Dear Valentina [The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel]

☆ Chapter Twenty: The Burlesque of Venus

"Women instinctually know how to
 nourish each other, and just being
with each other is restorative." 
― Tanja Taaljard

CHAPTER TWENTY.      THE BURLESQUE OF VENUS.

☆

      The Venus Flytrap, nestled in between irregularly shaped buildings on the south end of the Belmont neighborhood, was lit up against the midnight blue canvas by lime shaded and violet colored lights, violently bright and outlining a blinking sign of an opening-then-closing mouth of the sharp-toothed plant. Radiating through the windows of the brick building were similarly vibrant hues, accompanied by the thumping beats of music. Judging by the clusters of people standing outside the club, along with the pairs of twos or threes that would hustle inside at a time, it was a pretty popping club. In Manhattan, cops would sniff around these types of establishments like blood-thirsty hounds, eager to catch a comedian spouting crude words (immediately, her mind drifted to Lenny) or a female performer sexily stripping off her clothes inch by inch. 

      But in the Bronx, almost anything flied as long as everyone minded their own business.

      Valerie took a cab to the Little Italy community after stopping off at the Bronx Park East subway station and taking a car ride back around, exiting at the corner of Beaumont Avenue. The almost forty minute drive from the city had thoroughly deprived her of social interaction and food, so the blonde arrived feasting for entertainment, decent drinks, and an appetizer at least. Still, she managed to satisfy herself on the way here, smuggling a pocket-sized paperback of The Once and Future King in her purse to read, but now she was just itching to see Jeannie and get the night started. It was a strange rush of excitement that made her feel youthful and unburdened.

      The blonde paid the driver generously, before stepping off to wait at the curb of the block, fairing a little distance between herself and the other outdoor patrons. Oddly enough, she felt like a teenage country mouse anxiously waiting for her high school sweetheart to appear so they could have their big date in the Big Apple. The thought was absurd, but surprisingly amusing. 

      A couple of moments later, another taxi drove up to the side of the road, and in walked out Jeannie. By far, the thirty-something year old was one of the most gorgeous woman Valerie had ever seen that wasn't captured on film on a Hollywood set. When she had first met the young dancer, in the early days of the tour in 1952 when she was just a journalist following the coattails of her older sister's successful career and Jeannie was a fresh member of Shy Baldwin's crew, Valerie could distinctly recall a moment of clenching panic where she questioned her sexuality on the spot. Thankfully for the sake of not adding more complications to her life, the urge to make-out with the older woman didn't extend any further than that, but that didn't eviscerate her admiration for her beauty.