Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Nazimova awoke from a blissful slumber in a grand and exquisite bed, one she struggled to crawl herself out from, despite having done so before plenty of times, her long, dark, unruly hair a mess, meanwhile her pale eyes were a stunning, electric blue colour, shadows heavy.

Not that the cameras at the time would notice this.

Alla Nazimova, born Marem-Ides Leventon in 1879

“In Yalta, back when the Russian Empire still existed” she’d say, meanwhile her stage name Alla Nazimova was a combination of Alla, a diminutive of Adelaida, and the surname of the character Nadezhda Nazimova, the heroine of the old Russian novel “Children of the Streets”.

Alla would only throw on her robe once she remembered that she would be having guests.

Somebody was coming to audition for Nazimova…

Nazimovas gated home on 8152 Sunset Boulevard was a lovely estate, it was originally built by William Hamilton Hay in 1913, with twelve rooms and four bathrooms, she had actually leased it from William Hay not long after she moved to Los Angeles from New York in 1918.

A curving road had connected the gate to the house, vibrant trees and plants lining the pathway, the road circled a large patch of grass, one that housed an exotic series of plants, the home of Alla Nazimova more resembled a garden than it did a home, at least when it came to looking in, hence why Nazimova taken to dubbing her home the “Garden of Alla”, the name also being a reference to a popular book at that time, one by Robert S. Hichens.

The lady auditioning likely didn’t care about that…

She surely must have been more distracted by Alla.

The girl looked to’ve been surprised by her answering the gate wearing nothing but a robe.

Meanwhile the actress in question was wearing this shirt and a pair of shorts that morning.

But underneath her arm she had carried a jacket… Just in case things gotten awfully chilly.

The weather that morning was simply: “Indecisive”.

They looked surprised but far from deterred by it…

Oh, Nazimova tightened the thing, but her every movement would have to be followed with the Russian born actress having to occasionally close and adjust it, though there would be long periods in which aspects of her “Personality”, were on full display to the young actress.

There were moments in which her eyes, those of the auditioning actress, drifted to her skin.

Not that Alla Nazimova complained… They did not.

“May I help you?” she asked the woman behind the gate “Oh, sorry” they uttered sheepishly

“Nazimova, right?” they ask Alla, who nods saying “You’re here for the audition… Correct?”

“Yes ma’am” they said sounding a little bit excited, she looked a little taller than Nazimova, who would ask them to come in as she went to open the gate

“My house is your house…” Alla pauses as it dawns on her “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch your name, what was it again?”

“Acker” she tells Nazimova “My name’s Jean Acker"

“‘Jean Acker’… Please, come in” she tells her in that Russian accent of hers, telling them to

“Make yourself comfortable” as she calmly showed them inside her home, leading the shy woman seeming closed, only mildly discomforted.

Jean Acker had a pair of melancholic, almost droopy eyes under her black bangs, her nose is pointed just a little and her features were delicate.

Those eyes happened to have caught those of Nazimova, who wanted her to be their muse, to be frank, there were a lot of things that she wanted to do Jean Acker, and she was likely to do them in due time, she was prepared to wait with her pale poker face, everyone was pale.

Acker performed on vaudeville in New Jersey before she had made it all the way across to Hollywood, California, just like many a wide eyed girl with a shred of talent back in the day, she had moved in 1919, and looking for a teacher, she would find herself in the presence of Nazimova, and Acker would tell them that much…

“Are you new to it?” Nazimova asked her with this perched, thin eyebrow “The silver screen”

“Oh no, I’ve starred in six, my first four were actually in 1913, well, three of ‘em were shorts”

Nazimova had went to light her cigarette, the snapping sound between the two rang in the silence of the studio they were in

“Oh, don’t let me stop you, explain further” Nazimova tells Jean casually before she lit up their fancy cigarette

“Well, ’In a Woman's Power’ was the much longer one, that one was by Herbert Brenon, and that was for the Universal Film Manufacturing Company, I had played the wife of the lead”

“Lucky him” Nazimova quipped, the cigarette between her lips as she took in this long drag.

Blushing a little bit, Jean Acker would continue on

“Well… My next role would be in ‘Bob's Baby’, where I played the cousin of Mr. Glen White, I’d work with him again in ‘The $5,000,000 Counterfeiting Plot’… One of my longer films”

“Shit” cursed Nazimova, before she explained that

“My model’s running late” Alla told her “Pardon?”

“My model” she said “I’m more than just a pretty face, my dear, I’m an artist… To an extent”

“Oh, there was no doubt about that” Acker had said a little sheepishly to their artsy vampire, she’d cock up an eyebrow with an amused smile, before frowning about how she had hoped on working on her skills, not with charcoal, she frankly found it to’ve been a tad bit irritating

“It stains my fingers and it creeps deep under my nails, not that some are able to notice this” she said this looking at firm, almond shaped nails.

Jean Acker shifts awkwardly about in her seat before suggesting “If you’re in a dire need…”

“Are you offering me your services?” Alla asked Jean, who simply shrugged “Well, uh… Yes”, Jean Acker didn’t notice it, she didn’t see it… But Nazimova was actually smiling to herself.

Leading her into the art room, Acker was met by sparse room, save for an easel and for a pair of stools, one of which had an artists notebook, one which Jean Acker would take a peak into

“Oh my” Jean thought to herself before gently closed it shut “Those were interesting poses”

“We’ve only just met, so don’t expect me to tell you to get into any of those ‘Complex’ poses”

Nazimova said, startling Jean a bit “…That’s good”

“…Disrobe” Alla told Acker, catching her off guard

“I requested a model” Alla told Jean “A nude model specifically… No worries, I won’t bite”

“No, I’m not scared of getting bit” Acker admitted a tad bit sheepishly

“…Disrobe” she is told once more by Nazimova as she went to set up her easel, a large piece of paper already on it.

Acker was slow and gradual when it came to her disrobing, her jacket was already off by the time she had entered the house, taking off her shoes and her little socks, she did so sitting up against the chair, though she’s startled a little by the chair as it moved, her jacket upon it.

It was as her fingers went to the buttons of her shorts, that she realised that she would likely have to go all the way for the Russian, Alla Nazimova, whom Acker could see drawing pencils from an elongated tin case, noting how she calmly sharpened her pencils, telling dear Acker “Don’t let me distract you” with a smile on her face.

Removing her shorts, Acker would do so trying to avoid eye contact with the Russian beauty.

She could feel them on her rump as she bent over, the eyes of Alla Nazimova, watching her, obviously admiring her, and thinking of a long list of ways to get under her skin, and under her in general, oh sure, she had underwear on, but she had a feeling she’d see through it…

Slowly undoing her shirt, she did so with caution, almost like she was about t’jump off a cliff.

“…Well?” Nazimova asked them playfully “Go on”

“I’m sorry” Jean giggled “It’s not every day that a beautiful lady tells me to get undressed”

“Is that so?” Alla asked, sounding a little flattered by the compliment Acker had slipped in, as she undid the last button, gently and carefully allowing the shirt to come down to their feet.

Standing before Alla Nazimova in her pale underwear, she felt like a mouse in a snakes cage.

Nazimova’s already behind the paper, sketching…

Undoing her bra, she had turned her head to the side, as she was in the middle of doing so, she was instructed to be still, though at times she’d be given instructions on how she should pose for her, whether or not she should stretch her leg, or to put her arm behind her head.

“Turn around” Jean was told, unable to shake away the feeling she was admiring her rump

“Perfect; Now, turn your head a little, look this way”

“Okay” Jean said softly as she turned her head to the right with her back to Alla Nazimova…

The vaudevillian performer found herself lost in them, the eyes of the Russian born force of nature, the strangely exotic pale woman with the mess of unkempt and long dark hair, her eye shadow’s like those of a German expressionists backdrop, painted against her pale skin.

Looking meek and shy yet beautiful, she was only then instructed by Nazimova to remove it.

Obeying, Acker unhooked and dropped her bra…

Her breasts weren’t anything to write home about, Jean certainly didn’t think that they were, but her ass on the other hand?

Well, that was a little more well toned, likely as a result of her having been raised on a farm for a good part of her life, therefore experience on horseback.

Having fully disrobed for Alla Nazimova, she notices the long drags she took from that fancy cigarette holder, a blissful yet entranced look in her eyes as she admired their slim figure, it was also evident to Acker that she was not paying much attention to their paper and pencil.

“Aren’t you supposed to… Well, draw?” Jean asked

“I need to see what I’m sketching” Nazimova tells her as she dragged her pencil against the paper, her eyes going back and forth between the paper she worked on and the woman she had wanted to ravage, even Acker had to have noticed how the seconds between her looking back and forth seemed to go for longer and longer.

Those cool eyes made her feel a funny way, a way which she only felt for a small number of people, particularly women, and she had a feeling that Nazimova knew their feeling exactly, when she was in vaudeville she had seen it, women in states of undress, their liveliness, the ways they looked in and out of their costumes, little by little it had awoken something within Jean Acker, the sight of their bare skin and their pretty dresses, they quietly drove her wild…

That was not even getting into the innuendo, the songs and sensuality that they witnessed.

Though a little prudish, it had excited Jean Acker…

She wasn’t quite in the closet, no one barely even acknowledged that her closet had existed.

For so long, Acker had been confused about herself, wondering just what the hell she was…

So Acker figured, if anything, she was an actress…

Alla Nazimova would ask them “What made you want to do it? To come here to Hollywood?”

“I had the talent and I wanted to move up in life” she said putting on a sheen of confidence, even if she was a little uncomfortable answering questions about her private life, and they were only just asked why they came to California, adding that “Honestly? I came for help…”

“And who on this blue earth told you that you’d find it here?” Nazimova asked her playfully.

Her eyes flicker up to Jean, noting her: Excitement.

Acker had another word for the excitement: Cold…

Both were true, Jean was in fact getting a little cold, yet she, like Nazimova was also aroused.

The truth is, Jean Acker had needed Nazimova…

And Alla Nazimova had wanted Jean Acker.

For in her comfy bed, she hated to awake alone.

“…Would you like to see what I’ve done?” Nazimova asked Jean, who’d agree “I’d love to” before she bent over forward to pick up her shirt, though she wouldn’t immediately put it on “Come” Alla said gesturing her to come closer, almost vampiric to Acker… Yet still beautiful.

Showing Jean the picture, they would sit back silently, like a gentle child awaiting approval.

Standing close to Nazimova, Jean was able to tell that she was… No, not quite nervous, a little humble, not tense, but there was excitement, either that or a draft, though she did not mean to glance down the collar of her dark robe, to follow it to her small and perky breasts.

Nazimova asked Acker: “Well? What do you think?”

“Lovely” Acker told her, still staring at their chest…

“Me or my artwork?” Nazimova asked them plainly.

Ackers heart skipped a beat “It’s lovely” she told her a little nervously “The artwork I mean…”

Nazimova tells her “Oh come now, I’d hardly call this art, give me more time and I’ll make…” the Russian seemed a lost for words before saying close to her “Make an artwork out of you”.

Jean had blushed the moment she felt Alla’s breath, cold like her eyes, yet sharp as a knife.“

Is something the matter?” Acker was asked by her

“No, not at all, it’s just that I feel naked” she admits

“My darling, you are naked” they reminded Acker—, who was quick to giggle at this “Oh my” Jean said to herself “I shouldn’t be about like this”

“You act as if I’ve never seen a nude woman other than ‘She who greets me from my mirror’”

“I… I should really go and get dressed” Acker said as she went back to the stool to fetch the rest of her clothes, all the while Alla watched with this devilish smile and mesmerised eyes.

“Has anybody ever said you have a lovely behind?”.

Acker froze for a moment “Um… Yes? I believe so”.

Privately, with her back turned to Nazimova, Acker could not help but smile, flattered and…

Frankly aroused, how could she not be? The Russian actress was a beautiful, artistic woman.

And she was starting to like the game they were playing, she could tell that she was looking them up and down and slowly, like honey or molasses, like an ice cube melting on a hot day, a gentle drop coming down the arch of ones back or down their collar, down to their chest…

Nazimova could see it, her excitement building up.

“So… When does my audition begin?” Jean Acker had asked Nazimova “Unless this was it”

“Of course this isn’t it” she told Acker, who sought to correct her “I think you mean ‘Wasn’t’”

“No, I meant… This isn’t it, that we’re not done yet” she informed her as she fixed her robe

“Is it now?” Jean asked Nazimova “Hopefully we don’t take too long here” before admitting

“We’ll likely have to take a rain check on auditioning” sounding only a little disappointed…

Nazimova noted how she didn’t seem to flinch, how she allowed her to come forward and up to her face, in fact, Jean was was practically swooning for her, holding herself back from just caving in and surrendering to the Russian woman.

“I’m sure we could work something out… Right?” Jean had asked Alla Nazimova nervously.

Stealing a gentle kiss, hers was delivered by a firm pair of lips that savoured the plump ones of Acker’s, she could tell that they were nervous by the way they quivered nervously against hers, the way that, for a moment, the woman was frozen, the way her eyes remained open…

It wasn’t long before Jean’s eyes had slowly closed.

It wasn’t long before Jeans lips had parted some more, unsurprised by the gentle flicking of a serpentine tongue, one which had originated from the mouth of Nazimova, whom was in a dominant position, she tended to be the dominant one in bed when it came to most nights.

There was something along the lines of fear in the eyes of Jean Acker once Nazimova pulled back, she was clearly wondering as to whether or not she had done the right thing, despite the simple fact that it was Nazimova whom had kissed her, and whose tongue she had felt, the sensation so gentle and delicate, yet they carried with them a strength Acker could not deny, nor could she the intensity in the eyes of their sternly beautiful and regal poker face…

“Yes, I think we can work something out, my dear”.

Their lips would lock as they embrace on that stool.

“My model” she smiled “My… Muse” there was a purr in the way Nazimova uttered “Muse”.

Gently coming down her body, Alla Nazimova would kiss the model before their pretty eyes.

Acker reached down to pull Nazimova back up, wanting more of her kisses, only to find her thumb between those sweet lips, gently coming to the side of her mouth, swirled about by the tongue of Alla Nazimova, frozen solid in the gaze of the Russian and her deep blue eyes.

“…Lay back for me” Acker was commanded by Alla.

Laying back, she would find herself at the mercy of Alla Nazimova, and what a mercy it was.

Allas tongue had worked its magic upon her body.

And she had only just dropped bellow their shoulders, her nose rustling against her collar.

Acker arched back, her fingers lingering through the luscious and unruly hair of Nazimova, as she gripped the sides of her head, she had pressed her own tits together, which seemed to have excited Alla Nazimova, who responded by clutching the back of Jean Acker tightly.

The sudden nibbling of Nazimovas teeth against her flesh, the gentle pull of her nipple, it—

“Ow! My!” she cried out “Oh my… Oh…” Nazimova looked Jean in the eyes and asked Acker “Did it hurt?” to which she told her “Yes, but… It was in a good way, I… Bite me some more”

“If you insist” Nazimova said, her lips upon her tits.

The sensation of her tongue and lips, as their had inside of her mouth and against her lips were mighty against her nipples, feeling a shot of bravery and ecstasy coming through her and only a little down her legs, Acker would grab a hold of Nazimova, groping the woman.

She felt her fingers against the breasts of Nazimova, lingering against her as she went down.

“I’m going to eat your pussy…” Nazimova declared

“If we’re going to do that, then can we do it somewhere more… Comfortable?” Acker asked Nazimova, whose head was already on its way towards the lap of the young Jean Acker, Alla would arch it up, almost resting her head upon the leg of the hopeful actress “My bedroom” she told Jean Acker before quickly taking her hand.

Jean Acker fell delicately across the bed, laying sprawled out on her back, her eyes upon the stunning, Russian born Nazimova, who’d let slip the robe from her body, unveiling herself to the eager eyes of Acker, she seemed to almost shrink to Nazimova, who’d crawl upon them.

Her body is grabbed by the elegant hands of Nazimova, which Acker found still wearing the charcoal as they pulled her into the embrace of the actress, her pale hands lingering up and down the thighs of that young woman, gently creeping its way towards Jean Ackers crotch…

Acker still held herself back, Nazimova could see it.

She was nervous, she had never done this before, not with any man and certainly not with another woman, though she had long thought about it, even at a young age, watching stage plays of knights and princesses, she pondered what it would be like to rescue the princess. But with every stroke and gentle caress, Jean could not help but fold to that cinematic vamp.

She’d spread her legs like a harlot or a streetwalker

“Please” Jean begged Alla “Make me feel wanted” to this she told her “You will be desired” before she grabbed a hold of her legs, bending forward before kissing and licking the crotch of Jean Acker, whose eyes would glance either at the figure of Nazimova or at their ceiling…

“So… I’ve been meaning to ask you… About the—“

Acker still felt to hold herself back from cursing at the top of her lungs

“Oh fuck! Holy fuck!” instead dragging out this grunt of pleasure and lust, her eyes rolling and her back arching, either way it was a result of Alla Nazimova’s tongue

“Oh… Oh my…” she eventually breathed out “Oh”.

Finding Nazimova penetrating her with their tongue, Jean would let out quite the moan…

She felt her fingers digging deep into her thick white thighs as her tongue had pried its way into her vagina, going down on her like she were a piece of fruit, one she would feast upon, savouring her every flavour, making the Vaudeville performer see colours and crumble away.

The fingers entering her? That wasn’t anything new, only they were usually her own fingers.

And she never dared to have thrusted them in so deep and so fast, mainly because she was bound to get tired, and she’d surely pull a muscle in her arm if she tried to go too deep, but Alla Nazimova managed to scratch an itch she didn’t know she had, and it made her scream.

The two women had fucked like the Babylon they called Hollywood was going to explode…

Well, something had exploded, Acker climaxed the moment it occurred between their legs.

Having came, she felt something escape, squirting out, something Alla licked off her fingers.

“I…I… I’ve never done that before” Jean admitted

“I have” Alla said, her fingers lingering against her own lips “And I’ve made others do it too” the moment she noticed Jean biting her own lip, Nazimova had pressed their nectar stained fingers against the lips of the young Vaudevillian, enjoying the way her eyes went wide for a good couple seconds before crossing, her face was a mix of emotions, surprise for one thing, then came the curiosity, followed by lust, one that savoured the juices shoved in her mouth.

And so she was sucking upon their elegant fingers

“That’s it, lick me dry” Nazimova purred so close to Jean, her spare hand caressing her neck “You want more?” she asked Acker, who seemed a little hesitant, only to ask Alla “How so?”, before Nazimova kissed her once more muttering “If you want more, then return the favour”.

Jean had barely any time to react before she found Nazimova’s vagina against up her face…

Jean resisted as she pushed Nazimova back gently.

“If you want me to do something like… Like that…” she seemed aroused just thinking back to what Nazimova just did to her

“Then you’re going to have to be polite about it… Alright?” the more experienced woman looked to’ve been amused “Okay… Please eat out my vagina”.

Both women giggled before Acker had gone down.

With Jean’s head now between her legs, Nazimova instructed Acker on how to pleasure her, though the young, aspiring actress seemed to’ve been a quick learner, albeit a little sloppy, but she didn’t mind the way she ate her out, her fellatio not as good as hers, but passable. Nazimova didn’t mind, she quiet enjoyed their act.

Either way the two women would get off on one and other, their beautiful bodies tangled in their sexual embrace, before Acker knew it the two women scissored one and other, the lips of their crotches kissing, swiping up against one and other, practically grinding together like a nervous set of teeth, only it was flesh against flesh, warm white flesh against warm white flesh, with Nazimova the master of that bedroom, still in control, even as she nears a climax.

Atop of ‘em, Nazimova told her Acker to “Beg for it”

"Beg?” Jean asked her, holding back a moan as she did so “Beg for me” she said once more, slowing down just a little “I like it when they beg” she said, admiring the eyes that watched her body, the eyes of Jean Acker, who looked as if she was in over her head “…Beg for more”

“More, please” Jean squeals “Give me some more”.

Alla smiled, she had one of her legs in her grip, the other she felt up, her fingers lingering up and down her white meat “I know you can do better” she said pinching their left breast, a gentle whimper of pain escaping the vaudevillian, as she was egged on by the woman atop of her, the woman whose bedsheets they’d certainly stain in her excitement and pleasure

“Fuh—Fuck! Fuck me; Please just finish me, please”

Acker begged her, doing so with intertwined legs, wanting more from the woman who was what stood between her and fame, admiration and being love “Give me more!” Jean purrs, her eyes damn near crossed, and like two live wire touching ends, sparks flew and before the  young and beautiful Acker could process it, Nazimova had once again pried into their loins.

Like a flower blooming, a tree sprouting its roots, plunging them deep inside the fertile and fresh soil, she felt the elegant appendages of Alla Nazimova’s hand entering them, enticing her, almost dragging her

“That’s more like it” she told Acker as an animal awakens in them.

Jean would fold and she would sink into their bed, climaxing with a mouth hanging agog…

She’d feel Allas fingers dragging against her leg on their way to the lips of their Nazimova.

Alla sucked on her own fingers, savouring the taste before she went down on her for a kiss.

Time passed, the lovers entwined in and by one and other on the bed, Acker drifting asleep.

Her smile, Alla wanted to own and to create, solely.

Sitting herself up, Nazimova’s clad in their open, black and gold kimono and nothing more.

“…I’d take it that I was your first?” they asked Jean

“One of my firsts… The farthest I ever got was a kiss… And my own hand between my legs”

“Hm” Nazimova said, her stunning blue eyes looking down on Jean Acker as she lays there

“Did they mean it?” Nazimova asked with curiosity “The one who gave you your first kiss…” she leaned in close as she adds seductively “The one you fingered yourself thinking about”

“It was simply a gentle peck if anything, she didn’t mean it… They were such a damn tease”

“Ah. So, I’m guessing I was the first to eat you out?”

Acker giggled “Yes, in that particular regard, you are my… My…” she hesitates nervously

“You worry too much, even after I made you scream, you still worry somebody will hear us”

Jean wasn’t really scared of being heard, she hesitated because of the hand upon her rump.

“So… I’ve been meaning to ask you… About the—“

“The audition?” Alla asked her “Fret not, I’ll see what I can do to arrange for you a job here”

“Define ‘Here’” Jean tells them, she slowly picked herself up, having laid there on her belly, her neck and chin finding the elegancy of Nazimovas hand, gently lifting her up as she said

“I’ll find you a job, one suited for your talents, all I ask of you is to fly alongside me… Okay?”

Jean laughed, still somewhat giddy as she felt another hand brushing the hair from her eyes

“What’s so funny?” Acker is asked by Alla Nazimova

“Why do I feel as if I’m making a deal with the devil?” she asked her “Are you complaining?”

“No” Acker tells Alla gently “Wherever you are flying… I’m flying with you” kissing Nazimova with an innocent passion if ever there was a thing, Acker figured somebody wouldn’t agree.

But Nazimova? They savoured every second of it…

Neither one broke off the kiss, they simply parted, their noses touching as Alla whispered

“Then fly with me to Eden and tempt Eve herself” Jean couldn’t help but swoon to Nazimova

“I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship…”

“That so?” Jean asked her “Yes” she smiles “It is so”

Nazimova would welcome the arm of Jean Acker as she snuggled up beside her in their bed.

If it wasn’t the start of a beautiful friendship? Then it was going to be the start of a wild ride.

Chapter Text

Despite being married, Nazimova and Charles Bryant never consummated their marriage.

One on the surface looking in must have found it odd, as the Cheshire born Charles Bryant had decent looks, albeit with a lighter shade of hair, and Nazimova, strange but exotic, must have been somewhat experienced carnally, and had been in relationships with men before.

In reality, their marriage was less one of romantic feelings, and more akin to a camaraderie.

Did not stop Jean from trying to hide from Charles.

But to be fair to Jean, she wasn’t aware of the bed arrangements of Bryant and of Nazimova.

Even if she had shared the same bed as Nazimova.

The moment Jean Acker had heard the sound of a door opening, she hurried into a closet…

Playing along, Alla Nazimova would sit up in her bed and close her robe shut, reaching for a book from her bedside table, “The Picture of Dorian Gray” as she tells Jean Acker not to make a sound like a tiny church mouse, playfully putting an elegant finger against her own lips.

Jean took in a nervous breath as she closed the closet shut, hiding behind an expensive coat as she heard the footsteps approaching that room.

“Al?” Charles asked “You are one of the few people I allow t’call me that” she smirks at him

“Have you stayed in bed all day?” he asked her, almost concerned “I’ve been up and about”

Nazimova tells him, dabbing her index finger with her tongue as she slowly turns the page.

“Even the way she reads is so erotic” Acker thought.

Cradling herself and her clothes in her arms, Jean feels it, temptation, her hand was drifting down towards her leg as she intently watched Nazimova read the Oscar Wilde novel, fixated on her every turn of the page, occasionally on the fingers that gently caress their pretty face—

Charles opened their closet to fetch a coat, barely even fazed by the half naked woman in it.

At most? He had a tiny blush upon his square face.

The moment he closed it, having selected a nice looking coat, he asked “A friend of yours?”

“At this point? Yes, I’d say so… I’m also thinking about bringing them to that party tonight”

“Party?” Jean thought to herself “Planning on introducing her to Metro Pictures?” he asked

“That, or maybe we’ll catch a movie” Nazimova mused to her husband “Is there a problem?”

“None that I could see” Bryant said with a shrug “Does your friend have a name?” he asked

“Jean” Nazimova said casually, meanwhile Acker was confused as to how and why he wasn’t angry or confused “Has this happened before?” Acker wondered with a confused expression.

After a small kiss, Charles Bryant left with a “Take care” directed towards the girl in the closet.

Once he was already down the hall, as Acker contemplated opening the closet, Jean was just a little startled by the sound of Alla Nazimova sharply shutting the book in her hands, doing so with a smile, climbing out of bed before making their way up towards Jean Ackers closet.

“Get dressed” Nazimova tells them “Or stay like that, I doubt my guests’ll mind either way”

“What kind of guests exactly?” Jean asked her only a little nervously “Actors and filmmakers” she said, doing so playfully, yet she couldn’t help but make it sound daunting, like a threat.

Night was falling over Babylon after all, and those who hungered yearned for Alla’s garden.

They’d come far and wide to her home in Sunset Boulevard, and from the window Acker had watched them as they filled into the house, spilling out into the garden where they drank, where they danced, where they chatted and they ate, with Nazimova down amongst them…

Acker watched Nazimova before she clothed herself

“’Fly with me to Eden and tempt Eve herself’” Acker said as she fixes her bowtie in the mirror.

She must’ve looked awfully tomboyish at the party.

Since Acker wasn’t expecting to be attending any party, she dressed casually, so she decided to stylise herself, to stand out, which said a lot for the shy, meek woman, now wearing more makeup than she had when she first met the Russian actress, who upon seeing them said

“You look like a newsie” referring to her short shorts and her buttoned up shirt with the tie

“Is there a problem with that?” Jean would ask her

“No, you’d make a cute one” she said pinching her

“Ow” Jean said delicately, one of her hands coming around to her rump, where she felt the appendages of Alla Nazimova pressing together, meanwhile the Russian kept a straight face.

As straight as any face that Nazimova could have…

She came scandalously close to Jean Acker, for a second she thought Alla was going to plant a kiss on her lips before she backed away, a champagne glass at hand, one which she would hand over to Jean Acker

“Have fun, my darling” she told her, holding the glass up to her lips.

Arching their head back obediently, Jean Acker would take a sip of Nazimovas drink, which she found paled in comparison to that of the Russian woman whose presence overwhelmed, whose eyes hypnotised, whose smile made her legs weak like those of some newborn fawn.

“Later, dear” Alla said, as if she had read their mind

“When the opportunity arrises… So shall you” Alla purred before parting ways with Acker…

The two would actually watch each other as they did so, still feeling each others eyes as they turned their backs to one and other, though Jean, wandering through that festive garden would be distracted by all the famous faces, as if they crawled out of the gossip magazines.

The siblings, Lionel and Ethel Barrymore were present, among those Acker had managed to recognise, as she had Mae Murray, “The girl with the bee stung lips” as she was referred to in the papers, she recently finished her work filming “Danger, Go Slow”, and was currently in conversation with a co-star by the name of Lon Chaney, an oddly expressive man who had mainly worked for Universal, who would compliment the eyeshadow of Jean Acker

“Thanks”.

An odd compliment from a man who would someday get to play the Phantom of the Opera.

In the garden, Jean found herself lost amidst the bushes and the flora of that exotic garden, in the distance she could hear the playful giggling of women in the pool, the faint glow was notable, a fluorescent blue which fluctuated in the powder of makeup reapplied and drugs.

It was in the garden, playing the tart, that they met.

“Nice shorts” Jean had heard from somewhere, she didn’t quiet know where at first, as her eyes were still to the pool and the pretty women, the beautiful people playing about in it, it wasn’t long before she found her sitting on the ground with a wine bottle in her grip “…Hi”.

And everything seemed to pause for that moment.

She was a slender, pretty woman with curly, dark blonde hair, her nose was prominent and the whites of her eyes found themselves encircled by strong black shadow, glowing really, at least they seemed to glow to Jean, calling out to her like a sirens song in that flapper dress.

“Um… Thanks” Jean said “I uh, I usually don’t dress like this, I mean, I’m still figuring it out”

“You make it look good” Jean smiles “Why, thanks”

“Y’don’t have to… You want a drink?” she asked Jean

“Oh, no thank you I’m uh…” she was quick to realise that their glass was already empty—

“On second thought? Yeah, why not?” Acker said, meanwhile the curly blonde would tell her “

I’d pull you up a seat, but I don’t have one either, you don’t mind getting them dirty, right?”

“These?” Jean asked her, almost modelling for her “No, I don’t mind getting my hands dirty”

“Dainty ol’ you?” she quipped as she’s handed her glass “Wouldn’t have guessed” she said, Jean couldn’t help but giggle, yet as she did, a thought suddenly made itself known to her.

“I am so sorry… But I never asked you your name”.

That blonde couldn’t help but giggle just a little bit

“My real name or my stage name?” the woman asked her “Stage name?” Jean asked them

“It’s easy to tell the difference, one surname’s normal, meanwhile the other one is: Glionna” she said it with a forced accent and a drunken smile

“Glionna?” Acker asked her, once their glass was handed back to her, now filled close to the brim “…What exec chose that name?”

“Whoever named my daddy and his’ dad” she said.

Jean was a little bit embarrassed “Well it’s an… ‘Exotic’ name” Acker tells them “It’s very…”

“Italian?” Glionna asked them “Because it is” before taking a sip of her drink, Jean admitted that she “Couldn’t quite tell you were, well, Italian”.

Glionna couldn’t blame her for thinking that, most Italians don’t have gold, dark blonde hair

“I’m technically Canadian” she joked to Jean Acker “But how about you? What’s your name?”

“…Mine was Harriet” Jean admitted to Glionna “Harriet Acker… But I changed it to Jean” the blonde was silent, pondering before she asks her

“So is it ‘Harriet Jean’ or ‘Jean Acker’?”

“Jean Acker” she said proudly before taking a long drag of her drink, just downing the thing.

Some of it spilled on her shirt, sending this funny feeling seeping down onto her pale skin.

Jean meanwhile couldn’t help but get lost in her eyes in the midsts of their conversations.

Passing by a friend by the name of Edith Luckett, Nazimova came across… No, not a friend:

Theodore Kosloff, a Russian ballet dancer and a choreographer whom she was familiar with, as they happened to now be working for her…

Well, more accurately for Metro Pictures, thus meaning that he worked under her, a position plenty of men and women would not mind…

“Seems that us Russians have to stick together” jokes Theodore to Nazimova “Oh, lucky me” Alla said, not even bothering to fake amusement…

“Is she yours?” Theodore asked her, gesturing with his glass toward Jean Acker as she drifted about throughout the party like a long legged ghost, one chatting playfully with another…

“Seems like it” Alla said, watching those two with intrigue in her eyes as they swayed about “You haven’t scared them off yet?” Theodore asked

“Well, I’ve only just met her today… Still, the Ms. Acker has potential, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Mine is more beautiful” Kosloff whispered to Alla Nazimova “And she’s not even an actress”

“Oh, is that true?” she asked him “Do tell… Do tell”

“Hm” Theodore said with a smug look “I’ll be frank, when I first met her, she was… Young”

“Of course she was. What did she do? What does she do? Other than the obvious, of course”

“Merely my assistant, though I must admit, when I first met her, their moves impressed me”

“That alone should impress you, not her, how you say ’Assets’; What would her mother say?”

“You wouldn’t want to know” Kosloff told Nazimova

“Ah, and you still didn’t invite her here? For shame”

“I know damn well what you would try to do to her”

“Does this beauty of yours have a name? Or should I start breaking toes before you tell me?”.

“So how long have you been here in Hollywood?” Glionna asked Jean “Quite recently, really”

“I’ve been here for just over a year and I’m still trying to make it big” Glionna admits to her

“How is that even possible?” Jean asked the blonde “You’re a—Well, a pretty, funny woman”

“Simple, some people have all the luck” she admitted “And some people just keep falling”

Glionna was quick to add “But I ain’t quitting yet, it’s going to take another war t’stop me”…

Glionna and Acker chatted before a note was passed on to Acker “Oh… I think this is for me”

“Lets blow this joint” Nazimovas note read to Acker.

“Damn… Seems I’ve been drafted” Acker joked to her

“Pity” Glionna tells them, before she’s reassured by Acker that “We’d ought to chat again”.

Jean looked down for a second to see that the two of them were holding each others hands

“Yeah, we should” she said, her hands in those of Acker before they released one and other, allowing one and other to drift away like leafs in the wind, yet it was then that Acker realised:

“What was her name again?” having only really heard their last name, their old one at that, not even the one that would have been on the posters of her films, she was about to search for her, but no sooner had they parted ways that Acker found the hands of Nazimova on her, feeling her breath against her ear as she tells them

“Lets go catch a flick, just you and me…”

“What did you have in mind?” Jean asked her “How about a home movie?” Nazimova purrs.

They’d excuse themselves to a private theatre room

“Private” was what got Acker hot under her collar…

No, that wasn’t too accurate, oh the collar of her shirt may have been up to her neck, yet she couldn’t help but notice that the room wasn’t as private as Alla had suggested, there were others in that theatre room, though most eyes were on the film that Nazimova had playing, it’s actually an early reel of her latest project, one that was to be released the following year: “Out of the Fog”, an adaptation of the H. Austin Adams play “Ception Shoals”, which starred Alla Nazimova in the duel roles of Faith and her daughter Eve, the former ending their own life by jumping from the top of a lighthouse into the sea following the death of their lover…

Charles Bryant starred in it as her romantic interest

“You and him” Jean had said quietly to Nazimova “You never told me about you and him…”

“…Which ‘Him’ are we discussing?” they asked her

“…The one your on the screen with” Jean said “The one who came into your room after we—”

“What is there to say of him?” Nazimova asked her

“He does what he want, I do what I want, we split the rent and we occasionally help one and other when it comes to… Well, sometimes we collaborate on each others motion pictures, as it just so happen that some men, powerful ones, can’t help but just be ‘Intimidated’ by me”

“Why would they?” Jean asked a little sarcastically.

She’s met by the dark eyes of Alla, who’d suggest that “Maybe they fear I’ll steal something”

“Like what?” Jean Acker asked her “Their wallets… Their manhood… Their hearts” she said the last bit just as her hand had made a leap from the arm of the chair she sat in to her lap…

Not to her own lap, that of a playfully startled Acker

“Oh my…” Jean uttered as their hand was caressed by the Russian, who watched Acker more than she watched her film, meanwhile there were about four or five others in the room with them, all of whom could have easily turned to have seen Nazimova caressing her new muse.

She would tell her that much in a hushed whisper, complaining “There’s other people here”

“And there’ll be only more watching you someday”

Jean couldn’t help but make a pitiful, nervous sound, one she hoped wasn’t heard by those in attendance, luckily there was a record playing music and a live band playing outside, all of this she hoped would hide away her excitement.

“Is… Is that so?” Acker smiled nervously as she felt that pale hand upon the white meat of her leg, gently creeping their way up to her lap, her fingers slivering their way into her pants

“They’ll idolise you, they will lust for you… They will hunger, and they’ll want to touch you” leaning in close to her latest find, Nazimova added with a tasty venom

“But they never will” adding “They will never touch… What it is I touch”

“Ah—“ Jean breathed in sharply as she feels their fingers beneath her panties “You’re mine”.

Nazimova fingered Acker in the theatre, whispering sweet, sweet nothings into her ear, they tried keeping their composure, tried bitting their own tongue as their nails dug either into the leather of the seats arranged or into her own flesh, against her beating heart and chest.

“Whether you like it or not, and you must learn to love it… You need me… And I need you”

“How so?” Jean would ask smartly through the lust which clouded her thoughts and made her knees weak, trembling as those words escaped her “Many girls like you come over here”

“Where?” Jean asked her in this faint whisper “This city of angels… And oh, how many fall”

Nazimova asked them “You know why the fall? Because nobody was willing to catch them”.

Jean Acker arched back and her knees touched, all the while she felt as if Nazimovas hand was only prying its way deeper and deeper inside of them, their fingers stretching, playing them like a piano, a mere instrument for her amusement “Nobody had their back, like I do”

“You’ve got my back?” Jean asked “That and your pussy, you don’t mind, do you?” she asked

“You’re going t’help me—You’re going to… Right?”

“Just as long as you scratch my back, understood?”.

A bit of Jean wanted to be strong and to say “No, we play by my rules”, the country girl of her youth had wanted to bite her thumb in their face, instead, the girl of her youth would slowly plant their hand on the lovely lap of Alla Nazimova, attempting to return the favour to them.

“Yes ma’am” Acker tells her “Yes my… My—Oh god”

“That sounds about right” Nazimova remarked, their fingers, already in the mouth of Jeans vagina seemed to go sharper, pushing with more force, yet her face didn’t even show a sign of a struggle, even as Jean sat there feeling as if she was about t’be lifted off the damn chair.

Jean tried her damndest not to squeal in the room.

If only she had tried not to squirt, instead she found a wet sensation creeping down her leg from her lap, sputtering a little bit to the amusement of the exotic Nazimova, whom would, once the waterworks were over, gently dab at their own fingers with a gentle cat-like tongue.

Of course, Jean would be made to taste herself too.

And obediently she drank it up like she were some lost pilgrim, lapping away at a puddle.

But at least she felt the dark ruby lips against hers.

The rest of the night was a blur for the tipsy Jean Acker, who vaguely remembered fetching a change of clothes…

More accurately, she remembered Nazimova fetching them a jacket, a nice and fluffy looking coat at that, all the while she casually relieved Jean Acker of her pants in the bathroom

“D’you expect me to just leave without wearing any pants?” Jean asked Alla

“Yes” she said casually, asking the actress “Why else do you think I’m giving you the coat?”.

Acker was actually trying to dry her stained pants at first, but Nazimova remained adamant.

Acker allowed Nazimova to put the coat over them.

“How does it feel?” Alla asked them “Expensive” Jean admitted “And really… Really fluffy…”

“If you want it, you can keep it” she tells them “Really?” she asked Nazimova “I have plenty”

Alla said waving this away, keeping her elegant hands upon Acker, lingering upon her neck, Jean looked so tasty to the Russian, who would kiss them deeply and passionately, ignoring the fact that not only the door was open, but that other party guests were just passing by the open door, Acker was the first to notice this, and she almost squealed “Someone will see us”

“So?” Nazimova asked Jean “Let them watch” she smiled as she reached beneath the jacket.

She couldn’t help but think that Glionna was among the passing guests, among the drunk and intoxicated devils of the city of angels, with her closed eyes she couldn’t help but muse that it was her lips against them, that it was her hands which were creeping under her coat.

Maybe then she could have learned her first name.

Jean had to wait until the morning to find that out.

When she came to, she did so in the midsts of ruin, of bodies sprawled all about, asleep and drunk for the most part, some half dressed, some still appearing to be in the midsts of sex, she meanwhile was hugging herself in that fluffy coat of hers, wiping away at the lipstick of Nazimova, which stained her face like her makeup.

