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In the depths of the seedy underbelly of Chicago laid a shiny little spectacle. A place for escape and reprise from the rest of the world. Bright lights distracted away from peering eyes and judgeful characters. There hid a stunning singer that captivated audiences in a single siren call. Her sweet voice dragging men of all kinds down to their knees. But she was untouchable, her alluring eyes and coy smile had many suitors calling for her in the night- but she never answered their calls. The small club had many men of all class returning night after night for her performances. That was not a cause for concern.
Rather it was inordinate amount of men that disappeared in the nights. Mysteriously missing with little to no trace. A rare few were found, pushed to the point of a drunken stupor and found washed up on the streets. Some unlucky few went for an 'evening swim' and were found buried in the sand. Others bodies were left decomposing in their cars. A familiar scent followed these men, a sweetness that was strange. But these weren’t abhorrently unusual occurrences for such a place. Men came here to feed their vices; drink to their heart's content, gamble and fight. An odd disappearance here and there was sure to occur. Gangs frequented the areas, paying off the police department whenever they could to continue on with their operations. Corruption was rampant. And it was finally time, there was enough crime for the police department to send in their best- and under cover.
Leon S Kennedy, the man who had single handedly busted the large crime syndicate that was running just one town over. He had successfully taken down several gangs that had overtaken clubs there. Ones that were being used for laundering and as fronts for other crimes. He ran on pure determination to do the right thing, to help people. Even if he had to dip his toes in the water occasionally. He would do what he thought was necessary to get the job done.
He had taken the opportunity to study the case as closely as he could. Enjoying a few nights at the jazz club while scouting the area where the men had been reported last seen. The past month had record breaking counts of men being reported missing. All ranging from different classes. Low class workers were often lost and forgotten. Where as high class men would have their missing presence noticed immediately. If not by their businesses that they owned, then their unsuspecting wives that were at home. No clear connection was ever made between all the men, only that they were last seen at this very club.
The bright sign flickered each time Leon entered its small doors. Only to those who knew of the clubs existence ever entered its doors, so an undercover disguise was needed. The r in the name always turned dark for brief moments. Spotlights and crystal chandeliers filled the club in bright lights. Reflecting on shimmering glasses of gin martinis and a plethora of other illicit mixed drinks on every table. Ladies were dressed in colourful arrays of dresses, shimmery fringe and fabrics. Strings of beads tightly wrapped around their necks and feathers plucked and pinned into their curls. This wasn’t unlike any other scene he had come across before in his other cases, illegal acts in every corner. But he was here for the bigger crimes- possible murders were much more troublesome than smuggled alcohols to him.
Leon casually traces his steps towards the the main stage, as he did every night so far and claims his usual seat. The barkeep served him his usual martini, dirty and with a lemon twist instead of an olive. Just how he liked it- and he would tend to his drink and enjoy the shows. Jazz played, different musicians taking the centre stage and playing songs and sets. Some dancers joining and swinging their arms and kicking their feet to the rhythm. It was going to be a long night for him, he really needed to crack down on this case.
The barkeep called out for him, “need another?” She smiled, her bouncy brunette curls hugged her face. Sly smile painted on her lips.
He lightly shook his head, “gonna be an early night Harper, can’t stay out too late,” he lied, always lied about the reason for his visits. He raises the glass towards her before swinging it down. He twisted in his seat as the house lights lowered. The stage darkening as a bright spot light hit centre stage.
Her dark head of hair was cut so sharply, framing the sides of her face as she craned her head away from the crowd. The snare drums start, the piano lightly plays a tune as if the keys were pressed on feather lightly. She slowly returns her gaze, facing the audience as the room grew quieter. Glittering beads and sequins on her dress sparkled and shined as she sat delicately on her seat. Microphone neatly placed near her as she sang her first note. The rest of the rumbling of the audience deafened, their ears patiently waiting to hear her siren song. All of the patrons seemingly lose all interested in everything else- except her.
