Villecat {A Flappers FanFiction, based on a true story}

*Based on a novel by Jullian Larkin, twisted into the real live events of a dear friend of mine.*
**A girl needs partners when she dances, and I've had some of the best. My thanks to Stephen Rich and Jimmie Perryman, my two best friends and the only men I love; and Ashley Cook, Elizabeth Mull, Brian Rhodes, and the whole brilliant chorus line at Union County High School. Special thanks to Jeff Claybourn for being a backstabbing douche-- you are all the cat's pajamas.**


She didn't feel like wearing a garter tonight. Her black-sequined dress, folding in waves of fluidy fringe, covered the intersection between her sheer stocking and bare thigh.
She slipped her right foot into one of her solid Mary Janes, her left foot into the other. The thin black straps went across her ankles, the silver buckles tightened with a sting.
From the articles tossed carelessly across her vanity, she carefully selected her weapons and placed then in a black leather evening bag: vamp-red kiss-proof lipstick, silver powder compact, tortoiseshell comb, ivory cigarette case.
She stared into the mirror. Everything was perfect: Black eyes deep, cheekbones rouged and defined, lips lined and pouty. Tonight, even her skin shimmered with something noticeable.
As she dabbed a final drop of perfume into the crease where her silky bob skimmed her neck, she decided the garter would be necessary. Of course it would.
And then, before snapping her back closed, she added the small black handgun.
Now she was ready.

++++

All life is just a progression toward, and then a recession from, one phrase--- "I love you."

___________________________________________________________________________

They found the entrance exactly as instructed: just after the faded sign for The Hole in the Wall, between the barbershop and the icecream parlor, through the rusted gate, twenty-three squeaking steps below street level. After they'd knocked exactly four times, a tiny slit in the boarded-up door slid open.
"What's the word?" One dark eye blinked at them.
Angel opened her mouth and froze. This was the moment she had practiced endlessly in front of her bedroom mirror: saying the secret password to be admitted into the hottest speakeasy in Tulsa. So what if it was the first time she'd ever snuck out of her house, lied to her parents, or been in the city alone? Not to mention her dress-- which she'd bought only the day before-- was so short that one gust of wind could turn her from flapper into flasher.
"Come on, I don't got all night!" the Eye barked.
Sweat began to bead on her upper lip. She could almost feel the caking layers of her carefully applied makeup cracking the surface of her new flapper image.
"Ouch!"
Stefan, her best friend--who'd taken on the role of accomplice/chaperone for the evening-- jabbed her in the ribs. "Just say it already!"
Angel inhaled sharply: It was now or never. "Sensual Lotus?"
"Wrong. Now beat it!"
And just like that, the Eye disappeared.