Black Historical Romance 1940s Ch. 01

***

He couldn't stay away from her. He thought that she might get tired of seeing him if he made himself too available. But before he recognized what was happening, his feet, knowing that she would be at that nightclub, led him out of that hotel he was staying at over the weekend, and right back into the club where he knew that gorgeous little Thelma would be singing tonight.

He took his seat near the lip of the stage, again. Although he'd just seen her this afternoon, she was more adorable than he remembered, even though she was in the same evening gown for a third time. He finally realized that this was the only evening gown that she owned. It was probably all she could afford. A stage wardrobe was much more expensive than regular clothes. He wanted to buy her a gown for every night of her engagement, and deliver them to her doorstep. That would make her smile, and flash those adorable dimples. He still hadn't touched them, even when he'd shared those sweet kisses with her. He was falling for her. He'd never kissed another with such tenderness. It was so odd, the respect he felt for her, when he felt sort of the opposite for many of the women that he knew of elite standing.

There was something about her, something so special as he watched her from the stage. It was her style, her way. Again, she was shy so she didn't communicate with the audience much, but she communicated with her voice, and she commanded that band, with a swivel of her hips, a twirl of her hand. She held them in the palm of her hands, and in that moment he envied her for having found her purpose, and her destination in life so early. He was still searching. Sure he wanted law school, but not the particular path that his father had lain out for him. But she belonged here. She needed to sing like she needed water and air.

And he wanted her to need him as well, the same way she needed that crowd.

Finally she noticed him.

"My biggest fan is back again. Does he have any requests," she said, holding back her ear as though trying to hear him.

"Just keep singing like a songbird gorgeous," he called out loud. It was out of character for him, the display of affection, but he was falling for her more, moment by moment.

She blushed profusely after he said it, and he wanted to pull her into his arms and hug her and kiss her again.

She ran through a few more tunes, and he was sure, half a pack of cigarettes at the wings of the stage.

When her set was over, she ran back to her dressing room again.

He went to the bar, ordered a cognac for her, and a neat scotch for himself, taking the bounty back to the dressing room.

"You again," said the bouncer as soon as he approached the vicinity of the dressing room.

Apparently Thelma had not made this bouncer aware of just how much had changed since the previous week, and it unnerved him.

"I just came to deliver.....the lady....some refreshment after the show," explained Grant. His voice cracked a little. Sure he fenced, was an avid tennis player, and was fairly solid, and rugged in his own right, but this bouncer looked like he should be a heavy weight boxing champ.

"Oh let him through you big brute," said Thelma. He heard giggling, and figured she was back there with Marlinda.

She'd already changed, she was a fast mover, this time into something he rarely saw the women in his circle wearing, a very cute crisp pair of slacks. To make the look feminine, she was wearing a very ruffled top and cute low heeled shoes. She looked scrumptious. She was more than cute. She was sexy too. He wondered if she was aware of just how sexy she was. Maybe she'd been shy and homely before, but she was vivacious and busting with life now.

"I'm glad you came back to see me tonight. I didn't know you would come back again so soon. I'm flattered! I was just sneaking a quick smoke before I head out there and watch the other bands," she added softly, shyly.

"Take your time, you can smoke. You were great up there, you probably need to wind down before going to watch some other bands, after you give off so much energy. And I brought that cognac you asked for...the first time, when I came to see you, remember," said Grant.

"Yes I do, I said come backstage to see me anytime but bring a cognac. This is heaven sent," she said chuckling, taking the drink and the c0cktail napkin, sipping profusely.

He chuckled at the spirited way she sipped the strong liquor.

Clearly she could handle her alcohol.

"You're so darn cute Thelma. I like your slacks," said Grant, kneeling next to her to drink his own neat scotch.

"You're darn cute yourself GW. I'm surprised you said that...I don't know, lots of men have problems with women wearing slacks. But I think that as long as a woman dresses them up right, and she still looks like a woman, they are very attractive and comfortable," added Thelma.

He knew it was wrong that he liked the slacks because he could see even more how curvy her little legs were, and how round and shapely her little backside was, and that was probably why slacks were not popular with women, most didn't have the shape for them. She was a woman who had the shape for slacks, but my oh my how they teased and taunted his male nature. Maybe, he thought roguishly that the modern woman wore slacks at her own risk, they may cause men to be tempted beyond all restraint.

