Favours for Favours

by RadioDoe

Summary:

Alastor makes a new friend while working overtime at his new job.

Set in 1915.

Chapter 1: Working Overtime

Black high heels clicked along the narrow cobblestone street while she hugged the old red brick walls, under the cast iron balconies her golden curls bobbed and bounced this way and that as she walked at a brisk pace. Her puce overcoat swaying with her stride when she passed by his alcove, giving him a strained but brief glance.

The vast multitude of hanging plants above her locks swung listlessly in the evening breeze, their chains creaking peacefully, if perhaps a little creepily. The calmness of the twilight in direct contrast to the barley contained panic on her face.

Lottie has been given strict instructions on her path “home” that night. And to her credit she was sticking with it meticulously, probably out of fear he mused.

It wasn’t long before he shuffled past, shirt half untucked and unhemmed trousers dragging along in the soot. His flat cap was askew and the smell of bourbon was heavy in the air. He was obviously following her, it was very… sloppy.

Alastor took one last long drag from his cigarette before discarding it, falling in step behind the pair. The trio quietly trailed each other down to the main road as the last of the golden glow of day began to fade.
She would normally have lost him by now, but this time she deliberately let him see her get on the electric railroad train, little did he know this was not her usual streetcar. Alastor boarded the carriage behind them, he wasn’t overly fond of losing sight of his quarry like this. But he trusted that there was still enough people around that the cad wouldn’t try anything.

The rickety wooden bench creaked as Alastor sat down and settled in, he had placed himself where he could be sure to keep a close watch on who got on and off the car in front. As the dim light slowly disappeared below the horizon, the young man let his mind wander slightly.

He wasn’t fully comfortable with taking these jobs, preferring to keep out of the underworld’s business as much as possible. But there would be a decent drop in it for him and he did really need the cash right now.

Since the recent loss of his position at the Telegram Office, his situation had become quite… lean.

His old employers had gotten rather upset with how their daughter had been interacting with him. Alastor had had no intentions toward the girl whatsoever, she had simply had a childish crush. But apparently his Kind’s words weren’t worth anything…

That had stung, he never would have pegged Mr Dodd for the type. Honestly, you think you know someone. He supposed he should consider himself lucky fired was all he got, he thought bitterly as he sifted uncomfortably in his seat, unconsciously fiddling with the bowtie around his neck.

The old family trade wasn’t exactly doing great either. Those evangelical proselytisers on their soap boxes had really ramped up the rhetoric lately, so no one wanted so much as a cough tincture these days. Any requests they did get were done in secret, even the harmless and mundane ones. Funny how they could go from pillars of the community to practically ostracised in little more than a century.

He’d had to go from occasionally filling in for a friend on the violin on fancy riverboats, to playing the trumpet in some of the seediest of juke joints in town nearly every night. And now, piano at a mob affiliated burlesque house. And it still wasn’t enough, he sighed. So here he was, risking everything.

He supposed some level of involvement was unavoidable, the club’s owner being so well “connected” and all. At least he did seem to only be offering him “overtime” that fit with his MO, so it had all worked out well so far.

There were worse people to have caught him in the act he supposed.

The tram shuddered to a halt along with his thoughts as his “overtime” disembarked from the car in front.

Alastor stepped out into the darkness and fell back in step as his coworker turned down an ally and began to wind her way through the rows of shotgun homes. Happy families could be heard inside, siting down to their evening meals. Ensuring that quarry would not strike early for fear of alerting them.

He rounded the last house just in time to watch the blond disappearing down a swampy boardwalk, her pursuer close behind. He dipped further back as his shoes hit the planks, not wanting to draw his target’s attention with his footsteps. He could just make the pair out though the Spanish moss as they proceeded down the trail ahead.

Lottie suddenly vanished around an overgrown corner and his quarry sped up to regain sight of her, but when he did she was gone. There was only one path here so he hustled down it in search of her. Alastor meanwhile kept his steady silent pace.

He heard the showgirl emerge from the bushes behind him as he passed her, she scurried back up the path into town where her ride would be waiting for her under a bridge. That had been loud, he wished she had waited a bit longer to do that, her nerves must have gotten to her. But no matter, his target was far too drunk to hear it anyway.

Alastor casually removed his gloves, pinching the fingers and stashing them in his coat. He also rolled up his sleeves as a precaution. He had no intention of getting his hands dirty, but if he did, blood was a lot easier to wash off his skin than his clothes.