Leon wasn’t free from her bewitching, his eyes drawn to her as her heel hit the stage. Her slender frame stands from her seat to gently wrap her gloved fingers around the microphone stand. The gold thin metal pressed neatly between her fingers as she leaned in, whispering her song as her red lips curled. Leon swallowed and looked away briefly, holding his empty drink before looking back up at the stage. She stares directly at him, her head gently swaying with the song, singing the last line- for only him.
The stage darkens, the crystals and beading on her dress twinkling like stars in the night as the curtains are drawn and the house lights brighten. A round of applause erupts, vulgar calls for her begin almost immediately and yet are silenced by the barkeep. Her plucky personality always seemed to quiet most of the men, her voice loud and attention grabbing. She was their supplier- only makes sense that they listen to her. And the night resumes just like it had before.
Leon’s bow tie is suddenly tight around his neck, his vest even more so and much too proper looking. He loosens it, just enough to breath as he leaves his seat at the counter and heads to the restroom to freshen up, preparing himself to continue on with investigating the club members and performers. Despite the barkeep being there every night that the men go missing, Leon had already deduced that it couldn’t have been her. The timing of the confirmed deaths conflicted with too many accounts of her leaving the club and eye witness accounts of it. He refrained from calling them murders, but the suspicious amount of disappearances and the the discovery of their dead bodies was too much to be a coincidence… which lead him to investigate the other patrons and servers.
The door swings wide open and he makes his way down the tight hallway. Passing the ever busy swinging doors towards the stage and down the hall that lead towards the dressing rooms. He peers in, seeing through the cracks to find racks of dresses and vanities filled with cosmetics and perfumes. All of them in various stages of neatly laid and others hurriedly scattered.
“Looking for someone?” A smooth sultry voice is heard from behind him. He turns to find her, out of all the people in the club; she was the last he expected to grace him with her presence. She needs no introduction, her domineering yet overtly feminine appearance is a contradiction that leaves him in a confused daze.
She observes him carefully, dark lashes fluttering as she exhales a large breath. Her fingers delicately pinches between the handle of a paper fan. The delicate decorative gold foiling of it glimmers as she fans at herself, cooling herself off from her performance.
“My apologies for the intrusion Miss Wong,” he momentarily and politely looks away from her, giving her the courtesy of privacy before standing straight.
“What’s a detective of your stature doing here?”
His brows raised, curious at her correct assumption of his work. He chuckles.
“I suppose my undercover work needs some fine tuning then.”
“I could never forget a perfectly sculpted face like this,” her fan suddenly stops fluttering, her other gloved hand rising to gently graze along his cheek. He flushes hot, from either the martini or from her alluring stare. The bright red of her lips are smudged away, as if she had blotted the excess colour away. The strap of her dress falls delicately away from her shoulder as she leans in close.
“Be careful, Detective Kennedy… this place isn't safe for a someone with a face like this. The girls will eat you up and swallow you whole.”
“Is that so? Not for you though?”
She giggles softly, yet lowly. Her voice smooth and laced with honey vibrates near his ear, sending cool tingles throughout his body.
“I need more than just a distant lingering gaze from a pretty face,” she purs, her fan resuming its fanning motion as she cools herself off and her heels click away from him. The door of her dressing room swings open, the back of her head the only thing he sees as she slips in through the crack. The heavy door swinging closed after her in slow motion.
“See you around, handsome.”
The door finally shuts closed.
Leon undoes the bow tie around his neck, suddenly warm and flushed. He still hears her heels echo through the door, the rest of the club a lingering noise of chatter and the band continuing to play some soft jazz song.
Shaken from his meeting with the star of the club, he takes up on Helena’s previous offer of another drink and takes it graciously. With a burning sensation down his throat, he begins to investigate the rest of club. With Ada’s performance no longer a main attraction, the rest of the patrons began to take their leave. The rest of the performers in the shadow of those truly dedicated to the club remain.
