Down For The Count

Started by Blair Blankenship at Apr 04, 2020 11:54 PM
March 15, 1924
2096 Views
111 Posts

Dorothy Dare

Bohemian
298
?Years Young
19 Posts

"Hello, I'm Dotty Dare, I like to express myself in clay!"


"Yes indeed, rich people and interesting people both, not that you would know anything about either," Viv was at her most condescending.

“Well, I … I …” No. No witty retort was forthcoming. But these ‘I’s had to lead to something and, her self-confidence flagging under these withering assaults, Dotty felt herself standing up and heard herself saying in dignified tones “I certainly didn’t come here to be insulted! Good Evening!”

She turned haughtily to leave them, which was easy to do: then she remembered her drink and had to turn, pick it up, knock it back and put the glass back onto the table. That was a bit harder to do haughtily, but she gave it her best shot. Then she stalked haughtily away, hoping to spot someone who might appreciate her company more: and if she didn’t, it’d be straight on to the Ladies’ Powder Room to have a good cry in the stalls.

As she walked red-faced through the dizzy, fizzy, jazz-mad throng of bright young things and loud overindulged rich, she started to beat herself up. She had been a fool to think Blair had been interested in her: as soon as a more glamorous model had come along, he had been drooling all over her. Pah! She’d been a fool.

“Dorothy Dare, you’re just a stupid, four-eyed, fat faced fool!” she intoned bitterly to herself as she pushed her way through the merrymakers.

……………..

"So, if you are available, I can give you an invite right here and now. After all, it's my party," Viv beamed then decided to sweeten the deal.

"I could even arrange for you to sing a few songs if you wish. You know, promote your career plus have a fun time. The old 'mix business and pleasure' deal."


Blair Blankenship

88
?Years Young
39 Posts

"If I'd known that this is the way it'd all turn out, I never would have kissed my father goodbye."


As she walked red-faced through the dizzy, fizzy, jazz-mad throng of bright young things and loud overindulged rich, she started to beat herself up. She had been a fool to think Blair had been interested in her: as soon as a more glamorous model had come along, he had been drooling all over her. Pah! She’d been a fool.

“Dorothy Dare, you’re just a stupid, four-eyed, fat faced fool!” she intoned bitterly to herself as she pushed her way through the merrymakers.

……………..

"So, if you are available, I can give you an invite right here and now. After all, it's my party," Viv beamed then decided to sweeten the deal.

"I could even arrange for you to sing a few songs if you wish. You know, promote your career plus have a fun time. The old 'mix business and pleasure' deal."

"Oh I think I've got a surprise for you, but please .. wait just a moment."  and he rose quickly and followed Dotty.

                                                                   ......................

"You must always remember who you are!" boomed his father's voice.   It was like a wax recording embedded in his head.   It was his reminder that he had advantages others didn't have and to forget his advantages would tempt Providence. 

"Poor Dotty!" he thought.  All she'd ever been to him was kind.  They came to the club together (who the Hell knew where Muff had run off to?) and he would be the gentleman he was raised to be.  Viv, perhaps, was from new money and sometimes they didn't see things the same way as old money people.

He caught up to her and when he was close enough, he extended his arms and clasped he shoulders.

"Dotty .. please!" he said.  "Please slow down.  My God, you're as fast as a young gazelle."  

She slowed.

"That woman's treatment of you was an insult to both of us.  You are a gifted, pretty and generous person.  I might add fun-loving too.  Please let's sit."

 


Loved 1

Dorothy Dare

Bohemian
298
?Years Young
19 Posts

"Hello, I'm Dotty Dare, I like to express myself in clay!"


He caught up to her and when he was close enough, he extended his arms and clasped he shoulders.

"Dotty .. please!" he said.  "Please slow down.  My God, you're as fast as a young gazelle." 

She stopped at his voice and touch, sniffed back her emotions, hanging onto her last ounce of pride. His words reminded her of Marcel Crumpe’s comparison of her once to Artemis, Goddess of the Hunt.

“You must think me an emotional fool, Blair, but I will not be spoken to in that manner.”

