Best Little Whorehouse In Florida
Chapter 1
Dante Falconeri pulled up to the entrance of the bordello in Florida that his father, Sonny Corrinthos, had mentioned, his eyes analyzing every little detail about its features and its surroundings. The establishment was located in a seedy neighborhood with boarded-up buildings, derelicts sprawled in the alleys and houses with torn screen doors and broken gates.
It had white-washed walls and a french door that was trimmed in black. As he stepped out of his car, a swarm of teenage kids approached him, taking in his red Camaro with its dark gray interior.
"Holy Shit. Mister, that's a Camaro," the kid said in awe, taking in the silver aluminum-painted wheels and its grey interior, "What's under the hood?"
"V8," Dante answered, as the kid nearly salivated, continuing to ogle over the fire-red exterior. Thanks, Ronnie, Dante thought to himself, shaking his head at his conversation with his partner and the nondescript car that he had requested. This classic was bound to get attention.
"Way cool," the kid replied, one tattooed arm with a snake coiled from his shoulder to his wrist reaching toward it.
"How much?" Dante asked, halting the kid's advance and using his arm to stop the kid from touching the Camaro.
"Thousand bucks," the kid told Dante, dropping his hand and folding his arms across his chest.
"A thousand? Are you out of your freaking mind?" Dante fired back, "I'll give you fifty bucks."
"Fifty? I wouldn't wipe the bird shit off of your shoe for that," the kid answered in disgust, "Five hundred bucks. Otherwise, this fine piece of art will find itself all over Florida."
"That's extortion," Dante replied, nodding his head negatively, and pulling a fifty from his wallet, "Fifty bucks. Take it or leave it. And in one piece, kid. Not a single hubcap missing."
"Fifty? Man, Mister do you know what they charge in that place," he told Dante, pointing to the bordello, "You can't get five minutes for that. Fine," the kid answered, grabbing the fifty-dollar bill.
"You know who runs this place?" Dante questioned the kid, his eyes narrowing, as he took in the scrawny kid before him, as he stuffed the fifty in his pocket.
"Maybe. But, it'll cost you," the kid told Dante, his eyes squinting with greed, "Another fifty bucks."
Lulu Spencer had found herself in quite a few predicaments in her lifetime. An unexpected pregnancy, followed by an abortion, a crazy knife-wielding ex-boyfriend and hostage to a homicidal psychotic man who just happened to be brother to one of Port Charles' most affluent businessman. But, not one of those incidents had ever required the get-up she found herself attired in at the moment. A pink and black lacy number, with a brassiere that at the moment was being tied tightly together by the woman that Lulu had met just a short time earlier.
"Why couldn't you just leave when I gave you the chance?" she said, scowling, as she laced the brassiere, pushing Lulu's small breasts upward, causing them to peek out over the trimmed black lace of the brassiere top.
"I told you...I'm here for Luke Spencer," Lulu reminded, confident that this woman knew her father.
"I told you I haven't seen your Luke Spencer," the woman insisted, "And if you know what's good for you, I wouldn't go mentioning his name around Javier again."
"Why? He was here, wasn't he?" Lulu prodded, her eyes carrying a look of worry.
"Luke Spencer and Javier aren't the kind of men you want to associate with, angel," the woman assured Lulu, "They're bad news. You don't belong here."
"I'm not leaving without my...without Luke Spencer," Lulu persisted, "You could help. Just tell me where he is."
"Yeah, right? And have Javier climbing down my throat. Don't think so. Besides, as I've already told you, I never heard of any Luke Spencer. Angel, if I were you," the dark-haired woman informed, "I'd start figuring a way out of this mess you're in. Javier doesn't like to share his girls and you, angel, he is not going to simply give away."
"I'm not one of his girls," Lulu answered, nervously playing with the laces of the brassiere, "I only said that to get you away from him, so that we could talk. I have no intention of-"
"Then, God help you, angel," the woman replied, "because, like it or not, he owns you now and Javier isn't one to just let something of his walk out that door. Especially, one that looks like you."
"I'm not staying. Just let me leave," Lulu demanded, trying to push her way past the woman, "I'll just walk away."
"I can't do that. I'm sorry, angel," the woman told her, her eyes sad, as she looked Lulu over, "Look, I'll try to keep the crazy ones away. Find you someone who's nice."
"I'm not turning tricks," Lulu yelled, as the door started to close, "My boyfriend will find me. He will."
"That's what they all say, angel. No one comes," she said sadly, brushing the strands from Lulu's forehead.
"Let me guess. You had some kind of falling out? Sweetie, he ain't coming for you. Not here."
"Dante will come. He's a-"
"Look, angel, us girls, we look out for each other. We're family. I'll see what I can do. Can't make any promises, though. Maybe I can get Javier to give you a few days," she said, as she started to close the door, "By the way, I'm Gabby."
Dante inhaled sharply, his eyes focused on his surroundings, as he entered the bordello. While the exterior was encased by the run-down neighborhood, the interior was the opposite. The furnishings were of dark mahogany wood, with rich, red leather. Duvet sofas in intimate corners flanked by large plants and shadowed with low interior lighting were placed strategically throughout the establishment.
He glanced about the room, searching for her. His eyes took note of the scantily clad women standing at the bar, two hanging over a businessman with a handle-bar mustache and hands that mauled the women on either side of him.
This was not the kind of place that Lulu should be in, Dante thought to himself, his face turning angry, as he watched the man openly fondle the girls.
A note.
A damn note was all she left, Dante fumed, as he scanned the room, looking for Lulu.