He retrieved a small ebony object from his waistcoat pocket, cradling it in his hand.

Alastor’s prey finally came to a stop at the end of the path. He stood dumbfounded on small pier jutting out onto the bayou, confused at where the object of his “affection” could have gone.

He silently flicked out his knife, the blade glinting in the reflected moonlight. Stealthily picking up the pace for the last few steps as he saw the drunkard start to turn around...

A practiced hand shot out and grabbed the pervert by the hair in a vicelike grip, yanking the man’s head backwards as Alastor quickly slit his throat. His beloved blade slicing right through the larynx, gliding like a hot knife through lard. The beautiful crimson droplets spraying out onto the still water before the foolish lout could even register what was going on.

Inky black ripples spread malevolently across the swamp in the moonlit night as Alastor forcefully held his victims leaking neck over the edge of the pier. The pathetic man struggling in a soundless scream as he drowned in his own babbling blood, falling to his knees.

A crazed vindictive smile spread across Alastor’s face as he revelled in his victory. His pray gurgling helplessly. The boor’s desperate twitching slowing, before ceasing all together as death claimed his soul.

Still holding the man by the scruff of the neck, Alastor used his coat pin to prick his own finger. He then closed his eyes and concentrated, calling upon the power within. He saw his eyes glow green though his lids as dark magics drew forth from the shadows to shrink the man down to the size of a child’s dolly.

He knew perfectly well that this was a perversion of his gifts, Mother always warned him away from the dark arts. But where had that gotten her, and it wasn’t like he wasn’t already going to go to Hell at this point anyways. Besides, if what was being taught from the pulpit was anything to go by, he was always predestined for it.

With a slight heave Alastor threw the shrunken corpse over the reeds, it tumbled into the pitch-black water where it was immediately snapped up by the waiting alligators that had been drawn to the scene by the blood in the water. He grinned warmly as he watched them rip his victim’s corpse apart, eviscerating and devouring every last scrap of evidence for him.

Alastor pulled a wad of moss from a nearby tree and cleaned his knife as best he could with it, he’d disinfect it properly once he got home. Throwing the blood-soaked vegetation into the water, he briskly turned on his heel to head back on up the path. Satisfied with a job well done.

Chapter 2: A bit of a Mouthful

Perhaps it was just the thrill of the kill putting him on edge, but from the moment he had returned to the club Alastor had had the distinct feeling that he was being hunted.

He was Just locking the storeroom door labelled “Maintenance,” when he heard someone coming down the sub-basement stairs. He quickly checked that his payment was securely hidden in his breast pocket before turning around.

He was just in time to spot the tiniest pair of beaded Louis heels on the end of some very curvaceous calves appear in the stairwell. A voluptuous and short statured blonde woman appearing soon after. Dressed rather fancifully, not to mention scantily, in a feathered one-piece.

Alastor recognised the sparkly costume as being a part of the club’s own ensemble. And while it was true that she worked here too, she was decidedly not supposed to be down here. “Can I help you ma’am?”

“Oh! oh my, well if it isn’t the pianist. You know you’re even more good lookin close up, a real treat for sore eyes. I need some help in my dressing room you see, and I think you may be just the man for the job.”

Alastor felt his eyebrow raise, he didn’t for one second believe that she was surprised to see him. “Oh, I’m not sure how much help I could be, I’m just a musician.” One that was trying to go home, it had been a long day.

“Yeah, but you work part time in maintenance too, don’t you?” She motioned to the plaque on the door he’d just closed. Dam, she had him there. “Oh it won’t take long! I promise.” She waved her hands around dismissively. “I just need someone tall. A real bonus that you’re dark and handsome too.” She giggled, curling a lock of flaxen hair in her finger.

Urgh, fine. If he was just getting something down off a high shelf for her, he supposed he could do that before he left. “Well of course sweetheart, do lead on.”

He followed her up the stairs, the gold tassels of her outfit waving gratuitously in front of his face with every step. He noticed she swung her hips in what seemed like a rather unnecessary manner as she climbed.

Alastor didn’t generally pay that much attention to the ladies of the club, most tended to come and go. But he was aware that Harry had gotten a new girl in from Chicago lately, apparently as a favour to someone.

Miss Mouthy, people were calling her. The story was that she’d upset the wrong people and had had to make a fresh start of it, supposedly this wasn’t the first time she’d been moved either. His bandmates had described her as a bit of a Dumb Dora, one who constantly needed someone to clean up her messes. He suspected if she was able to get other people to clean up after her, she was likely not that dumb.

