Jazz Age Ch. 08 - 11

The dressing room was cluttered with odds and ends and not at all clean-looking. A photograph of Helen Morgan hung at an angle at the top of one of the dressing table mirrors.

"You must have money," Libby said as she sat before the mirror repainting her lips.

"Money?"

"Yes, you must be rich. The champagne in this place is twenty- five dollars a bottle. Is that your husband out there? He's not a gangster, is he?"

"He's an attorney."

Libby laughed. "Maybe that's the same thing."

Nancy managed a nervous smile. "I think my husband is honest."

"Sure."

"You know a lot, don't you? I mean for someone so young."

"I'm twenty-four and that's not so young, is it? Anyway, I don't mind about your husband. I don't care that he's a rich lawyer. I don't care one way or the other. Last weekend I went to a party in Connecticut and the people had a house with twenty-six rooms. Now that's big, isn't it?" She turned and looked at Nancy, her red lips pouted into a perfect Clara Bow mouth.

"Yes," Nancy said.

"You don't mind if I undress, do you? I hate to be in a dressing room with my clothes on."

She rose up and she peeled out of her dress as Nancy sat and watched her. Nancy thought she'd stop at the underwear, but she removed everything, even her stockings. Nancy was stunned to find herself so quickly confronted by Libby Holman's naked body. She had ripe pear-shaped breasts with dark nipples, round hips and long beautiful legs. At the joining of her thighs was a nest of dark hair, raven-colored and full enough to jut outward.

Libby noticed where Nancy's eyes were fixed, and as she stood there naked she laughed softly:

"Hey, you're looking at me."

"I'm sorry."

"I don't mind it. If I minded it, I'd keep my clothes on. You can look at my little puss all you want."

"You're a beautiful girl."

Libby smiled and turned to look at herself in the dressing table mirror. She cupped her hands under her breasts and lifted them to point her nipples at the ceiling.

"A bit heavy in the upper story."

"No, they're perfect. You have a perfect body."

"And in a minute you're going to try to kiss me."

Nancy's heart pounded. "Yes."

"I think I knew that when you walked in here. Well, don't do it. We can't do anything here because somebody might barge in on us."

"Have lunch with me tomorrow."

"Mmm, yes."

"I'll reserve a table at Sardi's."

"Yes, I love that place."

"Twelve o'clock?"

"Yes, twelve o'clock. Maybe you'd better go now. I guess your husband is waiting for you."

Nancy rose up and kissed her. She trembled as she tasted the dark lipstick on the girl's full lips. She briefly ran a palm over one of Libby's full breasts.

Libby smiled and pulled away. "Tomorrow. Let's save it all for tomorrow."

* * *

The next afternoon they met at Sardi's. They chatted awhile, and then Nancy quivered with excitement when Libby suggested they go to her apartment in Beekman Place.

Libby wanted to walk but Nancy insisted on a taxi.

"Oh, all right," Libby said with a laugh.

When they walked into the small apartment, Libby said: "I hope you don't mind the mess." She smiled at Nancy, batted her dark eyes at Nancy as Nancy offered her a cigarette out of a silver cigarette case.

"It's a lovely little apartment," Nancy said.

"The hell it is, it's a dump. I just hope someday I'll have something better than this."

"I'm sure you will."

Libby cleared some clothes off the tattered sofa, and then she went to a cupboard to find a bottle of Scotch. Nancy sat down on the sofa and she glanced around the room at the pictures on the walls. Helen Morgan again. Helen Morgan was all over the place. There were also photos of Ruth Etting and Helen Kane. But Helen Morgan seemed to be Libby's favorite torch singer.

Libby came back with two glasses of Scotch. "There's no ice."

"I don't mind," Nancy said.

"Here's to the girls."

Nancy smiled. "Yes."

"I don't mind men, but most of them are boring and they don't know much about female anatomy."

"Yes, I agree."

Libby snickered as she sat down on the sofa. "But you do know, don't you?"

Nancy blushed. "You like to speak frankly, don't you?"

"Why not? Don't you like it?"

"Yes, it's refreshing."

"Refreshing."

"Yes."

"Well all right, let it be refreshing."

"You're teasing me."

Libby laughed. "I shouldn't do that because you're older than I am."

"Ten years older."

"Not old enough to be my mother."

"No."

"And if you were, it wouldn't matter anyway, would it?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Kiss me, will you? I can see you're dying to kiss me and it makes me nervous when you just sit there."

