Singing the Blues
Singing the Blues 1940 stories
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rayofsun67
rayofsun67 Hi, that's all I got. Have a great day!!
Autoplay OFF   •   a year ago
a short on a flirt game between a Sergeant and a jazz singer. Set in the 1940s. Inspired by 1940s James "Bucky" Barnes.

Singing the Blues

Most days fly by and nights fall out of my grasp without me even noticing. Performing in different clubs has its perks but not many. They all tend to feel the same. One guy gets to handsy after the show. Another swoops in to save me only to say 'I did you a favor' and be extremely sexist. And the third, well, doesn't exist.

He's only a figment of my imagination. He'd swoop in to save me without expecting anything in return. Like any other night I'm performing. This time at a beautiful club opening for Ella Fitzgerald. wonderful woman truly.

"Why hello, never seen you around this area," I whip my head ready to give him a piece of mind till I see his uniform. "That's because I'm not from here," I shoot back, "What's your name, solider?" I ask not so subtly checking him out.

"Sergeant Lance Williams, ma'am." I raise a brow in shock, didn't know a sergeant would be here, "And may I ask for your name?" "Names Morena, Morena Walcott. I'm the opener for Ella Fitzgerald."

"Well I must say you are quite dazzling up there." He smirks as if thinking I'll make this any easier for him, "May I?" He gestures to the seat and I only nod downing the rest of my whiskey. He orders a brandy, hm, interesting. "So, Sergeant Williams, what brings you out here to this club?" I ask hoping to amuse myself enough before I leave.

"I'm taking a small break before I go on another mission, thank you sir." he smiles, taking his drink. "Well, aren't you lucky. I don't remember the last time I got a break." He chuckles a bit before asking, "So if you aren't from here, where are you from?" he asks a sweet boyish smile playing on his lips, subtly isn't his strong suit apparently.

"Charlottesville, Virginia." I smile enjoying the game we're playing, "Oh and, call me Mo." "Well, Mo, if you don't mind, call me Lance." "Alrighty, Lance, tell me. Have anyone special?" He laughs loudly at my question making me wonder if I somehow offended him. "I didn't mean to laugh," he says between his laughter, "it's just funny. But no, I'm single."

Something so strange but so soothing about him is that, his eyes don't roam and rake my body. instead they stay locked on my eyes as though I'll disappear and he won't notice. "Well Lance, if you aren't doing anything tonight, except maybe getting plastered here," I say, standing up purposefully pressing my body against his own,

"come join me."

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