"I hope I'm not wearing out my welcome Thelma, I know I wasn't supposed to see you until tomorrow, but I couldn't wait to see you again. Really. I hope I'm not intruding," said Grant.

"You aren't wearing out your welcome. I missed you too. You would never be an intrusion with me or my friends. We did plan to hang out most of the night tonight, but you are welcome to join us," said Thelma, and she nodded towards Marlinda.

"Yeah, not just me and Thelma, there's a whole gang of us, Thelma's whole band, and we are going to cut a rug. Having Thelma's new friend Mr. Moneybags around is going to make it more of a gas," said Marlinda.

"I don't want to intrude on you and your friends, I don't want to be an imposition, I didn't think you would have plans. I should have known you would have plans. You are a very popular young woman, because you are so charming," he added finishing his scotch.

"You're not an intrusion. You're my gentleman friend, and any gentleman friend of mine is welcome around all my associates, so long as he treats me right," said Thelma.

Thelma was very gracious and welcoming to him now that she trusted him. He liked that about her.

"God Marlinda, hurry up and finish that gin, you drink so slow," said Thelma, starting another cigarette.

"No, I don't drink like a fish like you, is the problem, I need time to digest my liquor," said Marlinda.

He chuckled uproariously at their antics, and playful bickering like sisters. Thelma was a fascinating creature. He was beginning to adore her.

Thelma took Grant around and introduced him to everyone. There was a sweet shyness in her introduction that warmed his heart.

Her friends were a rag-tag group and a colorful cast of characters. Mostly women, a few men, but most of those men were in her band or other music associates. She took her usual table near the back, and the band members, plus Thelma and Marlinda proceeded to play cards.

They asked Grant if he would like a hand, but he said he would rather watch. Thelma, besides being an avid golfer was quite the poker player. Although very lady like, she also teased and cajoled those male opponents in her band, told them they were holding trash hands and she knew it. She was actually the one with the trash hand, so she fooled them and basically won a game by bluffing.

Then after she won, she didn't want to play anymore, refused to give her band mates an opportunity to win their money back.

"I get sick of you bluffing Thelma," said the bassist.

"I know, and if she ever wins, she never wants to play another hand. She'll loose five times, want to keep playing with those sad little puppy dog eyes. The minute it starts to look good for her, and she starts winning she takes her money and runs. Darn Thelma," said her pianist.

"Oh quit bellyaching, and just give me my two dollars," she quipped.

They all rolled their eyes and sighed, and gave her the two dollars.

But Grant could tell that the band members were charmed by her as well. But the difference in the charming is that the band mates were charmed by her platonically, but Grant was adoring Thelma romantically.

With the card game over, they listened to the next band.

After the last band played it was time to close the shop.

"Any other spots we can hit," said Thelma.

"No, not now, those cops are out thick since the last time," said Marlinda.

"Oh. Right. I wish there was some other place we could hit up," said Thelma.

"I've got a hotel out there. On fourth, you and your friends are welcome to come back there for a bit. I've got a record player and a mini bar," said Grant yawning.

He was having the time of his life around Thelma and all of her craziness, and excitement, with her fun loving personality, but she was also wearing him out physically. He would have been in bed by now if she was not entertaining him.

Still he could never tire of the gorgeous creature and her fascinating personality. Besides, having her in his hotel room, even if she was with her group of associates was better than not being around the cute little thing at all. Maybe he would get a chance to kiss her again. As late as it was getting they would be able to drive straight to their chosen second apple pie date together, without having to part company over night.

They couldn't leave their car at the club, and because of this, they all piled into the car of one of the band mates. Actually there were too many of them to fit in the car, so Grant said,

"I can walk, it's really not that far, by the time you find a parking space and get situated, I'll be at the lobby,"

He was overjoyed when Marlinda looked at him, conspiring and said...

"Everybody can fit. Thelma can sit in your lap," said Marlinda.

He knew what a deep effect she had on him when he tingled with pleasure just thinking about holding the sweet little thing so close to his own body, even if it was only for two or three blocks.