Nancy moaned as she fell against the girl. Nancy hadn't been this aroused with a woman in a long time. She pressed her mouth against Libby's until Libby made a sound of amusement and pushed her away.

"Easy, darling."

"I think I'm drunk."

"Well I am too."

They laughed together.

"Guess what." Libby said.

"What?"

"I took my panties off in the kitchen."

"Oh dear."

"Curious?"

"You're a hussy."

"How's this?"

"Perfect."

"You saw it just last night in my dressing room."

"Yes, but not like this. This is much better."

Libby looked down at her exposed belly as she ran her fingers through the dark nest.

"I haven't had as much experience as you think. I'm just a girl from a small town in Ohio."

Nancy trembled, her eyes on the hairy fig between the girl's thighs. "Oh, you're much more than that." She leaned forward and kissed Libby's mouth again.

"Come on," the girl said softly. "Why don't you do me now? I'll finish your drink while you do me."

Nancy was on her again, this time with her face between Libby's widespread thighs. She kissed Libby's belly and the insides of her thighs and then the slit of the dark-haired sex. She nuzzled into it and started licking at the wetness.

Libby muttered her approval as she fondled Nancy's head.

After awhile Nancy used her fingers the way she'd been taught by her teacher at Bryn Mawr. Libby leaned her head back on the arm of the sofa and she cried out with pleasure.

"Ecstasy," Libby said with a laugh when she recovered. "You're sure good at it."

"Thank you."

Libby seemed happy and they drank some more of the Scotch. Before long Libby coaxed Nancy to an encore and Nancy's head was once again between Libby's thighs.

Libby raised her legs and spread them wide and shouted at the ceiling: "Oh God, I love it!"

***

They saw each other nearly every day during the next few weeks. They'd usually meet somewhere in the afternoon, most often at the English Tea Room, and then before long they'd hurry to Libby's apartment in Beekman Place. Nancy bought her presents, clothes, jewelry, a new Victrola for the apartment. She met Libby's friends, the actors and singers and dancers that Libby liked to be with.

Libby came to two parties at the Desmond house. She sang, of course. She came to the parties with some of her friends and one of the friends would play the piano while Libby sang song after song. She drank heavily at the parties. She liked to tease Nancy and sometimes the two women would be openly affectionate toward each other, Nancy with an arm around Libby's waist, Nancy kissing Libby's cheek. Nancy's husband seemed unconcerned. If Charlie noticed anything, he said nothing to Nancy about it.

When Nancy and Libby were alone together, Libby was always the one who controlled things. It was Libby who decided what they would do and what they wouldn't do in bed. Libby did only what pleased her. "I'm not a lesbian," she said. If Nancy enjoyed doing things to Libby, that was fine. Libby was willing to lie back and offer her body to Nancy and take pleasure from it. But Libby had no interest in doing anything to Nancy. She had no interest in Nancy's body. She was amused by Nancy's tiny breasts and narrow hips. "Jesus, you could dress as a boy," Libby said. She teased Nancy, kept Nancy at bay when Nancy was dying to have Libby on the bed or on the sofa. She'd suddenly change her mind about what she wanted and how she wanted it. She was a hard drinker, and when she was with Nancy she never stopped drinking, not for a moment. She would drink while Nancy made love to her and Nancy came to accept it. Sometimes Nancy would have her face between Libby's thighs for an hour while Libby finished one drink after another. "Just keep licking my puss," Libby would say.

The affair put Nancy's mind in a whirl. She tormented herself. Was she in love with Libby? The girl was constantly in her thoughts. The only part of the day or night she cared about was the time she spent with Libby. The affair with the girl had brought a marvelous excitement into her life.

And when they were together Nancy feasted. She couldn't get enough of Libby. She lavished mad kisses on Libby's mouth, on her breasts, on her sex. Nancy's joy was to push Libby over the edge, to make Libby have orgasm after orgasm in response to her mouth and fingers.

But then at the end of three weeks Libby went away to an estate on Long Island for the weekend and Nancy received the first inkling that Libby's interest in the affair was flagging.

Nancy telephoned Libby on Sunday, and when after a long delay Libby finally came to the telephone, she made it clear to Nancy that she didn't give a damn one way or the other about how much Nancy missed her. "You don't own me," Libby said. "Nobody in this world owns me."

* * *

Nancy had a night of turmoil. She kept thinking about Libby and what Libby had said and she was unable to sleep. In the morning she rose up determined to see Libby and set things right again. She waited until the afternoon and then she went looking for Libby at the Gallo Theater. They were dress rehearsing a musical called "Rainbow" and when she walked in Libby was on the stage singing "I Want a Man".

