Saints and Sinners Read Free Page B

set of steps leading to the upstairs office. Fine notion of his uncle’s—putting secret panels and passageways in this place. Like the Meridian Hotel, this club was impervious to goon busts.
    Once in the oak-paneled office, Reilly flipped through the ledgers piled on the desk. Despite Prohibition, Uncle Morgan made more money in one week from liquor sales than most honest men made in a year. Morgan’s Meridian Hotel ranked as one of Manhattan’s most upscale retreats for the rich and famous. Also, Manhattan’s biggest deals wined and dined in the Wharf supper club, his uncle’s latest acquisition.
    He sniffed. His clothes reeked of stale smoke. From the desk drawer, Reilly removed a bottle of Bay Rum cologne. He winced as he patted the fragrance onto his freshly shaven skin. Combing his hands through the thick waves of his hair, Reilly pondered his future. He needed to find an honest woman, get married and leave this place behind. His clothiers on Seventeenth Street and Sixth Avenue did a booming business and would more than support himself, a wife and several children.
    That’s what he wanted. To plunge into the sweet hole of an honest woman. Who was he kidding? Could he ever trade the hurly burly life for one woman’s love and affection? Yes...but only if her passion for living and loving matched his.
    He headed downstairs in search of a pretty face and an even prettier pair of legs. Legs encased in silky stockings. Stockings rolled down in the Flapper style of the day. Then he’d catch a glimpse of dimpled thigh when she danced the Charleston and the Shimmy.
    Reilly paused at the door and closed his eyes. Visions of those gorgeous red lips appeared before him. A woman like Moira would more than fit that bill. How he’d love to spank her soft white ass. Run his tongue over her flat belly. Down to the delectable “V” where Heaven met Hell in the most cock-hardening way. Who better than Moira to satisfy his itch?
    Slowly, he opened the office door and prepared for an evening filled with brawlers and boozers. Reilly stood in the doorway and tried to shut out to the din below. Moira’d never come near a place like The Continental. Or would she? Hopefully not, but if she did, he’d damn well head her straight back out the door after dancing her around a time or two.
    He thrilled at the memory of her and the broken garter belt. So sweet and innocent at first glance. The fire in her green eyes told a wholly different tale.
    Without a backward glance, Reilly slammed the office door and left the ledgers where they lay—untouched and unbalanced. Tommy Muldoon took care of those. Ever since opening his clothiers two years ago, he’d not touched one dirty nickel this place brought in. Maybe tomorrow would find him in the arms of an honest woman? Tonight he wanted a wild and wicked woman—one who didn’t know the meaning of ‘no’.

Chapter 2
    Moira watched the spectacle unfolding before her. Her whole body seized with the notion of performing such stunts.
    “I have...to do that?” Every fiber of her Irish-Catholic upbringing was being ripped apart with each passing second.
    “Can you? Janet’s not too limber, but she always fills in with a broad smile and legs opened just as wide.” Flossie Jenkins, the “Sauciest, seediest burlesquer this side of Broadway” as she billed herself, passed Moira the rubber snake “Care to give it a try?” The wad of gum in her mouth snapped and brought Moira back to harsh reality.
    Costumed to resemble a Jazz-Age Queen of the Nile, Moira adjusted the black bobbed wig and beaded scarf. She swallowed hard and wrapped the snake around her neck. Her gut churned at what lay ahead, but she’d made a promise to Janet. She never went back on her promises. Queen? She wasn’t any queen. The only throne available at The Continental Club was the water closet situated just beyond Flossie’s dressing room.
    Flossie patted her arm, and Moira flinched at the contact. “Okay. We’ll let