It was early as she came down the stairs, creeping pass a sleeping couple in search of Alla…

Instead, she found Glionna trying a hangover cure.

Their faces were a mix of emotions and reactions, mostly negative, before they saw Jean, a smile coming across their face as they made their way across the room, hugging Jean Acker

“Jean shorts!” they called Acker “Hello, uh… Glee”

“Nice coat you’ve got, who did y’have to—Oh my”  Glionna said upon noticing something, the fact that Jean was not wearing shorts “Never mind” she said giggling, to this Acker blushed

“It wasn’t like that, I mean, I uh—I spilled my drink and I… Yeah, Alla let me borrow her coat”

“Oh, the white Russian herself?” Glee asked, sounding amused “…She left a little while ago”

“Really? Huh” Jean said “Is the lipstick theirs’ too?”

“I think so” Jean admits, feeling a little dizzy “You have any more of that ‘Cure’ lying about?”

“Too much” she quipped, gesturing her to come along to the kitchen “I’ll pour you a glass”.

Just before she followed her, Acker remembered to ask Glionna “What is your name, really?” to this the blonde smiled, telling them: “It’s Grace”.

“Grace Glionna?” Jean Acker asked “Grace Darmond… And I think we should do this again”.

Chapter Text

Back at her apartment, Jean Acker was quick to sink to the floor, their back against the door.

Their tired mind adorned by the thoughts of the day before, of Alla Nazimova, and Darmond.

And they danced around her mind up to the following week when she got the call from Alla.

She dressed in her nicest, stylish gown and coat, wearing her dark bob cut under a nice hat.

Waiting for her down by the road was Nazimova…

“Looking good” Alla tells Jean Acker “Oh, not as good as you” complimenting her fluffy coat, which shimmered like a dream, like stars in the sky or walking the streets of Hollywoodland, and like a puppy on a lead, Acker would follow Nazimova into the offices of Metro Pictures…

Nazimova did most of the talking on her behalf, she’d crack a joke about it, how in their job, “One doesn’t really have to talk in order to go places, they simply need to use their mouths” she knew damn well that Acker’s laugh was a nervous yet excitable one, and her eyes would linger on the actress before she calmly crossed her legs, negotiating with the studio heads, many of whom would look keenly at the pretty woman sitting beside their starlet, Nazimova.

She’d actually have Acker use that mouth of hers later that evening, tonguing her interiors.

Jean did so in the backseat of her car back at Nazimovas place, the windows were opened after the Russian noticed them fogging up, she made that realisation a little while after she had complimented the young actress whom she, out of her near divine mercy, would help.

Nazimova promised Jean fame and success, all she needed was patience, and so she waited.

After that? there’s nothing at all but radio silence…

Until there wasn’t, until their phone started to ring, answering, she was told to come to Fox.

The “Fox Film Corporation” to be a tad more specific, no relation at all to the news network…

Apparently it helped to have friends in high places.

Her relationship with Nazimova would open around several doors for her at Metro Pictures, and the clout of knowing Nazimova and her contacts had enabled Jean Acker to obtain a $200 per week contract with a the Fox Film Corporation… She was of course over the moon. 

Jean had to hold herself back from screaming out of glee in the middle of the studios foyer.

Her first film with the Fox Film Corporation would be this comedy called “Never Say Quit”…

With that new script at hand, Jean would go home.

The first person Jean Acker called was Nazimova, thanking her like she were a forgiving god over the phone, still able to see her in her minds eye, one leg perched atop the other as they answered Ackers call

“Can you believe it?” she asks “Well I got you that contract, so yes, I can” Nazimova tells her as she fiddled with a fancy pen

“I can barely contain myself, I feel as if I could just scream it—Sing it out my places window”

“Was that something you did back in New Jersey?”.

Jean giggles “No, mainly because if I screamed out a window, someone would scream back”

“Why do they call it ‘New Jersey’ anyway?” Alla had asked Jean in that fancy, accented voice of hers, their pale eyes magnetic to Acker as she held to that phone like it was the Holy Grail.

She’d have kissed her feet if they were in the same room, but they weren’t, not at that time.

Alla Nazimova would be busy in he office that day.

“Oh, how I wish you were free for tonight” Jean said “I’m afraid I’m going t’be working late”

Nazimova tells Acker “Kosloff is sending some designs over for an upcoming project of ours”

“Ours?” Jean asked her “Metro Pictures, not you and I, though depending on what they…”

“Alla?” Jean asked, noticing her trailing off “I’m sorry, seems that Kosloff’s mailman’s here” yet she was quick to promise Jean Acker

“I’ll make it up to you the moment I get the chance”

“Dinner?” she asks “Oh not tonight, another night”.

Jean sighed a little, loud enough for Alla t’hear her

“I’ll think only of you” Nazimova tells her with a smile before she ended the call, wishing her

“Nothing but the best” whispering “My beloved”…

Acker was sitting on the floor when the call ended, arching back as she savoured her words

“My beloved” played in her head as they dazed off, though they’d soon choose to sit down on the couch, still keeping that corded phone at hand before it occurred to her t’make a call.

The second person she called was Grace Darmond.

She got her number not long after getting her name, her real name, and a funny taste in her mouth from their hangover cure, one which burned its way down her throat like a kind of a hot tomato soup, and so Acker would call her newfound friend, to tell them the good news.

Darmond answered after a couple rings “…Hello?”

“It’s Jean, and I’ve got real exciting news to share” to which she heard back “Really? So do I”

“Well, I’ve uh… I’ve got a contract with the Fox Film Corporation, it’s about $200 a week—”

“You’ve got a part?!” Grace asked her “Um, yes, I—I“

“So do I!” Darmond tells her “Really?” Jean asked Grace “For real, I’ve just got this part too”

“Congratulations” Jean tells her “Same to you, girlfriend” Grace says “You wanna celebrate?”

“Yes, more than anything, I just need to go out and just… I don’t know, just party a little bit”

“I’ll come right over” Grace told her, finishing their call with “I’ll see you in no time, laters”

“Bye” Grace told her in that gentle voice of theirs…

Acker spent the time between the call and Darmonds arrival looking for something to wear.

She settled on a slimming dress and a nice, fluffy coat which reminded Acker of Nazimova…

Darmond came wearing fancy, wide brim hat and a lovely dress which showed off her legs.

“Lets paint the town red” Darmond said at her door

“I couldn’t have said it better myself” Acker smiles.

Jean Acker and Darmond would swiftly leave for a restaurant that Grace knew, a quaint little one where the drinks flowed freely, where a live band played off in the corner as the two of them celebrated the roles they got, though Jean was a lot more humble when discussing it.

Jean was also just a little embarrassed, being put beneath the blinding spotlight by Grace…

“Tell me about it, the script, the part, the film itself”

“Oh, it’s not reinventing the wheel, not ‘The Birth of a Nation’, just a comedy” Jean told her

“Aw, come on, give me more than that t’work with”

“I’ll tell you what” Jean tells her “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours” Darmond didn’t resist

“Earle Williams plays this tough guy, a rough-and-ready hero who punches a Kraut for being a dick to the stunning and beautiful 'Lady Diana Loring of England’” Grace made sure to say the name with a posh accent as they fixed their hair “Wait a sec, you’re playing a princess?”

“No, I’m playing a ‘Lady’… Like I always do, I think I’ve just got the features of a uh… ‘Lady’”

“Well, you make a beautiful lady” Acker says kindly

“Anywho, it’s all taking place in the South Sea island of ‘Somona’, and Earle is just sent to this province to quell an uprising by the natives, the German from earlier is trying to destroy a mine on the island, I show up and he’s gotta save my life, we all live happily ever after. Fin”

“Fin?” Jean asked Grace “The end… That’s all folks”

“Ah” Acker said before Grace took in a long sip of her drink before telling Jean “…Now, you”

“Fine, my part’s in this George Walsh film, it’s thi—“

“Ah, I see, you’re starring next to the big and manly ‘King of Smiles’” Grace said with a smile

“To say I’m starring alongside him is an exaggeration, like… I barely get a scene with them”.

Jean went on to explain “He’s a jinx, always getting stung, falls for a girl who isn’t me, her father is a treasure seeker, and he has t’rescue the pair from a villainous crew on a schooner”

“You make that sound generic” Grace smiled at her

“So if you’re not the treasure seeking gal, then who do you play?” Jean went a little bit quiet

“It’s a minor role, but I think it might be a little fun, I play this ‘Vamp’ in this scene early on”

“That should be easy, just pretend to be Nazimova”.

Jean giggled, before asking “Now… How on earth do I do that?” playing coy and plain silly

“She’s always got this ‘Wishful’, ‘Dreamy’ look in her eyes, her head’s always tilted upwards”

Grace was quick to add “And she’s always pouting, you ever notice that?” Jean admitted “No”

“Oh, come on, you haven’t noticed that yet?” Grace asked “With all the time you two spend?”

“Now what is that supposed to mean?” Jean asked her “What can I say? Word gets around”.

Jean couldn’t help but be a bit curious, asking her:

“What exactly is the ‘Word’?” Darmond quickly asked Acker “Shouldn’t you know it by now?” she shrugged “It’s not important” but Jean persists “Tell me, I want to know what they say”

“Nothing, that you are being tutored by Nazimova”.

Jean went a little bit quiet “Well, I would hope what I do here doesn’t amount to ‘Nothing’”

Darmond tells them out of  the blue, after taking a long sip of her drink "The Gulf Between”

“Pardon?” Jean asked her “The Gulf Between… That was this film I starred in back in 1917…They filmed it down in Jacksonville, Florida, and what they did was, they built this big an’ fancy camera that shot two consecutive frames of a single strip of black-and-white film, look, I’m not too good with the terminology, I barely understood it then, and I’m drunk right now”

“What exactly is the point of this story?” Jean asked

“I mean, I’m enjoying it, at least, the bits I can understa—“ Grace tells her “I’m getting there”

Grace tells Acker, clearing their throat, telling Jean:

“What blew my mind about it, was that the film was, I shit you not: The thing was in colour”

“Get out” Jean Acker said, sounding impressed, tipsy and skeptical “Films can’t be in colour”

“No, I’m serious, they put the two frames together, one was red and the other was green…”

Grace tried to find the words to describe their story.

“You just had to be there to see it, like, I can’t find it”

Grace said “Plus, the film’s pretty dull” she composed herself “What I think I’m trying to say is that… Maybe I amounted t’nothing” saying “I was in the first colour film, like, ever… D’you see anybody treatin’ me like royalty?”

“You’ve still got time” Jean tells her “I’m twenty-six, so… Maybe four to… Six more years?”

Jean held Graces hand as she tells them “Well I’m twenty-seven, so I might have less time”

“Well I’ve been doing this longer” Grace tells her “So that technically makes me the veteran” she holds up her glass “Drinking problem and all” to which Jean says “More for me, please”.

By the time night grew darker, studded by stars, overshadowed by the bright, blinding lights of tinsel town, the pair that were Jean Acker and Grace Darmond were dancing at a far more jovial and lively club, the music was roaring as they allow themselves to float amidst a mess of drunken men and women in glittering dresses and dapper suits, some drenched in sweat, others still wearing remnants of the drugs and vices they used to get their kicks to the music.

Grace Darmond was too tipsy to drive, so Jean took her keys, deciding to instead get them a taxi, Jean hadn’t brought her license, and was sober enough to know she was still too drunk

“So… Your place? Or mine?” Darmond asked Acker

“Mine” Jean told Grace as they hailed a taxi for ‘em

“Oh là là” Grace said playfully to her, hugging their friend tightly, wrapping her arms around them and resting her head against hers, already starting to fall deeper into a drunken haze.

It wasn’t long before they were back at Ackers place, where Grace clung to her shoulder, she almost pulled down one side of her dress, meanwhile Jean carried her coat under her other arm, though it dragged a little on the floor, she’d allow Grace to gently fall upon the couch.

Looking down at them on the couch, Jean had dropped the coat and Graces hat, clearly tired.

She couldn’t just leave her there, lying uncomfortably on the couch, so she picked them up.

Her head of curly hair tickling her nose as she dragged them, telling Darmond to work her legs and to follow her to the bedroom, where she intended to let Grace sleep for that night, figuring that if anybody should be sleeping on the couch, it should be herself, nobody else.

Laying sprawled out over the bed, Grace posed about playfully as Jean Acker got undressed

“Oh là là” Grace Darmond said “You gonna paint me like I’m Olive Thomas?” she asked her before she got into some poses that the Ziegfeld girl did when Olive was an artists’ model…

Jean blushed a little as she left her to get changed.

Jean left to the bathroom, settling on this comfy and thin pyjama dress, one she’d slide into after discarding her dress and her underwear, not before she dried off the sweat with a towel

“Tonight was fun” Jean said “We should do this again… Maybe see more of the sights here”.

Darmond was still in that leg which showed off her legs, posed with their head propped up

“You’ve got beautiful eyes” Grace tells her, smiling

“Yours are nicer” Acker admits humbly to Darmond

“Very… Very… Nicer…” she said it, almost enticed by them the same way she were to Alla…

No, she couldn’t be, not when she was this close to achieving her dreams, she couldn’t just betray Nazimova, she couldn’t just fall for what were merely kindhearted comments by their tipsy, playful friend, she wasn’t supposed to fold so easily, others were to fold to Jean Acker.

“Go to sleep Grace. You’re tired” she told Darmond

“You go to sleep” Grace tells her with a tipsy smile.

Jean offered Darmond her bed to sleep in “I’ll be taking the couch, and maybe my jacket—“

“You mean Nazimovas jacket?” Grace asked “Well, no… I mean, yes, but she gave it to me”

“…No” Grace tells her “This is your house, and your bed, so you are sleeping in it, alright?”

“What about you?” Jean asked Grace “…Who said anything about me getting off your bed?”

Grace smiled at her as she sat further up on the bed, kicking off her shoes, letting them fall.

“Fine” Jean said, not disappointed but mildly amused as she crawled into bed with Grace…

“Do you want the lamp on?” Acker asked her gently

“I’ve actually been wondering how to turn it off…” Grace admitted to her, it was actually on her side of the bed, but she had been a little too drunk to find the switch, only to be told that

“I usually sleep on that side, and it’s a cord you need to pull… I’ll get it”

Acker tells Grace as they had reached across her friend to kill the lights.

For a moment, their pretty eyes had met once more, Grace’s smile was a warm, friendly one, she had the look of a woman at peace, one who didn’t mind to feel the touch of their friend, the woman who they wished, yearned, to have been looked on as more than simply a friend.

Jean looked down on Grace and wished her “Goodnight”, Grace wished her “Sweet dreams”.

The light clicked off, and Grace fell to sleep, dreamin’ of a kiss that wouldn’t come that night.

Jean fell to sleep dreaming of her Nazimova, of her serpentine tongue and hypnotic eyes…

But Nazimova didn’t sleep, she wouldn’t… Until both she and Rambova were both satisfied.

Chapter Text

“Oh, how I wish you were free for tonight” Jean said “I’m afraid I’m going t’be working late” Nazimova tells Acker

“Kosloff is sending some designs over for an upcoming project of ours”

“Ours?” Jean asked her “Metro Pictures, not you and I, though depending on what they…”

Nazimova was interrupted by a knocking on her door, looking out the window of their office, Alla was just able to make out that feminine shape

“Alla?” Jean asked, noticing her trailing off “I’m sorry, seems that Kosloff’s mailman’s here” yet she was quick to promise Jean Acker

“I’ll make it up to you the moment I get the chance”

“Dinner?” she asks “Oh not tonight, another night”.

Jean sighed a little, loud enough for Alla t’hear her

“I’ll think only of you” Nazimova tells her with a smile before she ended the call, wishing her “Nothing but the best” whispering “My beloved”…

Alla calls “You may come in, the door is not locked”

“Well, my hands are full” said the woman on the other side of the door “Fine” Nazimova says as she made her way to the door, opening it for the beautiful, dark haired, Salt Lake City girl.

The lady clearly believed in theatrical self-presentation, she dressed pretty and glamorously.

Though she couldn’t quite see it, she wore her hair long beneath that small flapper turban…

Meanwhile Nazimova was in something more masculine than usual, this suit without a tie.

Standing at five feet, eight inches, Natacha Rambova was too tall to be a classical ballerina.

However, this would not stop the Russian ballet dancer and choreographer Theodore Kosloff from giving her leading roles in most of his shows, which was either out of him spotting in the beautiful woman “Talent”, or maybe because the two of them were having a sexual affair.

Born Winifred Kimball Shaughnessy, Natacha was seventeen, whilst Kosloff was thirty two…

Around 1917, Kosloff was hired by Cecil B. DeMille as a performer and costume designer for DeMille's Hollywood films, after which he and Rambova relocated from New York all the way to Los Angeles, the two working together in what Theodore Kosloff saw as a beneficial partnership, with Rambova carrying out much of the creative work as well as the historical research for Kosloff, while he stole her sketches and claimed the credit for them as his own.

She had this frosty exterior, at least to Nazimova…

Just as he had done with DeMille, Kosloff offered to submit to Nazimova innovative costume and set designs for Alla Nazimovas next film, a pet project which she was working on, an adaption of Pierre Louÿs’s fantasy novel Aphrodite.

“What do you think?” Rambova asked them as she flicked through the designs presented to her, vibrant and extravagant, yet also quite revealing, she wanted something exotic for the courtesan Chrysis, whose long hair would clothe what their revealing costume did not cover.

She was a little inspired by Herbert Brenons “A Daughter of the Gods”, whose lead character Anitia, played by the Australian swimming star Annette Kellermann, who in one scene in particular had bathed beneath a waterfall, almost entirely nude, save for their dark long hair. But they were nude enough, superfluously enough, that it got the attention of the viewers…

It certainly caught the attention of Nazimova, though to be fair, the suits that Annette wore, though conservative, still hugged their strong body, still outlining their assets to Nazimova, and her films were typically impressive, fairy tale films with themes of aquatic adventuring.

Slowly, Nazimova examines the designs before her

“…So?” Rambova asked them, looking over both the shoulder of Nazimova and their own, the artist had obviously favoured the extravagant, from bright colours to baubles, bangles, shimmering draped fabrics, sparkles, and feathers, lots of them, the sights catching her eye

“They’re good” Alla said “…But they are imperfect”.

Rambova shot this look, not that Nazimova noticed at first, she would instead notice her tone “How exactly?” Nazimova tells Rambova that “I seek something more revealing for the lead”

“I’m guessing it’ll be you, right?” Natacha asked her

“Actually, there’s another I had in mind” Alla said dismissively to Rambova, whom she noticed has taken out a pencil from their bag, and would ask them

“Alright then… So, which design do you want to see ‘Improved’, Alla?”.

Nazimova seemed a little amused by her boldness

“I’m not asking you, I’m asking Kosloff” Alla admits

“Who do you think did most of the work?” Rambova asked her as she puts her bag up on the table, unwrapping what looked like an archeologists’ toolkit, only it was filled with artistic equipment, coloured pencils and rubbers, before she asked “Is there a problem with that?”.

Nazimova looked to the side, and smiled to herself

“No” Rambova figured they meant, getting to work

“Any requests, or should I just go off ‘More revealing’?” she asked Nazimova “…None at all”.

Alla Nazimova watched them as they did their work, the lean woman with the dark hair tied back and done up behind and beside her pretty, regal head, who went silent as she unveiled a new piece of paper, on which she’d craft this new design for the lead, doing so in no time.

It was somewhere between The birth of Venus and the Mata Hari, with long and flowing hair that was almost more of a clothing accessory, what little garb she had upon her body, mainly her crotch, was a loose sheet, thin, almost see-through, adorned in jewellery like their neck.

Nazimova could see it, the pride on that pretty face.

Not that of the picture, it had no face, not yet at least, though Alla figured she would add one

“Impressive” Alla said, genuinely intrigued by what she was being shown “Why, thank you”

“Why doesn’t she have a face?” Nazimova asked her “…Well, I don’t know who the lead is” Rambova admitted, though she’d add “Don’t worry, I don’t draw all of my designs ‘Faceless’”

“Well… You’ve got their hips and legs right” she joked, which cracked a smile from Natacha.

Rambova was a good artist, there was no question in that, her designs packed with this style.

“Who are your inspirations?” Nazimova asks Rambova “Poiret, Bakst, and Aubrey Beardsley” she was quick to mention how “I’ve this love of the foreign and the exotic in regards to style”

“Do you now?” Alla asks with this smart little smile

“Their use of Orientalism, Aubrey Beardsleys use of it, I just find it so bold and so… Striking”

“Clearly you do” she said, pointing out their turban, to which the frost subsided, and a smile gradually appeared “…European style also intrigues me, so does the decadent movement”

“I’ll bite” Nazimova tells her “I love Beardsleys work” to which Rambova was clearly amused

“Salome especially, his illustrations for Wildes play, they just—” she sought the proper words

“They speak to me—No, no they… They sing to me”

“As they do to I” Nat admitted before she went to check on the expensive watch on her wrist.

The watch was a gift from Theodore Kosloff, but somedays she felt as if it was their shackle…

“It’s quite a wide net you cast, a pretty one too” Nazimova points out, before she asked them

“You don’t happen to have other designs here, do you?” to which she says “They’re all mine”

“Even the ones which say ‘Kosloff’?” Alla asked Nat

“Oh, please” Rambova tells her “Teddy may be a good dancer, but a painter? No, he is not…”

“Hm” Nazimova said, clearly doubting that Mr. Kosloff was even that good of a vaudevillian.

Either way, it didn’t stop Alla Nazimova from asking Natacha “How much does he pay you?”

“Pardon?” she asks Alla “How much are you paid?”

“Oh, ah… Well, he doesn’t really—” the pale Nazimovas jaw almost dropped upon hearing it.

Almost, her eyes did most of the talking, going wide as she she gently covered her own lips

“The man’s an idiot” he tells her “Theodore doesn’t understand that he has a golden goose”

“I’ve been called funnier” Natacha admitted “I mean, he buys me gifts and he repays me…”

“$5,000” she tells her out of the blue “…A picture”.

Natacha was taken aback, of course she was confused

“A picture as in… A picture?” she asks, gesturing to the drawing she made for them

“…Or, a picture” she said, referring to cinema, to which Nazimova confirmed for her

“…A picture”

Rambova looked as if she was going to either jump for joy or be in need of smelling salts.

She came closer to the former than she did pass out, gleefully asking “Really?” to Nazimova

“Why not? It seems fitting, for an art director and costume designer, on my staff, of course”

“Your staff?” she asked her “My staff” she smiled…

“I… I don’t know what to say, I… I need some time to think about it, to weigh my options—“ 

“Having your art stolen or being recognised?” Alla asked her almost playfully, adding that it

“Doesn’t seem like too hard a decision to make”, only for Rambova to rebuff, explaining that

“Teddy has been such a dear friend, despite some… Shortcomings, and some backstabbing, he’s got me this far, how could I just up and leave him?” she asked Nazimova “Quite easily”

“If only if it were that simple” she sighed “Oh, it is” she is told, and she couldn’t help but giggle as she stood there in the office and studio of the Russian force of nature, Nazimova…

“We’d make a good team” she tells Rambova as she sat up on the table alongside their new designs, her fingers dance upon the table like the hooves of the devil on Natacha’s shoulder

“We can just talk of our inspirations all day long, and just make beautiful, beautiful people”

Alla might as well have whispered this into her ear.

Rambova held herself, saying “Well, what the hell”.

That was all the yes Nazimova needed, the handshake was simply the icing upon their cake.

Nazimova slowly made her way off the table, doing so as Nat went to pack away their work…

She couldn’t help but look over her shoulder, admiring both design and designer intensely

“I’m aware of your reputation” Rambova would tell her out of the blue, still looking at her art

“Oh” Nazimova said mildly intrigued “Is that why Teddy’s been keeping you away from me?”

Alla said this with her hand upon hers, finding that Rambova was dragging it off the table…

“Maybe” Rambova suggested to Alla, commenting “I did say I loved the foreign and exotic”

“And I just so happen to fit the bill” Alla had purred

“Seems like it” Rambova commented playfully, she knew damn well what she was doing, as did Alla Nazimova, whom simply leaned in closer, her breaths almost tickling the ear of Nat.

Once their hand was off the table, Rambova felt the grip of Alla Nazimova, the fingers which wrap their way around and between Nats fingers, an intense gleam in their pale eyes as they came inches from her face, the two were practically cheek to cheek, ear to ear and eye to eye.

“…How thoroughly do you love it?” Alla asked her.

With her unoccupied hand, Nazimova began to reach towards the firm behind of Rambova.

However, before she could grab a hold of the lady—

“Lets skip the foreplay and find out” Natacha tells them plainly with a smile, turning around to face them, her lips swiftly meeting those of Alla.

She was almost caught off guard by it, by the boldness of the five foot, eight inches woman, but once she felt it, the tongue which entered her mouth, she wouldn’t hold back, not a bit, her hands went to work, one held the back of their head whilst the other explored their back.

Pulling away for a moment, Alla goes to the door…

For a moment, Natacha though she would be playing hard to get, that was until she heard it.

CLECK!

Nazimova had locked the door behind her back with a playful smile upon their face.

The windows into their studio were frosted heavily.

So Nazimova and Nat could do whatever they wanted in that moment, so they went further.

Pushed back, Nazimova would tell Rambova to “Take off your turban” as she slid off her coat, showing the suspenders she wore underneath them, which her thumbs would drift up and down on, watching as Rambova posed playfully atop the table, her ass pressed up against it.

Her hair was so long beneath the turban she wore, it flowed loose and long like a waves of crude oil which came down her shoulders, yet Nazimova would weave her fingers through it, simply compelled to do so, to inhale her sweet perfume, as she sat upon one of their legs…

Unbuttoning her shirt, Rambova did so eagerly as their lips parted ways for them to breathe, her disrobing eyes bounced up and down, from the pale colour of Nazimovas to her breasts, which she saw more of with every little glance, her fingers going to work opening their shirt.

It was tucked in, but she opened it just enough to see her black bra, so close to transparent.

Granting her kisses, Alla would guide one of their hands, still stained in the coloured pencil, beneath her shirt to her delicate breasts, which she’d fondle beneath the covers, leaning in as one suspender came down the arm of Nazimova

“Holy fuck” Natacha said, sounding in over her head, her grip on the table loosened as they slowly came down to the floor, her knees going weak as she found herself clinging to Alla, a smart look was in her eyes as they watch Rambova go down, the hand which once gripped the flowing hair of Natacha was now upon her face.

She felt the thumb of Alla playing games with their tongue and their lower lip, massaging it.

Alla would guide the hand which wasn’t on her breast towards her hip, down to her behind.

“You hunger… I see it” Alla told her in a sultry purr

“I hunger” Rambova tells them, almost hypnotised

“You do” Alla says simply “And only I will feed you”.

The moment Nazimova had removed her thumb from the mouth of Rambova, they’d slide their arm free from their suspender as, with what was almost masculine bravado, she undid her pants, so tight and form fitting, though Rambova would help in pulling her pants down.

“Now then… Eat from me” she said as Rambova dropped further to her knees with a smile.

Nazimova leaned back a little, her head held high as he hands held the head of Rambova…

She was more experienced then Alla had expected.

A sharp gasp escaped Alla Nazimova as she was eaten out of by her newfound talent, saying

“Oh… Oh fuck! I… I… You’re just full of surprises, my dear” Nat tried to tell her something, at least, it sounded like she was trying, but instead, Rambova spelt names with her tongue.

Having finally removed her pants, Nazimova made her way to this sofa in her studio, a fancy one, a glee on her face as she sat with her legs wide open, gesturing them to come forward with a single, elegant finger curling and uncurling

“On your knees” she tells her “Please, my knees hurt” Nat whined “The floor is mostly wood”

“It doesn’t sound like you mean it… So crawl for me”

Nazimova tells them with a smile, cool and in control

“Oh, no” Natacha tells her, pouting like a child “…Oh? Beg me t’let you walk”.

Rambova came down to her knees with this look in her round eyes as she begged Nazimova “Please… My knees, they ache so much” she says “I don’t want my Teddy to be suspicious”

“You still think you can just come back to him after what we’ll do?” Alla had asked Rambova.

Nazimova saw her gulp, she saw her tremble, saw her doe eyes just screaming out to them

“…Okay, fine” Alla said, gesturing to her leg as she tells Rambova to come “Not on demand” she tells her, making Alla crack a smile as they turned off the begging like it’s a light switch.

Didn’t matter, as they were in their arms in no time

“…Get out of that dress” Nazimova demanded her

“Okay” they said playfully, slowly disrobing for Alla.

They bit their lip as they watched them disrobe, as they watched them shed their skin of silk like a snake, she’d drag her hands through her own hair, livening it up, allowing it all to flow down her shoulders like a river whilst the unkempt hair of Alla had more resembled a cloud.

Rambova was as naked as the day she wad born…

Straddling her, Natacha sat upon her lap and she looked down on the pale Russian woman, her naked breasts feeling the near perpetually pouting lips of Nazimova against them, they felt their teeth against her nipples, gently pulling them when she was french kissing them.

She found that Natacha Rambova was yoga toned and more flexible than she had imagined.

Her belly enticed her like she were some foreign belly dancer or some exotic snake charmer.

Nazimova grabbed their ass with an audible smack

“Ah!” Natacha said, amused and aroused before she was laid back on the couch by Nazimova

“Oh fuck” she uttered before she travelled down her body to her pussy, her lips against it as she treated it the same way she treated her tits and her lips, biting and french kissing Nat…

“That tongue of yours is fucking magic” she’d utter.

“You’ve no clue how many tell me that” she was told by Nazimova “…How many fold to me”, Rambova had her leg outstretched like the ballerina she used to be, Allas hand gripped her tight when it was not lingering up and down her thigh, feeling their strength and elegance.

It wasn’t long before the two of them were scissoring on the sofa, the two women were only a little scared that they were going to break the legs of the sofa they were fucking on like a pair of nymphomaniacs, there’s almost a ferocity to their act, a raw and animalistic passion, Natacha was only a little scared that someone would hear them, but they had been going at it for so long that, if somebody had heard, then they surely weren’t going to bring it up now.

Still, Rambova would cum because of Nazimova…

Despite this, Nazimova remained at awe of the girl.

How could Nazimova not love them? They shared so much in common they were practically the same person, though Rambova was much younger in comparison to Nazimova, with her being just over half Allas age, yet just as experienced as the other sapphics that Alla knew

“Allow me…” Rambova tells Alla “Allow me to, to—“.

A finger which trembled was held up to their lips “No, my dear… You have done your part”

“No” Natacha tells her “No I… I should return the favour” she said, kissing the collar of Alla, desperateness in her tone as she cuddled close to her, clinging to them as she showered the Russian producer with kisses that made Alla smile.

Natacha’s lips and tongue must have been so tired after what they did to make them climax.

It was late around the time the pair had finished…

When all was said and done, the two of them were off the couch, laying on scattered clothes.

“Impressive” Alla Nazimova said, almost out of breath after Rambovas sex “Why, thank you”

“I must admit… He taught you well” Alla said “Who said he taught me everything I knew?” amidsts the silence of their breaths, Nazimova asked her “de Acosta?” she smiled "de Acosta”.

With their libidos satisfied, they slept on that floor.

There was a smile on the face of Nazimova, almost as if their beloved Acker was a nobody…

Chapter Text

Grace awoke to the sound of a phone ringing, in a bed which wasn’t her own, with an empty space where Jean Acker should have been, looking up towards the doorway, she saw Acker pacing about, her hands on the telephone, playing with the cord as she awaited an answer.

“Hello?” Jean hears on the other end of the phone.

Acker was confused, as it was not Nazimova’s voice

“I’m sorry, isn’t this the number of Nazimova?” Jean asked, to which the woman giggles a bit  as she tells her

“She’s a little occupied right now, but she will be with you in just a second…” Jean, still a little tipsy, was nervous

“I’d like to talk with her now, please” Acker said eagerly

“She’s busy” she tells them “Stop that, it tickles—Just who is this?” she asked them “It’s Jean”

“Yes, she’s uh… She’s right here—“ suddenly, Acker heard the voice of Alla Nazimova on the other end of the call

“Ah, Jean, is that you?” she asked her “Who was that?” Jean asked them

“Oh, her? They are just uh… A new staffer of mine”.

A serious tone was soon in Ackers voice, as she asked her “Alla… Who the hell was that girl?”

“Nobody” Nazimova tried to reassure her “She’s but a friend, just the mailman Kosloff sent”

“Why was she giggling just then, and what is she still doing in your office?” Jean asked her

“We were just working over some designs, darling, would I lie to you?” Nazimova tells her.

Acker hated thinking that, she hated thinking of…

Alla lying to her, she couldn’t help but imagine before their phone call had ended abruptly.

“What was that about?” Grace asked her “Nothing” she tells them, shaking the thought away

“It didn’t sound like ‘Nothing’ to me… It sounded t’me like Nazimova was cheating on you”

“She is not!” Jean said, almost offended by the mere idea that she would be cheating on her

“She wouldn’t… I mean, that would… I mean, it’s not like me and her are dating, of course”

“Ah, so she is just your mentor?” Grace asked Acker

“Excuse me?” Jean asked her “Yes, she is just that”.

Grace could read her like a book “You and her, you like her, don’t you?” she says “As a friend”

“You know of her reputation around these parts, right?” Darmond asked her “Oh? Vaguely” Jean said, trying to avoid eye contact, that was until Darmond said “I just know you fucked” Acker stumbled her own words, searching for an excuse, a rebuttal, some kind of a rejection, but she was never too good with that last bit, taking and receiving, and being faced with it…

“Half the queers in this city have been with Nazimova, even some of the straight girls too”

Grace told her “Hell, I of all gals should know that”

“…What is that supposed to mean?” Jean asks her “Means that she will never be satisfied”

“So I shouldn’t bother impressing her?” Jean asked her, seeming a little sad about what she deep down knew was Alla Nazimova, her Alla Nazimova, cheating on her like she was just a common harlot, a simple streetwalker she would frequent for her kicks before returning to her castle, her garden, making love to the hottest new talent in Hollywood, drinking ‘em up.

Jean couldn’t help but cry thinking about it, even as Grace made her way up to Jean, they’re quick to console them, telling her

“Jean, it’s alright, this sorta stuff happens all of the time” before asking “You know what I think? About her ignoring you, and you being all hung up”

“…What do you think?” Jean Acker would ask them

“Who needs her?” Grace asks a tearful Jean “Huh?”

“I said… ‘Who needs her’?” Grace calmly repeated

“I… I don’t understand what you’re saying, she’s… She got me where I am, she noticed me”

“And so did I, and everybody else whose ever up and visited her castle, do you understand?”

Jean found her head cradled in the hands of Grace

“If Alla thinks that she could just use you… Then why don’t you try using her for a change?” she explained her reasoning

“She’ll move heaven and earth to make you a star, all you have to do is be a star, ‘cause they won’t be coming for Alla Nazimova, they’ll be coming for Jean”

“Do you really think I can do that?” Jean asked her

“…If you tried it” Grace tells them warmly “Should I try it?” Grace tells Acker “What’s to lose?”

“Nazimovas trust, if I just bite the hand that feed—“

“She’s the one biting you on the ass” Grace tells them “And she’s obviously cheating on you”.

“I… I still don’t know” Jean tells her with uncertainty before she looked into her eyes, there was so much grit and determination in her words, and so much warmth from the hands that held Jeans head in place, and her eyes?

Acker couldn’t help but feel so emboldened by ‘em.

“Thank you” Jean tells Grace, who smiled a tipsy smile “Don’t thank just me yet, Jean shorts”.

Jeans smile, although weak, was heavenly to Grace

“You could make a gal want to rob a bank” she said

“You mean ‘Guy’?” Jean would blush to Grace Darmond “No… I think I meant what I meant”.

Neither woman moved, Jean liked her hands on her, the fingers brushing their hair away…

She wasn’t sure who started it, she knew that she closed her eyes first, but Grace was the one to part her lips first, and she remembered before closing her eyes that Grace was coming in closer, it was less than a second afterwards that she felt the warmth of her lips against theirs.

Jean was surprised by the dawning fact that she really shouldn’t have been surprised by it…

For that moment, Jean accepted her lips upon hers

“I have wanted this for so long” Grace tells them sounding lovesick like a puppy, deep down she was worried that her breath might have smelt a little bad, a result of all the drinks the two of them had, but Jean didn’t seem to’ve noticed, if she had, then she being the polite and long legged angel that she was didn’t bring it up, even after what Grace uttered to her, allowing her hands to come down to her shoulders

“Grace I… I…” Jean was at a lost for words, yet she could not help but turn her head away.

She savoured the taste of her lips out of her sight, she almost began praying to the forgiving god of her parents for strength, but would instead say to Grace

“I just don’t know about this”

“…I get it” Grace tells their Acker, taken off guard, saying “I’ll uh… Yeah, I’ll go get my stuff”.

Both turn away from one and other, Grace went back to the bedroom, Jean by the telephone.

Jean wanted to try and call her again, Nazimova…

But she couldn’t help but imagine them in the arms of another woman, smiling so devilishly and wickedly to them as they embraced and caressed one and other, her mind had conjured up the image of some vamp with hair like jet and eyes like fire, her skin the fairest and her lust, like her lips, blood red and all over Nazimova, adorning them with kisses with tongue and teeth, stealing away her Alla, no, tempting her beloved, corrupting the one she loved…

Or maybe she had never loved her more than a lay.

Maybe Grace and the rumours of Nazimova were right, Jean couldn’t help but be clouded in doubt, her mind was racing with all these questions in regards to love and to lust, questions about Nazimova, the loyalty she was instructed to show her when she’d simply cheat on her.

Somewhere in that mess, she’d come to a decision.

Darmond was rubbing her tired eyes when she heard the footsteps behind her back

“Yeah?” Grace turned to face her, just in time to meet her lips once more, feeling her hands upon the back of her neck, pulling her into the kiss that grew more passionate and somehow more-so.

Jean grabbed a hold of them, cradling Darmond…

Once their lips had left one and other, Grace smiles

“Finally came to your senses?” she asked “Shut up and kiss me” Jean breathed, kissing her, a desperateness in her tone as they kissed Darmond.

Moving back, Grace found her rump sitting upon the iron railing of the bed, her short skirt meant that she felt the coldness of the iron where her legs met her ass, leaning back just a little bit further, she found her legs coming up as she fell back, landing flat on the bed, she and Jean were both startled, Grace more-so, a funny sound escaping her, a

“Woah!” before she landed on the bed, both women laughed at this as Grace scooted her way up Jeans bed.

Jean still wore their sleeping gown of the night prior, meanwhile Grace in that dress of hers would slowly spread her legs for Acker with a smile, not before she slid off their underwear, a funny smile on their face and a magnetised look in her eyes, a hunger in them, deep down.

Eagerly, she made her way over their bed to Grace.

On her knees beside her, Jean would gently stroke their hair as they granted her sweet and gentle kisses before Grace pulled her down her body, towards her collar as she lowered the straps of that cute flapper dress of hers, it wasn’t long before she was pecking at her breasts.

They were small, but Jean wasn’t complaining, then again, Acker didn’t have anything too impressive either, oh, the two of ‘em weren’t flat, but the pair certainly were far from buxom, Grace didn’t complain either, instead, she was breathing sharply as Jean served their body.

Grace returned the favour once she had pulled down Acker’s sleeping gown, nibbling on her tits like she hungered for her nourishment, doing so as Jean had stretched out one of her legs, doing so with an elegance as she gently whined to them “More, please… More, Grace”.

Darmond looked Jean in the eyes, their hands gently caressing those breasts in front of her

“Okay” she said, almost shrugging, for a split second Jean saw her smiling before she kissed her breasts some more, she positioned herself across from Jean, who arched back, dragging Grace along with her, before the two women felt their hips together, their legs intertwining, the heat between them close to Mercury breaking hot, but to each other, both were Venus.

