where Della remained. 
“So, Della,” he stammered. “I’ll…I mean, we’ll call when we know more.” Fred shuffled his feet nervously. “But I might…”
“Please do call, Fred. That’d suit me just fine. Call anytime. I’m usually here, or else Savannah knows how to reach me.” Della was not the type to miss an opportunity when she saw one.
“Yeah, sure Della, I’ll do that. I’ll call.” Fred’s face flushed red, but his grin lit up the open doorway. “So, I guess that means I’ll see ya around.”
“You betcha,” Della replied, also grinning from ear to ear.

…Stay tuned…the last chapter of Salon Antics, chapter 19, will be posted next Tuesday, November 22nd…

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For the first time since Genevieve had started working at the salon, she was late. Liam tried calling her cell but she wasn’t picking up. Meanwhile, he managed to keep Amy Richardson somewhat entertained, which was no small feat.
            Amy was twenty five, had married into money, and was extremely entitled. She drove around town in a canary yellow mustang convertible, flaunted expensive bebe t-shirts that invariably showed her midriff, wore three inch wedge or spiked heels, and kept her wrists and fingers covered in finely cut diamonds. However, her high maintenance regime included weekly visits to Snippets, which basically paid the rent on Liam’s seven hundred square foot salon, so despite urges over the years, to tell her off, Liam bit his tongue, and put up with her many demands.

            “Where the hell is she,” Amy whined, looking again at her watch. “I’ve been here for fifteen minutes. You know Leonard will not be happy if I show up late for our lunch date.”
            Leonard was Amy’s husband, eighteen years her senior. He was filthy rich, money he acquired by taking over his father’s oil business after he had passed away from a sudden heart attack. Determined not to follow in his father’s footsteps, Leonard had enrolled in technical college in hopes of becoming an aircraft mechanic, after a torn ligament in his knee dashed his hopes of a pro football career just after he had been recruited. After the funeral, twenty two year old Leonard was approached by his father’s good friend and financial advisor, as well as his father’s attorney. Both men laid it on the line: quit school, get a quick lesson in the oil business, and take over the company, worth an estimated 2.6 billion dollars. It was an offer he could not refuse.
            Amy and Leonard had no children, and had been married for three years. Liam wasn’t sure if Amy wasn’t able to have kids, wasn’t interested in having kids, or just wasn’t ready yet. Neither he or Genevieve could ever get it out of her during her weekly visits, even though they both tried. In fact, neither of them could get much personal information out of her. Amy was a merciless gossip, which may have been the reason why she kept her own private affairs to herself. She kept her topics to Hollywood movie stars, designer fashions, and cosmetic surgery. Even though Amy was young and beautiful, with straight auburn hair, large dark eyes, and a slender yet womanly figure, she was obsessed with botox, face lifts, and breast implants, for starters. Who knew what she had planned for middle age! Liam felt certain that if she ever left the salon for more than a year, he wouldn’t recognize her if he met her on the street.
            The timer went off for Liam to remove Samantha Muller’s color from her hair. Amy began showing him some of her favorite shoes from the most recent Vogue, and he was running out of ideas to keep her occupied, when Genevieve walked through the door. 
            “Where have you been,” he whispered too loudly as he moved away from Amy and herded Genevieve toward the staff room.
“We’ll be right back,” he said to an inquisitive Amy.
Genevieve kept walking, ignoring Liam. He followed her into the room, ready to give her heck, which for Liam meant a light hearted talk, when he stopped short. He closed the door.
            “G, what happened?”
            Genevieve had removed her sunglasses, showing off a purple and yellow shiner on her left eye. She appeared unemotional, almost numb. Liam walked over to her and reached his hand gently toward her eye, as if to stroke it. She flinched, and he automatically pulled away. Then he took her hands in his and held them, lightly rubbing the tops with his thumbs.
            “It was him, wasn’t it?” Genevieve didn’t answer.
            Just then there was a knock at the door.
“What are you two doing in there?” It was Amy Richardson. “Irish, you do realize I’ve been waiting here for almost half an hour? This is terrible service. Genevieve, I need you to come out here this instant and do my hair!” Liam and Genevieve looked at each other and rolled their eyes.
“Be right there, Amy. And…I’m so sorry,” Genevieve replied.