"I....sure, as long as it's OK with Thelma," said Grant, smiling at her.

"I don't mind at all," said Thelma. She was looking down at her own feet and blushing. His face flushed pink with joy now, because he knew that the thought of sitting in his lap had her tingling with pleasure too.

So they all squeezed into the Basisst's car. It was clear that they all hitched a ride with him so they could stay out later than the midnight train, the last train into Brooklyn. Grant sat down on the right hand passenger's seat.

He realized that Marlinda knew that he had quite a bit of affection for Thelma. He whispered to her.

"Thank you,"

And she said

"Not a problem. She's really cool. She's really laid back and funny. Just don't lie to her. Be upfront. Be a man," said Marlinda.

Grant nodded.

He took both of Thelma's tiny hands and helped to escort her into the car.

Grant's legs were so long, and she was so tiny that he struggled to make her comfortable. And finally the wriggled around, and she ended up seated between his legs, quite an accidentally intimate positioning.

Now he could really feel what a tiny little slip of a creature she was.

And she was soft, and her hair smelled so wonderful.

"I...um....don't want anything to happen to you dangerous while he's driving," he added, and this was an excuse for wrapping his arms tightly around her waist.

"Thank you for protecting me," she added coyly linking her hands over his.

"Thelma, you're so soft," he whispered quietly, pressing his fine featured nose into her hair and inhaling the sweet scent of her hair.

She wore her hair so short, she probably washed it every day. In fact her hair was probably shorter than his own. But it looked so cute on her, and it looked soft as a baby's hair to the touch. But he wouldn't dare muss up her hair without her permission. He could tell she paid careful attention to each of her natural ringlet curls, and sculpted her hair with pomade. She wore it very feminine although the length was boyish.

"Are you smelling my hair Grant," whispered Thelma giggling.

"I guess I am," he said backing up from her hair a bit,

embarrassed. He hadn't realized it was so obvious.

"It's OK. I just hope it smells good," chuckled Thelma.

"Never smelled anything so sweet before," he said, and there was almost a dreamy quality to his voice.

***

Yes, she'd wanted to sit in Grant's lap, but now that she was there she couldn't think straight, the feeling of being in his arms was overpowering, the strong solid warmth of him, the old spice smell, and again the butterscotch candies. He must inhale those things.

She wanted to taste his lips again, to savor the flavor of those candies, but she wouldn't dare do it in his car in front of all of her friends.

She could feel his breath along the nape of her neck and her ears, and it made her tingle everywhere. And then he was smelling her, which had a sensual context of its own. He held her so tight it was as though he wanted to inhale her. This was what passion was like, and it was quite an elixir indeed. It almost felt like getting high.

It was strange that she'd been high on reefer many times before, but never intimate with a man. Leave it to her. She always approached things in the wrong order. Her lack of experience coupled with liking him so much made her feel so nervous around him.

He shifted his body and discretely pecked her ear. Just a little nibble, but she felt those tingles course through her body and it made her uncomfortable. She was frantic to put a little distance between them. She didn't want to melt in a puddle right now, not necessarily because of her friends being right in the car, but also she felt so green and naïve, and she had a true distaste for feeling foolish, after having spent so long as homely Thelma.

She tried wriggling free of his grasp, but when she wriggled free, he seemed to want to hold her tighter.

When they were one stop light away from his hotel, the bassist, who was driving, started to want to run the yellow light, then thought better of it, and so slammed on the breaks. As this happened, her buttocks went sliding back into his manhood.

It was the first time she'd ever felt a man's erection, and while she was flattered, she was also frightened of how fast the feelings were flourishing between them and turning heatedly sexual. And she wasn't one to be easily ruffled, but she let out a startled little

"Oh my,"

And he whispered very softly.

"I'm sorry. I know you are a lady. I never meant for you to feel that. I'm attracted to you. I can't help that. But I will not do anything to you that you don't want to happen. I won't take advantage of you. Do you understand," he asked with a hint of tenderness.

"Yes, yes I think so GW," she added, and he shifted his body to shield her from his erection.

She knew it was naughty but part of her missed the feeling of him poking her backside, but she was also relieved that he was not so close to her right now.