Nancy was immediately caught up in the excitement of the theater. She recognized the young Oscar Hammerstein down in the front row. Once again she was captivated by Libby's voice, by the girl's sex appeal. The show was a Civil War drama and Libby looked ravishing in a black 1860's dress.

After Libby went off-stage, Nancy went back to find Libby's dressing room. She was thankful Libby was alone. "You don't mind, do you? I've been very unhappy."

"Unhappy about what?" Libby said.

"Unhappy about us. I couldn't sleep last night after that awful telephone call."

"Then maybe you shouldn't have called."

"I'm sorry."

Nancy found a chair and sat down. Libby was still in her 19th century costume, her ripe breasts bulging out of the low cut neckline. She saw where Nancy's eyes were at and she made a clucking sound of amusement.

"You're always hungry for it, aren't you?"

Nancy blushed. She thought she could patch it up now. "You know how I am."

Then Libby said: "Listen, nobody owns me. I don't want to be owned by anyone. I told you that, didn't I?"

"Don't you care about me?"

"All I really care about is my career. I told you that too, didn't I?"

"Yes you did."

"Then believe it, won't you?"

As Nancy looked at the girl, she was no longer certain what she felt. Was it love or lust? Libby was right when she said she was always hungry for it. "You make me feel awful."

Libby sighed. "I've got to get out of this dress, so why don't you help me?"

Now Nancy was in good spirits again as she helped Libby unhook the dress and step out of it. Libby wore only a thin slip as she sat down at the dressing table to remove her makeup.

Nancy kissed the top of Libby's head as Libby sat at her dressing table. "Are you going on stage again?"

"No, I'm finished," Libby said.

"Come out with me. We'll go anywhere you like."

"I wish I had a drink now. You don't have anything with you, do you?"

"We'll get it outside."

Then someone knocked on the door and Libby called out and a tall blonde came in. "Am I breaking anything up?"

"Nancy, this is Louisa Jenny," Libby said. "I was out at her place over the weekend."

She was a strawberry blonde with bobbed hair, tall and beautiful, dressed in a tailored suit with a cut that made her look almost like a man.

Louisa smiled at Nancy and then walked over to Libby to kiss Libby's mouth and possessively stroke Libby's shoulders. "Hello, love. I got the boat in Palm Beach like I said I would. I had to promise Daddy I wouldn't smash it up."

Libby laughed and looked at Nancy. "You should see that boat, it's a block long. Her father could buy Manhattan if he wanted to. And her mother is a du Pont, what do you think of that?"

"How nice," Nancy said. She was too stunned to say any more, and soon after that she walked out.

* * *

"What a lovely tureen," Mrs. Littlewood said.

This evening the Littlewoods were dinner guests at the Desmond house. Grace Littlewood touched the large silver tureen with her fingers. "This is new, isn't it?"

"Yes," Nancy said. "This is actually the first time we've used it."

"It's lovely. Don't you think it's lovely, Arthur?"

Arthur Littlewood mumbled something.

Caroline Littlewood sat between her father and Charlie Desmond. Caroline had come without an escort this evening and she seemed pleased about it. "I don't like silver that much," Caroline said.

Mrs. Littlewood frowned. "You're too young."

"Mother, I'm old enough to know what I like. It's a beautiful tureen, but I just don't happen to like silver."

"Oh dear."

Nancy gave an embarrassed laugh. "I think I'll give the tureen to Caroline as a present."

"I didn't mean to be offensive," Caroline said.

"Oh, I know that."

"It's just that Mother and I have different tastes."

"We certainly do," Mrs. Littlewood said. "These days I refuse to go to the theater with Caroline."

"You won't see a musical with me."

"I don't like these new musicals, I just don't like them. I don't like to see disgusting things done on the stage."

"Libby Holman is in a new show again."

"Who's that?"

"Oh Mother. That's the girl we heard singing at the Casanova Club when we were there with the Desmonds."

"Oh yes, that one. Well she's not Nora Bayes, is she?"

Caroline laughed. "I think Libby Holman is smashing."

Nancy said nothing. She spoke to one of the maids and she had the empty soup tureen removed from the table.

Chapter 10: Pagan Love Song

During the first week of December of that year, President Coolidge went to an Army dispensary to check on his teeth by having his teeth X-rayed. The Presidential Physician James F. Coupal reported that the presidential teeth were in excellent condition.