Leon introduces himself to various familiar faces, those he acutely remembered from his previous visits to the club. A strange blond man with slicked back hair and tinted glasses that he always wore regardless of how dark the club got. Another man often sat with him, dark hair and a menacing glare etched onto his face. He always kept a careful eye on the performers, and his lecherous reputation soon became well known in club.
Leon’s performative actions come into play, offering the man a cigarette, or to offer another round of his drinks. The collective amount of glassware on the table was enough to deduce that he was a high player, racking up a bill that surely most would not be able to pay for months.
The dark haired man simply fans him away, the blond one just all the more dismissive. Leon’s undercover presence was slipping away from him, if Ada had already known that he was a detective, who else did as well?
Well... not many, he deduced after speaking to a few of the other performers. Singers with meek personalities off stage but shone in the spotlight. Some of them were much like their on stage counterparts though. They were chatty girls, spilling everything they thought was worth noting. Leon takes notes of what was important, which unfortunately wasn't much.
At least some of their stories corroborated with other testimonies of the strange men; the ones who exude money and power- they were just as rude as he presumed.
Something was going on in the club, and Leon was determined to find out.
As the evening dragged on late into the early hours of the night, Leon’s investigation lead him to a few theories, but none that lead to a clear conviction. He would need several more nights to explore each avenue. His outfit now more visibly disheveled, his confidence waning as well- he resigned for the night to return to his room.
The bright sign outside still flickered as he left, just as it did as he arrived.
/
Leon waits a few more days before returning, gathering evidence from his notes and came in with new convection to solve the case. The men that refused to speak to him were just as suspicious in nature, and with the evidence of foul play from the other singers. He had enough information to lure the men to have a 'friendly' conversation.
He returned to the glitz and glamour, the lights always meant to sparkle and dazzle him. The smooth music meant to relax him and the chatter distracting him all the same- but he felt stiff like a board. Helena remained stationed where she always had, supplying the men and women their elixir of choice. The stage was particularly smoky this evening, a large influx of men tending to their cigarettes inside left a sharp lingering scent of tobacco in the air. It burned at his nose, his face scrunching up at the intrusive smell.
“Fancy meeting you here, stranger,” Helena readies a glass, but sharply retracts it at the sight of Leon’s exposed palm, halting her.
“Not tonight Harper,” he nods his head sharply, his eyes trailing through the crowd and towards the stage. A saxophone continues to play, the man nodding along with the rhythm. The drums following and the pianist continues tapping away with his foot.
“If you’re looking for her, she’s unlikely to perform tonight.”
“What makes you say that?”
Helena sharply gestures to the lingering cloud of smoke that’s ever present in the air.
“You see this right? I’m not just in a mirage?”
He quirks his brow, head cocked to the side.
“She says it’s bad for her singing voice, refuses to perform on nights like this when the smoke is so thick.”
Leon lightly pouts.
“I see.”
He didn't mean to cut short his investigation for the evening.
And while one would assume it was because of the missing performance of their star. That she was either locked away in her dressing room for the night, or had already left and was enjoying her night off in a soothing bath within her seclusive home away from the club.
Rather, it was the sudden disappearance of the blond man from the pair of rich men. Only the dark haired man remained sitting in their usual spot. An unreadable expression on his face, while a shy girl was tucked neatly with him in his lap, and with am overflowing supply of drinks laid on his table. The girl entertained him, begrudgingly and clearly did not want to be in his presence.
The very next day the body of the blond man was found in an alleyway- one of the first bodies found closest from the club.
"Is it so horrible that a man like that was wiped away from the world?" I heard he would take those poor girls home and they would never be seen again."
"A horrible man like that?" "His presence surely would not be missed." "Good riddance."
Leon quietly inspected the body, no blunt force trauma was found. And with how often that man drank every night, his death was from his vices was no cause for concern. However the specifics of how the body was found were suspicious, as if he were placed in a public space to be found. That he was presented in a way to show that in his drunken stupor that he had finally succumbed to the poisons he ingested every night. His family was notified of his death, to which their suspicious reaction further grew Leon’s curiosity. That his death was not unsuspected, and that his death was a sure thing that was soon to come.