“Amy, have a seat in your usual chair by the window. Genevieve will be right out.” Then Liam turned to Genevieve so Amy couldn’t hear.
“Listen, G, take a minute and fix that bruise so it isn’t so glaring, and get out on the floor. Let’s get through this day and talk later. I think we’re finished at four.” Genevieve nodded and disappeared into the restroom. By the time she got to her, Amy was fuming.
“What kind of service is this around here? I’ve never been so neglected in my life!”
Genevieve started to massage Amy’s scalp, combing her fingers through her dry, over-treated hair. Her fingertips dug deeply, and within minutes Genevieve could feel the effects as Amy’s neck and shoulders began to relax.
“So, how’s Mr. R?” Genevieve asked, keeping Amy’s attention diverted. Amy’s eyes were now closed. Luckily she seemed to have forgotten how upset she was.
“He’s fine, G. You know Leonard. He works, and he works, then we go away to Monte Carlo or St. Lucia so he can unwind, and then he works some more. He likes it.”
“Must be nice,” Genevieve said sincerely.
“So tell me G, have you met the one yet?” Genevieve tried to skirt the question but she could tell by the way Amy was looking at her that nothing would steer her away from getting an answer.
“No,” she said flatly, then changed her tune to keep Amy engaged. “Well, I did meet a guy, here at the salon. He came in for a haircut, and well, you know…” they both laughed. “We kind of hit it off.”
“Well, now we’re talking,” said a very interested Amy.
“Yeah, he’ll be fun for a while, but he’s definitely not the one.”
“So, when are you going to see him again?”
“I’m not sure,” replied Genevieve, contemplating the question. “I guess it is my turn to call him back. I just haven’t gotten around to it yet.”
“He’s not the one who gave you that shiner, is he?”
Genevieve stopped combing and looked at Amy in the mirror. Amy was staring back at her, all knowing, rather pleased with herself. Rather than create any more curiosity on Amy’s part by avoiding the question or changing the subject, Genevieve decided to be blunt. That way, she might ward off any further inquiries. 
“No,” Genevieve said. “That would have been the gang leader and his goons who roughed me up in the back alley of the after-hours strip club,” she added matter-of-factly.
Amy laughed.
“Oh my god, G, you really do have a wild imagination. You should write books, you know?” Amy laughed some more, and Genevieve joined her.
“So, Ms. Amy Richardson, what are we doing today, a touch up color, maybe a trim?”
Liam Irish locked the front door to the salon at 4:05 pm, and flipped the CLOSED sign around to face the street. The late afternoon sun was glaring through the windows, so he turned the blinds to block it, and walked to the back of the salon to where Genevieve was busy cleaning up. He cut to the chase.
            “G, you can’t let him do that – to you, or anybody, do you hear me?”
Genevieve was sweeping hair up off the floor, her head down, completely absorbed in her thoughts.
“G…G, do you understand?”
Suddenly she burst out with a reply. “What do you think, that I like this or something? Of course I understand, but what am I gonna do? He’s kind of got me by the balls.”
            “What do you mean?”
            “I mean, I work for him, Liam. You know, dance, strip. I can’t afford to quit, and he knows it. It’s like he owns me, just like I was telling you last night at the club. And if I quit, he’ll make sure I can’t get another job at another club in this town, and he’ll make my life miserable just because he and his goons can.” She stopped and thought for a moment.
“Liam, you have no idea.” Genevieve wiped her eye and shrugged, as if in resignation. “It’s my own fault. I got involved with him, now I have to suffer the consequences.”
            Liam looked at her with concern, but then with indignation.
            “No you don’t, G, so get that thought out of your head right now. We’ll figure this out, okay? Just give me some time to think, that’s all. There’s a lot going down right now. I need to process it. I need to figure this out, alright?”
            “But Liam,” Genevieve pleaded, with tears in her eyes. “This is not your fight. You shouldn’t get involved.”
            This was the second time he saw Genevieve’s vulnerability, the first being last night at the club. He was surprised, given her outward cockiness, but then realized she too was human. Her precocious personality was just an outer protective shell. He was now getting to know the real Genevieve.
            “Too late, G. I already am involved.”
…stay tuned…Chapter 8 will be posted next Tuesday, August 30th…
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Posted on: August 16th, 2011 by Madison Lake No Comments
            Della’s presence brought an eerie hush in the room. She had walked in from the side door when one of the bouncers clued her in to what was going down backstage. She knew she was needed.
