Chapter 76: Chapter Seventy-Six

Frankie nodded at the bouncer standing guard outside the Blue Lounge. Despite his never entering the establishment before, his face was still well known enough in this town to allow him entry with ease. The front room of the lounge looked inauspicious, just another swanky restaurant. Low lights illuminated the bar extending across the back wall and the three bartenders tending to the various patrons. Round tables were artfully arranged around the space, filled with everyday folk catching up with friends, unwinding from a long work week, or meeting for a first date. This room was not what he’d come here for.

He walked toward the right side of the room where thick velvet curtains hid a secret foyer. Here, two heavyset guards waited with crossed arms and shrewd eyes. They looked at him and then at each other before giving each other a synchronized nod. As if the nods were a mechanism of themselves, the door behind them started to open. The men placed a palm on the door and pushed it the rest of the way open, allowing Frankie to walk through without breaking stride.

Frankie entered the true Blue Lounge and paused at the railing overlooking the room. Music pulsed. The blue lighting that gave the establishment its name lent the lounge a subtle, seductive ambiance. Similar to the front of the house, a long bar ran the length of the back end. Unlike the front room, blue velvet booths circled tables where girls in various states of undress danced while men in tailored suits watched. The sides of the establishment had private rooms with similar booths and tables, but featured dark, heavy curtains that could be drawn to heighten intimacy.

“Ay, oh!” an obnoxious voice called from down the stairs, drawing Frankie’s attention.

Frankie smiled down at his old friend who waited with arms wide as Frankie made his way down the stairs. Johnny Valencia grasped Frankie in a tight hug and pounded on his back.

“Good to see you, man,” Frankie said, pulling away and smacking Johnny on the shoulder.

“Me? It’s been, what, ten years?” Johnny asked, flinging his arm around Frankie’s shoulder to lead him further into the club.

“Round abouts,” Frankie guessed.

Johnny hadn’t changed a bit. He looked now as he did when he’d led Frankie to Chicago at fourteen with dreams of becoming kingpins. His hair was just as bleach blond, his eyes the bright green of money that he always promised they would be rolling in, the wide grin that could sway any man, woman, or child to buy into what he was selling. As they walked, Frankie surveyed the establishment that had brought Johnny great success and acclaim.

“I see you’re doing well for yourself,” Frankie observed as he watched a notorious Chicago Irishman place a wad of hundreds in the g-string of a tall brunette with enormous cans.

Johnny laughed. “Yeah, too many drug lords, pimps, and homicidal maniacs in this city, dude. Too many people to fight with and fight over. This,” he said, waving his other arm around his kingdom. “This is where the money’s at. Here we are, our own private sanctuary, my friend.”

Johnny shoved Frankie into a private room meant for high rollers. There were several velvet armchairs, three tables with stripper poles, a private bar with a bartender, and two doors that he knew led to rooms with beds for even more private interactions.

“Your room?” Frankie guessed, nodding at Johnny’s two associates already lounging in their own chairs with glasses in hand.

“Our room,” Johnny amended.

Frankie settled into the farthest armchair with a deep sigh, while Johnny took the chair beside his. Johnny snapped his fingers and the bartender came forward with a glass of whiskey for each. Johnny took a deep swig and stared at Frankie while nodding his head in obvious anticipation.

As if he couldn’t contain his curiosity anymore, Johnny raised his free hand and smacked the arm of his chair. “Well?” he practically yelled. Frankie raised a brow. “Oh, don’t give me that look. I haven’t heard from you in years, and then you text me out of the blue for a meeting?”

Frankie smirked and laughed through his nose. He set his glass down on the side table and shrugged. “Maybe I missed you.”

Johnny barked out a laugh. “You missed me?” His laugh turned into a full–belly ordeal that forced Frankie to roll his eyes. “Come on, Frank. Even if I didn’t own the information highway of Chicago, do you think I wouldn’t have heard about what you’ve been up to?”

“What exactly have I been up to?” Frankie asked, treading carefully.

It was true. The Blue Lounge was known as more than just a spot for evil individuals to get their rocks off. The girls under Johnny’s employ were used for gaining and distributing knowledge… and it all funneled through the man on his left. It was one reason he’d reached out in the first place.

“Gloria Rubanov?” Johnny pushed. He snorted and took another hefty swig of his drink. “I knew you were stupid, but I thought you’d at least learned your lesson when it came to crossing that family…” His eyebrows shot up. “And Sergei for that matter. Then you go and get yourself smack in between them for a girl, no less?”

Frankie picked up his drink and sipped, buying time and trying to calm his rage at how Johnny thought of his woman as just “a girl.” As he sipped, the curtain opened and four women strolled in, each masked and wearing lingerie. Frankie glared over at Johnny, but his friend’s attention was on the women coming in. Frankie looked back at the group. One woman stood in front, flanked on either side by two. As the two flanking women separated to attend to Johnny’s associates, they revealed the fourth. At first, he felt shock zap through his bloodstream and straighten his spine. Anger rolled through him next, followed by a deep lust that settled in his abdomen and burned.

The woman was wearing high heels that elongated her legs, covered by sheer thigh-high tights held up by a lace garter that matched the sheer bralette and g-string panties. His eyes moved over her dark brown hair flowing in curls down her back that didn’t quite match her light skin tone. As she strolled confidently toward him, the corner of her mouth lifted in a smirk. The rest of her face was covered by a familiar delicate black lace mask with red rhinestones. He’d seen the mask many times. The first time was in an establishment similar to this one. At that establishment, he’d chased the wearer backstage, ripped the mask off to reveal her honey-brown eyes and shoved it in his pocket. He’d later hidden it at home so he could relive the moments he’d spent watching her pleasure herself before his very eyes.

Gloria straddled Frankie’s legs, placed a hand on his shoulder, and slowly lowered herself to his lap. Frankie desperately gripped his glass with one hand and the cloth of the chair with the other. There were rules in the Blue Lounge. One of them: You are not allowed to touch the girls unless given explicit permission. When she’d snuck in, she’d obviously learned this rule as she tugged her lower lip between her teeth to hide the satisfied smile she felt at this particular form of punishment. She ground her hips against his growing erection, dropping her weight down more fully into his pelvis. Frankie snarled, knowing two could play at this game.

He separated his knees, causing her butt to drop between his thighs. Rather than deter her, though, she gasped in an erotic way that forced him to suppress a possessive growl. Her hand caught in his shirt as she flung her head back, elongating her chest and neck. She used her grip on his shirt to slowly draw herself back up, sliding the barely covered heat of her pussy against his dick as she did. The mask could hide her identity, but it did nothing to hide the fact that she was thoroughly enjoying herself.

Johnny laughed beside him. Frankie could see another woman grinding her ass on him out of his periphery, but he didn’t dare take his main focus off the vixen doing her best to break the record for time it took to make a man cum in his pants.

“I thought you said if I put a girl in your lap you’d ‘castrate me before she got the opportunity to lay a hand on your skin’?” Johnny repeated in a mock voice that sounded eerily similar to Frankie’s own cadence.

Gloria’s hands, which had been moving tantalizingly down his torso, froze for a moment and her eyes lifted to his face. Her lips pursed slightly until she mouthed, “Good boy.” Before he could return her smirk, she spun on her heels. She placed her palms against his thighs and rolled her bare ass against his lap.

“What can I say?” Frankie murmured, his voice clogged as he fought the urge to undo his zipper, move the string of her panties aside and offer her his own form of punishment for disobeying him by leaving the hotel. “There’s something about this one.”