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1928Chapter 5 free porn video
In New York in 1928 the speakeasies were everywhere, in the basements of mansions, in penthouses off Park Avenue, in Greenwich Village cellars, in Wall Street office buildings, in brownstone rooming houses, in tenements, in two-flats in the Bronx, in Bay Ridge hardware stores.
Sometimes they were called clubs and when they were posh and had entertainment at night they were called night clubs. The carriage trade had its pick of the swank drinking resorts, places where all that was needed was the proper password and the price. The night-life crowd wanted entertainment with their drinking and the better speakeasies featured women torch singers and piano players and sometimes an orchestra and chorus girls and the best solo and duet dancers in town.
Rita Marascho was still looking for a night club or theater job as a chorus girl.
Charlie Desmond had dumped her and she no longer lived in the apartment on West 48th Street. She had a room in a Greenwich Village rooming house, and each week when she paid the rent she was very much aware that her savings were running out. Rita told herself she had to find a dancing job soon or else give up the idea and look for something else. She was afraid to think of what the something else might be. She wondered if she was good for nothing but being in bed with a man. She'd always thought she'd have a career as a dancer, but now she wasn't so sure any more. But she kept trying. Nearly every day she rode the subway uptown to bother people that she knew in the clubs about a job. She went out on dates with other girls and always the first thing she wanted to know about a man was what connections he had in Manhattan. There were hundreds of girls working as dancers in New York and Rita was determined to become one of them.
One day a girl named Harriet told Rita about a job opening at the Rendezvous Club. "One of the girls quit," Harriet said. "Maybe if you get over there right away you can get the job."
"Oh, you're a honey," Rita said. "Who runs that place?"
"His name is Tony Provo."
"I'm going there now."
"Listen, I'd better tell you about Tony. He likes to feel the girls up whenever he has the chance. You know what I mean?"
"Yes, I know what you mean."
"Don't say I didn't warn you."
Rita kissed Harriet's cheek. "I can take care of myself, don't you worry."
After that Rita hurried over to the Rendezvous Club on West 52nd Street. The man at the door let her in without any trouble, and when she told the bartender she wanted to see Tony Provo about a job as a dancer, he winked at her and had one of the cigarette girls take her to Tony's office.
Tony looked at her when she walked in. "Yeah, what is it?"
"I heard there's an opening for a chorus girl."
Tony Provo looked at her again. Then he told the cigarette girl to leave. "Close the door," he said to Rita.
He sat behind the cluttered desk with a cigar in his mouth, his eyes on her red dress. She was happy she'd worn red today. She thought red was her best color.
Tony puffed his cigar and the blue smoke rose over his head to the ceiling. His eyes looked half closed, as if he were thinking about something. "What's your experience?"
"I did a few things on Broadway. Just little things, you know?"
"Like what?"
"Well, I was a stand-in in Desert Song."
"Oh yeah?"
"Did you see it? Wasn't it terrific?"
"What are you good at?"
"I'm very good at the tango."
"The tango?"
"Yes, that's my specialty."
"Listen, right now we don't need nobody doing a tango. What we got room for is another girl on the chorus line. One two, one two, you know what I mean?"
"That's just what I want."
"Okay, let's see what you look like. Take your dress off."
She smiled and made a half-turn away from him and then she lifted the dress and pulled it off over her head. She wondered what kind of a look she ought to give him. He still had the cigar in his mouth and she could hardly see his face because of the smoke.
She decided to look demure. She held her hands in front of her body as she turned to face him again. She pushed one knee forward and to the side to give him a better view of her legs. The flesh- colored stockings were held up by straps attached to a garter belt. The skimpy brassiere didn't do much to hide her full breasts.
Tony kept his eyes on her. He took the cigar out of his mouth, looked at her, then stuck the cigar in his mouth again. Keeping the cigar in one corner of his mouth, he said: "Turn around."
Rita turned around to give him a back view.
"Nice," Tony said. "You're a pretty girl."
She turned to face him again and smile. "Thank you."
"You want the job bad, huh?"
"Yes I do."
"Maybe we can work something out. It depends how bad you want it."
"Very bad," Rita said.
"You sure?"
"Yes."
"Maybe you can take off the brassiere."
She unhooked the brassiere, peeled it away and put it on top of her dress on the chair.
"That's better," Tony said. "That's much better. Come over here and let me get a squeeze. I wish we could show the girls naked on top, we'd get a lot more business."
When she went around the desk to stand in front of him, he reached up with both hands to squeeze her breasts. She forced a smile as she looked down at his face.
Then he dropped his hands and he made a gesture at his lap. "You want to do something for me, you take care of the lollipop."
She tried to keep the unhappiness out of her face as she knelt down on the floor between his legs. She unbuttoned the front of his trousers and she brought out a stubby penis that was still soft. Tony grunted as she took it in her mouth.
One is the same as the other, Rita thought. Once you had it in your mouth there wasn't much difference between them.
Tony patted her head and said: "You can start tomorrow night. You come around in the afternoon and you work out a little with the girls."
Well I'm here, Rita thought. The first night she danced in the Rendezvous Club her excitement was intense. Her head was filled with the music of the small orchestra and she felt as though she could dance forever.
There were twelve girls in the chorus line. They did one routine after the other, working in perfect synchrony, kicking their legs and twisting their bodies as though they were one person. Even their faces looked similar, the same shade of lipstick, the same dab of rouge on each cheek, each girl wearing the same sequined costume. For the first time Rita was convinced she was as good a dancer as anyone, certainly as good as any of these girls on the stage with her.
As usual the club was crowded, all the tables filled at midnight. Half the people in the club looked like rich Park Avenue swells and the rest looked like gangsters of one sort or another. The liquor was served in coffee cups and the waitresses were kept busy carrying bottle after bottle of champagne and Scotch and rye and gin to the tables.
Between appearances on the stage, the twelve chorus girls crowded into their small dressing room. After dancing with the girls in the afternoon, Rita was friendly with some of them. She listened to the chatter of the girls as they fixed their makeup in front of the mirrors. The air was filled with face powder. One of the girls came over to Rita and smiled at her. Her name was Ingrid and Rita had already decided that Ingrid was a lesbian.
"Well, how do you like it?" Ingrid said. "How do you like being a performing sardine?"
"I love it."
Ingrid laughed. "You're good. You're better than some of the others here."
"Thanks."
Ingrid's eyes were on Rita's breasts. "And you're pretty too. Why don't we have breakfast together after we finish here?"
"No, I think I'll just go home and sleep."
"Afraid of me?"
"Why should I be afraid of you?"
But Ingrid was already walking away with an expression of annoyance on her face.
That year the dancer George Raft was one of the rages of midtown Manhattan. He was billed as "The Fastest Dancer in the World." Fred Astaire caught Raft's act at the El Fey Club and he said Raft did the fastest, most exciting Charleston he'd ever seen.
Raft was a great favorite of society women. He'd started his career as a dancer in Manhattan tearooms, dancing with women for money, many of them rich women who took Raft to bed to enjoy his other talents. After he became well known on the night club and speakeasy circuit, the Park Avenue women continued to pursue him.
Apart from his life as a dancer, Raft was also a friend of some of the more prominent bootleggers and gangsters in New York. Some of them were old friends from Hell's Kitchen, the neighborhood where he'd grown up, and others were friends he'd made as an entertainer in speakeasies. He danced most often at the El Fey Club, but he also did brief engagements at other clubs around town, and in the afternoons he did matinees on the Broadway stage.
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