A Dance with Indecency (2 page)

Chapter 3

He was waiting outside her hotel the next evening, casually leaning against a shiny black car with his hands lightly resting in his pockets. Elise caught herself staring; he certainly did look dashing in his fitted tweed suit, fedora and two-tone brogues. The glow of the setting sun cast golden shadows on his face, its rays catching and illuminating the flecks in his light brown eyes. Everything about him—from the shiny buttons of his suit to the neatly pressed creases in his trousers—screamed style and prestige. Not to mention the car! Suddenly he seemed distant, an untouchable star.

And then, Elise remembered herself. She wasn’t a naive schoolgirl any longer. No, she was a socialite from Paris, a daring flapper girl who flaunted society’s rules. And he was her prey—a presumptuous man she couldn’t wait to bring low. She lifted her chin and descended the steps to the street, the fringe of her high-cut dress swinging around her thighs.

Earlier, Harry had sent the bellman up to fetch her from her suite at the Grand Plaza hotel. He’d also had the boy hand her a hastily scrawled note.

Wear something indecent.
—
H.

Elise had torn the message up into tiny shreds and let them flutter away from her twentieth-story window. Something indecent, indeed! She couldn’t believe the man’s boldness. Then again, it
was
New York, and it
was
the twenties. Indecency was simply the norm, perhaps. Even so, she had spent the better part of an hour prepping and primping—mostly out of spite. But, unfortunately, she thought as she took in his relaxed stance, it seemed as if her delaying hadn’t much bothered him at all.

Harry looked up at the clack of her heels, and pushed away from the vehicle. He tipped his hat in greeting.

“Well, that didn’t take you as long as I thought it would,” he said with a sly smile and an appreciative nod.

“Well,” Elise said with a sniff, “if you’re in no hurry, I can always go back upstairs and—”

“Now, now,” Harry quickly interjected, reaching for her hand. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. There’s no need to beautify any more than you already have, my darling.”

He planted a playful kiss on her bare knuckles.

“Let’s have a look at you then,” he prompted.

Inclining her head with a wink, Elise obliged him by turning in a slow circle.

“Simply gorgeous,” he said—and he meant it.

It seemed that Elise had taken his last-minute message to heart. She wore a sleeveless, low-waisted dress with a hem that barely skimmed her bottom and a sparkling fringe that hung to her knees. The golden, metallic sheen of the dress’s fabric lent a lovely golden color to her fair skin. She wore a cloche hat over her carefully coiffed bob, and her large blue eyes were framed by heavy, dark lashes. She had casually draped a fur stole over her arms; it wasn’t cold, but the fur certainly did look glamorous.

“Your chariot awaits, my lady,” Harry said with an exaggerated bow.

He opened the door to the car and gallantly ushered her into the leather passenger seat, helping her to climb in while helping himself to the view of her legs as she sat. Then, with the roar of a powerful engine, they were racing down New York’s streets and avenues with Harry in the driver’s seat. Elise instinctively reached for her hat—with the car’s top down, the wind whipped her short curls into a frenzy.

“Must you drive so fast?” she asked peevishly.

“Everything is better fast,” Harry responded, gracing her with a suggestive wink.

Even so, he slowed slightly as he took the next corner.

“And what kind of establishment are you taking me to, Mr. McMahon?” Elise asked, her tone teasingly haughty. “Nothing too dreary, I hope.”

“Of course not, Madame Rousseau,” Harry replied in the same tone. “I am taking you to my very own hotel.”

“Which is?” Elise pressed, feigning ignorance.

“The Hotel Pierre,” Harry said, shifting gears deftly and not quite concealing his pride.

The Hotel Pierre on 5th Avenue was one of the most luxurious and notorious hotels in New York—even before Prohibition days. From the grand marble foyer to the lush suites, it had been —and still was—the place to see and be seen.

Still, Elise needed to maintain her duplicitous facade of ignorance.

“A hotel,” she sniffed disdainfully. “Are you sure? Surely there’s nothing especially jazzy about going for dinner at a hotel.”

“My dear girl,” Harry said, tossing her a cavalier smirk. “I’m surprised Paris hasn’t caught up with this particular brand of hotel entertainment.”

Elise arched a delicate brow, and Harry continued.

“My hotel’s got the best liquor to be had, better than any speakeasy.”