"That woman's treatment of you was an insult to both of us.  You are a gifted, pretty and generous person.  I might add fun-loving too.  Please let's sit."

“Oh Blair, it’s no good!” she spun round to face him, looking up at his handsome features as they glimmered in the dancing lights of the glitter ball “We are from two different worlds: you are rich, I am poor; I am an artist, who must be free of social convention; you are from a world of stuffy middle to upper class codes of behavior; you are classically handsome, I am … er, possessed of a more unusual, ethereal beauty. Go, go to your Vivian Flanders, leave me to my mire of despond!” she cried dramatically.

Meanwhile, Muff had ambled over to where he had seen Dotty and Blair sitting a mere two seconds ago.

He peered at the snooty Vivian Flanders through his thick glasses.

“Hiya Kids!” he greeted them, already a little sloshed from the bootleg liquor going round the band “Got any requests?!”


Blair Blankenship

88
?Years Young
39 Posts

"If I'd known that this is the way it'd all turn out, I never would have kissed my father goodbye."


He caught up to her and when he was close enough, he extended his arms and clasped he shoulders.

"Dotty .. please!" he said.  "Please slow down.  My God, you're as fast as a young gazelle." 

She stopped at his voice and touch, sniffed back her emotions, hanging onto her last ounce of pride. His words reminded her of Marcel Crumpe’s comparison of her once to Artemis, Goddess of the Hunt.

“You must think me an emotional fool, Blair, but I will not be spoken to in that manner.”

"That woman's treatment of you was an insult to both of us.  You are a gifted, pretty and generous person.  I might add fun-loving too.  Please let's sit."

“Oh Blair, it’s no good!” she spun round to face him, looking up at his handsome features as they glimmered in the dancing lights of the glitter ball “We are from two different worlds: you are rich, I am poor; I am an artist, who must be free of social convention; you are from a world of stuffy middle to upper class codes of behavior; you are classically handsome, I am … er, possessed of a more unusual, ethereal beauty. Go, go to your Vivian Flanders, leave me to my mire of despond!” she cried dramatically.

"No no no," Blair insisted.  "Please let's sit for awhile.  Look.  Here's a table."

He guided her as if she were a wounded fawn and then, always courteous, pulled a chair out for her. 

"Now let's have a drink and discuss your bias against stuffy people like me."   It was a way he had of turning the tables.  "You wouldn't want anyone to think you were a snooty girl ...hmm, like that Viv sitting over yonder?"

It was said that Blair could charm the birds out of the trees, and so he plied his talents on the vulnerable Miss Dare with nothing disingenuous in his manner or words.

"We are just regular folks, Dotty.  Really we are.  Please don't hold a bank account against me.  So please lets see a smile on that pretty face."

A waiter swished by.

"Oh waiter,  two Bacardi's over here,"  he ordered.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile, Muff had ambled over to where he had seen Dotty and Blair sitting a mere two seconds ago.

He peered at the snooty Vivian Flanders through his thick glasses.

“Hiya Kids!” he greeted them, already a little sloshed from the bootleg liquor going round the band “Got any requests?!”


Dorothy Dare

Bohemian
298
?Years Young
19 Posts

"Hello, I'm Dotty Dare, I like to express myself in clay!"


"No no no," Blair insisted.  "Please let's sit for awhile.  Look.  Here's a table."

He guided her as if she were a wounded fawn and then, always courteous, pulled a chair out for her.

Dotty sat, as she was bidden, and the chair creaked in distress.

"Now let's have a drink and discuss your bias against stuffy people like me."   It was a way he had of turning the tables.  "You wouldn't want anyone to think you were a snooty girl ...hmm, like that Viv sitting over yonder?"

The bohemian artist smiled despite herself.

“I suppose that was all rather hypocritical of me. You could say I’m just an inverted snob, assuming that the rich and powerful have no artistic souls, unless you’re the exception that proves the rule. Your singing technique certainly has a certain je ne sais quoi. Oh! But the rest of these people!” she sighed, indicating, with the wave of a disdainful set of chubby fingers, the assembled company of blue bloods.