The coroner and other medical experts finally retrieved the body and Leon was sent away until more information was to be released.
The club was marginally quiet for the night, which was not unsuspected from the previous discoveries. A dead man so close to the club surely should have closed the doors for the night if it were any other establishment. But not here, regardless the music played on, performances all glimmer and shine. Not a single solemn look was found on any of the performers, not even on Helena who had an ever present smirk on her face as she expensed never-ending drinks for the patrons.
Leon sat with another martini pinched in his fingers, delicately rolling the stem between the appendages as he swirled the drink. It burned smoothly, familiar feeling and the comfort it brought with each sip warmed his stomach. But- he needed another drink.
“Need another?”
“Got something sweet and smooth?”
Helena rolls her eyes, seeing Leon with a lingering gaze at the empty stage, but she supplies him with another drink. In a short glass, the amber colour fills the bottom of the glass while a thin orange peel sits neatly against the inner wall. She slides it gingerly towards him, to which he carefully takes his first sip. It’s sweet at first, the citrus of the orange hitting him, then spice and then mellows out, going down even smoother. Each sip of it more addicting than the next with the sweet taste.
“Stuck on your case?” Helena crooned her head, particularly interested in his demeanour for the night. Never had she seen him so defeated.
“I suppose I have the word ‘detective’ written on my forehead?”
“Not many men like you can stare at a lineup of beauties and restrain themselves from their inner desires,” she discreetly poured another drink for another man and handed it to him before returning.
Helena leans in close, “you’re not like the other men here,” she whispers.
“I figure, if you’re not here for the drinks- or the women, you’re here for something else. And with that murder just the other night… your never ending presence here has had the girls riled up.”
Leon raises his brow only slightly… it was never announced that it was a murder.
“Do any of the girls have… anything suspicious about them?”
“Not that I’ve seen,” she merely hums. “And I see everything here,” she raises her brows knowingly.
Leon nods, sipping on his drink.
The crowd stills, signalling Leon to stare at the stage. The house lights darken as a spotlight glows the centre stage. Large billowing dark red curtains shield the stage, and slowly expose the figure behind the thick fabrics.
There she is. A dark red dress that glitters like embers in a dying fire, delicately hangs from her body, the soft accents of feathers that adorn her outfit makes her look ethereal, like an angel falling from the heavens. Her hair is glossed and pressed against her scalp, in waves like the ocean as it frames her face. Her signature red is pressed against her lips as she leans in close, humming her first note.
In Helena’s peripheral, she see’s Leon’s chest fall with a heavy exhale. Relief and excitement all painted on his face. His blues glimmer like a young boy in a toy store, entertained and dazzled by every shining spectacle he sees.
Ada sings her song, the soft delicate notes of the piano accompanying her as her voice takes over the rest of the club. The lights continue to sparkle on her dress, along with every swish of her legs as she slowly dances along the stage towards the piano- creating a flame on stage. Her eyes twinkle, looking out over the crowd as her sweet voice grows low and sultry, a saxophone harmonizes with her voice. She sings a romantic song, of a man who continually chases his lover to the ends of the earth, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. He lets himself burn for a sweet taste of her, if he’s meant to be basked in her warmth- he’ll endure any fire.
She finishes her song, the piano fading away until silence fills the stage. Applause roars, and again some of the calls more vulgar than others. The heavy curtains close in on her as she delicately leans against the dark piano. Her twinkling eyes only on Leon as she blows a kiss from the stage, her form disappearing in the darkness only moments later. Leon blushes, suddenly feeling as if he were singled out.
“A little mouse told me, she has her eyes set on you,” Helena’s voice perks up, but doesn’t seem to gather Leon’s attention. Her hand waves in front of him, finally shaking him out of his reverie.
“Mouse?” He finally responds.
“She’s much too young to be on stage, but she works a few nights here. Mostly tending to the girls.”
“Does she talk to all of the girls?”
Helena hums then nods.
“Let’s just say, she has her ears on everyone.”
