It was Christmas Eve.

Courtney stood in front of her mirror, holding the dress in front of herself, debating on whether to go to the jour N’ Night speakeasy tonight ou not. She utterly, truly wanted Duncan to be able to see her in this dazzling dress, but did he even l’amour her anymore?

C + D

C + D

C + D, her brain repeated over and over.

But Duncan left her! That was the one major fact that could change anything. He told me he loved me,she thinks, But he left you. She wondered where he was right now. He carved our initials on a skull, she thinks, But he left you. She wondered what he was thinking at that very moment. He kissed me, she thinks, But he left you.

Did he really not care about her anymore?

Was she just another girl to make out with?

I bet he’s with another girl right now, Courtney thinks grimly. Then, she straightens her back and squares her shoulders. Well then, he deserves a piece of my mind.

She carefully lays her red dress of her lit as she begins stripping down into her underwear and bra. Courtney rifles through her dresser drawer and selects a strapless bra and swaps it with the one she was wearing. She selects a high pair of sleek, red high heels from her vast collection of shoes from her closet. The heels boosted her short height at least three plus inches.

Courtney takes the dress and slips it over her head. The fabric easily glides over her smooth skin and falls perfectly into place. Her bust generously fills in the V-neck of her dress, and the ribbon at the waist pulls her in tightly, creating curves in all the right places. The large bow tickles her wrist when her arm accidentally brushes against it.

She straps up her strappy heels, and examines her legs in the mirror. Almost all of her legs were revealed, since the fabric from her dress stopped just below her butt. There were no need for tights, since her legs were already tan enough. Her usually short legs looked longer in the teeteringly high heels.

Courtney headed into her own bathroom and applied some black liquid eyeliner to her haut, retour au début and bottom eyelids. She put some smoky black eye shadow on her haut, retour au début lid, heavy near the eyeball and lighter near the eyebrows. She finished her eyes with some black mascara, making her full eyelashes seem thicker. Courtney, not one for lots of makeup besides eye makeup, glides some minty-red lip gloss over her lips and leaves the bathroom. On a sudden urge, Courtney takes a brush and lightly brushes golden body glitter over her thighs and collarbones. She leaves her bathroom, and since it didn’t seem sûr, sans danger to carry a bourse, sac à main downtown, Courtney just stuffs a ten dollar bill into her cleavage.

After one plus look in the full-length mirror, Courtney smirks to herself and thinks, Time to break some hearts.

Courtney takes her fourrure manteau and buttons it up as she walks into the kitchen. “Hey, mom? I’m going to a party with some friends!” Courtney calls out. She pauses with her hand on the doorknob as she waits for her mom to answer her back.

“Okay, honey!” her mother calls back. Courtney smiles to herself as she walks out of her apartment door and into the hallway. She rides down to the lobby in the elevator, and slides through the revolving door to the wintry outside world. Her teeth immediately begin chattering in her short dress.

Courtney walks to the curb, raises one hand, and lets out a shrill whistle. A taxi pulls up beside her, and she climbs in. “To, um, just downtown is fine,” she tells the taxi driver. It wasn’t probably best to tell him she was going to a speakeasy.

The ride takes around forty minutes, because of all the traffic. It seemed like everybody in Chicago was going to a Christmas Eve party. Finally, the driver creeps along the practically empty streets of downtown Chicago. He turns around to face Courtney once he reaches a red light. “Now where do toi want me to go?” he asks in a gravelly voice.

Courtney surreptitiously leans her back against her seat, trying to put as much l’espace between her and the creepy taxi driver as she could. “Uhh…,” she mumbles, looking out the windshield to hopefully help her think of where a speakeasy could possibly be hidden. Just then, a car zooms in front of them, turning sharply into a small alley. She lets out a sigh of relief. “Follow that car!”

The taxi driver turns around just as the light turns green, and he obediently begins following after the car. As Courtney squinted, she could just barely make out the telltale signs of an illegal racecar. She got chills knowing that the car belonged to a gangster, probably a Log cabine gangster, at that. But the car easily drives faster than them, making a getaway. The car turns into another alley, and about a block away from the alley, Courtney takes out the ten dollar bill.

“Okay, toi can stop here,” she says. The taxi pulls to a slow stop, and she asks, “How much will this cost me?”

“Well, since I had to drive to far away from town, where I probably won’t get another customer on my way back, the ride’ll cost ya double. So that’ll be… ah… $9.50,” the taxi driver says finally, after taking a while to double the cost in his head. Courtney hands the bill over to him, and cracks open the door of the car, placing a high heel into the snow drift on the side of the road.

“Keep the change,” she tells him, not caring for two quarters. The rest of her climbs out into the sharp wind, and she slams the door shut. Courtney quickly hops onto the sidewalk as the taxi squeals away. As she walks towards the alley, the heels of her high heels leave small holes in the snow. The freezing wind blows snowflakes into her face, and her legs turn numb.

Courtney rounds the corner into the alley, and most of the wind is blocked par the tall buildings on both sides of her. Somewhere, musique is playing loud. So loud, that Courtney could feel it in her chest. She looks around, eyes open and alert for something that would look like a speakeasy. Finally, she begins to be able to make out the lyrics to the song playing, jour n’ night… I toss and turn, I keep stressin’ my mind, mind. I look for peace, but see I don’t attain. When I need for keeps, this silly game we play, play.