            “So, Dom, what seems to be the problem?” Della was staring directly into his eyes, her hands firmly planted on her hips. Dominic looked annoyed.
            “Fucked if I know. I saw this schmuck sneaking into sweet little Savannah’s room, and, well, it just stinks, that’s all. I don’ like it. Nobody messes with my girls, that’s all I’m sayin’.”
            Della thought for a minute before responding.
            “Your girls? Really? Have you asked Savannah how she feels?”
            Dominic shifted restlessly from foot to foot. He didn’t like confrontations at the best of times. He knew he was a loose cannon, and could snap at any moment, but he held fast.
 “Listen, Della. That is your name, aint it?” He looked at her, nonplussed. Della nodded. “So, here’s the deal. Since I now own this joint, I’m the one looking out for things, got it?” He glanced around the room to show who was in charge. “These here my girls, this my stage, this my show. Aint nobody telling me how I do things, even you.” He glared at Della who stood her ground. There was a long silence. Women’s eyes peered out from behind doors cracked just enough to get the gist of what was going on. Those brave enough to have remained standing out in the open hall, kept as still as statues. Images of how this would all end up raced through Liam’s head. Would Dominic win, therefore gaining even more unnecessary power to fuel his gangster ways. Liam hated the idea. Tension hung in the air like a fuse ready to be lit.

“Well, Dominic,” Della suddenly chimed in. “Seeing as this place of yours is still under escrow, seems to me it’s not really yours yet, is it?” She smirked ever so slightly, but hastened to be too coy as to trigger the temper Dominic was known for.
“If memory serves me, you’re still trying to come up with the cash to seal the deal. Am I right, Dominic?” Della now held a poker face. Not only did Liam feel his body relax a bit but there was an overall release of pressure in the room as this bit of confidential information was given out. The only one who looked anxious now was Dominic.
“Shut the fuck up, bitch. All a yous, can just go to hell.” Dominic’s fists clenched. The group started to back away from him. “You think you’re so smart? He continued, looking first at Della, then at Liam. “Well just wait…just you wait.” With that last comment left dangling in the silent room, Dominic turned, and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
“Well,” Della sighed, letting her arms fall easily down to her sides. “That about settles that, at least for the time being. Now,” she glanced around the room at the sets of eyes looking to her for direction. “Y’all get back to your business. He’s gone, and won’t be coming back tonight, I can promise you that. Just don’t go doing anything foolish, ya hear me?”
There was a general flurry of shuffling and scurrying as people went back to their business. Liam looked at Della. Savannah, who had snuggled up against Liam’s back for protection, cautiously poked her head out from under his arm.
“So, what’s the deal, Della? Since when did Dominic take over this place…and why? I mean, I’ve been coming here for years, you know that, and I’ve never seen that guy here. Never.”
“Don’t worry about it, Irish,” Della shrugged. “He’s a big talkin’ crook, is what he is. Truth is, he walked in here sometime last month. Wanted to bail old Mitch out of the bind he was in with the rent and all. Poor Mitch, didn’t see it coming, but he had no choice. Money’s money. Thing is, Dom doesn’t have any, and if he suddenly gets some, like he’s tryin’ to do, ya know it’s dirty. But, I guess business is business. It’s not for me to say.” Della threw her hands up in dismay. All of a sudden, a shadow moved from behind the curtain and a figure emerged. It was Genevieve. She looked tired and worried, and held back from being her usual confident, even forceful self. Della picked up on her tension right away.
“Hey, G, c’mon over and talk with us. C’mon girl. Don’t be shy.” Della reached toward the general direction of where she hung in the darkness, and slowly Genevieve came forward and fell into Della’s embrace. She placed her head on Della’s shoulder in a show of defeat, but for what, Liam could not tell. Was she defeated that Dominic had been challenged and beaten, or was it something else? So far, he had not seen this demure side of Genevieve, and it intrigued him. Like the rest of the onlookers, he waited.
            “Oh, Della…oh, Liam! I don’t know what to do.” Genevieve let her eyes drop to avoid letting on she was weeping. Liam moved away from Savannah and went to Genevieve, wrapping her small, shaking body in his big, comforting arms. Savannah did not look at all pleased. After a few minutes, Genevieve continued, warily at first, and then with more assurance.