“But prohibition—”

“Now, now,” Harry said with a shrug. “Not even our valiant law enforcement agents are above a little...liquid persuasion, shall we say.”

“How devious!” Elise exclaimed, sidling closer to him. “But still—dinner with a drink? Surely that’s not all you have planned for this evening?”

“Well, my darling,” Harry said, reaching over to place his large hand on her knee. “Have you ever been to a petting party?”

“A what?”

Harry clucked his tongue and gave her knee a squeeze before returning his hand to the steering wheel.

“I suppose,” he said with a grin, “you’ll just have to wait and see.”

Elise pursed her lips and held her tongue, not wanting to seem too waspish. And within minutes, Harry had pulled up in front of a towering hotel. Tossing the keys to a valet, he stepped out of the driver’s seat and walked around to help Elise out of the car. He linked her arm in his and walked her up the steps and into the lush lobby of the Hotel Pierre.

Meanwhile, Elise tried not to gasp at the sheer luxury on display: black-and-white marble floors, rich mahogany reception desks and ornately carved pillars that stretched up to the golden ceiling high above.

“So,” she asked as he guided her into an elevator. “What is a petting party?”

As the elevator started to rise with a jolt, Harry turned to her with a devilish grin.

“You’re about the find out, my dear
madame.
”

The heavy steel doors slid open. They walked across a marble foyer and through a set of elegant French doors. This time, Elise could not contain her gasp of delight. The ballroom was huge, edged with wall-to-wall windows that were draped in silver fabric. The high ceiling was painted in silver and gold, and it reflected the light of rows upon rows of heavy, crystal chandeliers.

And then she saw the guests. A petting party, it seemed, was exactly as the name implied.

Men and women lounged on widely scattered sofas and divans. Grouped in twos or threes, they were draped over each other in various states of necking. A few were simply sitting very close, others were kissing, and some were passionately twined together with hands disappearing between folds of clothing. Laughter and the sound of jazz filled the hall.

“Petting parties started in colleges,” Harry said pleasantly as he took her elbow. “And now they’re some of our most attended weekly events.”

“Positively scandalous!” Elise whispered with a cheeky grin.

“Now, now,” Harry said with a wink. “How else are young, virile men to meet beautiful girls?”

Placing his hand over hers, he led them across the ballroom, stopping occasionally to greet some of the guests and ignoring those who were overly...preoccupied. They had made it all the way to the end of the ballroom before Harry stopped. He gestured to a solitary sofa that was half-hidden by layers of gauzy curtains—a sofa just big enough for two.

“Please,” Harry invited with a charming smile.

Elise arched a brow.

“And what if I don’t want to sit with you?” she asked, her tone lightly teasing.

Harry spread an arm out, gesturing to the crowd.

“Then, you’re most welcome to find another...conversation partner, Madame Rousseau.”

Elise appraised his easygoing, confident smile. Surely he wouldn’t want to watch her waltz off with another man if he were truly interested in her. But then, if she did walk away, would he simply find another girl with whom to pass the evening? Not that she cared whom he touched, she told herself sternly, but she needed to have his full attention if she was to seduce him. So, if she called his bluff, would he get jealous or would he lose interest? She decided to gamble.

“Well,” she said with a shrug of her slim shoulders, “the night is young after all. Maybe I’ll find you later?”

With that, she turned on one heel and began to march away—only to be stopped when Harry grabbed her upper arm in a firm but gentle grip.

“Not so fast, my darling,” he said, tutting. “Won’t you first grace your host with even a little bit of your time? Seeing you with another man might make me envious.”

“My goodness,” Elise said with a smug smirk. “You should have just said so.”

She eased herself into the plush sofa. Harry sat beside her, casually draping an arm over the back of the chaise. Their knees touched; the seat was barely wide enough to accommodate two people.

A waiter appeared at Harry’s side, bearing a tray of assorted alcoholic beverages. Harry reached over, picked two and offered one to Elise. She took it with a smile, watching him watch her bring it to her lips. With a sly slant to her mouth, she pulled the glass away and ran the tip of her tongue across her full, sensuous lips. Leaving them slightly parted, she leaned back against the arm of the sofa.

“Delicious,” she murmured huskily.

