Songbird , livre ebook

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15 pages

English

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Gerald brought Isa from Harlem to Paris to sing in a nightclub he owns. When Francine and Maurice decide that the club and Isa should become the next big thing, her way of going about that turns out to be the beginning of an erotic adventure, tailor made for a songbird...WARNING: This eBook contains graphic language of a sexual nature and should only be purchased by a mature, adult audience.

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Erotic literature

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Publié par	Andrews UK
Date de parution	19 avril 2021
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781789825268
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0050€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Songbird
Blair Erotica

First published in 2021 by
House of Erotica
www.houseoferoticabooks.com
Digital edition converted and distributed by
Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com
Copyright © 2021 Blair Erotica
The right of Blair Erotica to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Any person who does so may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Chapter One
The songbird’s name was Isa, and she had just discovered that she loved Paris. The place and people were permeated with a light-hearted, wonderful craziness. Parisians seemed to understand that the twenties were about joy and love, just as her songs were, even the sad ones. They came to hear her sing—at first for the novelty of seeing and hearing a black woman from New York, but once they heard her, they came back for her singing.
And she had Gerald. He found her in a miserable club in Harlem, dreaming of being on a stage where they listened to her; he watched her turn her face up to the sky as she sang, willing herself to follow her own notes as they soared high. He fell in love with the idea of having his own songbird. He bought the damn club—because of her, he said and she believed him. Why else would a white man from Switzerland buy a club in Harlem? He made a go of the place until he got an offer for the club that he couldn’t refuse, or at least an offer from someone he couldn’t refuse. Then he told her they would go to Paris.
“You will love Paris and it will embrace you,” he said.
He was right. She loved the city and it seemed to love her back. Gerald got her a record deal with a small jazz label singing covers of Bessie Smith’s “Empty Bed Blues” and “T’Ain’t Nobody’s Biz-ness If I Do” and she was working on Helen Kane’s “I Wanna Be Loved By You,” which she thought more her style. Gerald bought her the right clothes (insisting that the popular skinny dresses of French fashion were made for her) and then he bought a small nightclub in the cellar of an undistinguished building where she sang on Fridays and Saturdays. Gerald billed her as the “New York Songbird” and the jazz lovers had just begun to discover her.
Being Gerald’s mistress in Paris was easier than in New York. Affairs and relationships were not serious matters there, not then, and no one even mentioned the difference in their skin colour. If anything, they were seen as exotic.
She found him exciting and complex. He loved sex with her as much as her singing, but she didn’t think he was in love with her. She had no illusions that he was faithful to her. He didn’t hide his affairs. He even brought women he was fucking to the club to hear his songbird. But then he never minded seeing men falling in love with her, which was common in Paris.
She thought it enough for a songbird to be adored by a fantastic lover who gave her amazing pleasure. He often came to the club on nights she was singing and waited for her in her dressing room. When she came in to fix her makeup between sets, he’d be there to put his hands all over her. He’d lift her skirt or peel her out of it, wanting to bend her over the chair and take her roughly, filling her with his lusty cock while the sounds of the audience talking and the band backstage tuning up or playing cards acted as their background music.
Even when they were in public he liked to touch her.