            “You all have no idea what a beast Dom is.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. Liam held her close and stroked her shoulders to help calm her down.
            “He won’t let me out of his clutches. Ever since I broke up with him – almost six months ago – he…he has kept me like I’m his…his…like he’s my pimp.” Genevieve broke down in tears.
“It’s awful. You have no idea,” she said again. She looked up at Della. “He expects me to dance every night and to hand over my tips to him. He pays me, of course he pays me, but not enough to make it worth it. If I try to quit, he calls his thugs and they rough me up.” Sobbing almost uncontrollably now, Genevieve could hardly get the rest of her story out. Most of the women hanging around, began to move toward her from their prospective perches, all wanting to comfort her, like they could somehow relate to her story. Liam stood speechless. He didn’t know what to do. Once again, Della took charge.
“Tell me, honey, how long has this been going on?”
“Almost since we broke up, at least six months.”
“And were you a dancer here before you met Dominic?”
            Genevieve quietly looked down. “No. I mean I had considered it, as a way to make extra money, that is. I’d always been good at dancing. Took ballet for seven years, and tap and jazz too. Stripping was a real scary decision for me to make, but after my first time, I realized it wasn’t so bad. I could block out the audience, you know, all the hootin’ and hollerin’, and go into my own world with the music and the movement, like I used to do in the dance studio, or later on when I was home alone, and danced in my living room.” She seemed to slip into another time and place as she drew from her past.
“Once I got my first paycheck, not to mention the tips, I figured I could work nights while keeping a day job and no one would be the wiser. So, that’s how it all began, eight years ago at The Royale. You know, over in South Beach? I was only seventeen, but it really worked for me, had a good routine going on, that is until I met Dominic.” She lowered her head again.
            “Go on, sweetie. What changed?” Genevieve thought for a minute.
            “Well,” she stammered. “At first he was real sweet to me, Dominic that is. He encouraged me to keep dancing at the club, work as much as I could. I think he liked the money.” She smiled at the irony. “That’s where we met, you know?”
“No, I didn’t know that.” Della replied in a kind, interested voice. “Go on.”
“He would send roses and champagne to my backstage room, like he was real proud of me. He’d send a car for me after work so I didn’t have to make my way home in the dark alone. He seemed to really like that I was a dancer, made me feel special.” Genevieve got quiet again.
“About a year after we met, I got the job here, at The Foxy. That’s when things started to change with Dom. He started bossing me around, telling me when to work and even what I should and shouldn’t do when I worked. He wasn’t supportive anymore, and you know something else? He stopped coming into the club. Never once did he come see me dance at The Foxy. Not once. Don’t you find that strange? I do. I think it’s really weird – disturbing, actually.”
            Genevieve had stopped crying. Liam noticed a faraway look in her eye, as if in reverie. She didn’t look sad anymore, she looked confused yet relieved.
            “It’s too complicated to go into details now, Della, but let’s just say that Dom is a controlling type.”
            “You’re telling me,” said one of the girls across the room.
            “I think…no I’m sure he was using me to gain control of, not only my life, but this club and everyone in it.” She looked around at all the faces nodding in agreement. “He did it so cleverly that I didn’t even realize it was happening until it was too late. And here I am. I don’t know how to extricate myself from his evil clutches. It’s like being a Mafia wife, locked in a lifestyle forever because you know too much.”
            “What do you know, Genevieve?” Della’s question was gently put but urgent in need.
            “I think we’ve been through enough for one night, don’t you?” Liam nodded toward Della, avoiding Genevieve’s eyes. “We certainly have a lot to discuss, but it’s late. Why don’t we all get some sleep and revisit this tomorrow, or sometime in the near future. What do you say?”
            Della agreed. She took Genevieve by the hand and started toward the door.
            “Come with me, little angel. I’ll make sure you get home safe and sound.”
            “But…” Genevieve suddenly looked desperately at Liam, who looked back at her, surprised, and somewhat anguished as to what to do next.
            “Irish, don’t you have some business to finish?” Savannah Porsche pulled at Liam’s arm in the direction of her room. In all the commotion, he’d forgotten what he had been up to before this had all started, and now he had lost interest.