Where the hell was she?
"What's your pleasure?" a plump red-head asked, approaching Dante in a dark-blue baby doll and red heels that allowed her to tower over him.
"I'm looking for someone," Dante replied, uncomfortably, as she used one perfectly manicured fingernail and trailed it down his chest.
"Well, you've found someone," she grinned, pulling him toward the bar.
"I don't-" Dante said, stopping her and removing her hand from his chest, "I prefer blondes."
"Blondes? Really," she answered with a huff, "I could put on a wig."
"You're too tall," Dante added.
"I'm too-"
"Look, I'm just not interested, " Dante replied, with a smile,showing his dimples, as he walked toward the bar, "Beer, please."
"You turned down, Maisey. She's one of our favorites. You aren't from around here, are you?" the dark-haired girl questioned with a smile, as she reached the bottom of the stairs and sashayed toward him, "I'm Gabriella. But, you can call me Gabby."
"Look, I'm not-"
"Interested? Yeah, I heard. You prefer blondes," she noted curiously, moving beside him at the bar, "What'll it take to change your mind?"
"I need some information," Dante told her, lowering his voice.
"Welcome Center is out the door and about ten blocks to your right. We don't sell, information here, honey."
"What do you sell?" Dante questioned, taking the beer from the bartender and tilting his head back. He allowed the cold liquid to calm his nerves, before waiting for her answer.
"Depends what you're willing to spend, honey?" she said with a sly grin, her hand slowly trailing down his arm.
Dante brushed her hand from his body, his eyes steel and focused, "I'm looking for a blonde."
Shit, Lulu thought, as she tried to pry the window open for the tenth time.
Sealed shut.
She wrung her hands together, pacing back and forth over the frayed rug beneath her feet. She tried the door once again.
Locked.
Defeated, she sat upon the bed, glancing down at the embroidered bedspread with pale blue flowers.
When she had decided to look for her father, she had known that it wouldn't be easy. That she would have to convince him to come home, but this...wearing this...well, that had never occurred to her.
She thought of the note she'd left for Dante, the few scrawled words that left no trail to her location.
"Oh God, why didn't I tell Dante where I was going?"
Because he would have followed you, her subconscious answered.
"I'm not helpless," Lulu yelled to the empty room, "I can do this," she said confidently, moving once again to the window, "I just need something to pry open-"
She heard a knock and turned toward the door, her heart pounding in her chest.
What the hell was she going to do?
Well, she knew what she wasn't going to do, she thought, walking quietly toward the door and reaching for the bible on the nearby nightstand.
"We don't have any blondes," the man stated, as Dante felt Gabby stiffen beside him and he turned to face the intruder.
"I have any number of girls that I'm sure would provide you with whatever you need," the man insisted, in a monotone voice. He had short, dark hair and eyes that were a cold gray. Eyes that drilled into you, as if a surgical instrument, poking and prodding until they found what they were looking for.
"I'm partial to blondes," Dante repeated, "If you can't-" he said rising from his stool at the bar and throwing a large bill on the table.
"What about the new girl?" Gabby suggested, as Javier sent her a look that would cause a snake to recoil in terror.
"New girl?" Dante asked, while averting his eyes and pretending to be interested in the label wrapped around his beer bottle, "Is she a blonde?"
"She's not ready," Javier answered, his eyes cold, as he focused on Gabby.
"But, earlier you said-"
"How much?" Dante asked, his expression determined, "If the price is right?"
"She's green. I'm thinking of taking her under my wing," Javier informed Dante, "showing her the ropes."
I'll show you some ropes, Dante thought to himself, raging internally, "One thousand dollars."
"No. Look," Javier said, standing firm, "Mr.-"
"Pirelli. Dominic Pirelli," Dante replied, his voice just as firm and demanding, "I won't take no for an answer. Take it or leave it."
"You got cash," Javier asked, as Dante slapped the remaining bills from his wallet onto the bar.
"Where's the girl?" Dante demanded, as Javier picked up the cash and started counting, "Top of the stairs, third door on the left. Gabby, here, will show you the way."
Dante turned to Gabby, who reluctantly led him up the stairs, halting when she knew that they were out of Javier's sight.
"Third door, right?" Dante asked, walking toward it, when Gabby stayed him with her hand.
"Who are you?"
"I thought I already answered that," Dante told her, a bit on edge. Lulu was behind that door.
"Dominic Pirelli? If you're just a client, I'm Mother Theresa," she said sarcastically, folding her hands beneath her chest and causing them to spill over her top, "What's this girl to you?"
"Nothing. Just something to pass the time," Dante told her, flashing his dimples, "I'm just looking for a blonde."
"You better be telling the truth, Pirelli. We protect our own," Gabby informed him, "If she has so much as a scratch on her-"
"She won't. You have my word," Dante promised in return, dropping all humor and becoming serious, "I won't hurt her."
"Second door on the right," Gabby told Dante, as he raised an eyebrow, "Second?"
"Word of advice. Javier isn't to be trusted. If that's your girl in there, get her out of here. This ain't no place for angels," she told him, as she reached for the key from between her breasts and unlocked the door.
"You'll only have a few minutes. There is another stairwell that leads out the back."
Dante waited until she had descended the stairs before raising his hand and knocking, praying that the girl that answered was in fact, Lulu.
Impatient, he turned the knob and pushed the door inward, stepping slowly into the room. His eyes took in her pink and black brassiere and the lace garters attached to her matching panties. She looked amazing, he thought, just as the book in her hands came crashing over his head.
A bible. In a whorehouse.