The cacophony of noise returns after Ada’s performance ends, men’s bellowing laughs shaking the room and the music rumbling the stage. Leon eventually finds the little mouse scurrying behind a few girls.
“Miss Graham,” he introduces himself, polite hand stretched out towards her.
Her mousey blond hair is loosely tucked underneath a curious looking cloche hat with a large orange flower along the rim. She extends her hand upon realizing who the gentleman was.
“Call me Ashley,” she smiles warmly, sweetly and much too innocently for an establishment like this.
“What’s a little mouse like you doing in a place like this?”
“Rebelling against my father,” her smile turns more sly.
“Well, don’t overstay your welcome, otherwise you’ll be stuck here,” he warns her, much in the overbearing cadence of her strict father. Ashley reacts just as such, finding the conversation already so trite. Leon switches topics quickly.
“What do you know about your dazzling star?”
“Oh of course, you’re here for her,” Ashley resumes preening herself, a silver compact gingerly held in her palm.
“At least you have more luck than the others, at least she finds you… oh so enticing,” she mumbles with her fingers pressed against her bottom lip, smudging a similar red colour onto her lips.
“Delectable even,” the clasp of her compact closes tightly and neatly with a satisfying click.
“What?”
Ashley’s expression falls, her eyes rolling, “She fancies you.”
“Oh.”
He groans lightly, teeth digging into his bottom lip as he nibbles on the flesh, nervously thinking of his next move.
“And how would a man such as myself be graced with her presence?”
“For you?” Her eyes blink twice, ready to resume her previous activities as another gaggle of girls push past them in the hallway and onto the stage. Another blonde with her hair in tight finger curls across her forehead calls for Ashley’s aid. Ashley finally replies to Leon's question, simply giving him a curt nod towards Ada’s dressing room.
“Ask her.”
/
Leon’s courting had gone more smoothly than he expected, a simple and polite question had granted him permission into her private dressing room. The constant rumble and noise of the club continued on behind closed doors, while Ada remained sitting casually in her dressing room chair. Her gaze follows him around as he politely finds a place to sit.
“May I?”
“Such a gentleman,” she pursed her lips, her hand gesturing to him in a flourish to take a seat on the velvety chaise lounge.
He sits neatly, feet together as he exhales a sigh.
“Well you already know my business, and I know yours-” he starts, but is promptly interrupted with an impatient click of her tongue.
“Is that all you care about? Detective Kennedy?”
“Leon.”
“Oh, are we already on a first name basis? We’re moving so quickly my darling,” she teases and leaves her seat, meeting him on the expanse of the chaise lounge.
He humours her with a soft chuckle, noticing their thighs pressed together on the seat.
“I won’t kiss and tell, tell me what’s on your mind handsome,” she lures him in with a soft moan, one indicative of giving him a show more than a genuine response.
“You don’t have to perform with me,” he reassures her, gently grasping her gloved wrist and lowering it back down onto her thigh.
“All business I see,” she exhales, her shoulders dropping.
“I sure know how to pick men I can’t have,” her heels are muffled on the carpeted flooring, but still produce a soft muted sound. Ada stands from the seat, her hips swaying as she returns to her vanity. Her gloves slip from her hands, exposing her delicate fingernails painted in a thin layer of red lacquer.
“You could have any man in the world,” he exhales a laugh, but his words are underlined with contention.
“Not anyone worthwhile,” she whispers, her lips softly pouting. Her fingers gently splay out one of the pale white bouquets of flowers she received as one of her many gifts. Each orchid and lily is in full bloom; indicative of an expensive arrangement from an unsuspecting suitor- one that would never see her as more than just the spectacle. The unattainable beauty she exudes is of what men crave, but the real woman behind the facade- they would never meet her.
Ada sighs, plucking a smaller bud from the flourish of flowers and returns to the seat. With a gentle hand she tucks it into the slim pocket of his suit jacket. Then fixing his bowtie and leaned in for a chaste kiss on his cheek. The red of her rouge immediately appearing on his skin.