Harry quickly tipped back his own drink and tossed it to the waiter, who caught the empty glass easily and turned away. An eager tilt to his lips, Harry leaned over her and reached for one of her curls, twirling it around once before letting his fingertips graze her porcelain cheek.

“You’re quite the exquisite creature, my darling,” he said, his voice a deep, throaty rattle.

“I’m sure you say that to all the girls,” she teased, taking another sip of her drink.

“Only the prettiest ones.”

Elise barked a laugh and took a long swig from her glass, relishing the way the liquid courage burned a track down her throat and into her belly. A pleasant heat swelled up from her stomach as a telltale, dizzying rush began behind her eyes. She let the glass fall to the plush carpet. Reaching forward with both hands, she grabbed Harry by the lapels of his fine suit.

“Well, aren’t you just the cat’s pajamas?” she whispered hotly as she pulled him close.

Harry didn’t need any further encouragement. Looping one arm around her slim waist, he pulled her into his chest. As she grasped for purchase at his back, he brushed his lips against her collarbone. His other hand teased the edge of her skirt, the pads of his fingers tapping a tantalizing pattern against her upper thigh. Elise gasped and let her head loll back as Harry’s hand slid up under her hemline. His lips parting against her neck, he alternately sucked and nipped at the sensitive skin.

Wait
, Elise reprimanded herself,
don’t let him seize all the control.

She lifted herself suddenly, pushing Harry back. Ignoring his stunned expression, she quickly straddled his thighs and shoved his shoulders into the back of the sofa with her open palms. The surprise melted from his face, quickly replaced by hot desire.

“You little vixen,” he growled.

Elise stopped his groping hands with hers, catching his long fingers and pinning them back against the cushions. She slowly leaned forward and teasingly pecked him on the cheek. He groaned, and Elise began to shift against his hips in an achingly slow rhythm.

“This is my party now,” she told him, her lips curving upward as she hovered just out of reach.

She took his hands in hers and molded his palms to her waist. Refusing to rush, she slowly smoothed their joined hands over her hips and down the outside of her thighs. She stopped when his fingers reached her bent knees.

“Now,” she commanded in a low whisper. “Keep them there—or I’ll leave you here and find someone else to pet.”

Then, she planted a hand behind her on his knee and arched backward, rolling and rocking her torso in time to the sultry jazz beat in the background. She slid her free hand up her body, over her bosom and up her neck and into her hair. With an almost cruel grin, she grabbed his tie and jerked him forward. But when his hands left her knees, she tutted disapprovingly and wagged a finger. He begrudgingly dropped his hands. To reward him, she leaned in and ran her fingers through his hair, all the while gyrating over his hips. She ran the tip of her tongue up the bridge of his nose and then peppered his brow with light kisses.

“Is this what you’re supposed to do at a petting party?” she asked breathlessly.

“Not exactly,” he grunted.

“No?”

“No,” Harry bit out as she moved to take his earlobe between her teeth. “You’re supposed to let the man do some of the petting as well.”

Elise pulled back and fixed a full pout on her plump lips.

“I’m not sure that sounds like much fun,” she said, her tone challenging.

“Oh, I assure you that you will enjoy it,” he promised, his grin wicked.

“And what would you do to make sure I enjoy your...petting?” she asked, walking her fingers up his chest.

“First,” Harry told her as he licked his lips, his eyes glazed and wild, “I would pick you up and throw you against this couch. Then I would kiss that smirk off your face.”

“And then?” Elise prompted, leaning in.

“I would put my hands up your skirt. And I would do things with my fingers that you will never
ever
forget.”

“Ever?”

“Ever.”

Elise threw up her hands in mock surrender.

“Very well, I suppose you could try to—”

Before she could finish what was bound to be a witty retort, Harry had surged upward, his arms locking around her waist. He spun her onto her back so that her head rested against the arm of the seat. He knelt above her prone form, nudging his knee between her slightly parted thighs.

“Now,” he said, taking in her flushed expression, “that’s much better.”

Without waiting another moment, he bent down and captured her lips with his. Cupping her nape with his palm, he pulled her into the kiss more deeply, his tongue tangling with hers. His kiss was wild and insistent, his teeth and lips working against hers with frenzied abandon. Enveloped in a haze of passion, Elise let herself be swallowed by desire. Her skin was alight with a pleasantly electric tingle, her ears buzzing with lust.