Courtney shivers, but this time, not from the wind. The name of the song was jour N’ Night par Kid Cudi. Surely the jour N’ Night speakeasy would be close, unless the song was a complete coincidence. Besides, Courtney wasn’t sure if her legs could walk any longer in this kind of weather without getting frostbitten.

Suddenly, the musique starts getting softer. Courtney slows her pace, and turns her head. Yes, the musique seemed louder a little ways behind her. She retraces her steps and find that the musique was coming from behind a thick metal door. She nervously lifts a shaking fist towards the door and raps her knuckles against it. She returns her fist to her fourrure manteau pocket, and waits. The door cracks open, and a large, bald guy strides out.

He looked like a bodyguard, from his thin sunglasses wrapped around his thick face. His arms were crossed, and Courtney couldn’t help but notice his muscular arms were wider than her waist. He was wearing a huge black T-shirt, but he didn’t shiver in the chilly air. Baggy, ripped jeans covered his legs, and a few silver chains hung in loops from his pockets, weighing his pants down to reveal navy plaid boxers.

“Can I help you?” he asks in such a deep voice, Courtney could practically feel it in her chest, with the music.

“Um… yeah, is this the jour N’ Night speakeasy?” she stutters. He seemed like the kind of guy who would go to a speakeasy, ou at least know where one is.

“Depends on whose asking,” he rumbles. Courtney opens her mouth, but doesn’t know what to say. The huge bodybuilder juts his chin at her and continues, “What’re toi wearing under the coat?”

Courtney’s fingers fumble to unbutton her fourrure coat. Instead of getting frustrated, the man just keeps glaring at her, which makes her nervous fingers shake worse. At last, she opens her manteau and shows him her dress. His eyes travel along her body, eyes lingering on her low neckline and exposed legs. He nods, and opens the door to her. “You’re in.”

Courtney sighs gratefully, and walks in. She was hit par a wave of heat and the smell of liquor and smoke. The vast room was dim, but a few strobe lights, searchlights, and bare lightbulbs hung from the ceiling. The walls were completely concrete, and a few table, tableau with stools were shoved against the walls to make room for the huge dance floor. The dance floor was just hardwood floors in front of a large DJ table, tableau and massive speakers. Dozens of girls wore short dresses like her, and were grinding on their Friends ou boyfriends to the thumping bass.

To the right, a bar had several bartenders serving up various forms of liquor. Only a few stools were pushed up against the bar counter. Instead, customers just told the bartender their order and were served almost immediately par the expert staff. The customers went off to dance with their drinks, most of it spilling onto the floor. It seemed as if only the most attractive customers got served in time.

Somebody put their hand on Courtney’s shoulder, and she turns around to see Damien in his usual Log cabine attire: a white cotton chemise (rolled up to the elbows, of course) and black dress pants. “Damien! Oh my gosh, I was beginning to get so nervous about not being able to find you!” Courtney exclaims.

Damien smirks and holds a hand out, “I could take your coat. It’s a bit warm in here to be wearing it, don’t cha think?”

Courtney smiles gratefully and takes off her coat. Damien takes it and tosses it over his shoulder, but still holds onto the collier of her coat, practically like a male model. He leans closer to whisper, “Hey… I last saw Duncan at the bar carrying a caisse of vodka. Might want to go over there and see. Also, everything over there at the bar, except margaritas, are free. It's an awesome deal.”

Giddy to see Duncan again, Courtney laughs. “Okay. Thanks so much, Damien,” she tells him. Her knees turn to jello just thinking that Duncan could be in the same room as her.

“No problem. I’ll put your manteau in that stock room over there. Now go find your knight in shining armor, Princess,” Damien teases, winking at her and slipping into the crowd. Courtney immediately loses sight of Damien, not knowing where her fourrure manteau went. She shakes it off, and walks over to the bar.

She slips through the crowd of sweaty, drunk, and horny people until she reaches the bar counter. A bartender catches her eye and begins to walk over to her when sarcelle, teal eyes suddenly pop up. Courtney blinks in surprise, not able to breathe. Duncan had been crouching behind the counter, putting some vodka bottles into the storage cabinet. He had been completely invisible to the outside of the bar, until he stood up, that is.

They look at each other for a few moments, until Courtney opens her mouth to speak. That seemed to do the trick, breaking Duncan out of his hypnosis. He took off, slipping through the crowd until she could no longer see him. A wooden door opened at shut, revealing a sliver of cardboard boxes. That could only be the stock room.

The bartender walks over to Courtney, flashing his perfect smile. “Can I get toi something?” he asks, eyes gazing at her up and down. “Anything?”

But Courtney just shakes her head, pushing herself away from the bar. Of course Duncan didn’t want to see you, she inwardly scolds herself, He practically broke up with toi when he left you. What ever gave toi the idea that he might actually be glad to see his ex?

When the big bodybuilder sees her coming towards the door, he opens it for her. “Leaving so soon?” he rumbles, but Courtney doesn’t answer. She just keeps walking, out into the snow, with no money for a ride home.



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