“Finger me…” Jean tells Grace amidst their friction

“Fuck” Grace breathed out with a smirk on her face

“There a problem with that?” Jean asked her with a pair of doe eyes and something of a pout

“Lemme think about that…” Grace said with one hand firmly on the bed, the other travelling down the body of Acker, almost trying to pull that dainty gown down their body to her hips

“Reminds you of anybody?” Darmond asked playfully before Jean felt the sharp feeling of a pair of fingers prodding at their crotch from over their panties, which Grace would remove…

It was not long before Grace plunged them in Jean

“That’s it… That’s it…” Jean said faintly as Grace stood up on her knees, she straddled her, fingering both Acker and herself, which the dark haired Acker found to be a little impressive, though she’d assist Darmond, frantically rubbing down there like Grace was a genies lamp.

“Oh fuck… That’s the spot” Jean admits “I can tell”

Grace smiled before she sped up her action with what was almost a ferocity, her fingers had blasted Jeans crotch again and again, pushing her button and making her howl as her grip on her own sheets had tightened, aroused by the closeness of their sexes as Grace came in, and came in closer, to the bow squealing Acker, her pale, regal face growingly flustered and her words more vulgar as she screamed expletives.

“Fu—Fu—Fuh… Oh fuck… Holy fuck” Jean finished, her eyes crossed as she felt a hot wetness

“Damn” Darmond commented “…What would your mother say if she heard what you said?”

“I don’t care what they’d think…” Jean Acker says weakly to Grace “Yeah… I wouldn’t either”.

Jean took in this breath before she heard Grace say

“Oh no, we’re not done here, Jean shorts” smiling this wild smile before they climb right up, by the time the breath had left Acker, she found that Grace was laying down on the bed, this eagerness in her eyes as she laid there with one foot on the bed and one knee up, to which, Acker would intertwine their legs, their pussies touching as Jean came in over Darmond, this sweetness in her kisses as they gave Grace a ride…

Scissoring one and other atop that bed, the metal legs shook, the creaking of the springs in that bed barely seemed to have annoyed them, almost as if the sound of metal’s drowned out by the pleasure of the two friends in that sporadic moment, which Acker couldn’t have ever imagined, and what Grace had been thinking of for quite some time, almost too much

“I love you” Grace told her, a lovesick look in her eyes as she caressed Ackers face “I love you”.

Acker felt those fingers, still fresh with her excitement, lingering upon her lips as she rode upon the lap of Grace Darmond, she couldn’t deny the feelings within her, the way her heart was banging in her chest like a drum, how her loins still trickled down to Darmond, all of it. Yet in her minds eye, as Jean gripped the bedsheets beneath the two of them, as she leaned in, allowing her to once more kiss her breasts, feeling Grace gripping her back like she were a frightened child, Acker couldn’t help but think about Nazimova as the two of them climax.

“Ahh!” Grace uttered as she finished under Acker…

A similar sound had escaped Jean in that moment, as the two women found their cheeks, hot to the touch, grazing against one and other like their sexes, their loins, their bellies and their breasts, Ackers nipples either excited or somehow cold against those of Grace Darmond

“I love you” Grace utters “Tell me you do… Please”

“I love you” Jean whispered

“Look me in my eyes when you say it” Grace said as she presses her head deeper into the mattress, as if to get a much better look at Jeans face

“Say it again”

Jean giggled a little bit, yet her face wore starlet beauty and composer, saying

“…I love you”.

Once more, their lips came together on Jeans bed.

Jean, despite still holding out hope for Nazimova, couldn’t deny the sweet taste of her lips, Grace’s lips, even with the hint of alcohol in her breath, finding it all so exciting, meanwhile Grace Darmond had hoped that her Acker had forgotten all about her relationship with Alla.

But Nazimova did not forget Jean, not for too long.

But until then? All was well in the apartment that the two women would share some more…

They became lovers shortly after the fact, Jean Acker and her best of friends, Grace Darmond.

Chapter Text

As June Mathis, the head of Metro’s scenario department, was meeting with Nazimova, she wished to discuss the script she wrote for her, that of Nazimovas passion project “Aphrodite”, yet she couldn’t help but feel as if something was on the mind of her boss, Alla Nazimova…

“Al, there is something you’re not telling me, here” June suddenly said sternly to Nazimova

“What gave that away?” she asked her “Bad vibes”

“‘Bad vibes’?” Nazimova asked her “You? You’re more quiet than usual, it’s not a good sign”

June told her “You know, it makes me think that you’re just plotting something nefarious”

“How on Earth do you watch any of my movies?” Alla asked them “In a cinema, where else?”

Nazimova smiled a little bit to herself, she had always found June to be a charming woman.

June Mathis was a plain woman, round and short with an older, friendly face, her cheeks are marked by the lines of a woman who smiled a lot and ate well, one who started out as an ingénue from Leadville, Colorado, educated in Salt Lake City and San Francisco, who starred on Broadway and spent four seasons touring with the female impersonator Julian Eltinge in The Fascinating Widow, all whilst she supported her twice-widowed mother, Virginia Ruth.

She was a friend and confidant to Alla Nazimova, and well aware of her strange private life…

So June heard of the rumours about Jean Acker, that she was ignoring the calls of Nazimova.

When the meeting was over, Nazimova excused herself into another room, where there sat Natacha Rambova, perched atop a fancy sofa, looking like an Egyptian or Roman royal, one awaiting grapes to be hand fed to them, likely hoping Nazimova would do her the honour. Instead, Alla Nazimova would make a call to Acker.

“I’m not looking desperate, am I?” Nazimova asked Rambova, who said “Only this little bit”, her finger and her thumb held pressed together, though she admitted that “You look cute”

“When I’m mildly annoyed?” Alla asked smartly “When you’re worried” Rambova admitted.

Finally, somebody had answered on the other end.

On the other end of the line wasn’t Jean Acker, but a more casual voice, still that of a woman “Hello?” she asked “I’m sorry, is this Jean Acker?” Nazimova asked the lady “No, this is Grace”

“…Grace who?” the woman seemed a little bit confused “Grace Darmond. Jean’s off at work”

“So where exactly would that be?” Nazimova asked

“…The Fox Film Corporation?” Grace had shrugged

“Thank you… Now, quick question” Alla told them “Why did you just answer their phone?”

“It’s our phone… I’m her roommate” Grace admits, smiling to herself before she hung up

“Oh my god, they are roommates” Nazimova stares

“Excuse me?” Rambova asked her “Nothing, daring” Alla said as she gently strokes her cheek

“I just have to make a quick trip to Fox studios, but I’ll be back as soon as I’m done” she adds

“I’ll be back as soon as I can, and if we are lucky, then you may get to meet our ‘Aphrodite’”…

It was her Rolls-Royce, and she loved it, but Charles drove it because Nazimova just couldn’t.

Nazimova tells him “The Fox Film Corporation”, and he proceeded to not floor it, instead he drove at a leisurely pace, his wife on paper sitting in the passenger side, with a curious look in her blue eyes as Alla seemed to plot out what she would say to her talent, her beloved…

Jean Acker was filming this scene taking place in a bar on the set of “Never Say Quit”, it was a scene where her job was to distract the protagonist, George Walsh, as he’s robbed blind with what can best be described as her feminine wiles and vampiric temptation in her eyes.

There was a sensuality in her performance, a venom, a foreign kind of flare that Nazimova typically saw whenever she looked into the mirror, albeit in a skimpier and “Poorer” looking dress than she usually wore, and a sinister looking smirk, like Salome looking at Johns neck.

The smile fades once the director yelled cut, and once Jean had finally noticed Nazimova…

As the cast and crew began to part ways following a job well done, Jean was followed by Alla.

Jean finished for the day, and yearned for home…

“Have you come to take me back?” Jean asked Alla

“Are you going to beg for forgiveness?” Alla asked her smartly “…Forget about it” Jean said, dismissive and annoyed, yet her eyes, though still melancholic, seemed to beckon for them, even as she had turned away from Nazimova, on their way to get that makeup off their face

“If it makes you feel any better, you were beautif—”

“Were?” Jean asked her, about to make a smart ass comment about how Alla will probably be saying that to her current lover when she finds a new one, but Nazimova was quicker to clarify what she meant, saying

“You know what I meant, up there, and in front of the camera”.

Jean quietly wipes away at the makeup she had on

“Well… Enjoy it when it comes out” she told Alla with a sigh which she tried to hide

“Feisty” Nazimova said as she leaned by the dressing table Jean sat at, her rump and hands on their table, her fingers dancing beneath it as she looked down on Jean with those beautiful eyes

“You know, we look just like a couple” Nazimova teased Acker “Dressing like one and other”

“Don’t start on that” she said “Then where should I start?” Alla had asked Jean so innocently

“Well, normally an apology would work, but I don’t think it will” Jean said matter of factly

“…Are we still talking about that?” Alla asked them

“It was barely a week ago” Jean said “And away from you it felt like a month” Nazimova said

“She came onto me, she seduced me, and without you? My dear Acker, I frankly feel empty”

Jean was going to turn around and leave Alla there with her emptiness, before she felt it.

Nazimovas hand on theirs as she leaned in close…

“My love, you torture me with your absence, you subject me to a gilded cage and rob me of a muse I can’t function without… After all, can your ‘Grace Darmond’ make you ‘Aphrodite’?”

“…What?” Jean asked “Oh, she may make you feel like the belle of the ball, but can she…” Nazimova searched for the words to describe it “Can she actually make you the star of it all?”

“What does this mean?” Jean asked her with curiosity “…That I will give you a starring role”.

Jean Acker really should have seen it coming, a temptation like this, an offer of this calibre.

She barely had a name in Never Say Quit, yet here she was, presented with the leading role.

“You… You’d do that?” Jean asked her “Of course”.

She was confused, wondering if there was something more to what she was trying to tell her

“What’s the catch?” Jean asked Alla Nazimova “All I want is to mend this relationship of ours” the Russian would quip “I mean, after one argument you up and vanish? Come now, dear”…

“Damn it” Jean said, wondering whether or not she had made a grave mistake the moment she chose to follow her, thinking the same thing as the two sat in the back of the Rolls-Royce being driven all the way back to the Garden of Alla.

It was as she was being walked up the stairs that she wonders “Have I just made a mistake?”.

She especially thought so when they enter the bedroom, where there sat Natacha Rambova.

“If you intend on pretending to be me, you might as well start acting like me…” Alla teased “At least for them… And for me” Jean was confused, her skin crawled and her ear was tickled by the words from Allas perked lips, the feeling in Ackers very soul was as if she fallen down.

But Ackers eyes remained locked upon Rambova…

“Is this the other woman?” Jean had to wonder, taken by her beauty and her long dark hair “Be friendly now” Alla said, kissing her on the cheek

“I’ve got to make a call, but I’ll be back” she smacked Jeans ass, causing her to jump up forward a little as Nazimova left the room.

Rambova sat there on the bed dressed in this robe

“…So you’re the other woman” Jean said sharply

“So you’re that girl on the phone” Nat said

“I assume she told you a bit about me?” Jean asked “She said I got your ass right in a sketch”

“Oh, did she now?” Jean asked Natacha “I’m not too sure… Maybe I need to see it myself” Jean rolled her eyes at Rambovas smart comment.

“You’re clearly stressed about something” Natacha said before tapping the bed “Sit here” she tells her with a gentle smile but intense eyes

“Now, lets chat, lets get t’know each other” “I’m a little sore in the joints” Jean told Rambova “The feet too… I had to dance on a table”

“A table?” Natacha asked her, sounding amused as Jean sat down beside the woman whose legs, Acker had just noticed, were elegant and toned, clearly those belonging to a ballerina.

Rambova would gesture to their lap a couple times

“I’m sorry, what are you trying to tell me?” Jean asked “Let me see ‘em” Nat tells her casually “See… My feet?” she asked

“Well, you said they were sore, so why not?” Jean would blush “This seems awfully personal…” she admits to Nat

“Oh, come now, these aren’t puritan times anymore… They’d burn all of us if they still were”

“Not helping” Jean said sheepishly “That’s not very ‘Nazimova’ of you” Natacha teased them

“Listen, I’m a ballerina, at least, I was, so I can help with your feet aching, so… Put them up”.

Jean took in a deep breath through her nose before she slipped one shoe off and placed her leg up on those of Rambova, which showed, even in the robe she was in “Sorry if they smell” Jean said, to which Natacha simply took a whiff of the air, saying “No, not untouchably bad”

“Thanks” Jean said as she slid her other foot out its shoe, she’d linger it against the leather.

Her feet were like clay in the firm grip of Rambova.

It was like there were hidden buttons in the foot of Jean Acker, buttons she didn’t even know existed, joints and muscles that she never knew could be stimulated the way that they were

“I—Ah… Oh my, I…” Natacha asked her “How does it feel?"

“Really… Really good” she admits “You’ve no clue how often I’ve done this” Natacha admits to her “Back when I was a dancer”.

Jean did her best not to look Rambova in her eyes, even as she slowly dragged her thumb down where the front of her leg met her foot to the joints of her toes, whilst her fingers had lingered about her heal, as she was worried she was going to get too relieved by what she— There’s a sudden click, and Jean Acker arched back.

It sounded too much like they just had an orgasm.

She didn’t… At least, she didn’t think she had one.

“Oh my… I’m sorry” Jean blushed “Really, I—I didn’t mean to embarrass you or make you—“

“Don’t be” Nat said, holding them in place with a hand upon her chest, explaining to Acker

“You’ve no clue how often the girls did that” Natacha admits to her “…Even your Nazimova”.

She felt it, she had to, her hand’s right on her chest, feeling her breasts from over their shirt.

The fingers seemed to gently, slowly twirl in circles as Acker drew closer and closer to them.

Jean surely thought to herself “I’m going to hate this tomorrow, am I?’ before Natacha came in closer, snuffing out the distance between them, granting Acker a gentle peck upon their lips, one which has lasted a couple seconds longer than simply being a kiss between friends.

And Jean wouldn’t have called Rambova her friend

“I… No, I—I don’t even know your name” Jean said a tad bit sheepishly to the pretty woman

“Well then. My name is Natacha Rambova, and I’d say you and I have had enough foreplay”

“Well, when you put it like that—“ Jean could barely finish her sentence, Rambova pounced, having playfully wrestled Jean down onto the bed.

“Oh my!” escaped Jean, clearly surprised, but feeling too loose and excited to be shocked…

“Admit it, you’re aching all over… Don’t you want some mercy?” she asked Jean Acker as her elegant hands explored her body, as her legs held them down, as they straddled the actress, Jean was tempted to say something along the lines of “Maybe a little”, but she simply sighs.

She permitted the lips against her, the kisses Natacha Rambova planted repeatedly on them, but Jean couldn’t help but return the favour, unable to deny the honey-like sweetness of her kisses, even as in the back of her mind, she thinks of dear Grace Darmond, who would’ve… Well, if she had known she was in the Garden of Alla, she’d have lost her lovely, funny mind.

At that point, the passion and the sexuality resonated from Rambova, not from Jean Acker…

But she did find herself dragged up by one of Natacha’s kisses, before she pulled away from her, Jean noticing a look in her eyes

“You seem disappointed” Jean said as she went to pick herself up, stopping halfway before she asked her “Why?” to which Rambova told them that “You’re not an awful lot like Nazimova… Not at all”

“How so?” Jean asked her “You seem like a dead fish for one thing” Natacha had lamented

“Well, I’m not awfully proactive when it comes to… You know… Women I don’t really know”

“Alla was more… ‘Proactive’ when it came to taking me” Rambova told Jean, explaining how

“After all, all it took from me was a single kiss and a couple minutes of blushing over artists prior for her to want to fuck my brains out, for her to bury my pretty face between her pretty legs and have her forget all about you as I showed her the gates of Heaven with my tongue”.

Jean wasn’t sure if she could see her annoyance…

Rambova sighs “Seems even she can be mistaken”.

Oh, but Rambova saw the annoyance after that line

“No, her falling for me was no mistake!” Jean hissed at her as she grabbed a hold of Rambova

“…Then show me what got her fancy” she told her, almost purring it, her deep eyes inviting Acker, whose lips met hers once more.

“I am not a dead fish” Jean said, forcing Nat down.

Yanking her robe open, Acker would lather her chest with kisses, occasionally biting them as they sunk further and further down the bed, coming to their knees once they had untied the robe she wore, her quivering lips coming to the well trimmed pussy in front of her, the one she would dot with kisses and long licks before she began to frantically finger Ms. Rambova

“Try hard” Jean could have sworn to have heard from Natacha, before she heard them coo.

With her spare hand she aggressively she undid her own shirt, wishing to both impress the girl on the bed and finish fast enough for her to leave and go back to her apartment, back to the woman she truely loved, back to her Grace Darmond, where things made more sense…

For a second, she took her fingers out of Rambova.

She did this so she could take her arm out of her sleeve, to take off the shirt, only for her to find a strong, long pair of legs to wrap around her back and pull her face into their vagina, to once more fellate it, all the while she could hear the sounds of Natacha Rambova ramp up.

Those sounds they made… They intoxicated Acker.

Once she was permitted the chance to sit back and breath, Jean looked up at Ms. Rambova, who wore on her regal face the look of pure lust as she dragged her hand through her hair, a finger, a thumb to be more accurate, came to her lip as she asks Jean “Is that all you’ve got?”

“I don’t see you doing much here, other than trying to suffocate me down here” Jean quips “Well, you haven’t asked me to return the favour” she said, before Jean had asked Rambova “Did she ask you, Natty?”

Natacha smiled

“No… No, not precisely… But I still did it anyway”.

Jeans heart pounded like crazy in her chest as she was gently pulled up the bed by Natacha, who kissed her repeatedly before she yanked her pants off, pulling them down to her calves and further down to her feet, where they stayed for a moment before being tossed aside…

Once they were off her legs, Jean found herself rolled over onto her back by her firm hand.

Her lips are reintroduced to the pussy of Rambova.

Natacha meanwhile would take the opportunity to familiarise herself with that of Jean Acker.

Rambova had liked the idea of “Tit for tat”, or in this case—No, to silly a joke for one to make.

The fact of the matter is, it wasn’t long before the two were entangled upon that lovely bed.

Nazimova joined them in the room before she joined them on the bed, watching the pair as Rambova and Acker ate one and other out on the bed, as they tried to show what had gained her affection for them, the sight enticing the cool Russian woman with the cool, electric eyes.

“I see you are getting along just fine” Alla smirked.

Jean was too out of breath to have blushed, Rambova meanwhile crawled up to Nazimova, she did it like she were some obedient puppy, one who’d await the kisses of their master, a euphoric sensation crawled through her body as she was granted a long one upon her lips.

Jean enjoyed watching Nazimova, like she was some exotic, slow moving big cat in the wild.

Nazimova knew it, being a forty year old woman in Hollywood, she was practically a cougar.

What was wrong with being a big cat in the jungle?

Once her lips left Rambova, her hands remained fixated on the sides of her head before she turned her attention to Jean, curling her finger in and out again and again before Acker had relented, coming back to her beloved Nazimova, if not for the rest of her life, then that night.

She wanted to responsibly regret it the day after…

Even with the knowledge and intentions she kept, Acker couldn’t help but savour their kiss, Nazimova knew she loved it, knew that her love and affection was like a drug, her dopamine, her morphine, her poison of choice, that someday it was going to kill them, but until then?

Nazimova was going to savour it, regret-less and gleeful, knowing more than Acker knew…

“Now, what was her name again? The woman you fell for” Nazimova asked them “Grace?”

Jean was only a little confused then, as well as a little worried “Ah, yes, Darmond will join us”

“Oh, no, no, no” Jean said shaking their head “No, Grace can’t know of this, she’d freak out”.

“Oh, my beloved Jean you mistook what I said. I called Ms. Darmond a couple minutes ago”

“You did what?!” Jean asked her before she heard the sound of footsteps and Graces voice…

Chapter Text

Darmond was speechless for a good couple seconds, as she usually was looking at Jean in a revealing position, only, there typically weren’t other bed fellows, but there she was, within the grasps of not one, but two women, Alla Nazimova and Natacha Rambova, seducing her.

Grace had felt something funny, like something in her chest broke like fine, porcelain china.

But it would’ve been funnier if she wasn’t pissed…

“Wh—Wh… What the fuck, Jean?!” she asked them

“Darmond” Jean Acker had uttered weakly to her beloved from across the room on the bed, a shame shot through her as she grabbed a hold of the discarded robe of Rambova, which she had used to cover herself, saying

“Darmond, Darmond, please, forgive me” she told her “T—They—They… I don’t know what came over me!”

“You don’t know what came over you?! Her, obviously!” Grace pointed out angrily, hissing to the three on the bed

“I’m out, that’s it! I’m out of—“

“Oh, come on, don’t be such a drama queen” Nazimova said, clearly amused by everything that was going down, meanwhile Jean Acker was terrified that she was about to lose her best friend, and Rambova was just sitting there funny, waiting for the fun to start up once more…

Nazimova beckoned her towards the fun, but Grace didn’t want to budge, she didn’t want to join in and she didn’t want to leave, she was in no mans land, fitting as there were no men, Charles left around the same time Grace had made her way to the front gate of the Garden.

“Now, you’ve got two options” Nazimova told them

“You can either wallow about in pity, or show me what got my Jean Acker under your sway”

“She is not yours!” Grace said “Then show me why”

Nazimova came in close, a devilish look in her eyes

“What made you so special?” Grace was about to push her aside before she felt their kiss…

Their face may have scrunched up, their eyes may have closed shut, but Jean could see tell that deep down she was fighting herself, she tried to not enjoy it, the lips of Alla against hers as she backed into the frame of the doorway, their hands crawling up towards Alla Nazimova.

They had looked as if they wanted to choke Alla out

“Oh, Grace, no—“ Jean was cut short by Rambova, whose hand came against her lips as glee came over her eyes, yet her face remained that of a poker player, although she had almost wished for popcorn to magically appear, only to better enjoy the drama playing before her…

As they parted, Acker sat waiting for their response

“I hate you” she spat at Alla, who held the hands which had crept to her shoulders, which she gently kissed, one by one “Oh, maybe… But you are going to love what I am going to do”

“No thanks” Grace said “I’d rather be with Acker” Jean felt her heart starting to beat again “Hm… Suit yourself, but I’ll suit mine” Nazimova purred as those two passed one and other.

Alla Nazimova stretched in the doorway, allowing her robe to open over her sleeping grown.

She watched as Grace Darmond had made her way onto the bed, her hand along the head of her beloved, gripping its side, Jean was about to once more apologise, only to find the lips of Grace against hers, kissing them deeply with a palpable passion, pushing Rambova aside.

Grace clearly hadn’t expect anything too raunchy that evening, certainly not outside of their bedroom, so she had dressed formally, in a long dress and a tie, over which she wore a coat, a pair of gloves which she was quick to remove and throw over her shoulder, and a flat-cap.

All three of them happened to have landed close to or even hit Nazimova, though Jean was far to distracted by the look of both annoyance and lust in Graces eyes to notice that detail, even as she crawled up with her knees on the bed, removing her shoes like they were on fire

“We are going to have a long talk about this, Jean”

Grace emphasised the “Long" with an angry tone and a serious look in their eyes “…When?” Jean asked her

“When we get home” Grace told her as she slid off her jacket, allowing it to fall pass her rump, adding “When we’re done” before Jean came up to her knees to face her.

Jean was about to say “If you don’t want to do this, that’s fine” but Grace would immediately lower herself down to kiss the tits of Jean Acker, fiddling with her nipples with her tongue as her arms wrapped around her waist, as if to pull her in even closer as she kissed their chest.

For a second, Grace noticed Rambova watching her

“Haven’t you seen enough?” Grace asked Natacha.

She shook her head, instead asking as she made a pose on the bed “Can I join in the fun?”.

Darmond responds by tossing her jacket over them

“That should shut her up for a second” she quipped to Acker “You’re taking this all lightly”

“Nope, I’m furious” Grace said as she hastily went to removing her tie and her long dress, at first she pulled it up her legs, pass her knees and the stockings she wore to her dark panties

“That’s a new pair… Did you buy them for me?” Jean asked her as she position herself down on her belly, her head in her hands when they were not clinging to the thighs of Darmond…

“I wanted t’surprise you… Y’beat me to the punch”.

Jean felt the fine lingerie Grace wore underneath her long dress for them, having intended to give Acker the ride of her life that evening, either that or a slow, romantic evening of love making with the woman she enjoyed the company of, despite their acquaintance with Alla.

Still, she couldn’t deny the funny feeling that resonated from her loins once Acker licked her.

Even if she could feel Nazimova watching her, admiring her ass and plotting against them.

Rambova peered at those two behind that jacket…

She couldn’t help but smile as she watched it, as she saw Acker and Grace submitting to one and other, as Jean had lingered her hands up and down Graces body, just as the kisses she had prior granted her had lingered across her groin, before they crawled up Darmonds body.

Watching as Acker loosened the shirt Grace Darmond was wearing, Nazimova approached.

Jean Acker didn’t notice, nor did she care for anything that wasn’t her beloved Grace, in that moment, whose lingerie cladded bust she would see once she pulled her dress-shirt up to her collar, she had spent some time nuzzling against them, pulling one cup low enough for her to kiss them, to gently gnaw and suckle on with her teeth and delicate lips, allowing the curly blonde woman to coo and moan to her kisses, her voice soft and gentle as she begged.

That was when Alla Nazimova had finally pounced.

Grace had panicked for a second or two after she felt the tongue of Nazimova entering her…

She felt it before she noticed her hands between them and their panties, pulling ‘em down.

A sudden and loud cry escaped her, likely surprised by how deep it reached insider of them.

“Oh my… Fuck!” Grace cried out as she is tongued.

Darmond fell forward into the arms of Jean, who’d hold her by their back as they themself is backed up into the bed frame, cradling Grace as she positions herself in a more comfortable pose for her to be eaten out from by Alla Nazimova.

Grace sunk down the lean body of Jean Acker, who laid back, taking in their debauchery, a lazy smile on her face, meanwhile Natacha Rambova was just starting to feel a little left out, until she noticed that Acker was merely watching what Nazimova was doing to her Darmond.

At most, Grace was occasionally kissing Jeans body, her tongue escaping her lips as they had sunk further and further down her belly, her hands tightly gripping the sheets as they were eaten out by Nazimova, despite initially not wanting to fall under her sway like others had…

At least to Grace her tongue was where it belonged

“Up my ass!” Darmond utters out in one breath in a sexual groan, her drags of the bedsheet were more akin to somebody being dragged into the maws of an animal, a predatory beast, one which could’ve so easily swallowed one whole.

“Hey there” Rambova said to Jean “Ah, hello there”.

The silence between them was only broken by the sounds of Grace Darmond folding and the sound of the woman making them fold so loudly

“I think we’ve got off on the wrong foot” Natacha casually admitted to Acker

“I mean, the way I answered the phone and what we’d—“

“You’ve got nice hair” Jean admitted to Rambova, gently caressing their long and dark hair “Thanks” Nat smiled before Jean granted them a kiss, not yet ready to mend their bridges…

Rambova must have thought of this, but she couldn’t help but savour those lips against her.

Grace was at their waist, lathering her belly with kisses before she peered up at Jean Acker, at first taken aback, startled by how quickly she had went back to kissing the other woman, it would have been more of a punch to her gut if Darmond wasn’t face-fucking Alla Nazimova.

For a moment, Grace felt the tongue leaving her, streaking up and down her taint before she smacked Darmonds ass, grabbing it as she pulled herself back to her feet “Did you enjoy it?”

“Maybe a little” Grace said dismissively, admitting that “I still prefer Jean shorts over here”.

Nazimova snuggled Grace from behind “You like her, don’t you?” Alla said this holding them in their pale white arms, their head climbing up their back to rest alongside their shoulders

“Of course I like her” Grace told her, admitting “I like her… I love her… I want to just, run—“

“You stole her from me” Alla hissed into her ear, she wasn’t angry, but Grace’s blood ran cold

“I didn’t steal shit, I was just there for her when she needed me, and when you were with…”

Grace pauses “I’m sorry, the fuck's her name again?”.

Natacha Rambova had Nazimova answer for her, she was too busy catering to the tongue in her mouth, the one which wasn’t connected to her, Grace meanwhile had wanted to divert her eyes, not for too long, a second or so, but Nazimova would have none of it, holding their head in place, with one set of fingers on her neck and chin, the other set holding the other end, as if she had wanted her to watch, as if she had wanted them to take in every second…

The gentle way her fingers crept along their bodies, all those sensual, romantic kisses they shared, the orgasms restrained, kept in check, even as Natacha’s hands linger to their sexes, Grace felt as if she was gagged like a wild animal as she saw Rambova defiling their lover.

Meanwhile Nazimova was the devil on their shoulder, sowing discourse and sowing doubt.

But she couldn’t stay mad at the hands upon her…

Excitement shook her and exhaustion seemed to be in flux as the white Russian groped her.

Grace had never imagined that Nazimova would be the one in the position to disrobe her.

Allas gentle bumping and grinding drove her wild.

“Show me how you did it” Nazimova said to Grace.

She didn’t really understand what she meant by it, that was until Nazimova told Rambova to hold Jean still before she asked Grace once again to

“Show me”, holding Grace back as the tall Rambova manoeuvred her way behind Jean Acker, pushing them down the bed before she had wrapped her legs around the arms of a love-drunk Acker, who was confused for just a couple seconds, before she heard Nazimova telling her to “Spread your legs for Darmond”.

There was a silent conversation between those two

“Do you really wanna do this?” Grace asked with her eyes “More than anything” Jean nods

“Please, please me” Acker came close to uttering…

Grace climbed on top of Jean Acker with a dreamy look in her eyes, a hunger and a want, she caressed them, she lingered her fingers along her breasts before she sucked them, at times she handed those glistening fingers to Jean Acker.

Acker allowed her to enter pass her lips, to allow her mouth to be fingered by her roommate.

As Jean leaned back, feeling the crotch of Natacha Rambova as she cradled her head, she’d feel the spit glazed fingers of Grace Darmond gently coming down pass her breasts, around her belly and down towards her vagina, feeling Graces other hand pry them open before…

Jean Acker had sharply gasped the moment Darmond started to finger fuck them frantically.

“O’m’god! Oh my god! Oh my god—Agh! Ahh—Grace… Keep it up—Please! Oh, oh my god—“

Jean was an incoherent mess the moment Grace fingered them alone, and the moment she felt her lips against her naked breasts, the moment she sucked and nibbled on her mounds?

Jean felt as if her mind was melting in Allas hands.

Oh, Nazimova may have just been sitting back, but Jean couldn’t help but see Nazimova as being in control, she couldn’t deny their dominance in the bedroom, even when she was a simple observer, smiling devilishly on the edge, watching what Darmond did to their body. Rambova enjoyed the angle she was watching from, and she couldn’t help but join in, one of their hands caressing the breasts of Jean Acker, squeaking and pinching them, which had aroused Acker and even managed to both turn on and intimidate Grace Darmond, after all, it was her roommate and the love of her life whom she was playing around with the breasts of, breasts which Grace Darmond had wanted t’do unto Jean what she had wanted done to her.

Rambova climbed over Acker t’say “Hello” to Grace.

Jean didn’t so much mind the ass and the pussy she had in her face, the legs straddling her head and the bed as they gently bounced up and down on them, coming in close to Grace, who was still focused on driving her fingers deeper and deeper into the pussy of Jean Acker.

“Oh please, show her some love too” Nazimova instructed Grace, who relented, rolling their eyes as, with their free hand, they pulled Natacha Rambova in for a kiss, one which wasn’t a whole lot passionate on the side of Grace Darmond, not at first at least, the kisses she gave were more akin to a friendly kiss between family members, only on the lips instead of their cheeks, Natacha on the other hand had more passion, more lust, more palatable sexuality. Jean could have tasted that sexuality, after all, she was mouth to mouth with Rambovas sex.

Nazimova giggled like a schoolgirl watching Grace.

Darmond imitates the laugh before she was pulled into a more sexual kiss from Rambova, one that Grace couldn’t help but enjoy, even as that unfamiliar tongue probed her mouth, a path taken by few women and by even fewer men.

Though Grace was taken off guard by the way Rambova licked her face when she pulled out. Jean felt Grace writhe and she felt Natacha laugh, her eyes finding those of Nazimova locked on her, as they were plenty of times before, her hand gently brushing the hair from her eyes, which Jean had trouble doing on account of her arms being restrained by Rambovas legs…

“What fun we can have together” Nazimova mused

“Don’t get your hopes up” Grace said, not even wanting to look her in the eyes at first, before Alla had gripped them by the side of their head and pulled them into a loving, playful kiss

“Oh, come on… You enjoy this, my company too, once I remind you why it is Jean is mine”

Alla Nazimova adds “But I’d be willing to share her if you show me what swayed her to you”

“What the fuck did you think I was doing with Jean?” Grace asked “…Having a tickle fight?”

Nazimova pouted to Grace, saying “Tsk-tsk” as she rested her head against hers, telling them

“You’ve got a dirty, dirty mouth” almost maternally.

Grace smirked “I wasn’t the one eating ass earlier” which made Rambova laugh and lead to Acker taking the initiative and trying to play peacemaker between the two, cuddling Grace and saying to both Darmond and Alla

“Please, you two certainly don’t need to fight over me” though she added

“I’m more than flattered that you see me as something worth the fight”

“Well, to me you’re just an okay lay” Natacha admits

“…But I see you really mean these two”

“Oh, don’t sell yourselves too short” Nazimova said

“We’re beautiful… Beautiful women, some more than others, but we’d ought not to fight”

“Why not?” Grace asked them “Because we are women, and these times are bipolar to us”

Nazimova said “One minute they love us, the next they reject us, saying we’ve gone too far”

“And you think I won’t say the same thing?” Grace asked Nazimova “Ah, so you do love me?”

“No…” Darmond said as Acker cuddled them more, adding that “…I’ve already got my love”

Grace had Jeans head on her shoulder as they add

“And I can assure you, it won’t be a minute” she gave Jean a peck on the lips before Alla says

“Oh? Show me” kissing Darmond with passion before laying her and Jean down on the bed.

Jean was quick to kiss Grace on the lips before she went to her chest, her lips adorning their naked breasts, her teeth occasionally nibbling on Darmond, she knew it drove her crazy, the same way Grace knew that Jean Acker would fold to any elegant appendage inside her cunt.

Alla Nazimova watched the two going at it like animals before she felt the arms of Rambova around her, snuggling them, hanging off of them like that loose robe Nazimova wore at the start of things, only the show she gave then was for Acker, whereas now she simply watched.

Nazimova didn’t mind, she actually liked that show

“Please” Rambova told her “Please, lets have some fun of our own, shall we?” she asked Alla, who turned her attention to Natacha, kissing them.

Accompanied by the sounds of carnal passion, they kissed before Alla laid her upon the bed.

The night those four shared together lacked rest…

The four women in bed were surely quite the sight.

Jean looked flustered and in a lovely daze, a weak smile upon her pretty face as she lays in bed between Darmond, her dark blonde hair a frizzy mess, and Nazimova, a composure was on her face, and a bliss as she lays with one hand under her own head, the other around the shoulder of Rambova, her long, raven hair flowing over the pillows, strewn across her side of the bed as she snuggled beside Alla, much like how Grace had snugged next to Jean Acker.

“…Wow” was all that Acker could really say of it all.

It was either “Wow” or “That was fucking amazing”.

Chapter Text

Their first encounter with Mercedes de Acosta was back in the spring of 1916… In New York.

It was only the year prior that Alla Nazimova and Charles Bryant opened as Joan and Franz in War Brides at BF Keith’s Palace Theatre in New York.

A six-month tour on the Keith-Orpheum circuit followed, where Alla’s paid $2500 per week.

There were talks of another tour, but it seemed obvious that they wouldn’t be needing Alla, as the producers were already in talks to have the Italian born Gilda Varesi take on her role as the titular “War Bride”, though Nazimova was starting to tire of the role, if only just a little. Marion Craig Wentworth wrote the play, a feminist, anti-war one that, which focused upon a pregnant war widow who commits suicide rather than bear more children for a nation that allows her no say in its decision-making, and that evening, Alla Nazimova was performing it, probably for the last time, at the very least for now.

“

You tear our husbands, our sons from us!” she hissed to the actor playing an army captain

“You never ask us to help you find a better way, and haven't we anything to say?” she asked this, as in her hand she held this prop pistol, whilst behind the crowd upon there stage there sat a hunched man with a party popper, one to make the sound of her brains getting blown out, which would come up, the audience meanwhile hung upon baited, cautious breaths…

One lady had watched with a keen look in her eyes

“If we can bring forth the men for the nation, we can sit with you in your councils and shape the destiny of the nation, and say whether it is to war or peace we give the sons we bear…”

Nazimova said above a whisper, loud enough for those up in the nosebleeds of that theatre, but the woman with the keen looks had the best seat in the house, almost starring across the aether towards that suicidal and armed war widow.

Just as the King of that unspecified country of theirs stepped upon the stage, bellowing out angrily and rudely “What is the meaning of this?!”

“An example!” Nazimova growled, her pistol raised, aimed at that decorated monarch before saying forebodingly

”If you will not give us women the right to vote for or against war…” there was a long pause as she slowly placed that gun beneath her chin, her eyes looking out to the audience, for a second locked on the eyes of a woman, almost directly across from her “I shall not bear a child for such a country!”…

The bang came just as she pulled the trigger.

There was a sharp gasp as all those lights went out.

When they came to, Alla Nazimova was still standing, wearing this proud smile on her face.

In the light, the woman born Marem-Ides Leventon could get a better look at her audience.

In particularly, the one whom elegantly clapped as everybody else went buck wild over her.

The woman with the nice seat was impeccably dressed and decorated, carrying with her this elegant presence like her shoulders carried the jacket she wore over them, her fashion sense is almost “Manly” or “Mannish”, wearing pants for starters, as she had a dark, elegant gaze.

Alla could feel those round eyes upon her, and her alone, even as the cast took their bows…

Nazimova would take her bow alongside Charles Bryant, her dearest of friends… And beard.

No, calling Charles her “Beard” isn’t too accurate a description for their relationship, as that would indicate that one or both of them were gay, which wasn’t the case, Bryant was straight and Nazimova, if she had wanted to marry for the love of a man, would have, she liked men.

As she had women, it had just tended to happen…

She wasn’t quite sure when the feelings started, maybe she always was just a little bit queer, shuffled among boarding schools after her parents separated, most of them catering to only girls, or maybe it started after her theatre career began, at the Academy of Acting in Moscow.

It was around her boarding school period that she was sure these bicurious feelings started.

It was when she was in Moscow that her experimentations really began, with lovely results.

The things she got up to with Pavel Orlenev were…

Well lets just say those two got very well acquainted, and not just with each other, far from it.

She once thought she and Pavel would rule the theatre world together, doing so as a power couple, unstoppable and insatiable, touring London and Berlin before moving to New York in 1905, where the two of them founded a Russian-language theatre on the Lower East Side.

The venture was unsuccessful, so Orlenev returned to Russia while Alla Nazimova stayed put.

She’d make her Broadway debut the very next year.

Her English-language premiere was in November, and was in the title role of Hedda Gabler, which saw her spending day and night learning and practicing her english like a madman, or rather a madwoman, in under five months, an impressive, if not an extreme feat for fame.

And the rest was history, and it all lead Alla there…

In the crosshairs of the dyke at the top of the stairs.

In her changing room, she whipped away at the makeup she wore on her already pale skin.

It was there that Alla heard the door being opened.

For a second, she thought it was Charles entering her room, before she glanced up towards her mirror, giggling a little once she recognised the woman from earlier entering her room, being shown in by a chauffeur, who says

“You have a visitor, Mrs. Bryant” Nazimova corrects him, saying “It’s Nazimova, and this is?” the woman introduces herself

“Mercedes de Acosta” a regality to the way she introduced herself, adding “…And I just have to know you better”.

So the door closes, leaving only those two women.

Alla smiles “Oh? Where on Earth should we start?”.

Mercedes was a renaissance woman, an aspiring and wealthy poet, playwright, and novelist.

Mercedes was born to a Cuban father and a Spanish mother in New York City, her father was a steamship-line executive and sugar refiner, whilst her mother was allegedly a descendant of the Spanish Dukes of Alba, though this was merely hearsay, Mercedes was never too sure.

But even if she wasn’t a descendant of nobility, she certainly acted like she was a noble lady.