As swiftly as before, she returns to her vanity, Leon’s presence in her room suddenly stilted. As if he were no longer welcome. He bows his head, figuring he had lost his chance at learning more about the ever elusive Miss Wong. As always, he let his career stop him. Mustering up the courage needed, he steps away from the chaise, meeting her reflection in the mirror. He takes a few moments, innocently watching her as she gently parted her hair away from her face.
“If I may, I’d like to see you again.”
“You may see me on stage,” she eyes his reflection, her ring finger readying to tap against her bottom lip, smoothing the red colour.
He treads carefully, his skin reddening to match her lip print against his cheek, “just the two of us?”
Ada’s smile returns, her finger still ghosting along her plump red lip.
“Come see me after my next performance.”
/
It would be three days until her next performance. If all things were to go smoothly, and he so wished that things would. Leon continued to visit the club, interviewing a few of the patrons. Some more pliable to talk than others, all of course after a few drinks had made their way onto their tables and into their hands and down their throats.
The rest of the club familiarize themselves with him. Some were still curious about his occupation, Ashley still thinking he was he simply a strange but somewhat handsome man. While most assumed he was some high roller. Only Helena and Ada had come to the conclusion that he was a detective, and that was all that remained who knew. At least that's what he hoped.
The blond man’s death was still an open case; to Leon anyways. As the coroner had already written off his death as a “natural cause” from excessive alcohol consumption. But he wasn’t convinced. Leon continued to try and pry into the dark haired man, asking him questions about his late friend. But he was met with nothing but stern looks and a rude shooing away gesture of his hands. No amount of truth could be bought from him. His other option was to ask the girls and the band. They knew nothing concrete about the men, still all of it speculation and rumours.
Leon’s notebook had filled pages upon pages of notes and scribbles, questions and queries on who to compares testimonies with. But he found himself more interested in the woman on the stage than the disappearing men.
Ada greets him with a soft smile, letting him into her dressing room while locking it behind him. He presents her with a modestly strange gift, a single rose pinched between his two fingers, with the thorns preemptively cut down to prevent injury.
Her brows raise, curiously looking at the single bud.
“To replace the flower you had gifted me, and… the colour reminded me of you,” he smiles warmly.
She exhales a soft sigh, gathering the rose and deeply inhales the soft floral scent. Her smile returns as she places the single rose into a slender glass vase on her vanity, right next to her favourite lipstick.
The red rose’s colour deepened before it grew dark, aging with time. It remained on her vanity, as the rest of the bouquets she received were continually glanced at then promptly thrown out at the first sight of wilting. But Leon’s red rose remained, ever present each time he revisited her dressing room.
The rest of his case was dead end after dead end, he was surely about to give up soon. Another case gone cold. But his visits to the jazz club never ceased, nor did his visits to Ada’s private dressing room.
The adrenaline after performing in front of a crowd had never left her, always giving her an intoxicating high and exhilarating rush from all those eyes on her. But it rarely compared to the feeling of his soft blues that laid his claim on her. Seeing her after her performances soon turned into seeing her before as well. The door of her dressing room routinely locked after he enters.
Rumours in the club flew around like the feathers from the girls headbands, one little claim drifting away from one ear to another.
“Rumor has it-” That the elusive and untouchable singer- who had never taken in a lover, had finally chosen a suitor. A relatively polite and somewhat boring, but at least handsome boy. He had a smile too sweet for some, and his stark difference in personality from the rest of the men had often times lead him to sticking out like a sore thumb.
But somehow he had the her wrapped around his finger.
“Have you heard the rumours?”
She remains quiet, soft little presses of her lips trail along the sensitive spots along his neck. His body shivers and shakes, his skin rippling at her touch. Her ear carefully hears for every soft exhale and struggled inhale from his red stained lips.
“Hmm? Rumours?” She murmurs, relaxing against his chest, her fingers perched delicately on the lapels of his clean white dress shirt. His dark navy, almost black suit jacket had long been stripped away from him, laying in a pile of clothing along her dressing room floor. Trails of red blotches appeared like a bruise from his lips down towards his chest.