She ushered him into her changing room, the first thing he noticed was that there were no high shelves in this room. No bookcases, not wardrobes, nothing. Everything was either on open coatracks or in baskets on tables.

A click of a door being locked caused him to spin around in alarm, he almost went for his knife but paused when what he was met with was the small woman leaning against the door with a half lidded expression in her eyes, as she slowly slid the key down into her cleavage.

“Can’t have anyone disturbing us, now can we.” She whispered in a hushed tone. Alastor blinked in confusion, this Showgirl sure was acting weird.

“…No, I suppose not.” He decided to play along until he could figure out her angle, and his next move.

“Here, have a pew.” She purred, gesturing toward a padded bench along the wall. Alastor obediently sat. He could easily kill her he supposed, but he doubted he’d have a job much longer if he did. Besides, she wasn’t really his MO, at least not that he was aware of.

She sauntered over to him, taking a seat next to him on the settee and leaning toward him. “So, I take it Lottie made it home safe tonight? That was mighty swell of you to walk her home like that.”

Alastor made an uncommitted noise.

Hmm, she was definitely not supposed to know about that. No wonder she’d gotten herself in such trouble back in the Windy City. If she hadn’t been brought in by the Boss himself, he’d suspect her for being a plant.

Unperturbed by his lack of response she scooted along the time worn brocade towards him.

“I’ve notice ya playing the piano.” She crooned. “Tickling those delicate ivory keys while I preform, I can tell you’re very skilled with yer hands.” She was entirely too close at this point. “I’m sure you’ve noticed mwah too…” He had not. “Mwah, that’s French is it not? You speak French right?”

He was pretty sure she had meant moi, but whatever. “Erm, not really, at least not fluently anyways.” Alastor was running out of room between him and the armrest to back away.

“Oh…” She mercifully stalled in her advances, a look of disappointment on her face. But it didn’t last long. “All the girls in the troupe said you could speak Louisiana French?”

Urgh. “Ah, that’s not really the same thing.” He looked around frantically for an exit strategy as she began creeping in on his personal space once more. She was so close now he could probably just snatch the key before she could do anything.

He realised she’d noticed him staring at her bosom as he contemplated it, for some reason this seemed to please her.

“Oh, I see. Well perhaps you can teach me then? You’ll find I’m quite skilled with my tongue.” She battered her eyelashes like she had something caught in her eye. A younger Alastor would have asked her if she was alright, but he had since learned that this was supposed to be attractive. Though he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why, she looked like she was having a stroke.

He was halfway through trying to figure out how to politely decline teaching this strange woman how to speak his language, when he suddenly realised that wasn’t what she had meant at all. Ohhh… she wanted sex. Kaka, why was he always so slow on the uptake with these things.

The Showgirl, for her part had apparently grown tired of waiting for his response and decided to be a bit more direct. She loosened the straps of her outfit, letting her shoulder caps fall to reveal her ivory skin.

She sighed melodramatically, running her pearls between her fingers. “I gotta be honest with ya Mister, I’m afraid I’ve gone and led you up here under false pretences.” Noo, you think? He thought sarcastically. “Truth is, I Just wanted ta thank ya for lookin out for us gals, such a gentlemanly thing to do.”

“Ah, well… You’re welcome of course”

“And I was just wonderin if there was anyway I could… pay you back?” She wiggled her bare shoulders back and forth, the tip of the key just visible as it rolled between her ample breasts.

“Oh er, The Repairman has already paid me actually.” Alastor replied lamely as he raked his brain on how to handle this situation. Should he make an excuse and take his leave? Or…

“Hmm, I don’t think I’ve met him yet.”
Huh…either she was really bad at fishing for who the Fixer was, or she really was that dotty.

“But naww, I had something else in mind you see. Something a little more… personal.” She placed a hand on his thigh and it was like a kerosene lamp was set aflame in his brain. The flaxen blond leaned in close. “Somethin a bit more entertaining, than some wad of mouldy old kale I’d wager?”

Adrenaline still pumping though his body from his kill, it was all too eager to respond to her hand placement. A hand that was so close that she noticed the movement. A knowing smile spread across her lips as Alastor blushed. “What do ya say handsome? Care for some fun?”

Alastor gulped, he couldn’t deny the idea of having ‘some fun’ sounded rather enticing right about now, but he didn’t have a lambskin on him and he was emphatically not ready to become a father.