If not royalty, seemingly humble, but her manners seemed courtly to Nazimova who asked

“What brought you to the show?” Mercedes tells them “Dorothy Parker actually” admitting

“Parker gave you high praise in ‘Hedda Gabler’… I saw it, and I loved it, though mostly you”

“Aw… What would Ibsen say about that?” referring to the long dead writer of Hedda Gabler

“Well, she finest called you the Hedda Gabler she had ever seen, and I must agree with that”

“So you watched that performances too?” Nazimova asked Mercedes “As I had your others” she told Alla as she approached them, their eyes met in the mirror, as had their dear smiles.

“Did you think I was any good?” Nazimova asks her

“Well I came to see you, and I’m not intending to kill you, so yes, I’d say you were perfect”

“That sounds better than good” Nazimova smiled to herself as she wiped away her makeup.

Alla swiftly found the hands of Mercedes de Acosta on her shoulders as they face the mirror.

Her hands upon Alla Nazimova felt so soft yet firm.

“Why did they call you Mrs. Bryant?” asked de Acosta “Because I’m married… To Mr. Bryant”

“Joans dead husband?” Mercedes asked her “Yes” Nazimova smiled, laughing just a little bit

“Yes, Charles plays my husband and he’s also my husband” Mercedes asked “Another part?”

Nazimova wipped away more of her makeup, asking her “…Why do you ask such things?”

“Curiosity” Mercedes said as Alla turned to face her, remaining seated, still feeling her touch.

“What are you curious about?” she asked Mercedes

“Whether or not you can steal me away from him?”.

Nazimova expected a laugh, a blush and maybe a

“Oh no, I would never do such a thing”… Instead, Mercedes tells her “No, I’m not a thief, though I’ve been called much, much worse”

“Well, now I am only more curious” Nazimova says

“Darling, I can get any woman away from any man”

“Oh… Is that so?” Alla asked them, finding herself guided up to her feet by those fingers on her chin as she said yes

“Yes… It is so” before asking Nazimova “Understand?” to which she stopped herself short of nodding “Yes—But… What about my Charles?” she had said this, much like she would her lines up on the stage, playing a part, as the two of them were more or less a couple out of convenience, but this didn’t seem to deter Mercedes de Acosta a bit…

“He won’t mind” she said casually to her “…Much”.

Alla looked up at her, and found herself once more lost in the dark of her eyes, even as they gently closed, even as Nazimova found herself gently breathing in before their parting lips had finally met, though it had taken a little longer for Alla to close their pale, smokey eyes.

Their kiss to Nazimova was a gentle, sweet peck which grew passionate with every second…

And Alla Nazimova of all women was swooning over her, though if anything, she was under her in every way but physical, Mercedes was surprised she was still able to stand on her own two feet, even as they had ever so gently trembled and swayed about like trees in the wind.

Mercedes de Acosta smiled, looking down at Nazimova, looking her in their desperate eyes as they sunk back into their chair, Alla apologised for her clumsiness “I’m just a little tired…”

“Breathless already?” de Acosta asked her “Oh, and we were having so much fun” she pouts.

Mercedes had turned to leave, alarming Nazimova.

“Don’t leave me” Alla told her “Don’t… Not yet” she whined gently “Then come to my hotel”

Mercedes told her “Yes” Nazimova nodded “Yes, I come to hotel, then I… Then we… Do it”

“Already you’re at a loss for words? Well, lucky me”

Mercedes smiled to herself and to the woman looking up at them from that seat they sat in, admiring the smile Alla Nazimova gave them, so loving, so desperate for de Acosta’s love…

Handing her their card, with the address of her hotel and the room number already written, Mercedes gave Alla this parting kiss, telling her to come in whatever she found comfortable

“But do be aware that I will want you to undress for me. Unless you want me to undress you”.

Nazimova nodded like an excited child, her eyes following Mercedes as she left their room, once the door closed, Nazimova hastened her actions, not wishing to miss out on whatever it was that Mercedes de Acosta was willing to grant…

And so that evening, Alla had told Charles she was going to be out with a friend of Dorothy’s.

Alla was nervous as she stood at the door, wondering whether or not she was really there…

She paced about in that hallway, likely thinking she had overdressed, wearing a winter coat.

Her hand was just about t’make its way towards the door before she had heard it unlocking.

“Alla” Mercedes smiled like she was looking into the eyes of an old friend “Come, come in” she said as she guided them inside of her apartment, grandiose and beautiful to Nazimova, though she didn’t get too good a look at it at first, she was much more focused on de Acosta.

Once the door had closed, she was at their mercy…

Mercedes was in a robe, black and elegant, yet it barely reached her knees, and had made Nazimova wonder what she wore beneath it, if anything at all, but she was more than willing to find out…

After all, their tongues were already getting familiar with each others mouths.

Mercedes had Alla against the wall, and was peeling that winter coat off of her slim body…

Her kisses brought warmth as they came down Nazimovas neck to the low and round collar of her shirt, her lips at times coming to land upon the pearl necklace Alla had on, and she’d linger her fingers along them, playfully pretending to bite down on them before continuing.

Mercedes stops herself, quietly composing herself.

“Disrobe, please” Mercedes told her “…Or do you want me to strip you down to your socks?”

“I’m not wearing socks” Alla said, notting how those dark eyes slowly made their way down that long skirt of hers to her shoes, where she could tell Alla was wearing a pair of stockings.

“My point still stands. Disrobe” Mercedes told her “I wasn’t turning you down” Alla told her

“Good” Mercedes said, adding “Oh, do make yourself at home, I’ve got champagne ready”

“Fancy” Alla said, watching her hips swaying as she made her way towards the living room.

Obeying, Nazimova would gradually, slowly, disrobe after she took off her fancy black shoes.

“Give me a little spin, pirouette for me, my darling”

“If you insist” Nazimova said before she spun for her, doing so slowly and elegantly, though she knew what Mercedes wanted to see, so she showed off her legs, and she showed off the rump which had connected it to her exposed back.

Nazimova stood before her in only their underwear, she couldn’t help but writhe to the cold, likely putting to shame her Russian ancestors, if not for how she reacted to the cool breeze in that moment, then the position she was in, and the woman she went down to her knees for.

“Come to me” Mercedes said to Alla, who’d sway a little

“…Please?” she asked with a pout… She had Alla crawl on her hands and knees to them

“Like an obedient pet” Mercedes said “Like a good girl, are you a good girl?” she asked Alla

“Yes, yes, I’m a good girl” Nazimova yelps to them.

Crawling on her hands and knees, Nazimova had made her way across the room to the sofa, the exotic, almost Roman couch Mercedes laid sprawled over, gesturing her forward with the arching of her reading finger, drawing her closer and closer, Alla had almost ignored it, the discomfort of the floor and the carpet, for she would find solace and sanctuary in her hands

“You’re just so cute on your knees” Mercedes de Acosta told her, gently lingering her fingers up the sides of her head

“I’m cute?” Alla asked her “Yes, very much” Mercedes said as Alla is pulled into a kiss, a short one, as her head’s soon guided to the legs of Mercedes de Acosta.

Her legs were spread wide open for Alla Nazimova.

There was a small, well trimmed bush on the groin of Mercedes de Acosta, it was almost like an arrow pointing down to what was downstairs, and what Nazimova slowly lean in to kiss, it brought out from the poet and playwright a long drag of a pleasurable tune of satisfaction.

Instinctively Mercedes had touched her own breast

“Mm… That’s it, dear—Nice and gentle… For now”.

Those kisses were gentle, delicate and sweet, then she felt the tongue against the lips of her sex, ever so gently prying its way inside of her

“Oh… You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” de Acosta asked her “Hm? Yes” Alla told her “I actually experimented a lot back in Moscow”

“And what did they tell you? The girls you did thi—“

Mercedes suddenly and sharply gasped, she was startled by the way Nazimova grabbed her legs, and was greatly aroused by the tongue which flickered about inside of her, as her loins are essentially french kissed by Alla Nazimova “Ay dios mío!” Mercedes de Acosta utters out.

She could tell Alla was giggling a little bit at her

“That, but in Russian. Among other things”

Alla smiled smartly up at Mercedes, the two women laughing at one and other, she had so much wanted to know what was said to Nazimova of their fellatio, but she didn’t, instead it was suggested by Mercedes if they wanted a drink

“I would love one” Alla tells her as she rests her head on her lap “Oh, what a pity” de Acosta said as she tells her

“I’ve only got one glass… So I hope you like drinking from the bottle”

“On some occasions” Alla said with her dainty, elegant hands on the knees of the American.

Mercedes de Acosta leaned in close and she tells Alla Nazimova, as she sat on her knees, to

“Open wide” as she gently poured a bottle of champagne down her lips and down her gullet like a mother feeding their child, or a lover feeding medicine to their wounded other half…

And then she felt a hand tugging down at her robe

“Now now” she told Alla, catching her with her hand gripping the straps of her delicate robe

“Well, it’s your fault for giving me ‘Liquid courage’”

Nazimova tells her as some of it is spilt on her shirt

“Oh, what a pity” Alla said as she leaned back, feigning annoyance that her undergarments were stained in champagne, but still willing to allow more to come down her breasts to her belly, little drops had even managed to come down to her legs and her crotch “Such a pity”

Mercedes sighed, looking at the bottle for a second, then to her robe, tugged open a little bit

“…I’ll help you clean” Mercedes said, coming down in front of Alla, presenting her breasts.

She poured the champagne upon her exposed chest before Alla’s told to come and drink up.

Obediently, Nazimova nods… Then she went rabid.

Allas tongue explored the chest of Mercedes, her lips and her teeth enjoyed the excited and perky tits of the poet, whose mind raced with ways to describe the sensations, the feeling of the champagne, bubbly and fizzy coming down her throat, which she at times had trouble to take down, the sharpness of those teeth, the sensitivity of her nipples and the warmth of the tongue which dragged its way to every explorable region on her chest, her collar and neck…

It was then that she noticed that Alla was disrobing

“Please” Mercedes was told as Nazimova snatched away their bottle and poured some down her chest, to which Mercedes was practically ripping her undergarments off saying “Oh yes!” before she nestled her face between her breasts, her tongue lapped away at the champagne as she pulled down the one piece Nazimova was wearing, dragging it, stained with liquor off her body until it was right down around her thighs.

Mercedes de Acosta would drink off of her body the residue of their champagne shower, she was intoxicated by both her lust and the champagne, drawn towards the actress, the artist, a fellow kindred spirit, one she was more than willing to fuck the brains out of like an animal.

It was then that Alla felt the fingers entering them.

She arched back as Mercedes fingered them, her kisses quickly adorn her neck and her face.

”Have you ever been touched around here?” Mercedes asked Alla “Yes… So… So much…”

“Who was your first?” Mercedes asked her “I don’t remember” Alla had uttered to Mercedes

“You don’t remember?” she asked Nazimova “Only the pleasure—Oh the way she squirmed”

Alla tells her “Ah… So you like being on top?” Mercedes asked, to which Nazimova nodded, to which Mercedes had giggled “You know… You seem to like playing the one being used”.

Nazimova wanted to rebuke this, but she felt her knees tremble and her pussy start to drip…

Mercedes noticed this, so she promptly egged Alla

“You like being a bottom, you like being used like a toy, don’t you?” she grinned as she held Nazimova down to the floor, as she climbed on top of her, as she had Alla sucking on her tits

“Deep down you like it” Mercedes growled as her fingers more thoroughly examined them, plunging deeper and deeper into Nazimovas cunt.

Alla almost bit down on her nipple, as she felt this wave of pleasure shooting up her body as she is finger-blasted by Mercedes, as she is frantically finger fucked by the sapphic poet, her words between vulgar and poetic as she egged Alla on and on, asking her if she had liked it

“I love it! I love it!” Alla told her “I love it so, so m—“

Nazimova bit her lip, a hum escaping them as Mercedes made her cum, as she felt her loins sputtering out her excitement, squirting over the arm of Mercedes de Acosta, her cries were echoed by de Acosta, prompting Alla t’let the sound of her orgasm escape her quivering lips.

Alla could tell Mercedes was also fingering herself.

Mercedes held her fingers up to Allas face, nodding to her before Nazimova began to drink from her champagne and excitement drenched fingers, lapping from their fingers like she were a starving pilgrim, a desperateness to her actions Mercedes just had to ask Nazimova

“What do you like more… Squealing? Or making me squeal?”

Alla had shivered in her arms “I… I don’t really know”

Nazimova admitted to Mercedes “I mean… Are we done already?”.

Mercedes told her “I’m not” as Alla smiles “Alright”.

Nazimova was showed into the bedroom by Mercedes de Acosta, so exquisite and so grand.

Her bedroom was fit for royalty, and both women had sought to treat each other as queens.

Yet Alla Nazimova was lead in like a pet, complete with a leash, said leash being a scarf, one which Mercedes held, her guest crawling on their hands and knees, her eyes following the Latin-American woman known to some in the know as being “The greatest star-fucker ever”.

Chapter Text

Between Jean Acker and Grace Darmonds upcoming projects, it was "A Diplomatic Mission”, directed by Jack Conway and starring Earle Williams and Grace Darmond, which came out first, although this was mainly because Jeans film “Never Say Quit” was still in production…

Luckily for Jean, she only really had one scene, and so she didn’t have to go down to Florida.

Which meant that Jean could come to that premier

“I’m so glad you’re here for me” Grace said as she warmly hugged whom the public and the reporters would at most assume was her good friend, her best friend, simply a fellow actress

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world” Jean told them.

It was a cold September evening, Acker couldn’t help but shiver, even within her lovely coat, the fur one she got from Nazimova, and she had a feeling Grace didn’t recognise it, usually if she did recognise something Alla gave her, she would have made a smart comment about it.

Acker couldn’t blame Grace, she never wanted to…

They sat arm in arm around the front of the theatre, the two would sit further down the row from Earle Williams and Jack Conway, both men accompanied by their soon-to-be wife and their soon-to-be-ex wife respectively, the New York native Florine and the actress Viola Barry.

It was an exciting film, the audience certainly thought so, Jean could hear them behind her.

And they had went wild for the kiss at the very end.

Jean blushed a little as she watched Earle and Grace kissing, Sylvester and Lady Loring to be more specific, and she had to hold herself back from giggling when Grace had leaned in and whispered in their ear

“He ain’t that good a kisser”, meanwhile the audience were clapping.

Grace and the rest of the cast would give their bows when all was said and done, and Jean could not help but be happy for her best friend and lover, well, one of her lovers, she had at least two others, but they weren’t there, and they weren’t the centre of attention that night.

The flashin’ of the cameras had echoed in the dark.

Acker still saw those spots in her eyes as they went to celebrate, doing so at this fancy party.

Across the room there a band playing off in the distance and drinks flowing like from a river.

“I’ve been talking to Jack about putting you in something” Grace said to Jean “Jack Conway”

“Your director?” Jean asked Grace Darmond “The same one, he’s a nice fella, you’ll love him”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that” Jean said a tad sheepish “Not like that” Grace said, the two laughed at their little misunderstanding

“Nothing romantic… Save for the flicks and the fake kisses” Grace told Jean, adding that

“I’d just really love t’share a film with you, someway, somehow”.

Jean saw it in her eyes, their “Want”… Their desire.

That drink in Ackers glass stirred and stirred about.

“I’m going to the bathroom” Jean had said to Grace out of the blue, waiting for her response

“…Okay” Grace said, quick to realise that she was saying

“I’m going to the bathroom. Come” so Grace and Jean passed by Earle Williams, who asked

“Grace, where are you off to now?”

“Oh, nowhere, Sylvester” Grace told them in a faux British accent, cracking this little smile

“We just have to go and powder our noses” adding that “We’ll be back as soon as possible”.

In the privacy of the bathroom, Jean had wished to get something off her chest with Grace, her eyes had lingered across the toilet stalls in the lavatory to make sure nobody was present when she heard the sound of the door opening, and Ms. Darmonds footsteps coming closer.

“Grace” she whispered before their lips had met…

Grace gently pulled Jean into this soft, delicate kiss

“You’re a better kisser” Grace had said t’Jean Acker.

She promptly came and pulled Jean in for more, with the back of Acker pressed against the sink as her hands explored them, although she was clearly taking her time in that moment, for Acker she would have made the time, even if it came at her own detriment, though Jean would have surely objected to it, not to the kisses she gave, and not to the hands upon her, as she was far too polite to decline, the last thing she would ever want was to break a heart.

But Acker was scared she was going to do just that.

Grace quickly noticed that Jean was looking up, her kisses only landing on her neck and chin

“…Is something wrong?” Darmond asks Jean, who seemed hesitant before uttering quietly:

"Richard Stanton wants me to star in his next film”.

Grace paused for a second, her eyes lighting up and a smile materialised on her pretty face

“Oh… Oh my god!” she said before excitedly hugging Jean, who went a funny kind of quiet “

Tell me everything, everything” Grace told her “Well, the film’s called ‘Checkers’” she starts

“It’s about horses, oh and I actually get to ride a horse in the film by the sounds of the script”

“How long will they be filming?” Grace asked them

“Less than a couple months, three at most” Jean said as the kicker had reared its ugly head

“They’re filming in New Jersey, Stanton is trying to get this big scene in where this train…”

Jean slowed down a little, noticing Grace Darmond’s excitement had changed into concern

“Have you told anyone else about this?” no sooner as she asked this, she asked “Does Alla?”.

The mention of that name made Jean feel nauseous as she tells them “…Only you for now” more questions arose from Grace, among ‘em being

“When are you leaving?” Jean answers “October” though she adds “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but this is a big opportunity” Grace held Jeans head in her hands as she told her

“Jean Shorts, you do not have to apologise to me, I get it… Just make sure to write, okay?”

“Of course I’ll write” Jean said compassionately, their faces are practically touching one and other in that bathroom, their lips were close enough for her to taste Darmonds champagne.

“You’ll always be on my mind” Jean said so gently to Grace, who cooed before telling Acker

“Footsteps” warning them of the sound of feet approaching the door, before it had opened the two lovers would turn towards the sinks and turn them on, washing their dainty hands…

Jack Conways wife Viola Barry entered the bathroom, unfazed by Jean Acker and Grace, she barely even acknowledged them before she went into one of the stalls, which prompted the two to leave the scene, Darmond asking

“So, you wanna tell her first or tell her tomorrow?”…

Acker alone went to the Garden of Allah that night.

Grace Darmond had went back to their apartment, where she promised Jean a lovely night.

Jean Ackers excuse to her taxi driver, who was making smalltalk, was that she had herself a late night sewing class, which wasn’t really a lie, though despite Nazimovas little club being called the “Sewing Circle" Natacha Rambova’s the only one there doing some actual sewing.

Alla meanwhile was reading a magazine to herself

“I never pegged you as the kind to read the tabloids” Jean Acker had said to Alla, who looked over that Photoplay magazine in her hands and calmly said “Well, I’ve never pegged you…”

“Pegged me as what?” Jean asked her, not quite getting the joke, though the moment those dark eyes landed on her, Jean had felt stark naked.

Acker blushed to herself, though her eyes can’t help but linger along the legs of Nazimova, one was perched over the other, driving that robe she wore up her leg, closer to her crotch, a part of her which Jean Acker was very familiar with.

“So, what brings you to my humble abode?” Alla Nazimova asked her, Jean couldn’t help but think about what Grace would ‘ave snidely remarked, something like “You call this humble?”, Jean had wanted to say it too, but she had other things she wanted to tell her that evening

“Intending on spending the night? I’m starting to think that I should have you pay me rent”

“I’m actually going to spend the night with Grace, if you don’t mind… It’s kind of a big deal”

“Because of her latest film?” Nazimova asked them

“Yes, precisely” Jean said “Cute” Natacha remarked

“Now, what have I told you about eavesdropping?” Alla complained “…Tell you everything?” she calmly responded with a smirk, their eyes were still upon the dress she was fixing up for Alla Nazimova, who pouted grumpily, not genuinely so, it was all too exaggerated to be real

“Whatever am I to do to you?” Nazimova asked her

“I’m too cute to kill” she said “And besides, breaking a mirror means seven years of bad luck”

“Who said anything about killing?” Alla asked her “Spanking you on the other hand? Well—”

“Ahem” Acker said “…I’ve actually got some big news, which I think you may find important”.

“…What’s on your tongue?” Nazimova asked Jean, a perked eyebrow making Acker tremble

“Well, quite a lot” Jean said “So, as you know, ‘Never Say Quit’ is still in development, but—“

“Richard Stanton wants you to be in his next film?” Alla asked Jean, catching them off guard

“Yes I… How did you know that?” clearly confused

“Well, he talked to me, I mentioned you in passing, he wanted to meet you, so here we are”

“Really?” Jean asked her “Yes… Don’t worry, I did not tell him about your bedroom habits”

“Well, I would hope not” Jean said “Other than you being a shy around big and strong men”

“What? No I’m not!” to which Nazimova said “But Richard is a big and strong man” adding

“Told him you were pretty but sharp if the scene called for it. Oh, and that you liked horses”.

She did like horses, so she said “You got me there”

“Among other places, but you do get sheepish among men when they are attracted to you”

“Well, it’s not me being sheepish, it’s me being a little creeped out” though to be fair, most of the men who typically leered at her were older gentlemen, far from the handsome types.

Jean never found the handsome types attractive either.

The pretty ones on the other hand? Really, Acker didn’t know what she wanted in life…

“Well, you know that we’re filming in New Jersey, right?” Jean asked her “I’m aware of that”

Alla sighed, admitting “I swear, most boys with model train sets always want to crash them”

“I’m just a little worried about that” Jean admitted “But I am sure we won’t need to be in it”

“He wouldn’t” Nazimova said “If he knows what’s good for him” she adds with a little smirk

“But, whatever am I to do without you?” Alla asked

“You’ve got Natty” Jean says gesturing to Rambova

“And Grace… Whether she likes to admit it or not”.

Nazimova must have gotten a kick out of it, being hated yet lusted over by Grace Darmond.

Sometimes, when Alla was feeling a little vindictive, she had wondered what it would be like to tie her up and make her watch her and Jean, she couldn’t help but ponder what faces she would pull, what curses she’d throw, how quickly she would cry or start t’beg to join the fun.

“Did you really come all this way just to tell me something I already knew?” Alla asked them

“Well, when you put it like that I sound quite silly” Acker said “…But yes, that’s why I came”

“Are you sure it wasn’t for something else, dearie?”.

Acker knew what Nazimova was asking them for…

“I already told you I can’t stay for long” Jean said as she slowly came up to the couch she sat on so elegantly, planting her hands on the arms before Nazimova puts down their magazine

“My sweet little Acker” Nazimova said as she reached up her chin “…Whatever will you do?”

“I’ve got time to figure that out” Jean sighed to her

“And so do I” Alla said before she pulled them in for a kiss, one she had made Jean instigate, which started off slow and gently progressed to Acker finding a tongue doting her lips, right before she pushed further onward, their lips touching once more before Jean uttered “Bye”.

Jean pulled away and left, saying goodbye to them

“You’re not leaving yet” Alla said “October is still… What day is it today?” Nazimova asked

“Tomorrow, but we won’t leave for New Jersey until the seventh, enough time to prepare…”

“Enough time for me to say ‘Dosvedanya’” Alla said, holding to the back of Jean Ackers hand

“And to thank you for your company” she added “No… I should be thanking you” Jean said.

Then she almost jumped out of her own shoes and stockings, feeling a sharp pain upon her rump, one which made her let out a startled scream “Ow!” she said, almost falling over Alla

“Did you just pinch me?” she asked Nazimova “No?” before Acker turned around to see Nat.

“I simply could not resist” Rambova said, a sewing needle held between two of her fingers.

Jean left shortly after Nazimova got her hands on Natacha… And their Photoplay magazine.

She could still hear Alla giving Nat a fine spanking.

Even as she made her way back to their apartment.

Grace was waiting for Jean in their bedroom, the lone light in the apartment a single lamp.

She was on her knees on the bed, wearing a two piece set of undergarments, with a dress of sheer, a part of her bra, beneath the faint fabric Jean could see their flat stomach and belly, yet they can’t help but be drawn to her eyes as she invited them to join them with a smile…

“I should have done something like this for you…”

Jean said to Grace, sounding entranced.

Darmond held her finger to her lips and told Acker

“You already watched me and Earle Williams for less than an hour… You’ve done enough” as she drew her finger back, Grace lingered them up and down the collar of the dress Jean wore, gently pulling down at the tie before she untied it, her gaze is seductive and alluring

“Come here” Grace said as they pulled her in close.

Jeans jacket and purse struck the floor before they were pulled into a deep, passionate kiss by Grace and by the tie around her neck, Jean quickly got to work on her clothes, stripping down to her undergarments and stockings with the help of her lover, climbing over them.

And then Grace forced Jean down, her hands lingering on their chest as she straddled them.

So often did Jean do the hard work that Grace, a blue collar girl herself, had found it bizarre, oh sure, Darmond may have liked the extra pair of hands, but she couldn’t deny the strange feeling it gave her having to watch the woman who made her feel alive just slaving away…

“Pleasing” everyone, so she decided “Fuck it. I will”.

Jean was too hypnotised by the way their belly danced to be startled, her words stumbled all about as they left her lips, soft and gentle sounds which amused the frankly angelic looking Grace Darmond, the warm light of the lamp bringing out her skin beneath their sheer dress.

She felt like heaven and so did that dress she wore.

One hand had gripped at the thigh and the ass which straddled her, pinning her to the bed.

The other hand crept pass the sheer and up the chest to the breasts of the woman she loved.

She eagerly awaited Graces hand between her legs

“Stroke me” Jean told her “You didn’t say please” Grace told her “Please… Oh, please, do—“

Acker would gasp as she felt the appendages of Darmond coming underneath their panties and gently creeping towards them, stimulating them, rubbing them before finally entering. Fingering Jean as the two of them groped themselves, Grace felt arousal from the arm which went between their own legs to the loins of Acker, heightened by the gentle cries which had escaped the lips from Jean, having came all the way from her stimulated sex

“You like that?”

“I love it” Jean told her softly, carried only by her breaths

“I fucking love it” Acker uttered out as Grace leaned back, feeling Jeans thumb against their breast, twiddling with her playfully.

Acker had pulled Darmond in closer “…I need you”

“You do?” Grace asked her, Jean could hear her excitement, she could hear the way her voice ever so gently trembled as she tried to keep herself together, Jean knew she liked to hear it, even as her nipples are pressed and gently grazed by the fingers of her beloved Jean Acker

“And I need those lips on mine” she told Darmond.

Grace obeyed, and with her free arm on the pillow, Grace leaned in for a kiss, a deep, sensual one, her luscious curls flowed before Jean, after undoing her own bra, had gripped to tightly allowing Darmond to come down their body, allowing her lips and tongue to adorn her tits.

With both hands now free, Grace Darmond made love to the body of Jean Acker, crawling further and further down her pale and delicate body before she swiftly proceeded to tongue her lover, felating them, as Acker, when she wasn’t clinging on to the pillow, breaths rapid and pulse rising, had reached down the back of Grace, wishing to remove their sheer dress, as although she loved its softness, she saw it as the wrapping between her and her present.

“Take it off” Jean said to her “I want your dress off”

Grace took a while to respond, with her head being between Jeans legs that was a given, but when she heard her request, still clinging to her thighs, she slowly pulled her way up to her knees and undid the back of her dress, saying “Anything for you” lovesick and mesmerised as she allowed it to fall down her chest to their laps

“Jean…” Grace said faintly before she found their arms wrapping around them, finding Jean burying her face between her neck and her breasts, an excited gasp escaping her as the two, sitting up on the bed with their legs intertwined and their sexes touching, scissored on their bed, its legs creaking as they fucked one and other.

Both women finished screaming each others name

“Jeanie!” Grace squealed as she held her close, as she felt her loins giving way, as she felt a hot, wet sensation creeping down her leg, meanwhile Jean had practically growled “Grace” as she felt herself finishing, as she felt the grip of Grace Darmond grow tighter for a second, then releasing, this calm coming over her beloved.

“I love you” Grace told her, their breaths heavy and voice high “I love you so much, Jean…”

“I know… I know” Jean said, she too was out of breath and excited “…More than Nazimova”

Jean did not respond, but she accepted their kisses

“More than she ever could… God, I’m gonna miss you” Grace tells her “…I just can’t help it”

“I’m gonna miss you too” Jean said as she gently kissed her lips, as she caressed their chin, a nurturing look in her dark eyes as she looked Grace in the eyes and told them “…I love you”.

Grace laid down and Jean went down beside her…

“Do you want the lamp on?” Acker asked her gently

“I’ve actually been wondering how to turn it off” Grace admitted to her with a giggle, it was actually on her side of the bed, Acker tells

“I’ll get it” Grace said to Jean as they had reached across her friend and beloved t’kill the lamps glow.

For a moment, their pretty eyes had met once more, Grace’s smile was a warm, friendly one, she had the look of a woman at peace, one who didn’t mind to feel the touch of their friend, the woman who they wished, yearned, to be loved, even if Jeans soul belonged to another.

Jean looked down on Grace and wished her “Goodnight”, Grace wished her “Sweet dreams”.

The light clicked off, and Darmond’s put to sleep by the gentle kiss of the woman she loved.

“You’re a better kisser” Grace had said t’Jean Acker.

Jean fell to sleep dreaming of the words uttered by Grace, and those uttered by Nazimova...

Chapter Text

“So, do you like it?” Natacha asked Alla as she modelled about in the dress she fixed for her

“Hm… Yes, I like it” Nazimova said as she examined the arm of her Japanese inspired dress

“Are you going to untie me?” Natacha asked her, their hands tied up “No, I don’t think I will”.

Natacha Rambova was in this silly looking pose upon the bed, having been taken up to it by Alla not long after her obedient little Acker left to spend her night with the rebel Darmond, though Nat must’ve though that Alla was mad at her for pricking Jean Acker with a needle…

“Ow! Ow!” Nay cried out as she was spanked repeatedly by this rolled up magazine, having been bent over the lap of Alla Nazimova, whom had pulled up her dress and struck Natacha on her panty cladded behind, though she’d tug down at them, just a little roughly “Ah—Ow!”.

Rambova told Alla with a smile “I’m sorry, I’m sor—”

Natacha winced as one more she is swiftly spanked

“A simply sorry just won’t cut it this evening” Alla teased her as with her free hand she would proceed to grab a hold of Rambovas long and dark hair, which Natty had more than a lot of, before slowly wrapping it around her hand, pulling her submissive Natacha Rambova back further and further, gently tugging her “Come Nat”

“Ah, do you expect me to cum on command, Alla?”.

Nazimova tugged once again with this wide smile and a gleam in her eyes, taking pleasure in the way Rambova reacted, sharply gasping as she felt Alla grabbing her ass, pushing their legs off the couch

“You come with me” Nazimova told her “Upstairs” she added with a pinch.

Once she was upstairs, Rambova was on the bed…

That was when Alla began to pose around with a scarf, a soft and gentle one “Do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful” Rambova told her “Ah, well, you can have it” Nazimova smiled

“Thanks, but—“ without warning the scarf was tightly tied around Natacha’s wrists, her arms behind her back

“Tight!” Rambova told Alla “…Really? Didn’t know”

Nazimova grabbed her by her chin and pulled her in close “How about that dress you fixed?”

“What about it?” Rambova asked Alla “…Is it finished?” to which Nat nods “Yes, it’s finished”

“Ah” Nazimova said, sounding intrigued “So I guess I’ll go and fetch it. Don’t go anywhere”.

Rambova couldn’t, even if she tried, so they didn’t.

Nazimova may have taken her sweet and frankly firm ass time, but Natacha loved the show she gave her in that dress she fixed for her, and that dress alone, her long legs beautiful, and her before mentioned ass, firm and admirable, just barely notable in the mirror behind her.

Rambova got better looks at it when they bent over

“Oh, I’ve got you a present in this draw down here”.

Both parties smirk, Natacha knowing that there wasn’t a present for her in the bottom draw, and Nazimova knowing that Rambova was thirsting for her, that she couldn’t wait for her to come closer to her, to use her, to untie her, Rambova didn’t know what she would do to ‘em.

Finally, she approached them, only for something out of Natacha’s sight to catch their eyes, and so Alla left her sight, stalking her and the bed she was on, she could tell that she was, in her search for…

Whatever it was, would still flicker her eyes towards the woman on her bed.

“When will you make me this one?” Alla asked Nat

“Which one?” she asked, tryin’ to turn and face her.

Alla showed the design from her book “The gown with the spirals” she pointed out to them, the design of that black and gold dress was obviously inspired by Aubrey Beardsley artwork

“The Dancers Reward" from Salomé: a tragedy in one act, which was why it caught her eyes.

“I’ve haven’t got the material for it yet” Natacha Rambova said to Alla Nazimova with their chin up, looking and sounding as if she was trying to keep her dignity or imitate someone

“If you untie me? Maybe I will get straight to work”.

Alla Nazimova couldn’t help but smirk at what she had just said “‘Straight to work’?” Alla had surely thought to herself, Natacha could tell by the raised eyebrow and devilish smile of hers

“…I want to keep you like this for a little while longer”

Nazimova smiled as she stroked their neck, her fingers lingering around her chin, before delicately Alla kissed Natacha, and slowly she had introduced her tongue, like a paintbrush to the artist, now a canvas for the actress.

Rambova quietly, stoically swooned beneath her, yet Nazimova could tell that she wanted it, so then Alla Nazimova made their way to the cupboard

“Oh come on” Rambova complained

“I want this, I want you… Do you want me to beg for you?”

Nazimova nodded with a smile

“Yes, I know you want me, but I am simply curious”

“Well you and I are obviously more than bicurious”

“You and Mercedes… What did you do?” Alla asked her “I was with Kosloff and I caught he—“

“‘Was with’?” Nazimova asked them smartly “No, I mean, me and Teddy, we’re still together”

“Forgive me” she said almost dismissively, not really seeking forgiveness, simply answers…

“Did she have something like this?” unveiling a scarf, one which she slowly wrapped around her hands before she gently placed it around the neck of Rambova like a leash

“Oh yes, yes”

“And did she make you walk on your hands and knees?” Alla asked her gently and sensually

“Oh… Yes she did” Rambova said “…I was her pet”

“Ah, yes, she did that to me when I met them, in fact… I think she used this very same scarf”

Natacha couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming wave of lust coming over her, making them tremble with joy and excitement

“You feel special, don’t you?” Nazimova asked, Natty nods.

“Kosloff must’ve been jealous” Rambova admitted

“No, Ted doesn’t know, I never told him”

“Darling, why else would he seek to keep you away from me for so long?” Nazimova asked

“Because you, me, and Mercedes are three sides to the same… Well… Lets call it a pyramid”

“I like pyramids, the ones in Egypt… I’d love to see them in person” Rambova had giggled, a bit of her must have hated how much she was sounding like an airhead to Alla Nazimova.

Yet as that scarf was tied around her neck, she couldn’t help but like it, the power Alla had over them

“Now, be a good girl” Nazimova told her softly “Forget Kosloff, if only for tonight”

“Yes” Natacha said weakly “Pleasing me is all that should matter tonight” Natacha nodded…

“Bark like a dog” Alla told them “Bark like a puppy”

“Bark!” Natacha Rambova yelped, deep down trying not to laugh her firm and pretty ass off

“Bark! Bark! Bark!” even as she tugged at the scarf

“Bark!” Natacha growled as she was slowly pulled up and up by Alla, gradually coming up to her trembling knees

“Good doggy” Nazimova smiled as she stroke her cheek, gently putting her thumb in the mouth of the designer

“Good” she purred as she felt her tongue against it.

Rambova smiled up at them like a wide-eyed child.

Dragging her thumb across her cheek, Nazimova leaned in and she asked her if she wanted a bite to eat, if the “Puppy” had wanted a “Treat” Natacha smiled “Yes, master” she purred as her eyes slowly followed Alla Nazimova towards the headboard she sat with her back against

“Then eat up” Nazimova told them as she slowly untied her dress, spreading her legs “Now” Natacha felt the gentle tugging of the scarf and she crawled up the bed, saying “Yes, oh yes”.

Rambova lapped her, chewed and nibbled on Alla.

Nazimova purred as she felt their tongue worming their way inside of her loins, stimulated by the pearly whites which at times attempted to bite down on the lips of her pussy, told to

“Eat up, puppy” by Alla, who seemed either amused by herself or aroused by their little pet.

Yet in the back of her mind, she couldn’t stop thinking about Jean Acker, destined to leave…

Not forever, not yet, either way Alla Nazimova didn’t like thinking about it, things changing.

For her, things were good just the way they were…

Jean was hers, Natacha was hers, and if she played her cards right, Darmond would be hers.

“Oh, what a silly mistake I made” Nazimova mused

“You realised I can’t finger you if my hands are behind my back?” she asked “No…” Alla said

“What’s a dog without its tail?” she asked Natacha as she unveiled a very phallic instrument from her drawers, alarming yet arousing Rambova.

With the first words out her mouth being “You had that just lying around this whole time?”

“Jean barely wanted to experiment with it, and Grace would obviously rather choke to death”

Nazimova sighed “But since you and I are both… ‘Open minded’, then why not play about?”

Alla pointed their long, solid toy at Rambova, gently she’d drag it against Natachas lips, she could tell Nat wouldn’t mind the introduction of that “Tail” in her anus, or maybe her pussy.

“It’s bigger than Teddys, isn’t it?” Alla asks Natacha.

The woman playing her pet was hesitant to answer “…By an inch or two… Three” she admits to him, Alla figured he packed some strength, his legs alone had to’ve carried some muscle mass, but he also gave off the vibes of a man with a Napoleon complex, so there was that…

“Tell me something… Is Kosloff gentle?” she asked Natacha, who shrugged before saying

“Well, he has spirit” Alla smiled smugly at their tiny answer “Do you want me to be gentle?”

Rambova glanced up at her and she said “Fuck no”.

Alla smiled as Rambova dragged her tongue against it, staring down Nazimova seductively, she clearly had experience, and looked like she was about to felate it before Nazimova had pulled it back, lingering it around their delicate, perked lips, a gleam in her smokey eyes…

She calmly made her way around Nat who’d muse:

“Yeah… I didn’t get to do this sort of thing with Merced—“ the dildo entered “Ahh—Ahhh!” Rambova squealed and Nazimova couldn’t help but grin, a growled

“Fuck” escaping them as they drove it deeper and deeper into her, almost twisting the phallus inside of their woman, the usually cool and calm Rambova had roared with pleasure as her head came to rest upon the pillow where Nazimova once sat her immaculate ass upon like it were some royal throne. Behind Natacha, Alla Nazimova had groped herself

“You like that, my dear?” Alla asked “You like that?”

“Yes! Fuck yes I love this! I love this, I love you, I…”

Natacha winced as she felt it stimulating her, felt it twisting like a knife in her stomach, one which she would beg for more of, all the while Nazimova took pleasure in the sweet moans and the sensual utterances of her pet project, her plaything, and sex aside, her best friend, one to whom mirrored her so much, one could have easily seen it as a very tangible and very sexual form of narcissism or egotism, but in that moment, Alla was more focused on her ass.

Nat felt her back going numb and her legs tremble

“Oh my god, I—I don’t think I’ll be able to walk when we’re done” she said to Alla Nazimova, Rambova’s obviously amused and flustered by this

“Then I guess you are just gonna have to stay the night” Nazimova said, leaning over them, Nat lost what little composure she had left, and what strength she had in her knees, and she proceeded to sink further into the bed, her face against the pillow as she laughed, moaned, and tried her best to hold back as sweet yet filthy words were uttered into her ear, Alla saying

“Maybe I’ll play doctor for you, or maybe we can continue on with playing pet and master…”

Natacha seemed to’ve liked it “Anything you want”

“Anything?” Alla seemed amused “Okay then… How about you play a rebellious little brat”

“Oh, that’s nothing new to me” Rambova admitted “I used to be a terror when I was a teen” she then asked Alla “Who are you in all of this?” to which Nazimova had pondered out loud

“I’m either the mother discipling you, or the father, drunk and giving into a vile temptation”

“Nothing new” Natacha told her, just about to lose her composure “But I can deal with this”

“Are you sure?” Alla Nazimova asked them “Yes” she nodded “Fuck yes” she added as she felt the instrument inside of her fiddling about inside of them “I can take this” she told herself.