During the second week of December a son was born to Irving Berlin and his wife the heiress Ellin Mackay. The boy was named Irving Berlin, Jr.

During the third week of December the Littlewoods of Park Avenue hired a new chauffeur.

"It's too long," Mrs. Littlewood said.

"What's too long?" Mr. Littlewood said.

"His name. His name is too long."

So the new chauffeur, Finnegan, had his name shortened to Finn by the Littlewood family.

In addition to large summer houses on Long Island and Cape Cod, the Littlewoods had twelve rooms on Park Avenue, two Swedish maids and an old French poodle. The two maids shared a room off the pantry. The poodle slept in the kitchen or sometimes behind one of the sofas in the living room. It was understood that Finn would sleep at his home somewhere in the Bronx and arrive at the Littlewood apartment at six o'clock each morning to begin his duties.

Arthur Littlewood was sixty-five years old and he was a native of Pittsburgh. He'd worked first in the railroad industry and then in banking in the state of Pennsylvania. At the age of twenty- five he'd inherited one hundred thousand dollars from his maternal grandfather and he invested the money in railroad stocks. At the age of thirty-seven, in the year 1900, he arrived on Wall Street with nearly one million dollars in cash in his account at the Chase National Bank. He bought himself a minor partnership in a small investment company specializing in munitions exports. At the age of forty he married twenty year old Grace Millar of Philadelphia. They had a daughter named Caroline three years later in the year 1906. By 1920 Littlewood's fortune had grown enough to allow him to purchase a serious piece of the large investment bank Dawson Petrie and Company. He stated at that time that he would not shift his capital again, and by 1928 he had not yet done so. Messrs. Dawson and Petrie were in fact considering adding the name Littlewood to the name of the firm.

Mr. Littlewood gave the new chauffeur, Finn, precise instructions concerning his job. He was to wear at all times the customary black chauffeur's uniform with a visored cap. He was to arrive at six o'clock each morning at the Park Avenue garage where the Littlewood car was kept and have the car standing in front of the Littlewood apartment house at 6:15. He would drive Mr. Littlewood to Wall Street and then return to Park Avenue to have the car and himself available to Mrs. Littlewood. In the evening Mr. Littlewood would be driven home in a company car and there was no need for Finn to return to Wall Street. When Mrs. Littlewood had no more need of the car, she would indicate this to Finn and he would return the car promptly to the garage and go where he wished. On special occasions he'd be asked to work in the evening and he'd be paid extra for it. He would have free days on the second and fourth Sunday of each month.

The car was a 1927 black and grey LaSalle limousine. The car had been chosen by Mrs. Littlewood and it was understood the car and the chauffeur were to be at the service of Mrs. Littlewood any time she needed them.

"She's an active lady," Mr. Littlewood said. "My wife is an active lady."

"Yes sir," Finn said. He enjoyed the idea of driving about town in an almost new LaSalle limousine. He did not yet know what else was involved.

* * *

Finn the chauffeur quickly learned the various routines of his job. He'd have the morning run down to Wall Street with Mr. Littlewood in the back of the LaSalle. Then he would drive the LaSalle back to the Park Avenue building in which the Littlewoods lived and either park it on the street nearby or in the garage around the corner. Mrs. Littlewood would usually not come down until late in the morning and that meant Finn had a few hours free every weekday. Of course if Mrs. Littlewood had an appointment somewhere and she wanted the car earlier, she could always telephone the garage and ask him to have the car ready. Finn passed the morning hours in the garage playing penny poker with several other chauffeurs. When there was no telephone call to Finn, his orders were to have the car waiting in front of the Littlewood building at 11:45.

The first few weeks that Mrs. Littlewood came down to the car were uneventful. She was always well dressed. She would nod and smile at Finn as he held the rear door of the car open. Each day he had a whiff of her perfume and a glance at her silk- covered legs as she climbed into the rear of the LaSalle. She was the richest lady he'd ever worked for and he guessed the mink coat that she wore cost more than he earned in two years.

Nearly every day Mrs. Littlewood had a luncheon date somewhere with a group of lady friends. Sometimes after lunch he would take her to a museum, either the Metropolitan on Fifth Avenue or one of the old historical museums downtown. Mrs. Littlewood would be inside for one or two hours while he waited outside in the limousine.

Finn ran errands on occasion. He'd be ordered to pick up a package at a shop and bring it to the Littlewood apartment. He sometimes walked the dog when the doorman of the building had no time for it. Mrs. Littlewood would give Finn a dollar when he returned with the poodle.