He’d been encountering a lot more loose women since he started working at the Burlesque House, and was still getting accustomed to the lifestyle. But dam if he hadn’t been enjoying it. Unfortunately he still wasn’t in the habit of being prepared yet.

“A kind offer my dear, very tempting indeed. I would like to take you up on it, but I’m afraid I don’t have... er, my, my…” His words died as she rubbed his inner leg.

“Not to worry good lookin, I’m sure we can improvise.” With that she slid off the couch to kneel down in front of him. Small delicate hands on both his thighs now, she looked back up at him with a sultry smile. “Why, I’m more than happy to give you a demonstration of my linguistic skills.”

Alastor’s thoughts ran wild, he’d never had this opportunity before. If what he’d heard about the act the showgirl apparently had in mind was true, he’d be an absolute fool to pass it up. His manhood apparently agreed with that assessment, a small tent rapidly appearing in the front of his trousers.

He put on his best suave expression as he brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. “I would be absolutely delighted, my dear.”

She maintained eye contact with him as a mischievous look ignited in her eyes, petite hands reaching forward to fondle his manhood. Alastor’s control slipped as his member twitched at her touch, probing fingers running up his crotch to massage the growing bulge in his pants.

He bit his lip as he squeaked out a moan, his lady companion giggling as she leant forward into him. Firmly pressing her well endowed chest into his groin as she situated herself between his legs, tracing her hands up his thighs.

Her fingers slid under his waistcoat as she swiftly undid his belt, raking her nails further up his abdomen before dragging them back down to undo his fly. Wiggling her breasts against his undercarriage the entire time.

Alastor spiraled at the brazen exploration, watching her eyes practically light up when he saw him. He’d been told he was fortunate in that department, but he had no frame of reference. She seemed to approve though, as she wasted no time in becoming acquainted with him.

The showgirl wrapped both hands around his organ and started slowly pumping, coaxing his all too eager length out of its’ sheath. Alastor groaned, closing his eyes and leaning against the brick wall behind him as her tongue slipped along the crease of his end.

She lowered her lips into a sensual kiss of his tip. Alastor shuddering when they parted, rolling and pursing around his dome. She swirled her tongue across his head, then began to rapidly flick it along the underside of his shaft as she took more of him into her mouth.

Alastor gripped the seat below him as he struggled to breath normally, saliva washing over him like a warm blanket. The showgirl buried in his crotch seemingly determined to swallow him whole.

He panted at the ceiling as he felt his sensitive head bumping up against the back of her throat as she bobbed up and down. She paused briefly, before angling her head slightly and he saw stars at the delectable sensation of his tip sliding down the back of her throat.

Oh… Oh fou, she really was quite talented wasn’t she.

Her hands were cradling his sack, rhythmically massaging his balls contents as her tongue darted out between them with the showgirl’s undulating head. The feeling of her oesophageal muscles fluctuating around his tip sending him over the edge.

He felt his insides tighten, he knew from all the sordid tall tales the other band members liked to spin that he was supposed to give her a warning at this juncture. He tapped her on an exposed ivory shoulder, but instead of withdrawing like he was expecting, she rammed him down her neck instead.

Alastor threw a hand over his mouth to prevent his surprised cry from alerting anyone that might still be nearby. He squeezed his eyes shut as he climaxed, clenching his teeth together in an attempt to keep quiet.

She sucked and gulped messily as his cum went shooting down her gullet.

He was unable to contain a soft whimper as he lost himself in the intoxicating sensation of her swallows, silky throat muscles rolling around his quivering member as she greedily ingested every last drop of semen that he pumped into her dainty little mouth.

He had no idea why, but the thought of her downing his spend was a massive turn on.

Alastor’s hand fell away from his still gasping mouth to lie limply at his side. His heart was beating so hard in his chest he thought it might crack a rib or two. He numbly registered his spent member sliding out of the warmth and a pair of arms being crossed in his lap. He looked down to see a very smug expression indeed.

“The names Mimzy, by the way.” The Flaxen blonde practically gloated, clearly very self-satisfied with the effect she had had on him.

“Alastor…” he panted weakly, then with more strength “A pleasure to be meeting you Mimzy. Quite a pleasure.” He said as he offered the lady his hand to help her to her feet.

Notes:

Thank you to Viv for letting us all play in her world. <3

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of Red Deer Games and Radio Plays