            “Oh, Savannah, maybe another…” But before he could get the excuse out of his mouth, Savannah dragged him into her room and closed the door behind them. It was only a matter of minutes before soft but burning moans could be heard resonating through the backrooms of The Foxy Lady strip club.
stay tuned…Chapter 7 will be posted next Tuesday, August 23rd…

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By the end of the week, the small riot was already a distant memory. The club was cleaned up, a few new bouncers were on staff, and things were as they should be.
Liam returned to The Foxy Lady the following Tuesday, and the Tuesday after that. Della kept him from prying information out of her about Genevieve, by telling stories of some of the other girls. She disliked gossip of any kind, although it was difficult not to get sucked into a little bit now and then. Some of the stories she heard were enough to make even Della squirm, and she was one tough cookie. One thing she did tell Irish, however, was that Genevieve was different than the others. She kept to herself, wasn’t there to steal the limelight from any of the old timers, and minded her own business. The other dancers seemed to like her well enough, and she was no trouble for the club, although she often arrived just in time to go on, which by Della’s standards was pushing it.
But there was something lingering that Della could not put her finger on. Liam wasn’t surprised. Genevieve had proven to Liam that she was someone he could trust, and that went far with him. She was eccentric and edgy, that was for certain, but that wasn’t the issue. What bothered him was her reserve, like she was hiding something, and Liam felt whatever that something was, it was big. She definitely had some deep, dark secret and it bothered him that he didn’t know what it was.

It was early, only ten thirty pm the third Tuesday after the bar fight, and Liam had nothing but time on his hands. Plus, he figured he might get a glimpse if Genevieve happened to walk into the club early. So far he had stayed clear of her on his weekly visits, not wanting to be discovered he was in on her secret, if that’s what it was. The past couple weeks at the salon had been the most difficult. He was dying to talk with her about her double life, dying for an inside peek, though he knew he had no right. But intrigue was getting the better of him and he didn’t know how much longer he could last without revealing that he had been frequenting The Foxy Lady now, just to watch her show. Oh, he had his alibi alright, if she did find him out. Della could vouch for the fact that Irish had been a regular customer there for years, which he had. He’d rehearsed what he’d say to Genevieve, that he didn’t know it was her behind the shadows, or that he’d only just found out that night. There were ways around her not suspecting that he’d known for weeks that this was her alternate ego, that he’d been one of the regulars who ogled her through the dimness of the stage lights.  
Della placed a Ginger Ale on the rocks in front of Liam and sat down beside him. It was a good time to take a load off as the place wasn’t due to start filling up till midnight.
“Ya know, Irish, I’ve been thinking I should introduce you to Savannah, you know, Savannah Porsche, our ribbon lady.”
Liam didn’t raise his eyes from his drink.
“Aw, c’mon Irish, you know you’ve got an eye for her. You always have. She’s a good girl, arrives to work early every night, never gets herself into trouble, and she goes home alone. Imagine that?” Della smiled. “Whadya say, Irish? I hate to see you sittin’ here all alone week after week. Aren’t ya tired of being sad and lonely?”
Della stared singing, Are you lonesome tonight, Do you miss me tonight? Are you sorry we drifted apart? She loved Elvis, and Liam couldn’t help smile at Della’s sensitivity.
“Okay, tell ya what I’m gonna do.” Della grabbed Liam’s hands, resting on the tabletop, and wrapped them in hers. “After the show tonight, I want you to meet me at the backstage door. You aint leaving without a meet ‘n greet. Not tonight. That’s all I ask. Do I have your promise?”
Liam looked skeptically at Della.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Della stood, stretched her legs and plumped up her breasts to just overflowing, before stepping out onto the main floor.
“Gotta run, sugar. Enjoy the show. Savannah’s first up.” She winked at him, then walked off toward the bar.
Liam nestled back into his corner as the house lights dimmed and the music started. One of the things he loved about coming to The Foxy Lady was that Della took such good care of him. Perhaps it was the mother in her that appealed, though she wasn’t that much older than he was, maybe ten or twelve years, but he knew she’d had a hard life and was trying to do good without all the resources and know-how to do so. Those reasons alone made Liam relate to her – and love her in his own way. They both seemed to have picked up on the similarities in each other’s background, even though they never dared bring it up. It was an unspoken understanding among those from an impoverished, dysfunctional upbringing. They just knew. Liam watched the performance, mesmerized by the soaring ribbons and the beauty of movement onstage.
