Choo-Choo’s Place
Johnny was reeling. He staggered from the club as though drunk, although he’d only had an orange and soda. He composed himself as he passed the bouncers and gave that his customary snarl. They both stepped back. Johnny reached the kerb and placed his hands on the shiny roof of the Capri. He breathed deep before opening the door and sliding on to the leather seat. He snapped his leather driving gloves on and slipped his mirrored aviator sunglasses on. It was night time and he couldn’t see, but it was the world that would have to look out, not Johnny.
He cruised the mean streets of Greater Londonbury not knowing where to go. He splashed through the puddles and smoked cigarette after cigarette as he pondered Burloni’s offer. An offer that wasn’t so much an offer as a threat. And Burlonis threats were promises. It all made Johnnys head swirl, which was swirling enough with all the nicotine. Johnny didn’t want the job. But he knew he had no choice.
Dawn was about to break. He needed a bed, wherever it was. He decided to call on Choo-Choo. She always had a kind word for him. And if that didn’t work, she had a very talented tongue.
The Capri screeched to a halt outside the house. All the lights were off. But then it was the middle of the night so she’d obviously be in bed. Johnny reached the front door and spat on the ground. He smiled to himself as he looked under the plant pot to find the spare key. When would she learn that this town isn’t safe. Johnny knew that she was an incredibly erotic lover but didn’t have a grasp of basic home safety. She wouldn’t even get a smoke alarm and he feared that one day she was going to pay.
“Fire kills in minutes, smoke kills in seconds”, he grumbled under his breath, before slotting the key into the lock as smoothly as he shortly hoped to be slotting into Choo-Choo.
He strode purposefully into the hall way. He thought he had been quiet but he had disturbed Choo-Choos magnificent pet parrot Sir Walter Pilkington-Smythe who squawked to life. Johnny began to climb the stairs.
“Who’s a pretty boy then?” said Sir Walter Pilkington-Smythe.
“I am” growled Johnny.
At the top of the stairs, he paused before pushing opening the door to the exotic boudoir. Choo-Choo was awake. And naked. Her succulent flower glistened in the soft light and seemed to be winking at Johnny.
“It’s about time you got here” said Choo-Choo with a smirk. Johnny looked at her and liked what he saw. Choo was slender and toned like a race horse. Her long blonde tresses tumbled down her back and seemed to frame her exquisite bosom. Her breasts seemed to float like lillies in a pond. She had a dragon tattooed down the full length of her left leg and chipmunk on the right. She was fully shaven.
“Time for supper” laughed Johnny.
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