"We are just regular folks, Dotty. Really we are.  Please don't hold a bank account against me.  So please let’s see a smile on that pretty face."

“Oh, do you really think me pretty?” she smiled, making two adorable dimples appear on her plump cheeks. “Marcel used to say that I was pretty, but I always thought he was just buttering me up so he could get my clothes off and do me in coal.”

"Oh waiter, two Bacardi's over here," he ordered.

“Big ones!” added Dotty. The way this night was going, she might need a couple of drinks under her belt to loosen her stays.


Vivian Flanders

Heiress
408
?Years Young
10 Posts

"They say money doesn't make you happy, that's a laugh."


Viv and her pair of friends got back to enjoying themselves. Pity that Blair fellow didn't wish to stay but as for that so called artist, good riddance. Those art people were always so snobby, like they were above the rest of people who did coo at paintings or sculptures.

Meanwhile, Muff had ambled over and  peered at  Viv  through his thick glasses.

“Hiya Kids!” he greeted them, already a little sloshed from the bootleg liquor going round the band “Got any requests?!”

"Nothing specific, as long as it's cheerful. Oh and lively, we didn't come here for a funeral," Viv smiled.

 


Loved 1

Muff Miller

Bandleader and Trombonist
298
?Years Young
15 Posts

"And now a little tune called She Sits Between the Cabbages and Peas"


"Nothing specific, as long as it's cheerful. Oh and lively, we didn't come here for a funeral," Viv smiled.

Muff hiccuped in surprise when he realized that he was talking to Vivian Flanders, party girl, heiress and doyen of the Miami party scene. He had been so busy fiddling with his trombone during Kelly Patt’s act that he hadn’t even realized that she was in the audience.

Now, for any musician in the area, Vivian Flanders was a Goddess on high who must, at all costs, be appropriated and cozened. As queen of the ‘scene’, she could make or break a bandleader when choosing who would make the whoopee music for her celebrated soirees.

He nodded his immediate consent, then thought: what the hell to play?

La Flanders was notoriously hard to please, and easily bored if played the same old tunes. He had a moment of drunken inspiration and skittered over to the band, hoping that they knew the brand new number, then addressed the whole nightclub. Luckily for him he never had a problem with his stutter when he was sloshed.

“Your attention please Ladies and Gentleman, the boys in the band and myself would like to introduce to you tonight, a brand new number! And we’re playing it in honor of that beautiful hostess of parties, and well known devotee of the racetrack, the lovely Miss Vivian Flanders. We give you ‘Horses’”

The band swung into a brand new novelty number with a jerky galloping upbeat tempo and a funny apposite lyric which Muff yelped out in his rough jazzy way of singing (when the band recorded it later for Victor, the arrangement, and the vocal by Blair Blankenship were much smoother, but this night’s performance certainly had a the edge for pure vim).

After the obligatory first playthrough of the main theme by the band, Muff jerked into the singing part:

 

¯Took my girl to the races
Gosh! How she loves the races
There we sat, sittin' in the stand,
She stood pat, couldn't pat her hand
Took one look at a big 'Gee Gee' and that was the end of me.

Horses, Horses, Horses, Nutty over Horses, Horses, Horses
Goofy over Horses, Horses, Horses
She's a litle wild
Daffy over Horses, Horses, Horses
Silly over Horses, Horses, Horses
Once I heard her call me 'Spark Plug' Brown eyes too.

Horses, Horses, just a lot of horses, horses all of the time!¯

 

Even as he yelped out the lyrics, it occurred to Muff that maybe the lady he was singing about might not appreciate being refered to as daffy and silly. As he played a wah-wah coda using the mute on his horn, it remained to be seen whether the sophisticated Miss Flanders would be amused or annoyed by the song.

[To hear how the nightclub band sounded, with Muff singing:]


Blair Blankenship

88
?Years Young
39 Posts

"If I'd known that this is the way it'd all turn out, I never would have kissed my father goodbye."


Blair was beaming inside.  It made him so happy that Dotty .. precious soul that she was.. began to lighten up.

