The year is 1950, when the Golden Age of Hollywood is at its peak and the hate of Communism is rampant in American society. Caught in the middle, are two unexpected lovers.....
She is a wickedly handsome seductress with a tragic past and a hunger fo...
Michael paced back and forth in the living room of Ethel's apartment as he waited for her to finish prepping. Saturday night had finally arrived and she agreed to join him for the evening. He let his eyes leisurely travel over her apartment. Truth be told, it was a complete dump. He could tell that she tried to keep it looking decent, but it was in such awful condition, that it was past any faze of redemption. It was obvious that a man was living there with her, due to the strong smell of pipe tobacco, and the big men's overcoat that hung on the coat rack by the door. He assumed it belonged to the man she claimed was her boyfriend. It seemed like a rather odd situation, but Michael wasn't one to meddle.
His head shot up as he heard the bedroom door open and the soft click of Ethel's shoes reverberating against the linoleum flooring. His eyes started at her sequined heels to the train of her gown, up the curve of her hips, around the circumference of her petite waist, and lastly, to the contoured swells of her exposed décolletage.
He gazed in awestruck wonder as he shivered with delight. He massaged the back of his neck and circled her slowly. Standing close to her ear, he let his stubble graze her slender neck. He could hear her breath skip a beat, uneven and erotic.
"I apologize for the mess, I tried my best to make it look decent, but this place is just so old..." she rambled on nervously, but he didn't hear a word of it.
"You look ravishing...I don't believe the dictionary even has enough words to capture your beauty" he said with admiration in his baritone voice.
"I'm sure you've said this same exact line on dozens of women..." Ethel answered, giving him a formidable side eye.
"Maybe I have...but I never say things that I don't mean. Just accept the compliment, my love, because it's true."
Ethel quickly stepped away from him and cleared her throat. "Thank you" she said rather curtly.
"Shall we?" Michael held out his arm for Ethel to take, and together, they stepped out into the night. He raised his hand in the air as a signal for his driver to open the doors of the sleek Rolls Royce that was parked by the curb.
"This can't be his automobile..." Ethel thought to herself doubtfully
"She's sexy, isn't she?" Michael laughed as he ran his fingers along the smooth exterior of the luxury vehicle. "She a 1933 Phantom III, I got her about two years ago. I call her Rose..."
"You might as well hitch the car, you speak so highly of it..." Ethel taunted.
"That's not possible" he paused with a serious look on his face. "I enjoy real women too much!" he burst out in jovial laughter.
Ethel raised an eyebrow at him as he helped her into the car. He gently took the delicate train of the gown and placed around her feet so it wouldn't get caught in the door.
"So where is this party supposed to take place?" Ethel asked out of curiosity.
"Just wait and see, darling..." he chuckled as he lit a cigarette
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