***

They piled out of the car, and headed up to his room. Grant showed him his record collection, and the mini bar. Thelma noticed the trumpet and asked him if he played. He was too shy to let her know that he did indeed try to copy the licks he heard in jazz records, but did say that he learned to play the trumpet when he was in high school with the marching band.

"Grant, you've got some swell records," said Thelma.

She loved music more than anything. He could tell. She poured over the records, and separated them into two piles, the ones she owned and loved and the ones she had yet to hear. He wanted to give her all the ones she didn't have. He wanted to give her everything. He felt guilty that, while she was looking at the records, he was looking at her sexy little body in the ruffled blouse and the male inspired slacks.

"You've got some great ones for dancing here. Benny Goodman, and my favorite conductor, Duke Ellington," said Thelma.

"Put this record on," said Thelma, handing it to him and lighting up another cigarette.

"You light those things, and smoke them so fast Thelma, you don't even give me a chance to light them for you. A man should light a woman's cigarette. I'll put the record on right away. Would you like another drink" he added thoughtfully.

"I'll have some gin if you have it," said Thelma.

"I should have known you wouldn't refuse the liquor," he teased, as she laughed.

"Nope, I never refuse a drink. Not most of the time anyway.

You're getting to know me quite well," she teased with a laugh.

He put on the record, and Thelma, and her friends started to do swing dances and lindy hopping all over the place. He was over in the corner, trying to dance with Thelma. He knew all the greatest ballroom moves that the elite did, but he wasn't up to date with the swing dances. His cloistered little circle of friends and family looked down on the wilder forms of jazz. Plus his rhythm wasn't so hot, he wasn't a natural dancer, even ballroom dancing took some work. It took a lot of work for him to learn what to do with his feet.

Thelma's friends began to look at him oddly. He became acutely aware that he was the one who was odd and different here, in Thelma's circle of friends. Then they started to laugh and chuckle a little.

But Thelma didn't laugh at Grant. She smiled at him. Then she assumed the role of patient, and gentle teacher. And he liked being led by her.

"Try to keep your arms and legs doing the same thing, on the same beat. At the same time," she said grabbing his waist. She was not mocking him, but trying to help him, smiling at him like a teacher with a prized pupil. And he had to admit that he enjoyed being taught by her. The feelings, when she touched him and tried to get him to move made him wrestle with the idea of dancing like a fool forever, just so she would guide the small of his back with her lovely hands.

Finally, her pianist said.

"You sure you not white, you've got the coloring and the rhythm,"

And Thelma said,

"Charles, he's just as colored as you and I. And you aren't being polite," cutting her eyes at Charles.

Her eyes were like daggers.

Grant knew at that instant he never wanted Thelma angry at him.

"And apologize. Now Charles you know that wasn't right," she added storming over to the record player and picking up the needle bringing the music to a halt.

She also had a temper on her. And though she was very cute when she was angry, Grant never wanted to see that side of her.

"I'm sorry Thelma. I didn't mean it. Hey Man...I'm sorry," Grant could tell that, as far as the pianist was concerned, he was not too popular, though the pianist did apologize.

"I don't feel much like dancing right now, let's play a hand," added Thelma.

This time everyone played Spades. Grant had no idea how to play the game and so he watched. But he could tell by Thelma's adorable little expression, the way she crinkled her forhead and pursed her lips, and whistled under her teeth that her hand was horrible. And Thelma lost four dollars, and her pianist and bassist started teasing her and calling her Crazy Eight's. She called the bassist a blockhead. Her pianist laughed, and the bassists retort to Thelma was calling her an "old jailbird".

Marlinda looked as though she wanted to strangle the bassist , while Thelma looked mortified and said

"Pay him no mind Grant, for Andy has lost his mind,"

It left Grant wondering about Thelma and the jailbird business. He didn't really know her that well, and yet he was so taken with her. Perhaps he should be more cautious. She lived a fast, and crazy lifestyle, and he hoped it wasn't a dangerous one as well. She looked too innocent to have done hard time. How could she be a virgin on the one hand, and a criminal on another? He needed to talk to her and sort things out. He hoped she hadn't done anything too terribly illegal. She was just a young woman. The fact that he wanted to talk to her and sort her out about this jail business helped him see how much he'd started to care about the young creature.