His words are sharply cut off, jaw tightly clenched as he stifled his noises.
“Still so shy,” she coaxes another groan from him, lifting herself up and away from him. His brow raises, always intrigued by her.
She dances to a melody only she can hear, swaying her hips slowly towards him- but never letting him touch her. Her silk robe decorated with delicate patterns of peonies and butterflies shifts slowly away from her body, revealing the creamy coloured of her negligee underneath. The thin fabric drapes over her frame, each movement of her body showing off another soft curve.
“What am I going to do with you?” His hands carefully settle onto her hips, feeling the soft expensive texture against the pads of his fingertips. He truly hadn’t known the mess he had gotten himself into, deep in the darkest parts of Chicago whilst having a woman who looked like angel above him. Her body sways to the unheard song, showing herself off to him.
Letting him see her. He swallows, fingers fisting the rest of the fabrics and pulling them away from her.
“Will you… be mine?”
“I should be asking you that,” she breathlessly exposes her chest. Her naked body appears before him, his eyes darkening at the sight of it. The soft curves of her body, the pert tips of her nipples. The roundness of her breasts as they hang near his face. Her slender neck and his kisses that bloomed there.
He quietly leans in, laying soft kiss after soft kiss against her warm skin.
“You’re so warm,” he mutters between his peppering of his lips.
His mind wasn’t so innocent as to not know what to do with his body, but in practice he carefully consults her for approval. Kissing, then seeing her body react. Touching and accessing how she reciprocates. And each one met with overwhelmingly positive approval.
“Leon,” she coos softly, her voice desperately wanting more.
The space along the chaise was merely enough for the both of them. He lays her underneath him, setting her up against the plush side and strips her of the rest of her clothing. His heart beats out of his chest, while he rapidly sucks in breath as if the air were slipping away from the room. He stands still, suddenly halted as she coyly stares up at him whilst her fingers stripped him of his dress pants. The rest of his clothing is stripped away, leaving him bare like her.
He lays pressed along his forearms above her, legs pressed between hers. His fingers explore her naked body, memorizing every curve and spot that erupts a soft moan from her. His eyes always meet hers, watching each flutter of her lashes, each rise of her breasts with every shaky breath. Their lips touch for every kiss.
He carefully parts her thighs, his cheeks immediately flushed at the sight between her legs, “You’re so-"
She softly purs, smile on her face at his desperation.
Ada parts her thighs further, showing off her glistening folds and drags her finger against herself. It’s too sultry and seductive, even uncouth for some; but from her, he simply is in awe. Finding her all the more desirable even as she presses the wet tips of her fingers against his bottom lip. Dragging the flesh out and down as she plucks at his chin, leaning him close for a kiss. She tastes herself on him, silently wishing she could have more of that. But she continues to hungrily pull on his swollen lips, earning another whining moan from him.
Their lips part, her eyes on him as he fists at his cock, lowly grunting as he presses the head against her. He shudders, relishing at her warmth that envelops the tip.
He enters her slowly, groaning against her lips. His chest shakes, his back subsequently falling as he snaps his eyes shut. Never had he felt pleasure like this, overwhelming and intoxicating, better than any drug. She hugs him perfectly, even as he pushed himself until he was flush with her. She pathetically whines, her cheek pressed into the pillow beneath her head. She felt incredibly full with him inside of her, filling her and pressing against her walls with each shallow thrust of his hips.
He’s a careful lover, that much she deduced. A little encouragement was all he needed with a tight squeeze of her thighs around him.
He groans her name like a prayer, his body responding to her with faster thrusts.
She hadn’t expected it, but she cared for him deeply. Her body too receptive to him and falling apart to the pleasure just as quickly as she climaxes around him. She calls for him, clasping her hands around his face to lay a loving kiss on his lips. His eyes never leave her face, even as it contorts in her desperate release and as her red lips curl upward into a pleasure filled smile, all the while her brown eyes darken at his gaze.