After the last dancer of the evening walked offstage and the curtain went down, Liam Irish paid his tab at the bar and made his way to the stage door. Della was nowhere to be found so he pushed the door open and walked through. It was a hive of activity, nearly naked woman parading around from room to room giggling and gabbing about the night’s acts. Many of the older women, those in their thirties or early forties, were happily lounging around having a drink and smoking cigarettes. It was their cool down time after the show. On the other hand, many of the younger girls were in a rush to change and get out of the club for what remained of the active part of their stint, walking the streets seeing what extra could be made by turning a couple of tricks. Liam knew this was all in a day’s work.
There was no sign of Savannah, or Genevieve for that matter, and Liam realized he was the only man backstage except for a couple of stagehands. His presence was starting to cause quite a stir. Women stared and whistled and called him over to where they were sitting, trying to entice him to join them for the evening. He tried to ignore their taunts. Even he was beginning to feel uncomfortable. Just then a door opened and out walked Savannah. She was scantily dressed in a black and pink lace bodice with garters that attached to silk opaque stockings. On her feet were hot pink stiletto slippers with fluffy white ostrich feathers puffs on each toe. A sheer, revealing cover up did not do its job, showing off not only dark red nipples that poked over the laced up bodice, but a hint of what might lie in wait down at the bottom. Liam’s breath caught. Should he turn and walk the other way, or should he show how he really felt, completely swept off his feet by her beauty and sexiness? Rather than wait for him to decide, Savannah Porsche jostled right up, as if she had been expecting him. 
“I hear you might be looking for a little company tonight. Is that right?” Her voice was like liquid velvet.
“Where did you hear that?” Liam stammered.
He could feel the heat in his face and it pissed him off that his body gave him away. Why couldn’t he be like other men, grab her around the waist, haul her into her dressing room, and do her right there on the floor with her moaning and screaming for all to hear. But oh, no, not quiet, reserved Liam. He hated this side of him and he often felt victim to his own shortcomings. Before he could give much more thought to his genetic framework, Liam felt Savannah’s body next to his. Her bare breasts ever so lightly touched his arm, her lips brushed against his cheek.
“I’ve got some Grey Goose in my room. Interested?” She whispered in his ear. That alone made Liam’s head spin.
Liam wondered what to say. It wasn’t about the Grey Goose but he had to reply to that offer, and somehow the mention of Lent and sobriety didn’t seem to be what he had in mind. Before he could come up with a clever answer, one came to him another way. Savannah Porsche took him gently by the arm and led him quietly to her room, surrounded by an audience of jealous females. As they arrived at her the door, Liam’s shirt was half unbuttoned and Savannah’s fingers were fondling the hair on his chest, her tongue twirled around his right nipple. He could not stop his hands from reaching for hers, hard and ripe, waiting for him to pull them in gentle arousal. Before they could get the door closed there was a flutter of movement behind them. At first Liam thought it was the two of them causing a fuss, but then he realized women hustled back to their rooms, doors slammed, and what a minute ago was a vibrant, happy, after hours retreat, had just turned into lockdown. Liam tried to see what all the commotion was about but Savannah urged him into her room, and he was easily led. Before she could secure them safely inside, he heard a voice, a familiar voice, coming up to him. This time he turned around and found himself face to face with the one causing the disturbance.
“Eh, bro, what you doin in my house, huh? You not allowed back here. This here’s my office, these girls, my girls, got it?” By now Dominic was standing so close Liam could smell the Wild Turkey and Cohiba on his breath. Behind Dominic, Liam spied Genevieve, dressed in a lovely cream colored silk robe, with her hair loose around her face and down her back. He noticed that Genevieve looked frightened but he couldn’t tell if it was because of Dominic, or because she saw that he was there. Dominic’s eyes flared black and dangerous. Liam knew not to mess around with him but he was also a paying customer and had been for years. He hadn’t stepped out of line. A lot of the guys went back stage when invited, and Liam had been invited. The odd thing was, Liam had no idea Dominic owned The Foxy Lady. He wondered how long he had, or if he really even did own it. Strange things happened in these places so the truth was anyone’s guess. However, the behavior of the working girls when Dominic had come into the room spoke volumes. Piece by small piece, Liam started to put the Genevieve puzzle together.  
…stay tuned…Chapter 6 will be posted next Tuesday, August 16th… 
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