“Oh, do you really think me pretty?” she smiled, making two adorable dimples appear on her plump cheeks. “Marcel used to say that I was pretty, but I always thought he was just buttering me up so he could get my clothes off and do me in coal.”

Blair straightened in his chair much like a Boy Scout attempting his pledge.  "I wouldn't say it if it weren't true.  As well as being pretty, you have an endearing eagerness for life.  And who the hell is Marcel, some French Bohemian who had his cap set for you?"

A young man in a Four Deuces uniform came swishing by.

"Oh waiter, two Bacardi's over here," he ordered.

“Big ones!” added Dotty. The way this night was going, she might need a couple of drinks under her belt to loosen her stays.

"Now tell me, Dotty.  How has the art business been lately?  Are you selling any of your works?"

Blair had the wonderful ability to make those he talked to seem as though they were the most important people in his orbit.



Loved 1

Dorothy Dare

Bohemian
298
?Years Young
19 Posts

"Hello, I'm Dotty Dare, I like to express myself in clay!"


“And who the hell is Marcel, some French Bohemian who had his cap set for you?"

Dotty adopted a faraway look, indicating that she was gazing into the past.

“Marcel Crumpe, the famous Coalwork artist. It was he who invited me to the Americas. I thought that he was interested in my busts, but alas it wasn’t my busts, plural, that he wanted to get his hands on.” she sighed “In the end, his attentions started to suffocate me; he was so horribly jealous of any man I spoke to. That is why I left Chicago and ran away to Florida. But I’m afraid that he has followed me here. Oh, but let’s not talk about him, let’s talk about us!”

Blair ordered them a couple of stiff pegs and they carried on talking.

"Now tell me, Dotty.  How has the art business been lately?  Are you selling any of your works?"

The artist smiled, basking in the company of the handsome and frankly younger Blair. Despite the discrepancy in their physical looks, social class and age, he was at least five years younger than her, and the fact that they had only met that day, he had the wonderful ability to make her feel as if she was already the most important person in his life.

“Oh, Blair! Haven’t you heard about my enormous penis?” she asked. “It’s been a horrible scandal and a great success in all the places that matter. I sold it for quite an enormous sum, but then I squandered all the cash on a private dick who said he’d find Abraxus. He buried him in the back garden, but it wasn’t him at all!”  she explained… badly.


Blair Blankenship

88
?Years Young
39 Posts

"If I'd known that this is the way it'd all turn out, I never would have kissed my father goodbye."


Dotty seemed to forget about her woes and opened up with enthusiasm. 

“Marcel Crumpe, the famous Coalwork artist. It was he who invited me to the Americas. I thought that he was interested in my busts, but alas it wasn’t my busts, plural, that he wanted to get his hands on.” she sighed “In the end, his attentions started to suffocate me; he was so horribly jealous of any man I spoke to. That is why I left Chicago and ran away to Florida. But I’m afraid that he has followed me here. Oh, but let’s not talk about him, let’s talk about us!”

Blair wondered how big this guy was, or wasn't, because he looked into the crystal ball of his imagination and pictured himself giving this Crumpe fellow a good drubbing.

Blair ordered them a couple of stiff pegs and they carried on talking.

"Now tell me, Dotty.  How has the art business been lately?  Are you selling any of your works?"

“Oh, Blair! Haven’t you heard about my enormous penis?” she asked. 

Blair choked on his Bacardi.

“It’s been a horrible scandal and a great success in all the places that matter. I sold it for quite an enormous sum, but then I squandered all the cash on a private dick who said he’d find Abraxus. He buried him in the back garden, but it wasn’t him at all!”  she explained… badly.

Her escort was confused.  Maybe a Bacardi wasn't the right thing to ply her with after all.  She seemed obsessed with phallic expressions.

He held up his palms in a manner of saying "I give!"

"Let's talk about tonight and let's talk about our futures. Oh, .. I don't mean our mutual futures, necessarily, but let's look ahead.  For instance, I have no idea where this music stuff is going to land me.  And I have no idea if I'm seated next to the future, leading artist of the Twentieth Century."

He smiled warming and slid his cigarette case in her direction.

 


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