He follows not long after her, barely being able to stop himself. He spills himself partially inside of her, the rest coating outside of her and dribbles down her thighs.
Leon’s grin widened at the sight beneath him. The woman he thought so unattainable was now laying with her legs wrapped around him, coy smile still on her face, asking for more with a longing kiss.
/
It was risky, they both knew that. It never stopped them each time she needed to perform, she needed her good luck charm. Each time they made love before her performances; she sang as she always did, but she exuded all the love and affection she needed to genuinely portray her love songs and ballads. Each one more powerful as if she sang her tender love words to every man and woman in the club. But Leon knew it was only for him, her songs always ending with a kiss she blew into the crowd, but always in his direction.
His confidence grew each time he made love to her, the ways in which a husband would love his wife. But he knew he could never wed her, at least not now. He simply basked in the afterglows with her wrapped around his body, her legs still twitching and shaking.
“You’ve made a mess of my dress,” Ada pouts, her red colour smeared slightly into the corner of her lips.
“We’ve made a mess of each other my love,” he chuckles.
“The rumours would be confirmed, wouldn’t you say?”
He hums.
“When you return to the crowd, my red lips pressed into your neck, staining the pristine white of your collar… they will know,” she narrows her eyes at him, taunting him to retaliate with his words.
“And when you return to sing to the crowd...” he pauses, eyes trailing between the wet mess underneath her dress. Eying the pink warmth of her sex as his seed continues to spill out of her.
“- I wonder if they’ll know....”
“Know? About what?”
“That you act so untouchable on stage, singing like an angel," he contemplates his words carefully, the darks of his eyes expanding until his blues were simple little rings.
"I wonder- what they would think, if they knew you were just filled with me, with my seed spilling down your legs... underneath this very dress…”
“You’re so vulgar, Detective Kennedy,” she purs his proper title, but her voice is just as shocked with an exasperated gasp.
“You’ll be late, let’s hurry,” he encourages her with a much more gentle smile, his cadence returning to politeness and order as he carefully eases her onto her feet. Guiding her towards her vanity and sits her down so she can ready herself. He fixes himself up, using the rest of the reflection in the mirror to adjust his suit and bowtie. Soon becoming a proper gentleman again while she returned to becoming the star of the show.
She shines and sparkles in that very dress, concealing everything underneath. While a shimmering array of pearls wrapped delicately around her neck, hiding away at his love bites.
His red rose now sat neatly in the tiny vase on her vanity, aged with time as it forever remained in its spot. The rest of the space now only holds delicate bouquets from Leon alone.
Ada performs, just as beautifully as her previous performance. The crowd falling into the fantasy, stuck in a trance as she sings her last note. Her cheeks blush, coy smile suddenly appearing on her lips. Her hips twist in her seat, still feeling his warmth settling inside of her. The audience doesn't question the way she looks, that the red of her cheeks are from her performance.
They would never know.
The curtain draws closed, kiss blown to him. And then the lights dim.
/
A whirlwind romance was the last thing Leon had expected on his visit to Chicago. And while the notes from the case hadn’t been revisited in weeks, he still stayed on the lookout for any new information about the area. Eventually he had to return to his hometown, the case gone cold for now. It would only be in the subsequent weeks, that men would begin to disappear again, seemingly without a trace.
In his quest to learn the truth, he had- and it was a truth that he no longer wanted to partake in. That even in his line of work, each and every crime wasn’t so black and white.
Rumours continues to spread that men had continued to disappear in that area. And that the dark haired man was found just like the blond man one was. That he had seemingly died in his sleep whilst sitting in his Rolls Royce. His body was inspected, just as poorly as the previous one- the only thing of note was the scent of bitter almonds that wafted up from his corpse.
Leon had written to Ada, letting her know that he would not return to her for several months- that he needed to return to his detective work.
But this case, he would return to whenever he could- just so he could see her again.
She simply replied with a letter, written with very little words- wishing him well along with a red press of her lips along the parchment.