“Oh?” Nazimova asked playfully as she slid the dress off her body “Okay, then call me daddy”

Natacha lost it around then, and it was as she’s told

“Call me daddy” once more, albeit more forcefully and harshly, pulling them into the thrust she made, the toy between both their legs stimulated Alla as she told Rambova to “Say it”…

“Daddy! Daddy!” Natacha said once she got her gritted teeth to open up “Fuck me! Please!” she begged her “Make me your bitch! Fuck me li—“

Natachas words were replaced by a loud, orgasmic cry which had devolved into whimpering.

Nazimova was also satisfied by her work, and had leaned back to let out this long moan, a satisfying “Ohhh” escaped her throat and tongue as she sat back on the bed, rubbing herself when Natacha finally came, drinking up from her loins like she was thirsting in a wasteland.

And she gaped for a second after the toy’s removed

“Holy fuck!” Rambova lets out, clearly startled and shocked “Give me a warning next time!”

“You did not give Jean a warning” Alla commented

“Are you still sore about that?” Natacha asked them

“Which part exactly? You pricking Jeans lovely behind or Jean leaving for New Jersey soon?”

“The needle bit… Are you sad about Acker leaving? But… You arranged for this to happen”

“True” Alla sighed “But one can live to regret, yes?”.

Rambova snuggled beside Nazimova, who had now chosen to untie her, laying down on the bed where Natacha would climb between her legs.

Looking up at Nazimova with puppy dog eyes and their chin resting above Allas vagina, Nat couldn’t help but ask about Alla and Mercedes

“…What was it like between the two of you?”

“Apart from doing almost the exact same thing we just did?” Alla asked, stroking her cheek

“Almost?” Rambova asked her “She didn’t like toys”

“Sex ones or toys in general?” Nat asked “Any that vaguely resembled a happy mans penis”

Nazimova said “To be fair, it has been a while since any man has stirred my libido recently”

“Makes sense” Rambova said as Nazimova tossed their toy aside, the ladies watching it roll.

Stroking their hair, Nazimova could not help but ponder “What will I do without you Jean?”.

Chapter Text

When Grace Darmond woke up the next day, prying her pretty eyes open and trying to climb out of bed, it was to the scent of something cooking, and an empty space where Jean Acker slept the night before, one which her free-hand gently crawled about, her arm outstretched. It was a sight Darmond knew she had t’be used to.

She stared at the ceiling for a second, pondering this fact before letting out this gentle sigh.

Still, whatever Jean was cooking smelled great, and so Grace threw on a robe and a singlet.

She’d find Jean cooking them some bacon and pancakes, a bottle of syrup upon their table

“Y’know, I think I’ve had a couple dreams that opened like this” Grace told Jean, admiring the slender frame of the woman in front of her, clad in an apron, underwear, nothing else…

“Is that so?” Jean asked Grace “How did they end?”

Grace had a smirk on her round face “Remember last night?” Jean shrugs “Yes I remember” adding as she turned off the stove “You specifically told me to let you do the work” there is a sizzling in the air as the bacon cools in the pan before she puts in on a plate

“So… I’m sorry” despite the charms, there was still a shyness to her.

“You don’t have to be” Grace said as she sat down “This looks delicious”, she was about to up and dig in before Jean wagged their finger in front of her “Don’t eat with your hands, Glee”

“Okay then, so what do I eat with?” she asked before Jean handed them a knife and a fork.

Grace took the knife and fork in their mouth, which confused Jean “…What are you doing?” she asked as she tried not to laugh at the sight, before Grace took the utensils out her mouth

“Y’said I couldn’t use my hands” Jean is unamused

“…Yeah, that was a shit joke” Grace said “You’re just exhausted” Jean said with a loving face

“Just tired after last night, with the premier, the party—“ Darmond cuts her off “And the bed”.

Acker smiled to herself, glancing up at Darmond…

The two fed one and other at that table when they weren’t feeding themselves, when Grace wasn’t munching away through her strips of bacon she fed Jean Acker their sweet pancakes, soft and dripping in honey and syrup she poured on it, allowing it to drip down her lip, for her delicate finger to take a long drag at, allowing the droplet on her finger to come at peace on her fingertip before she hand fed it to Darmond, allowing them to suck it off of her finger.

But slowly, Jean had noticed it… A sadness behind that smile Grace Darmond was wearing

“I know you have t’go but… I’ll miss you Jean, I’l—“

Grace cuts herself short, her eyes closed and irritated by the sense of a tear burning behind her eyes, an irritation Acker would relived Grace of, caressing their cheek and coming in a bit closer to them, saying softly and reassuring to her:

“I won’t be gone forever, not now, not yet” she adds how “Until then? We can have our fun”.

Grace asked her “You sure about that, Jean Shorts?” to which Jean smirked at the silly name

“I have to be” Jean said with her head against hers, forcing herself to say the pet name with a straight face, well, as straight as any face Jean could have worn at that point in time “Glee”.

he pair kissed shortly after sharing a gentle, quiet laugh along with a set of butterfly kisses.

Something similar happened at Nazimovas palace.

When Natacha Rambova woke up, she found that Alla Nazimova was nowhere in sight, but to her ears came the sound of water, no longer dripping from a faucet, but swaying in a tub, a delicate sound which made her think of the night prior, and the way Nazimova ate her out.

Sitting in the bathtub, soap up to her breasts like she was being birthed from sea foam, Alla sat there with one elbow perched upon the porcelain of the tub, her hand gently grazing up and down the side of her face, drifting up along her cheek to her brow, circling her temple.

In that tub, she can not help but think about her…

Mercedes de Acosta, whose eyes she can see in her minds eye as she arched her head back, as her spare hand crawled its way up her leg, so soft and smooth beneath the warm water, caked in soap and bubbles, but through which her fingers would crawl through to her lap.

How could Nazimova not think about Mercedes’…

That first night she shared with her, the second, the first day they had to themselves alone?

Never had Alla Nazimova been pleasured like that.

Biting her lip, her eyes were closed as she reminisced and fantasised on what she had with the wealthy Cuban-American poet and sapphic was something Nazimova had always wanted to reinvigorate or recreate, and since she had lost contact with Mercedes, she had to fill the void on her own, with her in place of the woman whom she modelled so much of herself off, but she knew it took two to tango, so did Rambova.

Stimulating her sex, she gently swayed her head to vulgar thoughts of her lover, to the soft, sensual words which flowed sweetly from her lips, the sexual avenues she walked Alla down, and the doors she, out of the goodness of her heart and the hunger of her loins had opened.

It wasn’t long after her first encounter with Mercedes that she had signed with the producer Lewis Selznick for $30,000 for 340 days work with a $1000 per day bonus for over time, that she would make her first motion picture, an adaptation of “War Brides” out of all the ideas…

Alla always wondered if Mercedes had a say in it, if in someway, somehow she was behind it.

For it clearly helped to have friends in high places.

Her breaths grew heavier and heavier with every drag, even as she heard Natacha Rambova entering the bathroom, even as she knew she was being watched by eager eyes within that private moment, as Alla knew Natacha had seen them in more revealing positions than that. Rambova stays, even as Nazimova finishes herself.

“Still thinking about them?” Natacha asked her “Yes, just a little bit. Who’re we discussing?”

“Jean?” Rambova had asked her innocently enough, to which she would be surely mistaken

“I was actuating thinking about Mercedes, but now that you mention it I’m thinking of Jean”.

Natacha had figured that she made a mistake the moment she saw Alla sighing to herself

“I’m sorry if I… Interrupted anything” Nat told Alla

“You didn’t” Alla said as she elegantly raised up a soap covered leg, one which she offered Nat to dry and caress, which she’d do in a heartbeat, taking that leg of theirs in their arm as she scrubbed it dry of soap and bubbles with a sponge, wanting to cheer up the actress, who she would gently pat at with the sponge at hand…

“Come now, you’ll never be alone” Rambova told her as she sat beside them, looking down on the woman who offered her a more fulfilling career, one that was both more financially satisfying and intellectually stimulating, sitting at the feet of a woman who shared her loves.

“…There are other fish in the sea” Natacha told her.

“True, dear” Alla said before going under the soap.

Once she came back up, she had an idea for the week, a costume party, far from uncommon within her circles, and would only grow with frequency as the Halloween season approached them in the Autumn breeze, her parties were typically erotic and inspired by the…

“Foreign”, so she figured she could have her fill of Jean before she had to leave by the end of the week, after all, a lot can be done within seven mere days, from making a world to saying goodbye.

“How would you like to plan a party for me, dear?”.

How the fuck could Nat had said no? Instead, Natacha Rambova asked “Any ideas in mind?”

“Either some Greek or something biblical… Or sacrilegious to an extent” Nazimova mused

“Ally, this is Hollywood” Natacha told them “‘Something biblical or sacrilegious’ is its slogan”.

Chapter Text

Jean Acker and Grace Darmond weren’t at all surprised to’ve received an invite to their party.

After all, it would be the day and evening before Jean Acker was set to leave on the next train to the east coast, so it only made sense in her mind that this was her going away party, one to be thrown by the lovely lady obsessed with ‘em:

“Nazimova” read the top of the card, followed by “Invites you to a night at the Garden of Alla”

“How many of these d’you think she’s having handed out?” Grace asked Jean, who read on.

“Costumes mandatory… Preferably of the ancient variety—“ Acker cuts herself off, asking her

“But who’s gonna complain?” Grace tells her to read on “Will have… ‘An Ode to Aphrodite’?”

“Wait… Isn’t that the film Alla’s trying to work on?”

“No, the film is just called ‘Aphrodite’, and we haven’t even started working or filming it yet”

“So… What’s that supposed to mean?” Grace had asked Jean about the “Ode to Aphrodite”, to which Acker had shrugged, admitting “Beats me” before wondering “What will we wear?”.

Jean wasn’t sure why Grace seemed so worried about the party, it didn’t sound too extreme

“We’ve been to parties at her place, we met at one”

Grace told her “Trust me Jean Shorts, that was a tame little get together compared to most of the parties I hear that she holds, I mean, we are talking big, exotic, themed costume parties, everything will be done up, there might be a live band playing” only further exciting Acker, after all, she was going to be out of town for both her birthday and Halloween, so a costume party at the Garden of Alla would make up for that.

They’d spend the week packing for Jeans trip, though the bulk of it would be done two days before the party, as they had intended on spending the following day getting their costumes ready, but it was on the day she packed that she received a phone call from Alla Nazimova…

To set the scene, Grace Darmond was asleep on the floor, she was already exhausted that day as a result of the pair going out the night prior, coming home tipsy and a little handsy, Jean didn’t mind her hands on her, nor did she mind her lips against hers, her body against hers, or her tongue along and inside of her shaved cunt.

She was sitting against the wall and was starting to slowly fall over to her side, meanwhile a strand of drool was starting to come down out the side of her mouth and slowly land on her shirt, though once Acker had noticed this, she dabbed away at it as best as she could have.

Jeans thumb lingered around the face of Darmond

“I love you, Glee” she told her with a delicate smile.

That was around the time the phone rang, but before she answered it, she took out from her suitcase a bundle of folded dresses, and she used them as a pillow for Grace before she had went to pick up the phone, putting the bundle between Grace Darmonds head and the wall.

“Alla… Hi” Jean said, she could tell she was smiling on the other end of the line, Nazimova knew Acker was doing the exact same thing “Where’s your friend?” Alla asks “Ms. Darmond” she clarified to Jean

“Grace is asleep, we had a busy night, but she’ll be ready for the party”

“And you?” Alla asked “Are you ready, my darling?”

Jean smiled to herself “Oh, I just can’t wait, I am practically shaking with excitement, Alla”

“Excellent” Nazimova purred “In truth… It is all for you” Jean was flattered and very humble

“Oh, you don’t mean that” she said “But I do” Alla said “It is the least I could do for a friend”.

With a warmed heart, Jean thanked Alla Nazimova

“Don’t thank me yet” Alla teased, her sexuality was subtly palpable within her every syllable

“Wait until the party and when you’re in my arms”.

Jean blushed as she found her fingers playing about with the cord of the phone “Oh my…”

Acker couldn’t help but picture Alla Nazimova in their head, they hated to do so, especially when she was in the same room as Grace, especially after the pair had just worked together.

Alla knew this, she knew Jean was imagining them

“No, no we shouldn’t” she told Nazimova “You know we shouldn’t, I just told you Grace is—”

“Dead asleep? Yes, you told me that” Alla purred “But I wasn’t talking about tonight, Jeanie”

“Yes, of course, I…” Acker crossed her legs, she couldn’t help but writhe, like static’s over her

“What she doesn’t know can’t hurt her” Alla smiled

“She’d surely know at the party, I just know you’re going to pull something… Something—”

“Erotic?” Nazimova suggested, Acker instinctively crossed her legs “Yes, something like that”

“Or maybe I’ll try and make your dear Grace jealous? I’m starting to think that you are trying to give me ideas at this point… Naughty, naughty”.

Jean gently tapped the back of her own head against the wall, annoyed by how much she’s enjoying it, about how wet between her legs she was getting, as she feels one of her canines against edge of her lip, she just had to ask Nazimova “What do you have in mind for then?”

“Why would I spoil the surprise?” Nazimova teased

“I’m afraid that for now, you’ll just have to wait… To fantasise, maybe use your imagination”

“I could always wait for Grace to wake up” Jean said as she admired Darmond as they slept, her lips gently parting as she slumps a little to the side, starting to slide towards Jean Acker.

“Well… I’ll see you tomorrow” Jean told Nazimova

“Goodnight, Jean… Sweet dreams” she whispered

“My beloved, blow me a kiss before you go, please” Jean sat flustered, and her heart pounds like a drum “Oh—Only because you said it politely”

“My little angel” she purrs as Jean perched her lips together and closed her eyes, kissing the air between her pretty lips and the phone as she imagined Allas lips against hers, and could just hear the sound of Nazimova returning the favour, the sound rings before the call ended.

Putting the phone back on the hook, Jean felt Grace’s head coming to rest on her shoulder.

And as she explored her own body on the floor, Jean dragged some drool off Grace’s lips…

As Darmond slowly started to come back to awareness, she found her head on the shoulder of the woman she loved intensely… Very intensely masturbating, which surprised them, but aroused them, so not wishing to throw them off, Grace continued pretending to be asleep.

But she kept listening, ignoring the name of “Alla”.

When Jean was finished, she crossed her legs to hide the damp stain showing in her panties

“Mh… Huh? What did I miss?” Grace asked Acker “Nothing I uh—I think we both fell asleep”

“Oh” Grace said as she faked a yawn, asking their roommate and soulmate “…Any dreams?”.

Jean did not answer, she was already living in one.

Grace Darmond, despite their “Holy” sounding first name had decided to go as a witch, with a pointed hat, a little cape, carrying with her a broom stick and a stuffed animal toy, one she bought a day before the party, meanwhile Jean had decided to dress like an angel in white.

She had wings on her back and a halo on her head.

The moment she first stepped out of their bedroom, unveiling her costume to Darmond, she could tell she made the right choice, as her eyes went doe and her lips gently parted in awe

“Oh my god” Grace tells her “If you want, I can arrange an appointment” Jean quips gently.

Darmond fell back upon the bed she was sitting on

“Wow… Just wow” Jean laughed “You have seen me in more revealing positions Darmond”

“I know!” Grace exclaimed, she too was surprised by the fact that merely seeing Acker done up like an angel was driving her insane and making her think about skipping the party and jumping their bones then and there like an animal

“Your costume’s better” Jean reassured them “I mean, you’ve got the broom and the toy cat”

“And you’re making me want to convert and reject Satan” Grace said pointing to her pointy, wide-brimmed hat before she tossed the stuffed animal to Jean, whom held it for a little bit

“No, to obvious a joke to make” she quietly mused.

It was towards sundown that the two had returned to 8080 Sunset Boulevard, Allas home…

They were drawn to the sound of giggling, of conversations, of live music and the sight of costumed men and women, some in simply masks, others in elaborate costumes, like they were on their way to the Vanderbilt Ball of 1883 and gotten lost both in space and in time.

Approaching the gate, they hold out their invites to a man at the gate, who opens it for ‘em.

The front door is wide open, and standing at it is a friend, who was assigned to greet them…

Natacha Rambova dressed in this revealing, Egyptian inspired garb, like she was Cleopatra, or more accurately Theda Bara’s portrayal of Cleopatra, revealingly robed in gold and silks, her breasts adorned in golden cups

“…Hello girls”

“Um, hi” Jean said, very much taken by what she was wearing “You like what I’m wearing?”

“Yes it’s… Very… Very…” Acker was trying to find the right words before Grace said “Gold”.

Natacha laughed them off before Jean asked her “Have you seen Alla?” Rambova tells them

“She’s out the back in the garden… You surely can’t miss her, she’s surrounded by her fans”

Acker smiles before she hurries away “Thanks, Nat”

“Hey, wait up” Grace said following after her “Nice pussy” Nat tells her “…Nice golden tits”

“‘Gold’? Really?” Jean asked her date “It was either that or skimpy” Grace shrugged to them.

It was far from the skimpiest costume the pair saw.

Some dress like princess, others like Tarzan and Jane, as ancient heroes and maidens, actors, Jean even spots

“The Tramp” drunkenly stumbling about, chasing a much younger woman, though Acker was unsure whether or not it’s just a man dressed up as Charlie Chaplin or the real Charlie Chaplin, she is more focused on Alla…

She sat in the centre of it all, dressed in black like Charles Mengin’s painting of Sappho, yet instead of baring the entirety of her breasts like the painting had, she chose to dress just a little more conservatively, with a thin cloth going around her chest, concealing their breasts.

In her arms Alla cradled a lyre like an ancient poet.

And in her eyes and her smile she wore charm and sexuality, strengthening as she saw Jean.

She beckoned them further with this gentle wave of her hand, her fingers arching to herself.

“…The lady of the hour” Nazimova purred to Acker

“Alla” she blushed a little bit “How uh… Lovely costume, who are you dressing as?” she asks

“Subtlety is dead” Nazimova told her “I’m Sappho”

“The poet?” Jean asked “…There aren’t too many Sappho’s, but there are plenty of sapphics”

Alla said sweetly to her “I think I’m looking at one”

Jean blushed as she stroke her cheek, there were giggles from the crowd gathered around

“In front of all these people?” Jean asked “No worries, they’re used to this” Nazimova smiles

“Ahem” Grace Darmond said “Oh, how could I forget you?” Alla asked them ever so playfully

“…What an adorable kitten you’ve got” Alla smiled

“You are not the first lady to say that” Grace quipped

“Oh, was it Jean?” she asked innuendo oozed from her pores “Rambova” Darmond said, which amused Alla, who’d feign surprise as she points out that

“You better watch your tone, her boss is here” pointing over her shoulder.

Theodore Kosloff, done up like Julius Caesar, strutting all about in that chest plate and tunic with a palpable pride, he wore this wreath upon his head of bronze hair and a cape upon his shoulder, and Natacha Rambova underneath his arm, as if to parade her around like a prize.

When his arm wasn’t over her shoulder? His hand was cupping her ass, grabbing it proudly.

But Rambova did not seem to resist Teddys actions.

Grace rolled her eyes whereas Jean shuddered, like she herself was imagining that hand on her behind, not pleasantly…

Instead, she and Grace were about to go off and enjoy the party “Oh, Acker, just one more thing”

Nazimova tells her, this fancy cigarette between her fingers

“Just be at my beckon and call when I ask of you” Nazimov told Jean “…When will that be?”

“What time is it?” Jean checked the watch of a near by part guest before she told Nazimova

“Just pass six fifteen” Alla so responds with “Eight”

“Seems a while away” Acker said

“Yes, but I’m sure you will find something to kill time with”, silently beckoning Jean close, Alla had just taken this long drag from her cigarette, then with her lips perched together, she gently blew into her face a stream of smoke, one which struck Jean like a hammer of euphoria, it was like she was inhaling their essence, she couldn’t help but let out this wimpish little sound that only made Alla sly smile as Jeans eyes rolled back.

Nazimova waved her off, but Jean was hypnotised.

Jean Acker feels the tugging of a hand on her shoulder before she’s dragged away by Grace into the festivities, as she is swiftly encompassed by the dancing, yet the eyes stayed in her head, even as her lover and best friend invited her to join the fun of that wild costume party.

Alla is only drowned out by the visuals and sounds.

It all went by so fast yet seemed to have echoed on to them, the jovial jazz music of the band in full swing, accompanied by the sounds of cheering in time made Jean feel as if she was, despite the anachronistic music, in a jungle of vibrant creatures, lost to time or soon to be, or an ancient, long levelled-by-God city, in the midsts of a party in Pompeii before Vesuvius had chosen to spoil their fun, Sodom and Gomorrah before Lot's beloved wife was turned to salt.

With her hands in the air she can’t contain the fun.

Swaying about, her moves picked up pace from simply shaking her hips to shaking almost her entire body, kicking away at nothing as she and Grace bounced about amongst those of the inebriated variety, stumbling about but enjoying the show with slurred voices, clouded minds and judgement, and bolder actions when they felt their guts could take it, meanwhile those on a different set of vices, the snorted or injected variety, danced like nobody watched.

They were all so sporadic, so amazed by everything, like newborns with the energy to match.

Those “Sober” enough to perform complicated acts

“The entertainment” Alla Nazimova had hired were all elaborately dressed showgirls, they all dressed like a cross between the Muses of ancient Greece and the Princess of Mars, gilded and pretty flappers who shimmered in the night like fairies, enticing like a school of sirens

“Jump in” they sing with their legs ever so inviting.

Acker would look up and at times see people floating over the crow, among those she saw in this state of ecstasy and cheered on was Natacha Rambova, like a gilded, golden snake who floated above the Garden of Eden, tempting those who knew she belonged to Teddy Kosloff.

Soon Nat would vanish from the eyes of Jean Acker

“Hey” she heard from Grace Darmond “What is it?”

Jean asked before she felt Grace’s hand, it pulled her in closer and before she knew it, their legs were crossing paths and their chests were ever so close, Jean could practically smell it, the perfume Grace chose to wear that fine evening and the hint of the fancy drink Darmond had chosen to down before entering into that sea of loving bodies, all sensual and ecstatic…

“Now?” Jean wondered, normally she wasn’t one for exhibitionism, she wasn’t the kind t’go to a party or a simple walk without her panties, nor was she the kind to show her true colours amidst the eyes that would surely judge her for it, yet there was something in the air which, it enticed them, as had the look Grace given her, the hand Jean allowed to climb up her side to drag her closer towards Darmond and her inviting movement, her devilishly pretty smile.

Acker came in close as that pair danced so sexually.

If somebody noticed, they didn’t complain, nor did they the moment Grace stole from Jean a kiss, deep and playful, both women amused by what they had just done as the live music seemed to have reached a crescendo of sorts, only it kept on and on amidst the celebrating.

But the music does come to an end, a pause really.

And it was in that pause that the two besties decided to rest their legs, finding that they were either drenched in their own sweat or that of others in the party which had carried ‘em away, what mattered to them was catching their breaths and resting their aching legs, meanwhile their hearts still beat in tempo to the live bands music in their chests against their ribcages, yet still crawling up to the dry throats of the girls, as if wishing t’be worn upon their sleeves.

“…I need to sit my fine ass down” Grace told Acker

“Me too” Jean admitted, dazed and amidst a spell.

Jean Acker and Grace Darmond help one and other out of that mass of bodies writhing and dancing and just barely holding back from fucking to the music as Jean wonders what time it is she would be called to the side of Nazimova, wondering just what she would do to her…

In a seemingly quiet hallway in Nazimovas home, Jean and Grace looked for somewhere to get some alone time, not anything too sexual, just somewhere for them to chat for a little bit

“So this is… One hell of a party” Jean said to Grace

“Oh really? Y’know, I actually didn’t notice that” joked Darmond, who held herself against a wall, leaning beside this door, likely just one to a storage closet, both women out of breath

“…And somebody’s having sex in here” Grace said

“Oh, don’t be sil—“ Jean cuts herself short “Oh shit”

Jean was just able to hear the sound of a couple behind that door, going at it like animals…

“Lets try relaxing in the garden” Darmond suggests

“Now that you mention it? Yeah, that’s a good idea”

Grace grabbed a hold of Jean Acker, who just couldn’t help herself and got closer to the door

“Get your head out of the gutter” Grace told them, tugging at her arm before they had left.

One could have, if they had pressed their ear to the door, hear the sounds of Rambova being dicked down by Teddy Kosloff, the much older man going at them from behind as Natacha is trying her best to breathe gently and not make too much of a sound as Kosloff grunted away.

“You belong to me” Ted said between gritted teeth

“Oh yes—Yes I do” Natacha said with eyes closed shut, as she held the wall with their elegant hands, pushing herself back into his every thrust

“Say it” he ordered her as he dragged her into a smack, resonating up her body, telling her once more to “Say it, say you belong to me”

“I belong to you… I belong here—“ Kosloff grunted

“Say it like you mean it!” his breaths were growing heavier, much as hers had as Ted felt up her lean, elegant body, grabbing her breasts beneath her golden bra as he came in closer to her, his lips along her neck and chin as he tells her to “Say it” to which Natacha had relented

“I’m yours! I belong to you and you alone! Oh fu—“.

Theodore climaxed, his thrusts making audible smacks against her as he lets out a groan, his assistant and fuck-toy quivering as she feels the heat of his ejaculant, his average sized dick spasming inside of her anus as he proceeds to try and get every last drop of it out of himself.

“…Good t’see you haven’t fallen to her yet” he said

“Who is this ‘Her’ you speak of?” Natacha asked him

“Nazimova” he told her as he pulls out with little to no warning, catching Alla off guard, she can’t help but squint, like she had just received a needle, wondering if that was how Jean had felt when she pricked their behind…

“Oh, how could I fall to her?” Rambova asks Kosloff

“I’ve seen it happen” he said, meanwhile Natacha Rambova is trying not to laugh to herself “Even those who you ‘ave blessed with your cock?”

“Surprisingly? Yes” Theodore admitted to Rambova

“No” she said, soon asking him if that would be all

“For you and me now? Yes… But since you spend so long here, tell me about the other girl”

“…What other girl?” Natacha asked him “Allas little protégé, are those little rumours true?”

“I’ve no clue what you are talking about” Rambova said as she went to reapply her makeup

“The girl is as straight as a board” she joked to him.

Theodore Kosloff smiled to himself, thinking that he had a chance with that cute little thing.

Natacha Rambova smiled to herself… Wondering what kind of an ass he’d make of himself.

Unaware of the plot, Grace and Jean were relaxing.

In the garden, Jean found herself lost in the eyes of Grace Darmond, as her head was resting atop her lap, her everything was warm and fuzzy as the hair Grace had beneath the witches hat, pointing to the stars as in the distance the party had seemed like some distant memory, something slow and sweet was being played by the band, though still the two heard it, the “Ooh’s” and “Ahh’s” and occasionally “Woo’s” at whatever show the dancers were putting on “D’you ever find yourself feeling too tired to be tired?” Jean asked Darmond

“…Sometimes” she said “Must be the party, you’re tired but you just know that there’s more waiting for you”.

Jean and Grace went a little quiet “Sorry if I was a little bold back there, y’know, when we—“

“I didn’t mind” Jean smiled so innocently, adding:

“Nobody noticed us, did they?” Grace thought back

“Yeah, they were probably too busy passing Nat and my pussy around” Grace remarked to her, adding with a palpable pride

“Or maybe I was inspired by you acting boldly yesterday”

“All we did was simply kiss” Jean told Darmond “Just kiss and cuddle each other to sleep…” she crawled up to rest her head on the shoulder of Grace “Just like we are doing right now”

“Oh? Okay…” Grace had this smart look in her eyes

“Maybe when you fall asleep, I will wipe the drool from your lips and find some use for it…”

“Don’t tell me you were awake when I…” Jean blushed a little bit “Yeah, I was very awake”

“What did it?” Jean asked her “What woke you up?” Grace smiled “…Your taste on my lips”.

Jean could not help herself but giggle to Darmond

“What’s so funny?” Grace asked Jean as she caressed her face “…You sound like Nazimova”

“God, kill me now” Darmond remarked, which only made Jean laugh some more, their face, so happy and free makes Grace smile back to them

“That smile of yours” she said “You could make a gal rob a bank… I guess, some guys too…”.

The girls are startled just barely by the splashing coming from the pool, and the two would, bit by the bug of curiosity, go to and pay visit, boys women are taken by the beauty of those performers, their dancing sensual and their swimming is elegant, like nymphs or mermaids.

It was strolling by the pool that they ran into Teddy.

“Ah, Ms. Acker, isn’t it?” Theodore asked Jean “Um, yes? I don’t think we’ve been introduced”

“How rude of me” he smiles “I am Julius Caesar” Jean says “I can see that, but who are you?”

“Theodore Kosloff” Ted said as Grace commented “Weren’t you parading Cleopatra about?”

“Just showing off a prize, a conquests, how could I not? If you got it you flaunt it, like a ring”

“Do you see all women as prizes?” Jean asked him

“Not all” he said dismissively, plainly clarifying “Those who simply do not fit my standards” his dark eyes lit up as he examined her hands “And look at this, you’ve got no ring to flaunt”

“Yeah, because no man has met her standards” Grace said a tad passive aggressively to him

“Is he putting the moves on me?” Jean wondered as he stepped in closer, holding her hand. Grace was about to step in before they heard Alla Nazimova say

“Teddy” feigning excitement “Alla” he smiled “I was just introducing myself to your protégé, I hope you wouldn’t mind—“

“I would” Nazimova tells him “I will need her soon”

“Oh?” he asked her as Grace looked back and forth between him and Alla Nazimova, both a pair of people she didn’t quite like an awful lot, one more than the other, fighting over Jean.

If Darmond had to back any of ‘em, it would likely have been the one named Alla Nazimova.

Then again, she might have been biased, as she didn’t fuck Kosloff and had no plans t’do so.

“Bold of you to stand by a swimming pool” said Kosloff to Nazimova, before remarking how

“Sappho was said to have thrown herself into the sea upon losing the man that she loved”

“Oh, don’t tell me you believe that funny little story” Alla told Teddy, although she’d admit

“While I can imagine one choosing to die instead of living without the one they love, I doubt the real Sappho would have done so for a man who despised her and seemed to’ve more-so loved the sea and the men who sailed alongside him… But, since we are next to my pool…”

Alla Nazimova, without second thought, proceeded to shove Theodore Kosloff into her pool.

“Sic semper tyrannis” Nazimova joked after the fact

“Now then, Jeanie, we’ve got places to be” said Alla as she offered Jean an arm to hold on to

“Um… Thanks for that, by the way” Jean said blushing a little bit before she turned to Grace

“You can tag along too” Jean Acker said to Darmond “Um… yeah, sure thing, Jean Shorts”

“She doesn’t get jealous easily, doe she?” Alla asks.

Alla already knew the answer, yet still she wanted her to tag along, still she wanted to tease.

Jean didn’t answer, instead she was lead towards this little space set up in the theatre room.

The spot was just beneath the stage where this band played and a set of performers danced, the entire room was made to look like an old Greek theatre of sorts, a cross between that and where an emperor or despot would keep his harem, lined with pillows, covered in drapes…

Jean was sat upon a pedestal of sorts, a comfy one.

Nazimova sat beside her, yet seemed to have been lower than her, but not as low as Grace, she found herself a seat in front of Jean, as others, men and women, extravagantly dressed and done up fancily, began to enter the scene

“…How are you so shy?” Alla asked Jean Acker

“Um… Usually I can’t see the audience too clearly”.

Nazimova smiled “Too bad, you’re the centrepiece”

“Whoopty doo” Jean said a little bit unenthusiastically as Grace rolled her eyes, they land on Alla, who smiled devilishly “So, so sorry Aphrodite”.

“You don’t look sorry” Jean said before she noticed a change in the music and a spotlight on her and Nazimova, almost on cue she froze, like an actor told to freeze with elegance upon the command of their director, their dark lover, their painter, their fucker, and their mentor.

All eyes were on her when they were not upon Alla.

“Aphrodite” Alla had started with elegance “Subtle of soul and deathless, daughter of God, weaver of wiles, I pray thee, neither with care, dread Mistress, nor with anguish, slay thou my spirit, but in pity hasten, come now if ever, from afar of old when my voice implored thee”…

Acker suddenly felt a hand slowly exploring her leg

“Thou hast deigned to listen, leaving the golden house of thy father, with thy chariot yoked; and with doves that drew thee, fair and fleet around the dark earth from heaven” Alla purred as Jean felt them

“Dipping vibrant wings down the azure distance, through the mid-ether” Jean did her best not to look at Grace, who wore a face somewhere between annoyed and aroused by the exhibitionism, as Acker wondered

“Really? In front of all of these strangers?” yet Allas words, Sappho’s really… Were so elegant.

“Very swift they came; And thou, gracious Vision, leaned with face that smiled in immortal beauty, leaned to me and asked… ‘What misfortune threatened? Why I had called thee?’…”

Acker took in this long drag of breath as a smile twitched its way upon her face, amused by the voice of Nazimova tickling her ear as she asked

“'What my frenzied heart craved in utter yearning, whom its wild desire would persuade to passion? What disdainful charms, madly worshipped, slight thee?’”

Nazimova’s hand crawls it way up her body following their neck to her chin:

“‘Who wrongs thee, Sappho?’” she asked so sweetly, pouting a little as she looks Jean in her eyes, her pale skin glowing in the spotlight whereas Jean’s afraid her blushing would show

“'She that fain would fly, she shall quickly follow, she that now rejects, yet with gifts shall woo thee, she that heeds thee not, soon shall love to madness… Love thee, the loth one’… “

Nazimova seemed to come in closer to Jean Acker, and both women seem as if they wished to go at each other then and there, to just go carnally wild, forgetting those voyeuristic eyes

“Come to me now thus, Goddess” Nazimova smiles

"And release me from distress and pain; And all my distracted heart would seek, do thou, once again fulfilling… Still be my ally”

Acker felt what little restrains she had on fucking Alla in public melt away, almost forgetting about Grace.

The lights dimmed as she closed her eyes, as she readied for a kiss she knew would come in the darkness as the crowd gave out an amused laugh, a chuckle, a giggle and a “Woo” at the little show Alla gave them, as they knew full well what would be coming next that evening.

For a second Jean felt her lips, then she felt a push.

Laughter fills her ears as she finds herself weightless, carried all about by a thousand hands like she were an idol, like she was Cleopatra that day and that hour, the most important lady in the room, more-so than Alla Nazimova herself: Aphrodite, who came to Sappho’s wooing.

Everything seemed warmly tinted, like a red room.

The scene devolved into something orgiastic, something hedonistic, something so exciting.

And Jean soon found herself upon a sofa, between a man receiving fellatio and another with a woman on his lap, riding him with her back turned, her hair long and auburn in its colour, her ass toned and equestrian as it is grabbed and spanked, her lips against those of a lady…

Jean blushed so red as she’s lead away by Natacha.

“Time flies never to be recalled” Rambova joked to Jean as, like Virgil leading Dante through the levels of Hell, she lead Jean Acker through the Garden of Alla, now an erotic mess as the dancers did more than merely entertain, Nat assuring Acker that “Teddy will not bother us”.

Jean wondered how and why, that was until she caught as glimpse of him in another room, a pair of dancers entertaining him carnally, though she chose not to look too long, wishing to not be seen by a man like Kosloff whilst his seemingly insatiable libido was in full swing.

Dear Acker saw almost every taboo being broken…

Men and men, women and women, men dressed as women, she saw some tied up, she saw men and women shared and or used by groups, some of whom were still in their costumes and even still in character, even as they fucked one and other, even as their colours showed.

Eventually, she is lead up to the door of Allas room.

Behind the door she heard a familiar, wimpish sound, it was a sound she made on occasion “Grace?” Jean asked as Natacha opened the door for her, unveiling to Jean their roommate, Grace Darmond, tied by her wrists on the bed, her back is to the headboard and her eyes are to the ceiling before they land on Jean, she tried to cross her legs but a hand is between ‘em

“Hello Jean, so glad for you to join us” Alla smiled, pulling the gag out of Darmonds mouth

“Jean?” Grace asked her “She is a feisty little thing”

Nazimova tells Acker as gestures her over to the bed, her fingers still glistening in the sex of Grace Darmond “…I was worried she’d try and make too much noise and spoil the surprise”

“What—“ Grace tried to say something else, but the gag was wrapped back around their face

“Now that she can’t rudely interrupt us” Nazimova smiled as she leaned forward on the bed to Jean Acker, who’d slowly, awkwardly approach the pair, aroused and drawn by Nazimova.

“So, was this your plan for the evening?” Jean asks

“…It was all for you” Nazimova purred as she sat on the leg of Grace Darmond, admitting to her protégé, pet project and pet

“I don’t often give my loves ‘Goodbye parties’ such as this”

“You make it sound like I am never coming back” Jean said “…I am, you should know that”

“Yes, yes… But it just makes things more exciting”

Grace tried to say something, but again, she was muffled like an animal, though she seems more annoyed than ferocious and feral, more than likely a little drained from the events of the night she and Jean had indulged in almost greedily, and which Alla Nazimova would so, their eyes set upon only one, the lovely Jean Acker.

“What about Grace?” Jean asked her, drawn towards the bed “Ah, yes… She can watch us”

Alla said before she pulled Jean in by the hand, almost purposely her rump was pointed out to Grace Darmond, who’d look up at Jean, as if she’d quietly pleading with her to untie ‘em.

“Oh, Glee” Acker told her best friend “I’m sorry, b—“

Nazimova heard all she needed to hear, and so she pulled Jean by her arm into a deep kiss, it started off delicately and softly enough, that was until Jean had reciprocated, breathless as she savoured every second of the kiss, euphoric before Allas tongue had came against theirs.

“Hm!” Grace heard as their kiss continued on, as Nazimova slowly fell back, dragging Acker along with her, the two were sprawled over the bed and over Darmond as she squirmed, as she silently begged to be untied, among other curses, mostly directed towards Nazimova…

Jean suddenly found her back agains the bed and her head upon the lap of Grace Darmond.

She tried t’say something, but again, she’s gagged.

As Acker made herself comfortable she feels the hands of Nazimova as she crawled down…

Through it all, Jean couldn’t quite figure who Alla was really looking up at, her or Darmond.

Was she looking into the eyes of Jean, yearning to see their pleasure as she did her magic?

Or was she looking pass her to Grace, as if to taunt them, as if to say “You’ll never have her”?

Acker couldn’t tell, driven mad by their fine tongue

“Oh m’god, Alla… Oh my god!” she said, love and lust drunk as she’s fellated “Oh my god!” her face wore this lovely smile, her eyes rolling back before closing shut, this wave of shock shooting up her body from between her legs once she felt Nazimova plunge their fingers in

“Ahh! Ahh! Agh—Fuck! Oh fuck” Nazimova asks her

“Do you like it? My fingers inside you? My tongue? The fact all that Grace can do is watch?!”

“Fuuuck” Jean stretched out as Alla climbed up her body, as her lips adorned her breasts…

Jean liked it… She liked her fingers writhing about, she liked their tongue worshipping her.

But personally? Jean didn’t like the idea of torturing Grace, that didn’t really get them off.

She hoped it didn’t get them off, she liked Grace…

She loved her, but the little devil on her shoulder, the one upon their chest, says otherwise.

This loud sound escaped Grace Darmond, muffled from behind their gag before Jean asked

“Glee, what’s wrong?”, noting the sadness in the eyes of her roommate and lover as she said

“If you’re going t’make me watch… Can I at least touch myself? This feels like torture, Jean”

“…How could I?” Acker said “Not ‘I’” Alla said “Me”

“Y’know, sometimes I hate you” Grace said to Alla, who was about to snap back at her until

“Oh please” Jean pleaded with Nazimova “Let her have some fun, I’m leaving tomorrow…”

Nazimova seemed to ponder for a bit before silently untying one of her arms “There you go”.

