50 Sexcapades [Erotica Compilation] novel Chapter 18

"Gentleman, welcome to Lucy's."

The stunning mistress of the house, Lucy Lovely, welcomed our group into her establishment with a provocative purr in her voice- fixing her feline green eyes on each of ours with a warm smile.

We tipped our hats in thanks, exchanging grins as we passed the threshold into the swanky Upper East Side loft. Stepping into Lucy's was like crossing through a different dimension- stepping out into an alternate universe where rules didn't exist and debauchery had no limits.

The atmosphere and lighting contributed to the sultry vibe of the parlor, and the air was fragranced with a balanced mixture of aphrodisiacs. Feminine laughter and men's conversation hummed through the air just an octave higher than the classic song currently playing on the gramophone.

For the men that patronized this business, Lucy's never failed to deliver a night's escape from the monotony of everyday life. Top shelf liquor, beautiful women, great conversation, and a feathered bed no longer constituted a raunchy dream at night but were very much real and available at the touch of a finger here.

Tonight was intended to be a special one. The Americans had achieved victory in the World War, and my fellow soldiers and I were finally back in our homeland to settle and enjoy the spoils of our success. The eight of us here were part of a specialized unit that had received a National medal and even recognition from the President. I certainly wanted to put on a happy face and carry on with a normal life, leaving behind the dark memories of France, vicious combat, and watching men die by the dozens all around me. If only it was that easy.

But I couldn't. I was damaged and there was no telling how long it would take to heal. My friends believed booze, sex, and wild parties would make it all better. And for them, perhaps it did. But my healing would be a long, arduous journey that temporary pleasures could not possibly accelerate.

I accepted a whiskey neat from a passing server and found an armchair to settle into for now. I was not in the mood to partake in tonight's celebration, but I didn't want to be alone either. Despite the thousands of us deployed to France during the last year, I had spent a great deal of time in near isolation. I was one of the few sharpshooters in the rank that could conspicuously and precisely execute a man from hundreds of feet away. Thus, most of my days during the War were spent in an unknown hiding spot, silently and mechanistically taking down sharpshooters from the other side. I could go days without speaking or seeing a single soul except for my target. Being alone for an extended period of time, even at home, was just a heavy reminder of that.

So I put on a poker face and exchanged pleasantries with those sitting nearby as my friends introduced themselves to their chosen female companions for the evening. I doubt I would be partaking in that kind of companionship either. I was a handsome guy and stood at 6 feet and 4 inches. I was nearly normal, except for my one glass eye that I'd had put in after losing the real one in a surprise explosion- unfortunately, I was also naturally quieter and my mannerisms were awkward in a way that did not exactly attract interest. Though, unknown to me at the time, I had already caught the attention of a curious young woman just across the room.

* * * * *

It was 9 pm and quite apparent that the night's adventures were in full swing. The swell of chatter and tipsy giggles grew louder and louder, making me glance at my bedroom door in a flush of nervousness and excitement all at once.

I was the new girl on the block, quite literally, having moved from Wisconsin to New York City with nothing more to my name than a bus ticket, a small envelope of cash, and aspirations of becoming a dancer on Broadway. It was 1920, the start of a new decade and a new Isabella. My family and friends back home thought I was half-mad for spontaneously relocating to a big city, knowing no one and having nothing- but I was always one for spontaneity and I planned to put up a good fight for my own slice of the apple.

I was approached by Lucy Lovely herself, who was coming out of Bloomingdale's with her arms full of shopping bags as I stood on the sidewalk peering through the glass- wondering what on earth the lovely emerald-colored dress on display must cost. I noticed her peering at me and nearly gasped when I registered her face. I had no idea who she was, but she was one of the most beautiful older women I'd ever seen in my life- and so, so chic!

To my shock, Lucy approached me that afternoon, and gingerly touched the bottom of my chin, turning my head slightly as she examined me. She did this all without uttering a word, which both frightened and fascinated me.

"You're a natural red?" she finally asked, tilting her head with curiosity as she lightly stroked my long auburn curls.