Tugging Grace by her leg, Nazimova laid her across the bed and decided, for Jeans sake, to let her join in on the fun…

As the face Alla sat on, although, before she did that, Jean would lather Darmond with kisses, softly saying

“I’m sorry” before she is gestured to go downward.

Jean went down Grace’s body, down to their pussy

“…Please forgive me” she tells Darmond “…Yeah, how the fuck can I stay mad at your face?”

“Speaking of faces” Nazimova said presenting herself “It’s time for you to put yours to work”.

Jean Acker had gently kissed Darmonds belly before Nazimova lowered herself on the lady.

Nazimova knew she hated it, she knew she’d be rough beneath her legs, and she wanted it, Jean meanwhile was more romantic, more passionate, yet always delicate like a flower, one which Alla had wanted to pluck, petal by petal like she had all the time in that strange world.

Grace’s untied hand lingered up and down the side of Nazimova when it wasn’t grabbing at the leg which grappled her face, at times coming under the arm of Alla, tickling her ribs and making them writhe some more as Grace’s tongue had explored her pussy, pleasuring them.

Jean meanwhile would use her fingers on Grace…

Her lips belonged to Nazimova that night, her face was stained in the kisses of Nazimova, in the deep, dark red she adorned her lips in that night, planted across her entire face, from her lips and cheeks to her chin and someway, somehow beneath her ears and down their neck.

Acker always gasped whenever she felt their teeth.

Alla liked it when Jean gasped, when she was startled, surprised, and very much aroused, it made her grin, it made her bite harder, in fact, at one point Jean was scared she was going to bite the lobe of her ear off, it startled her, not just the pain, but how much she had liked it.

The way Jean whimpered? Grace drank Allas fluids.

Nazimova sat back, allowing herself to squirt over the shoulder of Grace Darmond, making Jean crawl up that body and try licking up her juices from the bed, joined by Grace like the pair were from a litter of cats, hungry for the milk of its mother, lapping away at their award.

“That’s it, drink up, drink up m’darlings… Drink it”

“Yes, Ally, yes…” Jean said to her like a pet “…What do you say my sweet, sweet Aphrodite?”

“Thank you” Acker tells her “And how about you?” she asked Grace as Jean began to kiss at the liquid on her face, sipping it like Grace’s drool

“…Thanks” Grace said before her eyes had lingered on Jean… The light of her life and bestie.

“We’re such good friends, aren’t we?” Alla asks her

“With benefits? I guess you’re okay-ish, maybe a little overly dramatic—“ Nazimova kisses the tied up Grace and asked “Oh really? Whose name did I have you crying out a while earlier?”

“Jeans” Darmond told them “At first… But I could have sworn you uttered mine eventually”

“Is that true?” Jean asked Grace in that caring voice

“…Yeah” Grace lets out “Eventually” this amuses Alla, the three women sharing each others lips as Nazimova ponders to Jean that

“Maybe it is for the best you go to Jersey for a while” clarifying that

“When you come back, the two of us may be a tad more… Hm, ‘Acquainted’”.

The idea greatly arouses Jean Acker, intriguing her.

How could she not fall in love with the idea of the two women she loved so much being far more willing to share her? More willing to play nice with one and other and herself, as they form themselves a ménage à trois, as they take turns in being at the top of their pyramid…

In that moment, Alla was at its peak, but deep down, Jean knew she would be at some point.

She was in bliss, and already she wanted the day to come… In lieu of that, she would come.

Grace would too, in fact, almost at the same time Jean had, both girls rubbing and other off.

It was following this that Darmond would be awarded, with both wrists untied, unrestrained.

A bit of Grace wanted to smack Alla, but by the time her wrist was freed, Acker was on her lap

“Wouldn’t it be lovely? You, me and Alla together?”

“Ahem” a woman cleared their voice, as across from their bed, standing in the doorway, they see Cleopatra, Natacha Rambova, who’d ask “What about me? Not that I’m complaining…”

“Who said Grace will be pleasing me every night?” Nazimova asked Natty “Who said I will?”

Alla pouted as she laid back, her hair an unkempt mess “I’m sure I can think of something” she was about to ask Acker, but she was a tad busy.

With her lips against Grace Darmond and her tongue down her throat, Jean was love drunk.

She savours every second, knowing that in those strange times she would miss her beloved.

Chapter Text

Acker stretched as she slowly came back to consciousness, having had a very lovely sleep…

Made more so lovely by the woman beside her, Grace Darmond, her dark blonde hair was a mess, though she could tell that a pair of hands had stroke her mess, having soothed them, yet Jean couldn’t be sure as to whether she did so or not, whether or not it was her or Alla.

She too made the night one to remember dearly…

It was her party after all, yet at that moment, Acker couldn’t see her anywhere in sight, not at that point, though she imagined she was up and about surveying the carnage of the night, a likely horrid and messy sight once the bodies chose to leave, but she knew some remained.

She could hear them down the stairs, the few who remained, some dancing, some laughing.

Jean so wanted to stay, but she knew she couldn’t.

Gently kissing Grace atop her forehead, she tells them softly

“Wake up, sleepy head” adding “I’m heading down stairs” Grace stirred as she tried to force her eyes open, unable to even bother it, instead she quietly groaned

“No… Stay with me…” trying to hold on to Jeans arm.

Acker sighed “I’d love to, I really do, but I’m going”

Grace tried to answer, but instead, a yawn escaped her, Jean could just feel the warm freckle of spittle on her arm as she did it “…See you later”.

Barefoot, Jean Acker made her way down the stairs with knees which gently trembled, yet she couldn’t help but feel a little loose in the joints, she always tended to feel like this after a goodnights rest after a hard days work, or after she had spent the night with somebody like Alla Nazimova, then again, there weren’t too many like Nazimova, and Jean had wondered if there ever would be after her time was up, when the blindingly white lights died with her.

But that was still likely a long while away from ‘em.

In that pretty angel costume, they prepared for sin.

Confetti and party streamers lined the floor she walked, and she could make out the scents of smoke, gunpowder, fine wines and cheap wines and the residue of the partying, among the sights she saw were the bodies, exhausted, some sleeping like babies, scattered about.

Making her way into the living room, she’s met by Harry Macdonough on the record player, singing about “The Girl on the Magazine”, it was that she saw a scattered number of souls, a couple men and a couple women, and Alla Nazimova, sitting far off in the room like royalty.

Nazimova had this playfully smug expression on her face as she twirled her raven hair, she is atop this couch with one of her legs up on its arm as her robe manages to conceal her more private areas, areas of her pale body which Jean Acker knew more than well, hungering for.

Glancing across at Jean, her smile grew a tad bit salaciously, her eyes carrying an intensity.

“Come, my darling ‘Aphrodite’” Nazimova tells her.

“Gladly” Jean Acker thought about saying, she chose against this, however, and instead she silently made her way up towards the couch, playfully kicking away at the party streamers all over the floor, littering it, like tasteless spaghetti or paper vines in the jungle, rustling about.

Nazimova lowered the leg she had up on the arm and she offers Acker the arm to sit upon…

Like an angel on her shoulder, Jean sat there delicately, much like Alla was the devil on hers.

“That a friend of yours?” an associate of Allas asked

“Obviously” Nazimova said to Edith Luckett, asking

“…How are things with you and Kenny?”

“Oh, we are doing alright, Kenneth is a lovely man, though my work, our work, puts a strain”

“…On who?” Nazimova asked as Acker clung to them, mostly to keep herself from falling off

“I’m sorry” Edith said “Is your other friend okay there?” gesturing over to Natacha Rambova, as elegantly she laid like a mummy atop the table.

“Is she dead or alive?” somebody asked

“Yes?” asked another “I don’t think she’s breathing”

“Oh? I can assure you I’m alive” Rambova tells ‘em

“Well… She lives” Alla said plainly before Natacha asked “What time is it?” reminding Jean.

“Oh shit! I have to leave at ten!” she exclaimed, almost falling off the arm of the couch, yet her heart skips a beat upon feeling Alla calmly grabbing their thigh “It is eight, my darling”

“Ah… Right… Right… Still, I’ve got to get ready, I mean, I can’t go to the station like this, I—“

“You would make quite the sight” Nazimova teases

“Would they even let me on the train?” Acker asked her

“I would” Nazimova said, meanwhile Edith was blushing from her couch, as Jean Acker was in the angel costume she wore to the party, white and short, showing off her legs, though the costume lacked the wings and halo.

There was a metaphor one could have made out…

Jean couldn’t figure it out, maybe Grace could ‘ave.

Darmond was just managing to pry her eyes open as she slowly picked herself up “…Fuck” she laughed as she thought back to the night prior, to the fun she had with Jean and even, though Grace absolutely hated to admit it, with Alla Nazimova notorious for breaking hearts.

Just how many people had fallen under her sway?

Grace didn’t know but she was scared she was one.

It wasn’t long before Grace joined Alla and Jean down the stairs in that party room, Darmond would kick the balloons about as she made her way up to Jean and Nazimova and asked ‘em

“Where’s my pussy?” Jean cracked up and laughed

“…Have you tried between your legs?” Nazimova asked her plainly

“Y’know I mean the cat” Grace said “Oh, the little adventurer?” Rambova asks “Y’might need to wash it. Thoroughly”.

When Darmond found that stuffed animal it was floating in the pool “Did it have a name?”

“Nope” she sighed to Rambova as the two of them tried to fish it out of the pool with a net

“He was quite the adventurer, you would not believe the places it went, the people it met…”

“What makes you think it’s a boy cat?” Grace asked once they fished it out, noticing that they had a pair of panties wrapped around them

“Yeah, either you’re keeping it or I’m burning it”.

Back inside, Jean still wondered about what she should or could wear, and would be lead up the stairs, back to the bedroom of Nazimova, where Alla looked through her closet, Jean asks

“Are you going to send me off in nothing but a coat?”

Alla smiled devilishly before quipping “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Jean smiled to her

“That’s not answering my question” as she sat down on the bed “No, you can borrow a dress”

“Restraint” Acker thought to herself “How thoughtful of you” she said, genuinely pleased by Nazimova, she tells her to stand up, and doing so Jean found Alla holding a dress up to her.

“Get dressed” Nazimova tells Acker, taking a seat…

Jean almost waited for her to leave, but once she saw her putting one leg over the other, she knew that Nazimova didn’t intend on leaving them

“So that’s how it’s gonna be?” Jean asked her “Okay” she tried to make it sound like she was just barely putting up with it, but she enjoyed this.

Alla Nazimova kept her keen eyes on her as she disrobed and got dressed, and would even help her when it came to fixing her tie and adjusting the collar of the coat she had on, then she asked of the makeup Acker had on

“You intend on keeping it?” Jean admits “Not really”.

The makeup stained her face, having ran that night

“Charles will be dropping you and Grace off at the station… Don’t worry, he’s got your bags”

“How exactly?” Jean asked her as Nazimova, having walked Jean into the bathroom, turned on the faucet and allowed cold water to come down on a small, wipe in the palm of her hand

“Charles doesn’t have a key t’our house, does he?”.

Alla grabbed the back of Jeans head and she slowly and calmly wiped away the makeup on her face, the eyeshadow which crept down to her cheeks along with the faint, delicate blush she wore

“He doesn’t, but I took the liberty to make one” Nazimova had answered calmly…

Acker seemed only a little bit worried by this detail.

How could Jean not be just a tad alarmed by the fact Alla could just come in unannounced?

She knew Grace would blow a gasket if she ever found out that Nazimova could just do that.

“…Grace will be needing a some clothes too” Jean said, holding her tongue on the key issue

“Right” Nazimova said as she admires the slim body of Jean Acker, a subtle smile on her face as she took in their beauty “You won’t be coming?”

Nazimova came up closer to her and she tells them “Jeanie… I’ve already said my goodbye” she gently caressed her face, brushing away Jeans hair as she instinctively readied for a kiss.

Hers was a gentle little peck but it intoxicates Jean.

Alla Nazimova broke it off first, she wanted to see it, that cute expression on Jeans face, her eyes closed her face at peace, that smile of hers enough t’make her loins hunger once more

“Also, the survivors of last night require my presence” Alla said to her “I can’t leave them be”.

Acker pouted before Nazimova left her to her own devices “I’ll go and fetch Grace” Alla says.

Grace Darmond was helping those hungover, doing so with cures and cold glasses of water when Nazimova entered the kitchen

“Cooking up spells?” Alla asks her smartly and playfully, to which Grace looked at her unenthusiastically, still a little tired, and plainly told her: “Hah”.

Lead up the stairs to Allas room, Grace would be treated to the sight of Jean bent over as she pulled a pair of stockings up her leg

“Oh, hello Grace” Jean smiled “Now, I’ll leave you to it” Alla smiled before smacking Grace on her behind “Do be quick darlings, the clock is ticking”

“So, where’s your… Cat?” Jean asked Grace politely

“Therapy” Darmond answered Jean as she disrobes

“Rambova’ll take care of ‘em” Grace added as she posed in the mirror, noticing Acker looking at her as she slides out of her witches gown, replacing it with a buttoned shirt and a long skirt, all the while Jean watched Grace, helping her with their tie and nice woollen jacket…

The two of them kissed passionately for a little bit in the privacy of Alla Nazimovas bedroom.

When Charles arrived, Jean knew it was time to go

“Grace is coming with me” Acker said to Charles as the two women climb into the backseat

“How does he have your luggage?” Grace asks her.

Luckily for Jean, a reason for her to not give an answer came, as when this question arose, a very naked man was making his way through the yard, clearly in a daze and clearly holding a hat over his groin as he tried to look for a way inside, all three people in that car distracted.

Nazimova meanwhile stood in the doorway and passed him, calmly at first, before she had caught a glimpse of Grace and Jean in the backseat of the Rolls-Royce, both extremely pale

“You act like you have never seen someone naked”

“I mean… He’s technically not naked” Grace quipped as she kept her eyes up and her arm around that of Jean Acker, she blushed with embarrassment, something which Alla noticed.

Nazimova gestured her to give Jean her hand, and once she relinquished it, Nazimova said "Do svidaniya, my dear” her deep purr and her accent showed as she said it, as her cool eyes made Jean want to stay

“Until next time” Jean said before the engine starts and the car left.

So Bryant drove Jean and Grace to the train station

“Oh, we didn’t see you during the party” Jean said to him amidst the mildly awkward silence

“I’ve been to plenty of her parties” Charles admitted “You’ve seen one? You’ve seen ‘em all”

“Well, Jeanie here was the star of the show” Grace said with a little smile, Charles admitting

“Alla told me about it” he comments “…Aphrodite”

Jean blushed and Grace Darmond rolled her eyes, trying not t’laugh “She always does that?”

Grace asked Charles “For the women that she likes”

“Oh, I had no doubt about that” Grace said “Me neither” Jean admitted, smiling to herself as the car passed by the sights of Los Angeles before they reached the bustling train station, it was almost as if the weight of Jeans upcoming trip had suddenly landed on her shoulders…

“Oh boy” she sighed to herself “Here we go” as Charles Bryant went to open the door for her.

Assisted with her bags, Jean pushed them in a trolley, helped by Grace before reaching their train, Richard Stanton waited for her, and he welcomed Jean with a firm, strong handshake, he used to be a boxer and it showed, the handsome and charismatic director smiled at Jean

“It’s good to see you again, Ms. Acker” Richard said

“You too” Jean smiled “So, you and most of the cast will be in the car behind mine, this one”

Stanton pointed out, before asking if she needed any help in getting her bags on the train

“Well, I’d like to… Say goodbye to my friend, give her some last minute housekeeping tips”.

Stanton took this as the go-ahead, and so with near superhuman ease he picks up both bags and made his way aboard the train “…What a fella”

Grace said, before asking “I don’t have anything to worry about, do I?” Jean assures her “No”.

Big strong beef-cakes weren’t really Ackers thing…

“So… This is where you leave me” Grace shrugged

“T’be fair, this isn’t the first time a pretty gal left me” to which Jean said “We aren’t splitting”

“Feels like it…” Grace said “Just promise me things won’t get too out of hand in New Jersey”

“I can’t promise anything out of my control” Jean said “…I’ll just try and make it back alive” both women cracked a smile, gigglin’ just a little…

Jean felt Darmonds tug on her arm, pulling her in closer for a hug, this long, deep embrace which Acker wished could last a minute longer, yet she knew it couldn’t, yet the moment she felt their cheeks touching, Jean knew she couldn’t leave, not until she gave her parting gift.

The kiss wasn’t a long one, but it felt like one amidst the steam cloud of the trains engine…

“See you around, Jean shorts” Grace told her Acker.

And just like that? Jean was on the train to New Jersey, a long trip that seemed way longer.

Grace felt the seconds like they were pins and the hours like they were hammers all over her.

Natacha Rambova didn’t feel them, she was too busy admiring her new pet: A stuffed kitten.

And Alla Nazimova was far more focused on this painting in her house by Aubrey Beardsley.

But one could tell that, as Marion Harris’ “After You've Gone” played upon the record player, that Jean Acker was on her mind, as she smoked her fancy, exquisite cigarette, as she starred longingly up at the painting, as Rambova cuddled her, Alla pondered about her “Aphrodite”.

Chapter Text

Having just gone through yet another heated argument with her superiors at Metro Pictures on the subject of “Aphrodite”, a film which she was starting to get worried would never see the light of day, trapped forever in the domain eventually to be called:

“Development Hell”, Alla was frustrated and wanted to let her stress out

“I’m either killing or fucking something” Alla said to Rambova over the phone, morbidly she muses to them

“Possibly myself if I don’t get creative” as she looked through her collection of toys, those of the sexual variety

“Well, I am sorry I can’t be there” Natacha tells Nazimova. Natacha suggested to Alla: “Have you tried Grace?”

“I’ve tried, but she still hasn’t answered my calls”…

Darmond was still coping with Jean Ackers departure to the East Coast, but she was handling it like a champ, having only cried about it twice, at least in the company of Alla Nazimova, a rare occasion at that point, she spent most of her days perusing fan mail and masturbating.

When she wasn’t doing that? She was working, particularly in “The Man Who Wouldn't Tell”, a film set during the war where she plays a wealthy woman in New York society, who slowly develops a relationship with a charming, handsome Englishman played by Earle Williams.

“I’m guessing you’re not free either?” Alla asks her

“No, I’m afraid that Teddy is taking me out for romantic evening that will likely end with me getting my brains rutted out, so I’ll be busy for a bit” Natacha sighed “Fuck” Nazimova utters

“Guess I’ll have to get creative” Nazimova laments.

Ending the call, Nazimova made her way to the closet, from which she would fish out a fine and extravagant leopard print coat and dressed herself for a night on the town, having heard from a friend of a friend that a Broadway starlet of all things would be coming to Hollywood.

Intrigued, she couldn’t help but arrange a meeting

“Just to see if I can help the dear Ms. Le Gallienne”

“Ms.” also got her attention, further enticing Alla, though she had gone after married women before, married men as well, but seeing how men had done nothing as of yet to arouse her animal urges in California, she settled on seeing if Ms. Eva Le Gallienne could do the trick…

She arranged the rendezvous at a nice restaurant and bar she knew, a cabaret really, one she had a private booth at, where she’d quietly sit and await the starlet with a glass in one hand, an ice bucket of champagne’s awaiting them both.

Taking a sip, she watched the performance on stage, a live band playing and a lady singing, as in the back of her mind she wondered and pondered about Eva Le Gallienne, about what was her fancies in life, and more importantly to Nazimova what kind of an actress she was.

Alla knew there were two kinds of Broadway actors.

There were those who were in love with the art and those who were in love with the money.

Very rarely had she seen both in one person, then again, Alla had figured herself a rare type.

She understood that show business was… Well, a business, but at least it was one she liked.

But the artistic and bohemian were typically very…

“Open-minded”, willing to experiment and to play ball with her, so she liked ‘em a tad more.

So Nazimova would hope that Eva Le Gallienne was an artist, their favourite type of person.

“Ahem” Nazimova heard a high voice saying to her.

Turning her head, Alla was surprised to meet this very youthful face, belonging to a woman, albeit a very young one, in fact, it was a little more accurate for Alla to call her a girl instead of a woman

“Are you lost?” Nazimova cautiously asked “No, I believe I am in the right place”

“I’m sorry, d’you know who I am?” Alla asked them

“…Yes, of course I know that” the girl had said in this delicate, sophisticated sounding voice

“You’re Alla Nazimova and married to Charles Bryant” she said “And I am Eva Le Gallienne”

“Oh, forgive me” Alla said “It’s just that you seem much… ‘Younger’ than I prior expected…”.

Nazimova wondered if that place had a kids menu.

The youngest Alla had ever gone for was fifteen, but to be fair, Nazimova herself was fifteen when she pined for ‘em and actively decided to pursue her interests, both in terms of acting and loving, having fallen in love with both theatre and the beautiful people it had attracted.

Still, she didn’t give her age… So Alla was worried.

Eva was young, her face especially youthful, her eyes a pale colour and she carried with her an elegance, an eloquence to her voice, though it surely came natural to her, being not only the daughter of a poet, but an actress since the age of fifteen, all before she came to the U.S.

“I assume you wouldn’t want anything to smoke?” she asked “No thank you, I don’t smoke” Eva tells her as she takes a seat next to Alla

“Do you even drink?” she asked “…On occasion” the well dressed and well mannered Eva Le Gallienne said as she poured herself this glass.

“…Oddly prudish of an actress” Nazimova quipped

“No, it’s not that, my mother wouldn’t allow it, she says smoking’ll dry my throat too much”

“It hasn’t dried mine” Alla said as she allowed her fingers to linger up her own elegant neck

“So you still listen to your mother?” Eva admits that

“I’ve don’t got an awful lot to listen to, but it’s nice to hear her opinion… Albeit exhausting”

“How so?” Nazimova asked “Because they always say the same thing: ‘You’re the greatest’”

Eva cracks a smile “But sometimes when I want it, they say ‘Oh, you could have done better’”

Nazimova giggled gently “That has to be common”

“Among who?” Le Gallienne asked them “Actresses or people in general?” Alla says “Both”…

Amidst the drinks, Nazimova couldn’t help, thinking about their name, but comment to Eva

“Your name sounds familiar” she asked her “Which part?” Nazimova clarified “The last parts”

“Well… If you should know, my father was a poet” Eva told them “Mr. Richard Le Gallienne”

“Oh” Nazimova said, visibly intrigued “I see that artistic talent runs in the family, doesn’t it?”

“Just a little bit… To be fair, I was introduced to talented people early on in my life” she said 

“I met Sarah Bernhardt in Paris, but it was ages ago, 1903 if I’m correct, back when I was fo—” 

“You met Sarah Bernhardt?!” Nazimova asked, sounding genuinely impressed by the young lady having met the queen of the pose, the princess of the gesture and a lover of Edward VII

“Yes” she told her “Again, I was a child then, four I believe” so Alla did the maths in her head “Nineteen?” Nazimova asked “Yes… I’m nineteen” Alla would almost let out a sigh of relief.

So, Alla pressed on, asking Eva more about herself:

“My debut? I’d make it when I was fifteen actually”

Eva Le Gallienne was quick to add “I wasn’t awfully important, I was merely a walk-on role in Maeterlinck's Monna Vanna, back in 1914, I spent several months attending a drama school before I left for this some comedy whose name escapes me… I honestly don’t remember too much, just that I played a cockney servant and that I brought the house down, somehow”

Nazimova smirked “Must ‘ave been a good accent”

“Or a terrible one” Eva shrugs as she sips her drink.

No, she didn’t sip it, she downed it, almost in one gulp, which had honestly impressed Alla.

Eva noticed the dumbfounded look on her face “…Is something the matter?” she asked her

“Nope” Nazimova said to Eva “I just think that you and I are going to be the best of friends”

Le Gallienne smiled at this, and she tells her “Oh, I think I’d like that; I’d like that very much”.

Le Gallienne would admit that she was looking for help “In Hollywood?” Nazimova asks her

“That probably sounds silly, but I would require some help getting a foothold in the acting circles of this side of the country… So maybe that’s why I begged to be granted this… This—“

“Opportunity?” Alla asked “This honour?” she adds

“Well, when you put it like that it makes me sound like I’m a nobody” Eva said with a giggle

“I wouldn’t say I’m begging, but I’d much like the… Opportunity to be in your good graces”.

At that: Nazimova felt no discomfort, just liberation

“How could I say no to a face like yours?” she asked

“And to eyes so very, very pretty, has anybody ever told you that?” Eva blushed “…So many” she said, trying to wave this off “Dozens of hounds trying to get me in their dressing rooms”

“How about women?” Nazimova pressed playfully, to which she would be met by the sound of silence for a second or two “Well… On occasion”

Eva tried to contain her laughter “Sorry—I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be” Nazimova told her, noting how Eva didn’t flinch as she rests her hand upon hers.

“…I must admit, I’m not entirely unfamiliar with you” Eva said “We haven’t met, but I’ve…”

Eva seemed to search for the right words as their other hand gently made its way over Allas’

“I’m familiar with the rumours, the hearsay about you… So… I have just got to know, really”.

Allas eyes slowly landed down to the hand upon hers, then back to Evas as she slowly smiles.

They didn’t stay at the restaurant for too long, no, once they were out the door, Alla asked her

“Your place or mine?” Le Gallienne replied “…I’ve heard the Garden of Alla is a lovely place”

“Then it is off to the garden we go” Nazimova says.

She wanted to make a joke about her mother and what she’d think, but she chose against it.

Either way, they were back at Allas place, where Eva quietly asks “What would your husban—“ the words barely left her lips and the tip of her tongue when she felt the hand of Nazimova guiding her chin up, lifting her into the kiss Nazimova gave her, gentle and seductive to Eva.

“Charles doesn’t mind” Alla said, caressing Eva’s chin as Le Gallienne swoons then and there.

“How exciting” Eva told her “How cute” Alla purred

“Upstairs… My bedroom. Now” she told Le Gallienne as she removed her coat, unveiling a simple floral dress, a modest yet expensive one which wasn’t too promiscuous, her pale blue eyes were wide as she looked up at the notorious Russian actress, awestruck and hypnotised

“Understood?” Alla asked Eva “Yes… I understand”.

Nazimova couldn’t help but smile smartly to herself, she liked the feeling she got when she had in her hands a sophisticated, delicate ingénue, one she could mould in her hands and make something more promiscuous, something with a secret, something she could own…

Gently tapping Evas nose Alla told them “Upstairs”

“Yes, ma’am” she squeaked before making her way to the stairs “Oh, what about my jacket?”

“Ignore it” Nazimova told her as she practically lead them up the stairs, her eyes are soon drawn to the way Le Gallienne’s dress slowly writhed up their legs as they went up the steps.

Eva held her dress as if to give her legs more room.

They were a lovely pair of legs, and Alla admired them, and couldn’t help but imagine them around her face, or straddling her, she was silently salivating over the idea of it, unseen by Eva Le Gallienne she’d bite her lip, and once she reached the top, Eva felt Allas hands on her.

“Alla?” Eva asked before she is up against the wall—

“Oh my!” she said, alarmed but excited “Turn around” Alla told her “As you wish” Eva smiled, with her hands against the wall she found herself bent forward by Nazimova, who’d slowly but eagerly raise her skirt, admiring her boyish rump before proceeding to touch her there

“Forgive me” Alla tells her “I have been very lonely”

“I can tell” Eva purred so elegantly, Nazimova could tell that she wanted those lips of hers on hers, she once more wanted her kiss “Do you want me?” Alla asked them “Do you need me?”

“I…” for a moment, Eva was at a lost for words, before telling Nazimova “I do. I do need you”.

Roughly, Alla Nazimova grabbed her by her soft cheeks and she pulled the desperate young lady into a kiss that carried more of an animalistic intensity, one which made Le Gallienne tremble and coo in her grasps, made her knees weak and their fingers draw jagged circles…

Feeling her dress pulled up, Le Gallienne felt a coldness coming over their now exposed ass.

Even as she felt the hand of Alla Nazimova upon her, Eva simply could not help but shiver.

With Le Gallienne’s panties pulled down to her ankles, Nazimova caressed her face and ass.

As she felt her short hair stroked by Allas hand, Eva felt the other lingering around her lips…

Then they entered her mouth, exploring it for moisture and the playful tongue it held within it like a snake in its cave, Eva obediently sucked on those fingers, once she released them a long strand of spittle breaks and lands upon her shoulder, but just enough of it stays on Alla.

Eva’s almost lifted off her feet once she felt them…

She lets out a sharp breath before letting out a drag of breath, an uneven sound of pleasure and bliss as she feels the hand of Nazimova beneath them, stroking their pussy, shaved and soft to the touch as Nazimova made an effort to dig her fingers deep inside of Le Gallienne.

Her breaths grew rapid… Alla can make out words:

“Yes, fuck, don’t stop, please—Please don’t stop, oh my fucking god this is better than I… I—“

Eva lets out a deep sound from her chest to her lips

“Oh, fuck!” she said, her eyes closed shut before she leaned back into the embrace of Alla, a wave of peace coming over her face before she glanced up at Nazimova, her pretty blue eyes are enough to damn near melt the Russians heart “Sorry for the swearing… It was so rude—“

“No darling, no need for you to fucking apologise”.

Eva giggled as she rests their head against the wall

“You make it sound like a blessing” she tells them

“Ah, but I can make it sound like a curse” Alla kissed Eva behind their ear “Do you want to hear it? Do you want to bring it out of me?”

Nazimova almost growled out the last part, Eva could not help but beg “Yes; Yes I do; I do!”

“Good” Alla said so softly, spinning them around…

Grace wore this scarf like belt around her waist, one which Nazimova would tug at, dragging them along like a pet on a leash or a prisoner by their chain, albeit one of something so soft in the grip of the Russian force of nature, the lady who intends to scream and make scream.

“Make yourself comfortable” Alla told Le Gallienne

“Thank you” she said quietly “You have a lovely place” she add “And such a… Lovely bed…” Nazimova, removing her leopard print coat unveiled the form fitting black dress underneath, one whose sleeves seemed almost transparent, Le Gallienne could make out her shoulders beneath the thin fabric

“…Disrobe” Alla orders her.

Eva blushed as she heed this command, disrobing and shedding her fabrics for Alla, as she stood quaintly before them, as slowly she worked her way out of their flower covered dress, a little pout was on her face, yet her eyes hypnotised Alla Nazimova through as she dropped it.

Everything about her was so beautiful, her body had reminded Alla of renaissance paintings, the naked figures drawn by Titians Venus of Urbino or their Danaë and the Shower of Gold

“Darling” Alla purred, admiring her perky breasts “What hands’ve crafted your pretty body?”

“I… Don’t know how to answer that” Eva admitted “…Dumb luck?” she had asked Nazimova

“If so… Then I am very lucky” Alla mused to herself

“How so?” she asked her “Simple” Nazimova said as she made herself comfortable on their bed, she had one arm on the headboard when they told Eva “Come over here and find out”

Le Gallienne slipped out of her shoes and her panties before making her way towards them

“How exciting” Eva says “You’ve got no idea” Nazimova said before she kissed their breasts.

Eva winces, letting out a wimpish, almost pathetic cry as she felt the teeth against her nipple

“Ah! Oh my goodness gracious” she said delicately.

Glancing up at her, Alla smiled as she licked up her chest to her collar, dotting her neck in a series of kisses, gripping the back of her head as one of her hands crept down her pretty bod to her vagina, Eva Le Gallienne managed to stay on her feet, even as Alla Nazimova fell back.

“On the bed” Nazimova orders her “Okay, yes Alla”.

Climbing upon the bed, Eva watched as Nazimova slid herself free from the dress she wore that evening, she watched as she exposed her elegant, pale body for her eager eyes to see, gleaming in excitement with her smile as went in to kiss them, doing so for a little bit before Alla grabbed a hold of her, and once more Eva Le Gallienne’s a slave to the will of Nazimova, one more she is at the mercy of her tongue, only this time she had somewhere to lie down.

Eva was very happy to learn the rumours were true.

Eating them out, Alla Nazimovas tongue explored the loins of Eva Le Gallienne eagerly, she knew she was doing a good job at it, she could tell by the way Eva struggles to catch her own breath, the way she writhed and pushed herself further into the grasp of the Russian actress.

Even with her head between their legs, the sounds that Eva made were music to her ears…

It wasn’t long into this that she felt Eva tapping her

“Do you need any help?” Eva asked Alla Nazimova.

Flattered by the polite and gentle request Le Gallienne made, Nazimova climbed up the bed and accepted it, laying on their side as Eva went to return her the favour, though Alla would be, at first, of the opinion that she’d be needing to teach her pretty face what to do to them.

It soon occurred to Alla that Eva was experienced…

Not a whole lot, but enough for Alla Nazimova to notice and exclaim

“Oh fuck you are good!” but Eva didn’t budge, she continued to eat Alla out there on their bed, using their hands to further stimulate the Russian mover and shaker of Hollywood, damn near making her squirt

“My, my, you’re just full of surprises” Alla remarked

“I’ve done his before” Eva admitted shyly “Really?”

Nazimova asked her, a little shocked, a little aroused… Scratch that, she’s very much aroused “Yes, I… I’ve, oh you must’ve realised that by now” Eva said shyly as she continued to rub off Nazimova, though the innocence in her eyes was replaced with something far more sexual.

“You naughty little girl” Alla smiled as she once more grabbed Eva by her face, adding that “You deserve a spanking” this made Eva tremble in glee and pleasure “…Say it” Alla hissed

“Yes, I’m a naughty little brat, I need a spanking, I need a nice and hard spanking! Please…”

“Oh my goodness” Alla mused “…My toy’s broken”

La Gallienne giggled nymph-like as she snuggled up to Alla “I… I didn’t over-do that, did I?”

“No, of course not” Alla said as she reached down and grabbed their ass, making Eva jump a bit, before Nazimova asked “Now, I believe I said something about giving you a spanking?”.

La Gallienne, bent over Allas knee, would squeal as her ass is painted red by the open hand which came against it again and again, curses flowing freely from her lips as she struggles to pick between taunting, begging her, or breathing, Alla meanwhile took joy in watching her.

They went at this for a minute until Eva’s ass was numb, and her lips hungered Nazimova…

“Suck on my tits you naughty little brat, that’s rig—”

Alla interrupted herself, taken by Evas teeth as she bites down on her, letting out a cry as she tried to cross her legs, as she feels a release, squirting on the hand of Eva Le Gallienne

“Ah!” escaped both parties, Eva meanwhile rested her head on the collar of Alla, climbing up from the breasts she stimulated, kissed and nibbled on.

Both parties, exhausted yet in bliss would slowly sink into the bed, cradling one and other…

Alla Nazimova clung to her in bed, Eva felt as if she was in the grasps of a big cat in the wild.

Alla didn’t want to let Eva go as they cuddled there.

She had enough of letting those she loved out of her sight, where they could be stolen away.

Eva, out of curiosity would make the occasional glance at the notes Alla kept on her bedside.

“…Who is Rambova?” Eva asks Nazimova “A friend”

“Ah” La Gallienne said “So just a friend or a friend?”

Nazimova snuggled up closer to Eva, saying into her ear

“A Friend” which made Eva giggle “Well I’m not going to judge you, I’ve got friends too” Eva said “Oh, really?” Nazimova asked

“Yes, but they’re back in New York, surely missing me” she had lamented, sighing a little bit

“How… Convenient” Nazimova smiled to herself as she had rolled over to face Le Gallienne

“Can they do me a favour?” Nazimova asked them.

Eva didn’t seem to understand what she was trying to say “…Well, one of them’s straight—"

“Oh, sweetie, you misunderstand me… Though the other two may interest me” she tells her

“I want them to keep an eye on somebody for me”.

Chapter Text

The homesickness really kicked in a minute or more after filming for the first day had ended.

The scene wasn’t too complicated, just a meet-cute.

She catches the eye of Thomas J. Carrigan’s “Checkers” and cheered on a horse race that was going to be added in via cutaways, meanwhile in reality she and the extras were instructed to cheer on the men running an actual race on the tracks, just to make the cheers “Genuine”.

Acker was worried she startled Thomas, who was sitting right next to her when she proclaims

“That a boy!” laughing with joy on her face as her “Horse” crossed the finish line, one of the faster crewmen on set, though once she turned towards Thomas, rubbing his ears, she went shy for a second before goin’ back to giving praise.

The camera loved Jeans face and it loved her smile.

Yet the moment the director yelled “And cut!” the smile on her face slowly began to fade and fade, then after taking a deep breath, she sits back down, the directors encouragement and

“Nice work” comments seemed to weigh thin to Jean Acker as if it slowly dawned on them…

Jean Acker wasn’t sure what it was which came first, the cool breeze in the air, a far cry from the warmth of California, the realisation that Grace wasn’t in their room waiting for them, or the fact that she couldn’t feel Nazimova’s magnetic presence, that Jean felt so very…

Alone.

Stanton was accommodating enough, a friendly, boyish presence, practically a brother to her and always encouraging them to get along with her fellow cast members and to participate in their activities, but Jean was willing to work, Checkers was setting up to be an experience.

Carrigan was the films lead, a name called ”Checkers" a race horse enthusiast, who falls in love with Pert Barlow, Jeans character, despite the protests of her father, Bertram Marburgh’s wealthy Southern Judge Barlow, who had hoped his daughter would marry Arthur Kendall.

Funnily enough, both Thomas and Bertram got along just fine, both men equally stubborn.

Checkers enters Pert's horse “Remorse” into a race in which Kendall's horse is also running.

As Grace Darmond would’ve said “Hijinks ensued”.

When Kendall, who is interested in Pert mainly for her money, learns of Remorse's speed, he schemes with Alva Romaine, played by Ellen Cassidy, to keep the horse away from the track, going so far as to have the horse's freight car uncoupled from the train in which he is riding and run off an open drawbridge, the car is set on fire, but Checkers manages to save both the horse and Pert…

That scene in question was apparently why they were in New Jersey.

“Must be cheaper to blow up trains in New Jersey”

Jean remembers musing to Carrigan on what had felt like the longest train ride in her life.

So Checkers and Pert lead Remorse to a hiding place, and in an attempt to learn Remorse's hiding place, Pert is abducted by hired crooks in Chinatown and then rescued by Checkers, when Remorse's jockey is injured by Kendall's men, Pert wears the boy's clothes and rides Remorse to victory, as finally, the judge consents to a marriage between Pert and Checkers.

Her favourite cast members were Robert Elliot, the broad faced and diplomatic gentleman who played the films antagonist, and Ellen Cassidy, this blonde and blue-eyed girl who was long ago told that “Ellen Burford” wasn’t as pretty a name as “Cassidy”… Mainly the last part.

But besides from ‘em? She has one more favourite.

Jean Acker typically confided with ‘em in private…

“I’m thinking about getting them souvenirs at some point, I just don’t know what to get ‘em” she admitted to him “I mean, I don’t want to get Grace something too tacky, and Nazimova?” she took in a deep breath

“She’d want something fancy, extravagant… Something so pretty”

Jean cuts herself off “That’s not even mentioning Rambova” sighing “Oh, what should I do?”.

Save for their sniffs, their favourite tell her nothing.

Their name was Brownie, but they were otherwise known as “Remorse”, or simply the horse.

But he was more than simply “The horse”, he was the lead horse, the main one, Jean Acker could actually tell the difference between Brownie and the other horses on set, mainly due to his warm hue which reminded one of a nicely baked chocolate brownie, hence the name.

She had always seen horses as beautiful creatures.

Having been raised on a farm, she grew up with them, and she fell in love with them, there was an elegance in their movement, as well as something oddly human in their round eyes, Acker always felt at ease feeling them as they breathed, and had enjoyed riding them about.

Whenever they were by the shed, Jean Acker would find the time to confide with Brownie, yet as as the sun began to set, Jean knew their talk was done, as she knew what came next when Richard Stanton entered the shed, nodding to Brownie before asking “…You coming?”.

Jean had gotten used to hoping about from New Jersey to New York, quite liking those trips she and fellow cast members made to Manhattan, though Jean had to be pressured into it at first, she needed somebody to grab her by the arm and tell her “We’re going to New York”.

Richard Stanton was a lot less pushy in that regard

“You should try getting along with costars who don’t have hooves” he’d tell Jean Acker with a charming smile and an arm for her to hold on to.

She usually never held that arm, though strong beneath their sleeve, only when it was cold would she accept the offer, though there wasn’t typically nothing romantic, let alone sexual, she was drawn to their friendly, energetic presence, though she rolled her eyes whenever he showed off his strength, his masculinity, though in more serious situations he would keep a stone-face, a stern one, particularly when they were filming, but then?

They weren’t filming.

The gang were gonna go and paint Manhattan red.

With the exception of Bertram, he was much older, dead asleep and not much of a drinker.

The thrill seekers, with at first the exception of Jean Acker, were vaguely familiar with a place.

The place in question’s a hotel at 59 West 44th Street in Midtown Manhattan, New York City.

The Algonquin Hotel was a hotspot for the artistic and literary elite of the era, a place Jean just knew that Alla Nazimova would feel at home, so maybe that was why Jean was eager to enter it, eager to feel a hint of her familiar essence.

There was an oddly jade-like hue to the bar and lounge, though the warm lights reduced the colour to odd, dark shades to the walls and the pillars of that lavish room, although the all around liveliness had served as distractions for the actors, Jean Acker among those aimless.

But Jean was also certainly pretty, so there was that

“Madame” a waiter tells her, handing them a drink

“Oh I… I didn’t order this” she said “Someone at the round table ordered it for you” she was informed, the waiter gesturing towards this round table near one of the far more expensive looking bars in the building, the area had seemed almost secluded, somehow more etherial

“…Oh, I see” Acker said before accepting that glass

“Thank you” Jean said, emptying it just as they left.

She glanced towards the eyes whom she had caught the attention of, a collection of men and women "The Vicious Circle” as they referred to themselves, a collection of writers, critics, actors, and wits, better known to the public as the Algonquin Round Table of the hotel bar…

“Never Say Quit” Jean heard in her ear, turning around she see’s a woman looking at them

“You’re in that film, right?” Acker was confused “…How on Earth do you know that?” she asks

“It pays in my profession” the dark haired woman said, her skin carrying a vaguely olive hint

“What are you? A spy?” Jean asks, a bit amused “Nah, I run my mouth too much to be a spy” the woman admits “Are you going to make me guess?” Jean asked them “Because I can try”

“I’m too young to be a producer and I’m too womanly to be the boss of the Fox Film Corp…” she thought for a second “I give up, what are you?”

“I’m a critic” she smiled “And I recognised you from Never Say Quit, at least what I’ve seen”

“They give you people early screenings?” Jean asks

“How else would I know about that Edward Dillon picture or that you’re in it?” she asked her

“Alright… I was alright in it, right?” Jean asked ‘em

“Wasn’t anything special… Don’t worry about it, I’m a critic, not a bitch… Most of the time”.

The woman was roughly around her age, her hair dark and curly, her features Jewish and her accent unmistakably that of a New Yorker, though her dark eyes carried a gentleness, the gal known as Dorothy Parker carried a sharp tongue, being a critic for Vanity Fair and for Vogue.

“My friends call me Dottie” she told Jean, who’d say “One of my friends call me Jean Shorts”.

“…There’s a friend of mine you’ve just gotta meet”

“And why is that?” Jean asked “You seemed bored”.

Jean didn’t want to admit that, she tells her “I’m not” and Dot tells her “Nope, you won’t be”

“And why is that?” Dorothy Parker tells them “The girl friend’s a firecracker, or a time bomb”

“Girlfriend?” Jean asked her “No, no, she’s my friend but she’s not my girl, I don’t have one”.

Having nothing better to do, Jean followed Dottie to a booth, a curtain between them and

“Lulu” Dottie tells them “Your dress better be on, we’re coming in and we’ve got company”

“Just give me a sec” this muffled voice told the two.

What Jean saw first was a warm head of hair, not quite red, not crimson, but close enough to have been forgivably described as such, the woman whose head it belonged on top of was bent over a table, not in a sexual way, but she appeared to have been snorting something…

Tallulah Bankhead had suddenly arched back with freckles of white powder notable beneath her nose, her profile was a perfectly Grecian flow of line from forehead to nose like the head on a medallion, her eyes were wide and expressive as they roared “Fuck! That hits the spot”.

“Should I have seen that?” Jean asked, Dot joking:

“Like I said, y’won’t be bored… Yep, you sure know how to make an impression, don’t you?”

“Oh, fuck… Sorry” Bankhead said as she sat back up, trying to wipe the powder off her face

“Didn’t see you there” she said as she fixed herself up, brushing her unruly hair back, laying back on the couch she was on, stretching a little bit

“So, whose your new friend?” Tallulah asked her “Jean” Dorothy introduced the two, though Jean was still a little shy

“What? Is it the—Cocaine isn't ‘Habit-forming’” Tallulah assured her, waving away what she had seen as cute concern “I should know, I’ve been taking it for years”.

Shyly, Jean Acker would shake her hand “Tallulah”.

Jean was gestured to sit alongside Bankhead, who admits “I won’t be staying here for long” adding “I’ve got a date picking me up in a while, I’ve gotta freshen up and powder my nose”

“You didn’t just do that?” Jean asked her, making Dottie crack a smile to herself, meanwhile Tallulah tried not to laugh, resting their brow in one hand, holding Ackers shoulder with the other, when the laugh escaped her it was deep and hardy, carrying a dryness and a charm.

Bankhead couldn’t help but give her some wisdom

“This? This is my niche… And god help anyone who doesn’t find their… ‘Flock’, you know?” Jean nodded along, having to agree with Tallulah “I mean… Yeah, we all need to find ours”

“Well I found mine, among the actors and the stars, how about you?” Bankhead asked them

“…I guess you can say I ’ave found mine” Jean said

“They the crew you came here with?” Tallulah asked her as she fixed their messy hair “…No”

Jean sighed, lamenting that “I’m afraid that my heart is back in Hollywood, it’s complicated”

Acker could feel their smokey eyes on her “Damn shame for such a pretty face” she admitted as she puts one leg over the other, watching Acker.

Jean heard footsteps and saw a waiter entering the booth, unfazed by the mess on the table before him, instead he removed the empty bottle on the table with another, asking Acker if she needed a glass, she was about to say “No thanks” but Tallulah says “Yeah, pour her one”.

Once the waiter left, Tallulah went and fixed herself a glass, telling Dottie to fetch her friends

“Mine our yours?” Tallulah tells her “Mine” with a smile “Don’t you worry, they’re just like us”

“In what way?” Jean asked her “Actors” Tallulah said, adding quietly “The worst of the worst”.

Once Dottie left, Bankhead hands Jean a glass asked her “Y’wanna hear something funny?”

“Well… I can do for a joke, lay it on me” Acker said

“My daddy? Long ago he warned me to avoid alcohol and men when I made it to New York”

Bankhead cracked her a sly smile as she raises her glass, and leaning in closer she tells them

"He didn't say anythin’ about women and cocaine”.

Jean giggled a little bit as Tallulah sank back, just as two women soon joining Bankhead at the table, the pair were the dignified, globetrotting Estelle Winwood and the much younger and dark blonde Blyth Daly, who seemed smaller compared to the other women at the table.

“Estelle, Blyth, this is my new friend, Jean… Uh…”

“Acker” Jean said “Acker, right, right, right”

Blyth gave a much friendlier smirk than the older and much more elegant Winwood, going through her third and last pack of cigarettes of the day whilst Daly sits up next to Acker and Bankhead.

“Jean Acker” Estelle said, her English accent posh “What do you do, darling?” she asked her “Oh, I’m an actress” Jean tells them humbly “Oh? So am I” Winwood said

“My dad was one” Blyth said in a childlike, boyish voice “Arnold Daly”

“What kind?” Estelle asked Jean “A real actress or one of those heathens from Hollywood?” she cracked a smile like it was a joke, but like many a “Dignified” stage actor of her era, she openly expressed a distaste for films, of the belief that they wouldn’t catch on, that they were a passing fad and most importantly was of the idea that the images on celluloid couldn’t replace the flesh and blood performer, telling Jean

“People want the real thing, they want to see the performer, they want to feel them, read t—”

“I like movies” Blyth said “‘Moving pictures’, Blyth” Estelle said “‘Movies’ is not a real word”.

Smiling across at Jean, Daly leaned in and she tells them “I’m gonna be in them someday” her eyes wore optimism, they were clearly set on becoming a star, and clearly nothing was going to stop her, then again, almost every actor alive tended t’aim higher than reasonable.

“I’m sorry, how old are you?” Acker would ask Blyth

“Jeanie” Tallulah said, sarcastically feigning offence “You’re not to ask a lady about her age” though she’s quicker to add “But since she’s a child, all is fair”

Daly seemed a little annoyed “I’m not a child, I’m seventeen” she pauses “Sixteen actually… My birthday’s in December”

“Mine’s in October…” Jean said “The twenty-third”.

“Any plans for then?” Tallulah asked them “Oh? Mr. Stanton will probably give me a cake…” Jean seemed to think about it “Other than that? I’m not too sure what on Earth I’d do next”

“There’s plenty of stuff t’choose from” Daly said

“New York alone’s buzzing with possibilities”.

Checking their watch Tallulah tells them “I ought to freshen up for my date, whose comin’?”

“Oh, me” Daly said excitedly “Tell me all about it” meanwhile Estelle chuckled a bit, saying

“Sorry darling, you have your vices and I have mine” as she puffed away at their lit cigarette

“So how about you?” Acker was asked by Bankhead

“Well, what exactly are you suggesting we do?” Jean asked cautiously “Powder our noses?”

“Nah, just gossip about while I freshen up for my date… The fella’s a total hunk, I’m serious”

“Fine” Jean said “Don’t expect too much out of me” to which Estelle gave a sign of the cross.

Blyth followed Tallulah to the bathroom like a puppy obediently following after their master.

She had obviously looked up to Tallulah Bankhead.

Maybe it was her charm, or maybe it was her exploits, but Daly listened to her like a prophet

“So, whose your date? Anybody I’d know?” Daly asked “No… Not anyone you’d recognise” Tallulah said as she applied her lipstick “He’s a big guy, built like one of those old statutes”

“Oh? Is he now?” Daly asked “Don’t they have small—“ Bankhead cracked “Well he doesn’t” Blyth giggled gently, covering her mouth as she leaned against the sink Tallulah didn’t use

“Yeah, all I want is a hunk built like Tarzan to sweep me off my feet and call me their ‘Jane’” quipping

“In lieu of that? A cute secretary to tease”

Daly giggled and Jean tried not to blush, though Tallulah noticed and she keenly asked her “What do you use?” she asked as her fingers gently moved Jeans head side to side by their chin, before quickly realising it wasn’t a blush that could be given, it was natural, and made Jeans pale complexion go a little red around the cheeks, which made Bankhead smile a bit

“…Prudish now, aren’t you?” she asked Jean Acker

“No, not awfully so” she told Tallulah “I’m certainly no ‘Man-eater’” which had amused them “She probably is” both Bankhead and Daly said of one and other, catching all three off guard

“I mean…” Daly started, that was before asking off handedly to Tallulah “You got any grass?”.

Jean Acker didn’t know what she meant by “Grass”

“Seriously?” Bankhead asked before she pulled out some rolling paper and some marijuana

“Score” Blyth Daly said in that boyish voice of hers.

Tallulah cracked a little smile, a smug one, but there was a charm, a freedom, a flamboyancy Jean found unshakable and endearing, even if Bankhead called Acker a “Prude”, taking their seemingly dumbfounded look as that of shock, of being flabbergasted by their marijuana…

Blyth meanwhile was unfazed as she went to prepare herself a joint “They grow up so fast” Tallulah said like a proud mother, yet her eyes were those of a sultry lover, eyeing a partner, those eyes remained the same when they landed back on Jean “So… You want a little puff?”

“…What about me?” Daly asked as Tallulah took the joint “Sharing is caring, remember kid?”

“Well… Alright” she said with a pout “I wanna see if the girl from Hollywood can handle it”

“Trust me, Hollywood would eat you alive” Jean tried to put on a face Nazimova would make.

Jean almost forgot to light the joint, though luckily Bankhead was prepared with a lighter in her hand, one which she raised up only a little bit, so Jean had to lean in close to light that funny smelling joint between her fingers, once she smelled the burning, she took a drag…

Acker coughed the moment that joint left their lips.

Daly was amused, giggling a little bit at the older woman’s reaction, as she had managed to handle the weed like it was nothing, taking one or two oddly sensual looking drags from the paper she had licked shut, she almost looked as if Blyth had wanted to make a joke about it.

“No one likes a show-off” Jean said “…Funny, I do”.

Tallulah knew what power her vaguely accented voice had over the younger Blyth Daly, hell, she had seen it work on almost all the other queers she knew, and plenty of her friends, save for Estelle, she wasn’t even a lick of being a little bi-curious, but two out of three wasn’t bad.

And that wasn’t even counting dear old Jean Acker.

Bankhead could have puffed smoke into somebodies face and they’d be thanking her for it.

She did the exact same thing to Acker and heard no complaints, and neither did Blyth Daly.

“He should be waitin’ for me outside” Bankhead said checking her watch, having handed off her joint to Blyth, who eagerly began to use it “Anywho girlies, I would love to stay but can’t”

“Aw” pouted Daly “And we were having so much fun” Bankhead smirked “And we still can” she tells them “But not tonight, maybe tomorrow?”

“Do you really mean that?” Daly asked her “Yeah?” she shrugs “Jean wont be busy, will she?”

“Well I… Um, it all really depends, maybe when I’m free, or if we’re not filming tomorrow”

“Then we can only hope it rains” Bankhead told the girls before giving them a wave bye-bye.

Not before she proceeded to smack Blyth on her ass, making them hop up, clearly startled.

Blyth smiled so proudly yet weakly with their joint.

Acker could not help but watch Tallulah as she left, swaying their hips side to side alluringly.

She hated herself for doing so, ogling at a woman she barely even knew, but there was just something about her presence that had seemed so attractive, something about the way she looked at her and the way Daly shivered and trembled which made Jean shiver and tremble.

“She’s just the coolest” Blyth said “So pretty and…”

Daly didn’t have time to finish, and Jean didn’t have the time to think about what she was going to say, as both parties heard the door open and had pretended not to know each other

“Jeanie?” Ellen Cassidy asked, having not noticed her at first “The gang’s just about to leave”

“Oh” Acker said “Yes I… I think I should get going”.

Ellen had excused herself to one of the bathroom stalls when Blyth Daly had handed Jean a card, on it was a hotel and an apartment number, written in pen alongside it was “Tallulah”

“I don’t need the number anymore” Blyth whispers “I know it like the back of my own hand”.

Jean quietly thanked her with a nod before leaving the room, looking for Richard Stanton…

When she was back in the hotel she and the cast were staying at, she excused herself to her own bedroom, where she laid flat on the bed, her arms and legs out like she had just fallen from a height so extreme, her eyes remained locked on the ceiling, lit only by a single lamp.

“Dear Grace… I miss you greatly” Jean had opened

“I wanted to cry the moment filming had ended for the day, as I knew you wouldn’t be here”

Acker wrote the letter slowly and in her underwear:

“I love this cast, or at the very least I have learned to love them, if not as family or as friends then as acquaintances, but every night I wish you were here, every night I wish we could just talk or cuddle upon this small bed of mine, for I know it would feel king sized with you on it” Jean thought about it, then she crossed out “King”

“Queen” she replaces it with “I’ve made some friends, a horse named Brownie among them” Jean giggled a little as she wrote this

“Anyway, we’ve just came back from a night of drinks at the Algonquin Hotel, and right now I intend on sleeping… I’ll be dreaming of you, Glee”.

Jean stopped herself from adding “And Nazimova”.

“Yours forever, Jean (Shorts) Acker” she finished as she puts away the pen, leaving the letter to dry, intending on sending it the next day, after she was well rested and after her mind had stopped racing, tucking herself away in her bed in her undergarments, clicking off the lamp.

But in the dark she was restless… As was her hand.

What subtly pains her as she frantically rubbed one out was that she was thinking of, no, not Grace or Nazimova, but the new friend she had made, the walking temptation wrapped up in a dress that went by the name of Tallulah Bankhead, whose mess of hair Jean imagined on her belly as her vulgar lips went to work down bellow, between her legs as she feels her own fingers sharply digging into her nether region

“Oh… Fuck…” Acker lets out, only a little ashamed of herself as her collar grew hot, and as her brow began to drop a single bead of sweat, she imagined Bankhead with her hot date, yet in place of a limber man plowing away at her, Jean imagined herself, and or Nazimova, funnily in many cases Jean Acker had long pictured Alla in her fantasies instead of herself…

Either way it did the trick, and Jean drifted to sleep.

Across the Hudson, Tallulah Bankhead had climaxed in the throes of her date “Ah—Ah—Fuck!” she breathed out on their bed

“Oh fuck, that was awesome, sugar… Oh… That’s it… Thanks”

“Yeah, thanks” the young man said, close to breathless as he sat back on the bed, still erect, though going down, cum drooling from the lips of her vagina and the mouth of their penis, as he laid back, tired, Tallulah decided to check a telegram that she got earlier that morning.

It came from a friend in Hollywood… Le Gallienne.

The telegram had read: “Met Nazimova. Wants you to keep eye out for a friend. Jean Acker”.

Chapter Text

Grace Darmond would have argued that she was taking their little situation like a champion.

She’d have also said they she wasn’t crying earlier.

The tissues either in the bin or stuffed away, waiting in her purse would have said otherwise.

As would the odd little trails through her makeup, she hastily reapplied it before returning to the set, just as filming for “The Man Who Wouldn't Tell” had started for the day, asking the director, the much older James Young if it looked any good “Well, of course you look lovely”.

Though he would suggest to her she should “Smile more, well, at least before you see Earle”.

In fairness, Grace was to act scornful towards Earle.

His character was an Englishman by the name of Hawtrey Burke, who wows and captivates New York society with his charming manner and his skill at polo, but he incurs the distain of the woman he loves, Elinor Warden, Grace Darmonds character, who having returned from war-torn Belgium, cannot understand why Hawtrey is not on the front lines, putting his life and his grave on the battlefield and dying for his country, the film being set during the war.

But they had held no ill will against Earle Williams.

She did however wait on baited breaths for Jean's letters, how could she not be so curious?

How could Grace Darmond not yearn for the only woman to’ve ever truly loved them back?

Sometimes Grace had felt like the universe had it against her, that seeing her happy made it angry, disappointed, maybe even jealous, because it was hell on her love life, almost always it had snatched away the friends she yearned to be lovers with, scaring them away from her.

Grace was confused… Frankly a tad angry about it.

When lunch came around, Darmond decided to go down to a cafe not too far from the set.

She’d settle for a simple treat, a single cookie and a cup of coffee, which she’d buy from the counter before finding a small table outside to sit in, her hands around their cup for warmth

“Grace” she heard this familiar voice say, raising her hopes before she had fully recognised it

“What a pleasant surprise” Nazimova said, wearing this nice, expensive looking coat like she had the smile, though her eyes seemed genuine, highlighted by the eyeshadow she wore…

“Oh, hey Alla… What brings you?” she asked them

“Well, we were just in the neighbourhood” Nazimova said playfully “‘We’?” Grace asked Alla

“I’m showing a friend around” Alla said to Grace before she gestured to the girl, welcoming that new friend of hers into her fluffy arm, a prideful smile upon the face of Alla Nazimova as the pretty young woman introduces herself, saying

“Hi there… I’m Eva” she held out her hand with a chipper and pretty smile, oh, Grace shook her hand, but she still seemed confused, she didn’t recognise them, the young woman Alla was accompanying, but Nazimova was clearly parading them about with some kind of pride.

“Have you picked something out?” Alla asked Eva Le Gallienne “Maybe a brownie?” Eva said

“I think I’ll have one too” Nazimova said “Be a doll and fetch one for me, if it’s not too much”

“No, of course not” she smiled delicately as Alla tells her “I’m just going to chat with Grace”. 

After Eva Le Gallienne left them be, Nazimova sat beside Grace, both women silent, Alla was clearly waiting for Darmond to speak, and Grace was waiting for Nazimova to leave them be

“…I see you’ve moved on quite quickly” Grace said

“Oh, please” Alla said “I miss Jean as much as you do” she couldn’t help but pour some salt onto the fresh wounds of Darmonds lonely heart…

“Maybe even more than you” Alla smiled to herself

“I’m not the one fucking around while the girl I love is out of town” Grace would quietly hiss

“No” Alla said “You’re wallowing about while I’m frolicking” audibly emphasising “Licking”

“And besides, what makes you think we are doing that? She could just be another protege” with a look in her eyes she asked

“Whose to say that you’re not now the focus of my efforts?” Darmond wanted to jump once she felt Allas hand.

A bit of Grace also wanted to throw her coffee in her face, but she figured Nazimova would have someway, somehow, liked it, and very much, she’d have had better luck throwing water on her, like she were some feral cat, though she was far less likely to do that to an actual cat.

Grace would frown as she ate that chocolate chip cookie, a fat one that had softly crumbled

“So, any plans for this evening? Apart from crying?”

“…Drinking” Grace admitted, before Alla told her “Come to dinner, we can both cry over her”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry” Grace scoffed “In person, that is… Even when Jean left”

“You couldn’t see them behind yours” Nazimova said “…Rivers seeped wildly from my eyes” before asking Darmond “Can I have a bite of that?”.

Grace seemed unimpressed “What, you can’t wait for your new pet project to fetch you one?”

“Please?” Alla asked her with this sweet pair of eyes, dark yet warm, at least, it made Grace feel warm in her belly and her head, she was almost starting to wonder if she spilt her coffee

“Only ‘cause you said please” Grace told Nazimova

“Thank you” Alla said as she gently snapped a piece off of their cookie, putting it up to their mouth before eating it, savouring every bite as she sat back, seeming to still linger her eyes upon Grace Darmond, who asked her

“What do you want of me? What do you really want?”.

Softly patting away the crumbs, Nazimova told her:

“Grace, I see you are aching, I know you are aching because frankly? I am aching, suffering… And we suffer for the same reason… The same woman, one so sweet and caring, and really too good for either of us… So, let us fill this Jean Acker shaped hole of ours together, okay?”

Grace went a bit quiet, not sure as t’how to answer.

She could admit that she needed somebody to talk to, somebody who understood her plight and wouldn’t judge her, and Nazimova of all people would understand it, as she too loved the same woman she loved…

But at the same time? Exactly that, she loved whom she loved.

“I’ve gotta go” Grace tells her “It’s not me hating your guts, just that my lunch break is over”

“You know where to find me” Nazimova smirked, lingering their hand around Grace’s hand, amused by how slowly it took for Grace to brush it away, how little she had seemed to resist.

When Darmond left, Eva asked “…Is she a friend?”

“She’s seen me naked on more than one occasion, and I’ve seen her naked on occasion too”

Alla told her casually “Let’s say we share a friend”…

Back in her apartment, once filming had ended, Grace Darmond found herself alone in the apartment she and Jean Acker shared the rent on, it was there Grace wrote a letter for Jean, which had became something therapeutic for her, something that soothed and moved her.

“Dear Jean Shorts, we’re all missing you like crazy”

Grace opened “I can’t stop thinking about you, then again, it must be the fact that I’m here in your place but you’re not here, everything reminds me of you, and I both love and hate it” she pauses for a second

“I mainly love it” she adds.

Grace wrote a little about what she did that morning and what has changed since the two had last met, though she chose against telling Jean of Eva Le Gallienne or Nazimovas offer, even if Jean was telling her and Alla to play nice…

“Yours forever, Grace Darmond” she finished, though hastily she added something under it

“P.S., I’m gonna send you a little present on your birthday, or at least I’m gonna try it for you”.

Licking her envelope shut, she readies it for the next day, before slowly slumping in her seat.

“I’m going to hate myself for this” Grace thought “I am really going to hate myself for this”.

So that night, Grace made their way to the Garden.

There was already a spot at the table waiting for her, and this very tasty spaghetti bolognese dish, still warm, across the table sat Alla Nazimova, Eva Le Gallienne sitting close by her side, the pair were deep in conversation, Nazimova didn’t even notice Grace before she sat down.

Alla Nazimova said “Oh, how nice of you to join us”

“Yeah, seems like it” Grace said a tad awkwardly, as she made herself comfortable, prodding her spaghetti, which Grace had to admit tasted really good, but she knew Alla didn’t cook it, she obviously had a private chef whip it up for ‘em.

Grace felt this napkin slide off the table, brushed off by her elbow, so she went to pick it up…

Beneath that table Grace could see Nazimova, shoeless, playing footsies with Le Gallienne.

She tried her best not to get too hung up on it, the fact that Nazimova claimed to miss Jean, yet she was alright with playing about with a girl who, apart from looking young, she didn’t know, instead she swiped the napkin off the floor and came up like nothing had happened.

“So… How did you meet?” Grace asks Le Gallienne

“Oh, she heard about me and I heard about her so… I came” Eva shrugged with a cute look

“I’m sure you did” Grace said “So, how about you?” Eva asked her “How did you meet Alla?”

“Well, I heard about her…” Grace said, planing on leaving it at that before Alla said casually

“Oh, I and an acquaintance of mine were making love with her girlfriend… She was angry” before the last part could even be said, both Eva and Grace spat out their drinks, surprised…

Well, Grace wasn’t, she was annoyed that Alla bragged about it, but Eva had more questions

“Don’t worry” Alla assured her “Grace got over it…”

“Did she?” Eva asked “…Did I?” Darmond quipped “I really just remember hate fucking you”

“Hate is such a strong word” Alla said “It was a fitting one” Darmond said enjoying their food

“Fucking is also a stron—“ Eva started before Alla teased “We’ve all heard much vulgar words” adding with sexuality “In fact, I remember you cursing like a sailor our first night together”

Grace didn’t get to hear what she whispered to her.

Whatever she said, Eva giddily went back to eating.

“Enjoy” Nazimova tells Grace Darmond, raising a glass to her… In return, Grace simply nods.

Eva Le Gallienne was the first to finish her meal, and it seemed that she an agreement with Nazimova beforehand, as Grace watched Eva hastily wiping away at the sauce stains on their face before vanishing off with Alla, with a giddiness which reminds Grace of Natacha and…

T’be fair, everything seemed to remind her of Jean.

Alla and her new pet were absent for quite a while, long enough for Darmond to wonder if it would be a good idea for her to just go home and leave Nazimova a “Thank you” on a note or a napkin, that was ’til she heard Allas footsteps coming down the stairs, sounding lighter. She dressed more comfortably, less formal, in fact, almost too comfortable, wearing this robe which, despite how tightly she tied it, would on occasion gently slip, showing off the skin of her shoulder or the strap of her sleepwear, though a good part of her legs were on display

“Did y’tuck your kid to bed?” Darmond asked them

“She’s not my child” Alla said, almost lamenting “In fact, I think that I may never have one”

“You got a problem with that?” Grace asked her “…No” Nazimova said with a cute little pout

“But yes, Eva was tired, so I did put her to bed, the young Le Gallienne sleeps like an angel”.

Silence returned, Grace contemplates going home

“Did you enjoy the dinner?” Alla asked her “…Yeah, dinner was nice” Darmond said as she wiped away at the sauce on her face, though she missed a spot, which Nazimova was more than happy to point out, just as long as she was able to gently swipe it off of her round face, starring at Darmond as she licks it off of her finger.

Grace shifted in her seat before Nazimova asked her “Have you heard anything from Jean?”

“No, not yet” Grace said “Have you?” she asks “No… But I intend on changing that with Eva”

“Her?” she asked Alla “The girl is more than just looks, she has friends all about in New York”

“So you want them to keep an eye on her?” Grace asked, almost impressed by Alla Nazimova

“Yes” she said sitting in a chair next to Grace, perching one leg over the other “…You like it?”.

Grace Darmonds eyes hastily arose t’meet Allas, having lingered on Nazimovas crossed legs

“Yeah, it’s uh, it’s a good idea” Alla smirked “I was talking about my robe” she said smartly

“Yeah, it’s nice and…” Grace searched for the word

“Red” she settled on, though it was really a toss up between that “Sexy” and or “Revealing”, but she figures Alla Nazimova already knew that… Why else would she teasing her like this?

“Just… What kind of friends are we talking about?”

“Why you ask?” Nazimovas asked “…There’s a lot of friends one could have in this industry”

“Real ones and fake ones?” Alla asked Grace so playfully “Well… What kind does Eva have?”

“Friends in the arts, and friends with benefits” Grace asked “You worried?” Alla asked “Why?”

Darmond tells Alla “You know what artists are like”

“…Hah” she said, seeming amused “Yes, I do… But there is only one me in this wild world”

“Humble as usual” Grace said “Funny as usual” Alla said, still smiling as she slowly sat back, she was glancing up at Grace from her downward slant, her eyes magnetic and venomous

“…But there’s plenty of girls like you in this world”

“Did you wait this entire dinner to tell me that?” Grace asked, her mild annoyance showing, Nazimova seemed to think about it, before saying “Oh? No, I have something else in mind”.

Grace stayed still as Nazimova made her way out of her chair, as she slowly stalked Darmond in her seat, her eyes fixed on Grace as she circled them, her fingers lingering upon the chair

“Now, I don’t wish to see you worrying about our perfect, beloved, Jean Acker as they are off” Alla said “Jean would be so angry if I allowed that”

“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve made her angry” Grace said before Nazimova adds

“And her being angry at me means she would be harder to coerce into bed and on my lap…” her fingers seemed to dance on the chair “Since she wants us to play nice… Why don’t we?”.

Grace Darmond knew from the beginning that was what Alla Nazimova had really wanted…

“You’ve gotta be kidding me” Grace softly laughed

“Why would I do that?” Nazimova asked her, she was practically looming over her shoulder like she was the devil trying to tempt her, wanting to whisper deeply into her ear all of the cruel intentions she had in mind, like she wanted Grace to reek in all the sickly sweet desire that flowed like wine from their deep, dark red lips.

“Why would I want to give our dear and sweet Jean another reason to cry?”

Alla asked her in a voice that sounded like what one would use when talking to a baby

“And why would you?” Alla almost sung this in Grace’s ear, for a second Grace Darmond had deeply closed her eyes.

She could almost feel Alla nibbling upon her ear…

“I don’t want her to cry” Grace said as she opened her eyes, arching her head back, uttering

“She’s done enough crying” admitting that “I hate it when I see it, when I see her crying…”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen it” Alla admitted, although she clarified “Out of sadness, that is”.

Her fingers leapt from the chair to their shoulders, almost massaging Grace as she tells them

“I only ever like seeing their tears of joy, and bliss”.

Grace took in a deep breath as she felt Alla creeping in closer behind them, as softly she asks

“Don’t make her cry… Let us make Acker as happy as a queer puppy when she comes back”

Darmond trembled and Alla knew it “Lets fill this Jean Acker shaped hole in our lives, okay?”.

Grace had drifted up to her feet before she felt it…

Grace did her best to try and not act phased by it, the kisses that adorned her face and lips, a look of un-amusement was on her face at the start, more akin to annoyance, yet slowly she’d let down her guard, and slowly she’d return the favour to the female Russian force of nature.

Slowly, Alla Nazimova had circled her, and spun Grace to face her, to look her in the eyes, yet Darmond couldn’t bring herself to do it directly, she tried to turn her face from her, as Allas lips, as inviting as they were, couldn’t shake away Grace’s discomfort or feelings of betrayal.

No, Grace wasn’t betrayed, but she felt as if she was stabbing Jean in the back with what she was doing, even if this was what Acker had wanted.

“Come” Alla tells Grace “On demand?” Grace quips

“Up. My. Stairs” Alla Nazimova said almost sternly, to Grace her fingers lingering on her neck and chin, guiding her eyes to hers “Please, Grace?”.

Before she knew it, the two of them were going up the stairs, and entering Allas room, yet all Grace could think about at first was “Will Jean ever forgive me?” wanting desperately not to spit in the face of what she felt was the universes’ one gift to her, the only bone it ever threw.

Darmond almost didn’t notice that somebody else was in that room with her and Nazimova.

Eva Le Gallienne was on a chair sitting in the corner, only in her undergarments… And rope.

She seems surprised by Grace, but no, not alarmed

“I may have lied when I said I put her to bed” Alla admitted, Grace just had to ask Alla why she tied her up

“It’s simple, I’ve had enough of people leaving my side”

Nazimova admitted “Fret not, she knows what she is in for” Alla smiled:

“What you are in for” she smiled as she grabbed Grace from behind, squeezing her breasts, a frightened sound escaped Darmond, who almost jumped out from her stockings before a groan escapes the gagged, muffled Le Gallienne, Grace couldn’t tell if Eva had liked it or not.“Get on your knees for me” Alla told Grace “Please”

“Hm” Darmond said, not really wanting to do that—

“I said on your knees” Alla said a bit more forceful, a firm hand was planted on her shoulder, and before Grace knew it she was on her knees, a gentle gasp escaping her as this occurred, she pouted and wore an angry, grumpy face, but Nazimova found it appealing and just cute

“How cute” Alla tells her “You act all tough and moody and it just makes you look adorable. Do you know how many would suffer for my eyes on theirs, a vague hint of my attention? How many would crawl and beg at my feet for my spit against their lips…” Alla said this as she drags a finger against the lips of Grace Darmonds resting bitch face, salaciously adding

“On the tip of their tongue” as she pressed that finger between her lips, finding her tongue.

“…Down their throat!” Alla groaned, suddenly shoving three digits into their pretty mouth, the eyes of Darmond went wide with what looked like terror, but Nazimova?

Hers roll back…Grace Darmond looked as if she had wanted to bite down tight on that hand, but she didn’t.

She moaned beneath them, though it was difficult.

Eva made more sounds, excited and amused sounds which made it clear she liked this show.

But one could have guessed quite easily that Eva Le Gallienne had wanted in on their fun…

Alla loosened her robe, allowing it to fall down, yet one sleeve remained on for a moment.

“Fuck! That actually hurt!” Darmond complained once that hand had sharply left her mouth, her jowls were sore and her cheeks felt hollow and red, before Alla gently kicked their robe aside towards Eva, it lands around her feet and her toes can not help but play with their silk.

Le Gallienne watched as Grace is tossed on the bed

“Sorry” Alla said, clearly not “I don’t know my strength… Plus, Jean could take much worse”

“I’m only doing this for her” Grace said with a grumpy expression on her face, Nazimova is quick to respond

“Keep telling yourself that ‘Glee’”

“Only Jean calls me that” Darmond told her

“I will call you anything I want” Nazimova purrs, her hand around Grace’s neck as she sat up beside her, forcing a kiss against her plump lips before practically ripping Grace Darmonds shirt off.

Eva watched gleefully as Grace begrudgingly allowed Alla to tear her clothes to shreds, she would have been more gleeful if her hands were free, if she was permitted to masturbate to the show Nazimova was putting on, especially once Alla had clawed away at Grace’s panties.

Once her hand was there, Grace was put to the test.

“Fuck… Fuck…” Darmond lets out as she stretched

“I should put a bar of soap in that dirty mouth of yours”

Alla said “…Or maybe up your ass”

“Mh… Gr… Ugh…” Grace could only let out sounds, primal grunts as she tried to hold back, as she tried to ignore how fucking amazing it felt, both women too prideful to admit to faults

“You like the idea?” Alla teased “No… No—I… I…”.

Alla noticed the cute and nervous face she made as the hand left her panties, she wondered if it was over, that was until Nazimova undid her bra for Darmond, and slowly she lowered them, until her lips, quivering and trembling like the rest of her, lingering by their breasts…

Grace looked up at Nazimova, smiling down at her with superiority and smugness

“…Well?” Darmond avoids her eyes and went to suckling on her like a piglet, Alla gripped the back of her head, their smug face never seizing, only subsided by her pleasure and her satisfaction.

Eva Le Gallienne would have shared it if she wasn’t cursing to herself “No! It should be me!”.

Nazimova could see it in her eyes and read it on her face, and it only made her gently giggle to herself as the tongue of Grace escaped her own lips, dragging across Nazimovas nipples

“Pretend I’m Jean” Alla instructed Grace so sweetly “What would you do if I were her, hm?”

“You’re not” Grace said “But if you were, you’d be falling over yourself to let me finger you”

“She does tend to fall over herself” Nazimova said.

So, Alla allowed Grace to fondle and finger her, she lets out a gentle groan brought about by Grace’s lips on her breasts and fingers in her pussy, stimulating Nazimova, who comes close to falling back before a loud, muffled sound had escaped Eva Le Gallienne, tears in her eyes.

“What’s the matter?” Alla asked, leaving Darmond.

Pulling down the gag, Eva tells her with eyes so pretty, even with the tears “I want to join in”

“Ah” Nazimova said, putting it back in before proceeding to remove her panties, she’d hold them in her hands before lingering them in front of Eva “How rude of me” Alla would pout.

She’d turn to face Darmond, laying upon their bed

“Doesn’t she remind you of anyone?” Alla asked her as she allowed Eva to rest her head next to one of her breasts, her dry mouth thirsting beneath their gag, her lips were struggling to give her anything more than a gentle graze when she had really wanted to suckle from Alla, she gave Eva the panties, laying them on her chest.

“Now… Where were we?” Nazimova asked Grace “I think we were about to scissor” she said “Ah, I like that”

Alla said salaciously before forcing Grace back on the bed, they were facing the doorway, the pillows to their feet as their legs intertwined and as Alla dominated Grace.

The strong wooden legs of the bed shook, friction between them as they scissored got them red hot beneath their now naked collars, as a steady stream of desperate gasps and cries of pleasure escaped them, as Grace closed her eyes shut, imaging Jean Acker within her grasp.

“Fuck… Fuck! Fuck! Fugh—Fuh… Fuck!” Grace says

“You like that? Tell me you like it!” Alla told them “I love it… I fucking love it, Jean… I love—“

“Hah!” Nazimova said “That’s it, pretend I’m jean” she said “Pretend I’m your precious Jean”

“I love her… I love her” Grace uttered as the pair neared their climax “More… More than…” what sounded like “You!” escaped Grace’s throat…

The pair climaxed amidst their rutting, Alla kept on going for a little longer as Grace tried to catch her breath, their juices mixing and staining the sheets beneath them as Darmond stirs on the bed, her words a jumbled mess of vague insults and gratitudes, her mind just numb.

“That was fun” Alla said amidst her breaths “Wasn’t it?” she asks a now seemingly shy Grace

“…Yeah” Grace admits to her, sounding exhausted.

“That was wonderful!” Eva said, their loins soaking

“Glad you enjoyed it… Now go to bed” Alla told her “Aw, come on, that’s just got me going”

“No” Alla said coming in closer to her, their leg between hers as they loom over her, saying

“That finished you off” Eva’s weak response, her faint moaning only proved Nazimovas point

“I’ll unite you, then I’ll tuck you to bed, okay, Eva?”.

She nodded some more before Grace began to doze off, her eyes fixated upon the ceiling…

Grace wouldn’t have called herself devoutly religious, not in that point of her life, although she was baptised a Roman Catholic, which came from bein’ of both Italian and Irish descent, but in a funny kind of way she was praying…

Praying that Jean Acker could ever forgive her. 

Grace Darmond would lazily make her way further up the bed, finding comfort on the other side with a pillow behind her head before Nazimova entered the room, wearing only a robe

“Yeah… You fucked up my shirt” Darmond told her

“Did I?” Alla asked before inspecting the shirt “…Oh shit, where are the buttons?” she asked, Grace tried to retrace her steps from on the bed, her dainty hands circling the room a little before Nazimova tells her

“I’ll just have Natacha repair it, no harm, no foul” tossing it aside.

As those two laid back, Grace Darmond spoke up…

“How the fuck does Jean put up with us?” she asks.

Alla raised her eyebrow as she thought of an answer to Graces question “…A lonely heart?”

“Yeah, or maybe the two of us are just damn persistent… Like a messy election, or periods”

“Well, I wouldn’t describe myself along those lines” Alla said, sure of herself in the comfort of her own bed, enjoying the covers they are under

“Lets face the facts” Grace said “We’re both jealous and greedy little things after Jean Acker”

“Yes” Alla said “I’ll admit it, but at the end of the day, we’ve all got to be just a little jealous”

Nazimova bit her lip at the thought of Grace, she could still taste her on her lips and tongue.

“Now… I know you don’t want to sleep alone” Alla tells them so invitingly “Sleep with me”.

“If you touch me in my sleep, I am going t’scream”

“I didn’t take you for somebody so sensitive” Alla said with this devilish grin “My, my, my…”

“In your ear” Grace added as she made herself comfortable in that bed of theirs, rolling her eyes as she laid on her back, but still Nazimova rolls over to face her “I see why she likes you”

“Because I don’t have a cock?” Darmond asked her

“Because you like to do the hard work, you like to put your back into things. You try so hard”

Grace couldn’t help but smile a little bit to Alla “I’ve heard just enough innuendo for today” she said before going for the lamp on their side of the bed, struggling for a bit before they finally found the switch, turning off the warm light.

She felt a set of lips against her cheek, and a voice uttering in her ears “Sweet dreams, Glee”.

Chapter Text

“Met Nazimova. Wants you to keep eye out for a friend. Jean Acker” Eva’s telegram had read.

Tallulah smiled devilishly to herself as she reads the telegram once more, she simply could not believe her luck, even in the glow of the day and of her own sex, though she wore their glow like it was a perfume, one to entice, one to flaunt, one t’make men and women go wild.

God willing, Jeanie would be among their enticed.

Blyth Daly was in her apartment, not far away from Bankhead’s, her head was against the window as she eyed the skies up ahead, not quite grey but not really blue, frankly pale really

“Please let it rain” Blyth said looking out the window “Pretty please?” she had asked the sky.

The ringing of her telephone had alarmed her enough to almost jump and bump her head.

She was quick to answer “Hello?” Blyth Daly asked

“This is Bankhead” she heard “…Oh, hi there Lula”

“I didn’t call at a bad time, did I?” Blyth answered “Not at all” she tried to sound nonchalant as she leaned against the table the telephone was on, her eyes slowly made their way to this framed photograph she could not help but stare at, one of her best friend, Eva Le Gallienne

“What’s ailing you?” Daly asks “What d’you want?”

“Blyth, darlin’ I need you to do me a favour, okay?”

“Gladly” she said “So just what’s the favour again?”

“Someone needs to carry my jacket… Listen, I need you to tag along with me to New Jersey”.

Across the Hudson, Jean Acker would send their letter off through the mail, hoping it would reach her beloved friends in Hollywood, before she had breakfast with the rest of the crew, settling on a muffin and a simple glass of water, a cold one at that, as would their director.

Since the days forecast had predicted rain, they would mostly be filming some indoor scenes

“The judges living room, right?” Jean asks Stanton

“That, and the lounge Kendall and Alva Romaine plot and scheme” Richard tells Jean Acker.

Once their breakfast was over and the rain began to gently fall, they were on set preparing, Ellen Cassidy, playing Alva Romaine would ask Jean to help her with her makeup

“Um, okay” Jean said, helping them out in their dressing room

“I wanna go for something vampy, but not a whole lot” Ellen told her “So a lot of eyeliner?”

“Yeah!” Cassidy said “Yeah, that should work just fine she said presenting her face to them.

The pair gossiped about the news, about “That flu from Spain” as Ellen puts it, admitting that

“I don’t remember its name” Jean Acker says “I just hope it doesn’t screw anything up for us” telling them “I think I’m just going to crash on my bed the moment I get back to Hollywood”.

Acker left out whom she would be crashing with…

“I mean, have you seen what happened in Philadelphia?” Ellen asked Jean “What exactly?”

“They had this massive parade around the end of September, then just a couple days later?” she dragged her thumb across her neck and she made this sick sound “There’s an epidemic”

“Well, it’s not here” Jean said, to which Ellen said “Heard rumours of cases here and there—“

“Done” Acker told her, showing them their eyeliner in the mirror “They look so bloody evil”

Ellen smiled “In a good way” before Jean was told by a member of the crew “You’re needed”.

Richard Stanton would direct Jean Ackers interaction with Thomas J. Carrigan, the scene was a simple one by a fireplace, her character was continuing a conversation with Toms about the horse her family owned, Remorse, before her father enters the room and asks who Tom is…  Jean was to be a little surprised when her father entered the room, though not dramatically so, just enough for the audience to see her eyes go a little wide before Checkers noticed, but Jean was certainly surprised t’see Tallulah and Daly

“And cut!” Richard said, hearing “Bravo! Bravo!” over his shoulder, surprising him a little bit

“Uh…” he looked at Jean who tells him “Friends of mine” admitting “I met them last night”

“Did you invite them to the set?” Stanton asked her “Dottie told us where you were filming”

Tallulah said “Don’t worry, we just came for Jeanie”.

Luckily for them, Jean had would have some time to talk with them once filming her scenes were over, at least for the day, and as soon as that and their mandated lunch break came?

So, Acker showed Bankhead and Daly into a stable not too far from where they were filming, Jean Acker asked them if they wanted to meet the star of the film

“What, besides from you?” Tallulah asked her “Count me in” Blyth said excitedly

“Well… Here he is” Jean said proudly as she presents Brownie to Tallulah and Blyth Daly.

There was a second of silence before the three of them laughed “This is Brownie” Acker told them, adding

“I get to ride him to victory at the end of the film” Bankhead’s clearly amused

“Lucky stallion” she joked before Jean encouraged them to touch him “Be gentle with them”

“Darling, I’m as soft as butter” Bankhead told Jean.

Brownie seemed to agree, not seeming deterred or annoyed by the hand gently drifting up and down alongside their neck, Blyth was a little slow to join, but she too would caress him, a sense of ease coming over them, though she frankly couldn’t stop starring at its long face

“It looks… Funny” Blyth said of Brownie “You look funny” Jean said, almost feigning offence as she encourages them to feed the horse, having handed the pair some apples

“Come on” she said to them “It’s easy, just hold it in your palm, oh and try and keep your fingers open”.

She demonstrated with an apple, feeding it to him.

Blyth was cautious when she fed Brownie, the horse tilted its head to the side as it came in closer, from where she stood she could smell its odd breath, she heard it smelling the apple before she saw its lips and teeth come around their green apple, proceeding to eat it whole.

“Seems easy” Tallulah shrugged with confidence…

Every time Tallulah tried? She couldn’t keep it firmly in the palm of her hand, meaning every time Brownie tried to grab it with his teeth, he kept on brushing it off her hand, at times he tried to use his tongue, long and bizarre looking, which only made Bankhead wince a little and just drop the apple whenever she felt it against her hand, made her arm recoil, startled and a little embarrassed, especially once Blyth said

“Dang it, Tallulah, it’s easy, let me try…”.

But Brownie proceeded to swat it out of their hand

“I think he wants Bankhead t’do it” Jean told Blyth.

It would be after a long series of trial and error that finally, Bankhead managed to feed him.

The three of them almost would explode into cheering, Tallulah Bankhead yelling “Finally!” before quickly composing herself as Blyth gave her a hug

“That was funner than expected” Tallulah admitted, almost trying to shrug this off, though she didn’t mind Daly’s snuggling.

“Alright… So whose up for going back t’my place?”

Bankhead asked them “When filming is over, of course” she added, her eyes on Jean Acker

“Oh, me!” Blyth said “That was a given, I was asking the girl of the hour” Tallulah told them

“Well, I don’t think the crew has plans for tonight, and Stanton did tell me to make friends”

“Perfect” Bankhead said “Just absolutely perfect”…

Jean hoped her excitement didn’t show in her performance for Richard Stanton’s camera, as they were filming a relatively serious scene, but if it did resonate, then he didn’t bring it up, and since he was the kind to say so, Jean Acker figured she was doing a very good job at it.

When all was said and done, she had vanished off.

Back in her apartment, Bankhead would show Jean around “This is a nice place” Acker said, though she kept her eyes away from the floor, as it was a bit of a mess, clothes lay scattered and the table was adorned with glasses, cups and plates, some of them are stacked together “Sorry I didn’t clean up… I just didn’t think you gals would actually take me up on the offer”

“You know I would have done so in a heartbeat” Blyth tells Tallulah “Well, you’re used to me”

“Whose are these?” Jean asked holding up a pair of underwear, to which Tallulah responded

“Oh? Probably from my date last night” Jean promptly flicks ‘em away with a hint of disgust

“What was he like?” Blyth asked “…He was alright”

“Meaning what?” Tallulah smirked “Good enough”.

As Bankhead went to fetch the two of 'em drinks, Jean had wanted to know more about her

“Where exactly are you from?” Jean asks Bankhead

“Oh me? I was born Huntsville” Tallulah told them

“…But I mostly lived in Jasper, Alabama” she almost shrugged at this before she went on to add that “They called my home Sunset”

“It’s a pretty name” Jean said “It was a pretty place, classical and fancy, built for my grandpa”

“Was he rich?” Tallulah smirked to herself as she poured two glasses for Jean and for Blyth

“Gramps was a senator, so… I’d say he was rich…”

Jean seemed amused and intrigued before asking about her family life, about her parents

“My daddy was rich and my mommy was dead about three weeks after I entered the world”

“I’m sorry to hear that” Jean said to Tallulah Bankhead “Which part?” she promptly asked her

“The mommy I wish I knew a little better or the daddy who, right now is in Alabama's 10th?”

“…Tenth what?” Jean asks “Congressional district”.

Bankhead went on to explain to Jean “I was a terror growing up, an absolute menace, this chubby little thing, cartwheeling, singing and rolling all over the place, if I didn’t get what I wanted I’d hold my breath until I was blue… Or ’til grandma threw a bucket of water at me”

“That doesn’t sound too nice of her” Jean admitted

“Well, she did encourage me to make myself…” Bankhead looked for the right word “Pretty”

“Amen to that” Daly said after being handed a drink, Jean too was handed one, as the three began to lounge about in the living room, Bankhead in particular eloquently upon a couch.

“None for you?” Jean asked them “…No, I’m good"

“So when did you decide to get into acting?” Jean would inquisitively ask Tallulah Bankhead

“From an early age I had wanted to be something else” she said “Prettier, funnier, you know” she added that “Back in the day, kindergarten really, I was good at imitating all my teachers” she stops herself

“I’ve got this funny story about it”

“Oh? Do tell” Jean said as she took a sip, noticing the playfulness in the eyes of Bankhead

“My first performance, it was at this party my aunty was hosting, I won the prize for the top performance, it was with this imitation of my old kindergarten teacher… And the judges?”

“…Am I supposed to guess it?” Jean asked Tallulah

“…The fucking Wright brothers… I am not joking”.

Jean Acker was impressed and in a bit of disbelief, that not only did she succeed early on in her life, but she had even gained the attention of the builders and flyers of the first airplane, well, unless one were to ask somebody like Alberto Santos-Dumont, he would say otherwise.

“I swear to god I’m being serious” Tallulah told her.

“How about you?” Blyth Daly asked Jean after taking a very long sip “How did you find out?”

“How did I… How did I realise I wanted to be an actress?” Jean asks them for clarification

“Yes, well, mine isn’t as entertaining as Bankhead’s, I just found that I enjoyed performing”

“What did you do before Hollywood?” Tallulah asks

“Vaudeville” Acker admits humbly “I was in the chorus line” she joked “But never the lead” she could almost feel the drinking kicking in “Eventually I was noticed, then eventually I…”

“Caught the attention of Hollywood?” Tallulah asked her “Yes” she tells her “Alla Nazimova”.

Blyth Daly seemed excited to learn this, asking her

“You know Alla Nazimova?!” seeming ecstatic before hounding Jean with questions, asking

“Tell me everything: What’s she like? Is her accent as beautiful as her eyes? Is she actually—“

“Daly” Bankhead said with a kind of authority in her tone “Give Jeanie some time t’breathe”

“Come on! She can’t just tell me she knows Nazimova and leave it at that! I need to know!”

“Why don’t we take this somewhere more private?” Tallulah asked Jean, getting up from the couch and gently tugging their arm “Come, come”

“I… Sure, why not?” Jean shrugged, following Bankhead to her bedroom, followed by Daly.

Tallulah, after showing Blyth out the room would sit beside Jean, asking “Is the gossip true?”

“What gossip exactly?” Jean asked “Because I find that all kinds of rumours exist out there”

Tallulah chuckled a little bit “That Alla is a carpet-muncher… Among other things, of course”

“No, I’m told that she isn’t—I mean, she is married”

“Well, plenty of people do it” Bankhead told her

“Do what?” Jean asks “Both” Tallulah joked with a shrug

“But some folks do it, queer ones, they marry each other to hide in plain sight”

“That would be assuming Charles Bryant is also gay” Jean said “Or likes to watch”

Lula said “No issue there… I know Blyth probably does that”

Jean Acker and Bankhead both laugh over this, though as the laughs subside, Tallulah asked

“Are you telling me that a pretty girl like you doesn’t get any looks from the White Russian?”

“She at least knows I exist” Jean said humbly “She’s willing to help, she’s gotten me this far”.

Bankhead refilled her glass “Well, how could she not?” she asked Jean Acker, their shoulders touched as Jean’s glass is poured

“…Don’t you want any?” Jean asked Tallulah thoughtfully

“Sorry, I still gotta keep at least half of my promise”

“Which one?” Jean asked “The one I made to my daddy, remember? I told you it last night” Bankhead came in a little closer to Jean

“You know, the one about avoiding booze and men”.

Jean slowly remembered it, just as she felt Bankhead nuzzling up closer to her as she teased

“Daddy didn’t say shit about cocaine and… Babes”

Acker almost coughed out her drink when she realised that Tallulahs hand was on their leg.

“…Oh, no” Jean said turning them down “No I…” Tallulah Bankhead had seemed surprised, not as much as Acker, but pretty close

“No I am flattered that you think that of me” she told Tallulah, who sat back, her glass still at hand as she puts her back up against the headboard, a curious look in her eyes as she silently wondered what Jean was thinking, what kind of guy or gal did Acker have back West in order for her to plainly reject their advances just like that.

“I have someone waiting for me” Jean told Tallulah

“Oh really?” Bankhead asked Jean “So, who is he?”.

Jean seemed hesitant to answer, which would only prompt Tallulah to ask

“…Who is she?” Jean again couldn’t answer, she avoids looking her in the eyes when she asks

“Nazimova?”

“Yes—No… I mean… Yes, she’s waiting for me to come back, but I… There’s another who I—“

“I didn’t know you were a player” Bankhead said, sounding amused “No, I am not like that”

“I am” Tallulah said to Jean “…Nothing wrong with having a little fun in a world going crazy”.

Acker seemed a little annoyed by Bankhead’s persistence, she had wanted to turn her down.

Yet she couldn’t help but feel her eyes occasionally flicker to Tallulahs legs as they readjust…

“So… This other woman” Bankhead said in that husky “Mezzo-basso” voice of hers, asking “Is she here in town? Or is she back in Hollywood?”

“Back” Jean admitted with melancholy showing…

“How long has it been?” Bankhead asked since

“Since you felt it… Satisfaction… Wanted…”

“I… I masturbated last night, but—“ Jean’s blood ran cold the moment she felt the hand on her lap, her eyes on the wall ahead of her

“I really haven’t fucked since leaving Hollywood”

Jean admitted to Tallulah “You must have done it a lot, didn’t you?”

Bankhead teased them “You make it sound like I was an addict” Acker said

“If that were the case? Then pot, meet kettle” Bankhead said, reminding Jean of Nazimova

“So, who were you thinking about?” Tallulah asked

“Nazimova” Jean admitted, her voice trembling “Grace, my… The other, the one I… And…” she held her tongue

“Me?” Tallulah asked so devilishly yet softly, like an angel upon a cloud about to fall from the Heavens, Jean struggled to admit it, struggled to confess what she had fantasised about the night prior, what she crudely imagined in the comfort of her own bed.

All that she could make out was a little bit of a nod.

That was all Tallulah needed to see “You’re ailing” she said “You’re aching… You need relief”

“Do I now?” Jean asked Tallulah faintly “Very much so”

Bankhead said as she held Acker up by the chin, whilst the one on her lap remained, and had slowly crept its way up to their top.

Jeanie knew she was going to hate herself for this.

But the moment Tallulah’s lips were against hers?

She was praying Grace would forgive her.

How could she not? Her taste alone’s breathtaking.

Her dark, ruby lips tasted like honey and strawberries, the sweetest taste she could imagine.

Once Jean had a taste of Bankhead, she couldn’t help but come back for more, she couldn’t help but swoon a little bit to the kisses she gave her as a hand suddenly came around to the back of her head, guiding Acker as she laid her back on the bed, asking “…Feeling better?”.

Looking up at her, Jean tells her “I could be better”.

“Oh… You are fucked” Tallulah giggled, Jean downed the last of her glass before Bankhead straddles her, she was about to drink some more of Tallulah Bankhead’s bottle before Acker found it snatched from her grip by the Alabaman, who’d smile devilishly before drinking it.

“What would your father say?” she asks Bankhead.

Allowing their now empty bottle to roll off the bed, Tallulah shrugged “…The fuck if I know” she tells Jean

“Or care” before grabbing at her shirt, hastily unbuttoning her shirt “Oh my—” Jean worked her way out of the shirt, assisting Bankhead, whose eyes lingered upon Jean’s chest and the hips her legs wrapped around

“What I do know is if these walls could talk…” her eyes flicker down and Jean couldn’t help but follow them to the panties under her dress

“Well, don’t you wanna find out?” Jean could not help but nod “Yes, I… I just need to know”.

There was something aggressive in Bankhead’s fucking of Jean Acker, something animalistic in the way she held her to the bed and roughly kissed every part of her body, something that surprised Jean by the simple fact that she didn’t mind, even as she felt her teeth digging in.

This sharp sound escaped Jean as she arched back.

Tallulah slowly raised her head from the shoulder she bit, a steady rope of spit between her lips and tongue to the faint marks on Jean, the stream of spittle vanished as she laughs out an apology along the lines of

“I didn’t bite too hard, did I?” Jean says “A little… I liked that”.

Bankhead slowly laughed before she down her body, planting her lips against their breasts

“I… Honestly didn’t think I had a shot with you…”

“Oh really?” Tallulah asked “You sound just like Daly and Eva” she had smiled back alluringly

“Blyth and… I don’t know the other” Jean said “You’d love her if she was here” Tallulah said

“Their eyes looked so fucking adorable between my legs; She ate my pussy like she starved”

Jean laughed a little awkwardly “Ah, did she now?”

“She’d blow my fucking mind… But she’s not here, you are, now how d’you wanna do this?”.

Jean Acker seemed to ponder how to answer Tallulah, before eventually she told Bankhead

“I want your tongue in my mouth” she is amused by the way she said it, the look in her eyes

“Straight to the point” Bankhead said “…I like you”

“Not love?” Jean asks “Not throw-a-monkey-wrench-into-your-love-life? Sounds about right”

Bankhead said before she gave Jean an incredibly deep French kiss, her tongue exploring the mouth of Jean Acker like a serpent searching for the deepest, darkest crevice of the cave to call its home, all whilst wrestling with another…

“Mm… Uh… Lulla—Your lips… Holy fuck I’ve wanted this for ages… I’ve wanted to—Fuck—“

“Watch that dirty little mouth of yours” Bankhead teased before biting her lip ever sensually.

Sniffing her, Bankhead couldn’t help but ask them

“…You seriously this down bad? Fucking Christ, what the hell are Nazimova and Grace like?”

“Perfect” Jean tells them before she feels Tallulah climbing off her lap, she was about to try and grab at her leg, about to beg them to stay, but Bankhead had no intentions to leave her, instead, they had intentions to drag Ackers skirt off.

Watching Tallulah tugging it off her long legs, she couldn’t help but shiver with anticipation, Jean could not help but rub herself before she felt her panties dragged down to her knees

“That a girl” Bankhead said with a mean little smirk, admiring her legs and trimmed pussy

“So, you still want my tongue?” Tallulah asked Jean

“Yes…” she said, closing her eyes, a weak smile on her face once she felt her hand lingering on her lap and her pussy, the thumb taking long drags at the vertical lips of her eager sex, it certainly felt eager to Tallulah Bankhead, who kept it going before she went down on Acker.

What Tallulah had previously done to her throat and lips she would do to dear Ackers vagina.

When she wasn’t using that tongue she was using her trigger and middle fingers together.

Bankhead wasn’t as eloquent or tidy as Nazimova, but her passion reminded her of Grace…

The lust however? The carnal passion in which she fucked Jean with? That belonged to both.

Jean Acker had almost completely forgotten the fact that there was a third person inside that apartment with them, who was more than likely either listening in on them, blushing as red as the lips of Bankhead on her pussy, or wishing she could die with a pillow upon their head.

Whether it was around their ears or over their face?

Jean couldn’t be sure, but she figured somebody like Blyth Daly, if she were to use a pillow, would more than likely be covering her ears, but Tallulah Bankhead knew that her ears were wide open, that dear Daly was going to be thinking about the two women fucking that night.

Jean did not see Tallulahs hand on their own pussy

“I’m almost there” Jean spoke up “Good” she told her

“My fingers were starting to get tired” Bankhead tells them before once more burying her face between the legs of that girl from Hollywood, a world that she wished to be a part of.

Acker almost giggled before her breath picked up pace, the muffled moans of Bankhead are like an aphrodisiac to her, they compel Jean Acker to grab at their own tits when she wasn’t grabbing the pillow and the headboard behind her, or the head of that woman going down.

“Yes—Yes—I’m almost there—I am—That’s it—That’s—”

Jean Acker could not even finish her sentence, her begging and her pleas to Bankhead was mere white noise along with the grunts and muffled sounds Tallulah was making, before the pair arrived at a crescendo, as this high squeal escaped Ackers throat, she is almost winded as she felt this warm release from her lower region.

As slowly their voice returned, Jean Acker could not help but once more let out loud

“Fuck!”, clearly ecstatic and clearly revitalised by Bankhead.

“Thank you, thank you, thank y—“ Acker would start

“Your welcome” Tallulah told Jean, almost unfazed.

She seemed almost surprised by Jean, by their clinging to her as she tried to pick herself up

“Please” Jean said “I want… I want you to stay…” Bankhead had seemed a little bit sceptical

“This is my bed, of course I’m gonna stay” she said “Doesn’t mean you will” she joked to her

“Oh, don’t joke like that” Jean said as she clung to Bankhead, nuzzling against her breasts

“Please” Acker begs “I haven’t seen you out of this”

“Y’wouldn’t even know where to start” Bankhead tells her “But, how about we make a deal?”

“What kind of a deal?” Jean asked her “The fun kind” Tallulah said as the two cuddled on the bed, Bankhead in turn asking

“Just when did you say your birthday was again? Just curious”

“The twenty-third” Jean said “Thanks for the reminder” Jean asked her “What’s your game?”.

Tallulah smiled, devilish as usual “Giving you a birthday present you will remember forever”.

Jean seemed to melt in her hands “Thank you” she tells her, resting her head against theirs as their legs intertwined on the bed, the pair cuddling for a minute before Bankhead asked

“You want some grass?” Jean Acker looked up at them and simply said “Anything you want”.

As Tallulah got up, Jean Acker told ‘em something:

“You’re gonna make being here far more liveable”.

When Bankhead left the room, she saw Blyth trying to act inconspicuous with that glass in her hand, an empty one which didn’t have anything inside it to begin with, but what it did have was an ear against it, eavesdropping in on the sex Jean and Tallulah had a tad earlier…

Slowly, Bankhead puts a finger up to her lips, and she tells Blyth quietly “So… You want in?”.

Chapter Text

Grace Darmond woke up in the bed of Alla Nazimova that morning, still able to feel her lips against her cheek, even if she wasn’t there, she was downstairs conversing with June Mathis on the script for Aphrodite, though to say there was a conversation between them wasn’t too accurate, more or less Nazimova venting to Mathis

“Those old bastards up the ranks will never understand it, I fear they’ll intend on gutting it” Alla told her

“Or worse” she suggested to June, the portly, curly haired woman sat silently, she tried to think of something to say to the older Nazimova, something to sooth her nerves.

“…Um, hello” Mathis said, not to Alla but to Grace.

Clearly startled, Darmond clung to the robe she found lying around in Nazimova’s bedroom

“Forgive me, I uh… I just got up” she said, having just came down the stairs to better hear the conversation, more accurately Allas raging, although her presence seemed to sooth her.

Nazimova was too proud to admit defeat or show it

“Grace, darling, did you sleep well?” Alla asked Grace with a smile “…Yeah, I slept alright”

Darmond admitted “You seemed awfully drained by the nights end” Nazimova said to her, feigning concern for a woman she cared for only because her beloved Jean cared for them

“Eva seemed way more exhausted” Grace told Alla, adding quietly “The poor girl is lovesick”

“As I am with her to an extent” Nazimova admitted.

Grace wanted to ask her “What about Jean?”, but was more than happy with Nazimova being obsessed with somebody else, especially when it wasn’t the woman Darmond had loved and didn’t cheat on…

Well, until after she was given permission from Jean Acker herself to sleep with Nazimova, though she really only did it because she was missing Jean and because she was guilted by Alla, she came on to her as they had Acker, Rambova, and now Le Gallienne.

Speaking of the nymph, Eva Le Gallienne enters…

Le Gallienne had on this boyish set of pyjamas, for starters she was wearing pants and a shirt

“Hello Grace” Darmond replied “Hey Eve” Le Gallienne corrected her “Oh, it’s Eva, actually…”

“You can forgive the confusion, right?” Grace asked

“Oh of course, I don’t often hold grudges, and I would not for something so minute as that”

“D’you sleep well?” she asked a bit cautiously “Like a baby” Eva said looking wishfully at Alla.

The pair quietly watched as June left the room, followed out by Nazimova, Grace wondered if all would be well for the film Alla wanted their beloved Jean Acker to star in, she had to've known it was a big deal for Nazimova, she had typically starred as the lead in her own films.

Yet Jean caught her eye, and her pride is put aside.

Grace knew the feeling, she was practically devoted to Jean, willing to put her own career on the back burner if it meant Jean could live a comfortable life, there were sometimes, even, that she wondered what life would have been like if she were born a man, in love with Jean.

Would she had even looked her way? Would she’ve fallen into her arms? Would they marry?

Grace Darmond knew that she herself would have been willing to marry a man, if not only to hide her secret then to live a comfortable life, but she knew Jean wouldn’t, that she’d rather be a spinster than ever marry a man, which Grace had both respected and found awfully sad.

Nazimova reenters the room, saying “Hello ladies”

“Alla” Eva smiled as she came into Nazimovas arms

“Your eyes are so pretty this evening” Alla muses to Eva “Must have been the tears you shed”

“Maybe” Le Gallienne gently told them, feeling at ease within the hands of Nazimova, which grip her head and lingered around her neck so possessively, quietly unnerving Darmond…

“So, any plans for today?” Eva asked Alla Nazimova

“Yes, actually” Nazimova admitted “Would those plans happen to involve me?” Eva asks her

“No, not really” she told them casually “Oh, really?”

“Well, this evening I’m meeting with a friend, a male friend, more of an acquaintance really”

“Really?” Eva asked, sounding genuinely confused

“Yes” Nazimova said as if it was obvious “Oh, he’s a six at most, but his pet’s cute” Alla muses to them “What kind of a pet?” Grace asked Alla

“…A ballet dancer actually” Nazimova purred “Rambova?” Grace asks before realising “Hang on, are you meeting with that creep Kosloff?”

“Correct” Alla informs Glee as she sat herself down.

Nazimova sprawled herself across it, though she did not seem to mind Eva sitting so close to her, almost snuggling against them like a kitten, feeling at ease against Allas lap as she sat back, Eva giggled gently as she felt the hand coming up and down her back, feeling her shirt

“Oh, I’m only going there to try and convince him”

Grace asked them “Of what? To jump off of a cliff?”

Nazimova smirked to herself, knowing that if he were a weaker man, she’d have made him done so by now “Simple” Alla tells them “That our lovely Nat deserves a credit as a designer”

“Is that the case?” Grace asked her

“Yes… She’s even designing what Jean will be wearing”.

Nazimova asked Grace if she wanted anything more, a drink or maybe a description of what their beloved Jean Acker would be wearing

“I’ve got my imagination” Grace said, telling Alla “Anyway, last night was fun and all, but I should really get going… Thanks for it, by the way”

“Not even a kiss goodbye?” Alla asked, Eva answers

“I can surely suffice” this brought forth a giggle from Nazimova who said to Le Gallienne “That suggests that you are leaving… Well, are you?”

Nazimova asked them “No, no I’m not” Eva said, but lamenting “Though my mother might be wondering where I am this morning”.

“You’re not going to shut up about it aren’t you?” Grace asked her

“Oh… Maybe” Alla smiles “Now why don’t you come over here and find out?”

“If you insist” Grace groaned, despite the fact that she missed the taste of lips against hers.

Grace Darmonds kiss with Alla Nazimova was watched by Eva Le Gallienne ever so intensely.

Her pretty blue eyes were locked on those lips as they met, Allas hand dragged Grace into it, her gentle appendages lingered along down her chin, almost tickling Grace Darmond as she savoured the taste of those lips, yet still she found herself unable to look Alla in their eyes…

Alla Nazimova watched Grace as she left her home

“…Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you” Alla told Eva, her eyes still to the door Grace left by

“I’d hope not” Eva giggled as Nazimova gropes her

“My meeting with Rambova and Kosloff will be very late in the afternoon… So until then?”

Eva blushed “Oh my, what would my mother say?”.

Alla Nazimova pulled the sweet and innocent Eva in and she told her “I’m your mother now”.

As Eva began to wonder if she had some sort of an Oedipus complex, Darmond went home.

The first thing she did was look through the mail…

“Junk” she labelled the first one “Junk”, then “Fan-mail”, “Junk” once more before she froze.

Grace’s eyes went wide upon realising what she had in her hand… A letter from Jean Acker.

Darmond was frozen in place as a smile came to her face, she hurried back inside and armed with a butter knife in place of her letter opener, she cuts it open and frantically unfolded the letter inside, having had enough of her absence, she yearned to hear, at least see, her words

“Dear Grace… I miss you greatly” Jean had opened

“I wanted to cry the moment filming had ended for the day, as I knew you wouldn’t be here” Grace almost cried as she nervously read their note

“I love this cast, or at the very least I have learned to love them, if not as family or as friends then as acquaintances, but every night I wish you were here, every night I wish we could just talk or cuddle upon this small bed of mine, for I know it would feel king sized with you on it” Darmond quickly realises that “King” is crossed out

“Queen” Jean replaced it with, though she was more caught up on the next very paragraph

“I’ve made some friends, a horse named Brownie among them” Grace seemed confused for a second before remembering that the film involved horse racing, laughing at the comment.

“Anyway, we’ve just came back from a night of drinks at the Algonquin Hotel, and right now I intend on sleeping… I’ll be dreaming of you, Glee” that last part

“I’ll be dreaming of you”, the words alone had filled Grace Darmond with joy

“Yours forever, Jean (Shorts) Acker” she finished it.

“She’s going to love my present” Grace thought to herself before gently crying with a smile.

Before Grace got to work on sending Jean their present, she decided to pay Alla a little visit.

Honestly, Grace just needed to let somebody know, more accurately, she wanted brag to Alla.

Because she knew full well that if Nazimova was in her shoes, she would’ve done the same.

She decided to give it some time, she knew that Alla was likely busy with Eva Le Gallienne…

Grace Darmond knew from experience, and she saw that raw lust in both of their pretty eyes.

“Who does it belong to?” Alla asked Eva from behind, with one hand she held her in by her throat and her chin whilst she lathered her back and her neck with kisses, her teeth nibbled at her ears and their tongue felt like a snake to short to wrap entirely around her pretty neck.

With the other she frantically pets the kitty of the younger Eva, her elegant fingers almost dug into Eva as she asked again, a bit more directly

“Who does this pussy belong to?” roughly grabbing Eva Le Gallienne’s gentle breast, hissing

“Tell me now” to which Eva had told them weakly “Y—Y—You, Alla… I’m yours… I’m all yours”

“You’re mine” Alla said kissing her neck and cheek

“All mine, do you understand?” Nazimova asks Eva

“Yes… Yes, I’m yours… I’ll always be yours… I’ll—“

“Who will make you cum?” Nazimova asked, suddenly releasing Evas pussy and slowing the movements on her breast

“Alla? What—What are you—“ she felt the hands on her face, she’s in their grasp and could not help but slowly shrink

“I said: Who is going to make you cum? You should know the answer… Or else we will stop”.

Nazimova tried not to smile at how desperately Eva answered: “You! You’ll make me cum!”

“Beg for it” Alla told them “Beg for it!” she added as she began to stroke them some more, a sinister gleam in their eyes as she took in the sight of a young woman begging for release.

“I want you to fuck the life out of me! I want to be your pet and—“ Alla interrupts Eva, saying

“You’re mine! Nobody else can have you, no one!”

“No one?” she asked as Alla forced her to look her in the eyes “Only I… Your sweet mother”

Eva quivers and trembles, her tongue escaping her

“Come here my baby girl—“ Nazimova could barely finish their sentence before they kissed.

Between their lips Alla heard their muffled cry, the moan which made her shiver in the heat.

Between her loins and fingers, Alla could feel the warmth of Eva climaxing then and there…

The pair melt upon the bed, laying back exhausted

“Holy shit” Eva Le Gallienne had said in that angelic, vaguely English voice of hers, soothed by the breathing of Alla Nazimova, the rising and falling of her chest and flat belly, though she hungered to see her eyes, as had Nazimova for hers, they were almost a new vice for her

“You are fucking beautiful” Alla said, kissing Eva…

Of course, Le Gallienne was likely wondering, in the back of her mind, that maybe Nazimova was being serious about all that talk of “Eva belonging to her and her alone”, which may’ve gotten her going and made her reach her destination, but that surely had to’ve been all talk.

Still she wasn’t going to turn Alla down, and when she apologised for having to leave later on that day for her meeting with Kosloff and his assistant?

Eva couldn’t help but feel a little bit flattered, accepting them like they came from the lips of a knight to their proud queen.

Eva Le Gallienne, although humble, could not help but like being treated like regal royalty.

Later that day, Eva slept blissfully as downstairs, Nazimova penned her own letter to Jean, wishing her a happy birthday when a knock came to her door, checking the clock, she knew it couldn’t have been Rambova or Kosloff, so Alla went to answer it, met by Grace Darmond.

“…Oh, lucky you” Alla said upon reading that letter

“Did you come here to brag?” she asked Darmond

“You’d have done the same” Grace quips “True”

Alla admits “…Not exactly the same, I’d have invited you over to read it in their voice”

“Well, Acker’s going to lose her shit at my present”

“And what exactly is your ‘Present’?” Alla asked her

“And have you steal my idea for yourself? Grace asked back “No way” she said a bit playfully

“Ah, so your idea is worthy for me to bother stealing?”

Nazimova asked, feigning something, maybe shame, maybe intrigue, Grace couldn’t tell.

“Can I at least try and guess it?” Nazimova asks her “Hm, you can try” Grace said, joking that

“It might take you a while” to which Alla shrugged this off “Oh please, you are not da Vinci”

“…Rude” Grace said “But again, ‘Pot meet kettle’, I get it” Grace said a little bit dismissively.

Alla Nazimova quietly wondered what it would be:

“Money?” Alla pondered “Locks of my hair? Hers?”.

Alla hated to admit defeat, but Grace could tell she wanted a hint, that she yearned a clue…

“I’ll give you a hint… I’m wearing it” Grace smirks.

Nazimova looked them up and down before she realised what she meant, it clicked in Allas head when she looked down at her legs, she was in a skirt that reached her knees, but under the skirt she wore a pair of pantyhose, beneath which could’ve been nothing or something

“How delightfully sinful” she said “Almost devilish”

“Says the Whore of Babylon herself” Grace remarks

“I resent that” Nazimova said, feigning offence, though not for the reason one would expect, arguing that if she was to be compared the biblical figure, she was to be called by the name used, as

"Mystery, Babylon the Great, the Mother of Harlots and Abominations of the Earth”.

Chapter Text

Natacha Rambova did her makeup in the mirror, intensity in her eyes as they gently applied lipstick to her delicate lips as she prepared for the night ahead, her hair flowed freely at first like a flowing river of crude black oil, or the ink she used to pen letters and or craft designs.

The river came down her shoulder before she slowly and gently brushed her dark hair away.

From the mirror, she saw Theodore in her doorway.

They stared at one and other for a moment before Nat continued, calmly applying makeup.

The story of Natacha Rambova and Theodore Kosloff had began with Winifred Shaughnessy.

Clearly, a far less fancy or exotic sounding name…

Their childhood made up for it, her father an Irish Catholic from New York City who fought for the Union during the American Civil War who’d go on to work in the mining industry, whilst her mother, also named Winifred was the granddaughter of Heber C. Kimball, a member of the first presidency of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and would of course be raised in a prominent Salt Lake City family, with the young Winifred being baptised as both.

Their parents relationship was a “Tumultuous” one.

Mostly on her fathers side, the man was, likely a result of what he saw back in the Civil War, an alcoholic, and often sold her mother's possessions to pay off gambling debts, this in turn lead to a divorce in 1900 and both younger and older Winifred relocating to San Francisco.

They did a lot of travelling, especially once her mother remarried in 1907 to Edgar de Wolfe, the young Winifred spent summer vacations at the Villa Trianon in Le Chesnay, France with Edgar's sister, the French designer Elsie de Wolfe, otherwise known as their first gay icon…

Though at first, she simply thought that Aunt Elsie and Elisabeth Marbury were simply good friends, well in a way they certainly were good pals

“Like Sappho and Erinna” she once mused, which brought out quite the laugh from them.

The elder Winifreds relationship with Edgar didn’t last too long, and she again remarried, this time to an American millionaire and perfume mogul by the name of Richard Hudnut, but the younger Winifreds friendly relationship with Elsie didn’t seize, they remained close.

After seeing Anna Pavlova in a production of Swan Lake in Paris with her former step-aunt Elsie de Wolfe, Winfred had decided she wanted to pursue a career as a ballerina, having already proved herself as gifted at ballet back at Leatherhead Court, her boarding school…

Almost as gifted as she was with Greek mythology.

Her family encouraged her to study ballet purely as a social grace, but were appalled when she chose it as her career, her aunt Teresa, however, was supportive, and took Rambova to New York City, to study with the Imperial Russian Ballet Company, with their choreographer.

Theodore Kosloff’s eye was caught by this new girl.

It was while dancing under Kosloff that Winfred adopted the Russian-inspired stage name “Natacha Rambova”, likely inspired by Anna Pavlova, her idol and the woman who inspired her to pursue a career in ballet, upon the stage, loved by so many from afar and very close. Case in point Theodore, he’d prove t’be the ladder.

It started off innocently enough with his hands upon her, guiding her as she gently breezed her way through the warmups and the acts, that was when he wasn’t instructing the classes, marching about in front of them like a drill sergeant as the classical musical played for them.

Being young, Nat could not help but feel flustered.

Especially during private lessons, when she’d find his hands lingering upon her, when she’d feel his hands, firm and strong, coming down her body to help her stretch, coming down her sides, around her rump to her legs, his touch always managed to creep pass her leggings…

Sometimes she’d feel his hand stay upon her back.

It was like he wanted to feel it, the way the muscles in her back moved about as she extends her arm out, stretching them in those fanciful poses, then one time, while it was just them, as he gave her kind words, going off on a tangent she had long forgotten, his hand suddenly cupped her ass, as firm as that hand groping them.

“Um… Mr. Kosloff?” she asked him “Please… Just call me Teddy” he told Natacha Rambova.

“Teddy… Why is your hand on my butt?” she asked

“Oh? Forgive me” Ted told her “I was… Distracted”

“By what exactly?” she asked “Your movement, for one thing, your elegance, your beauty…” she felt that hand of his’ lingering around her leg “Can you blame me? You’ve done so well”

“You are only saying that” Natacha rebuked, saying

“Just how many ballerinas have you tried that on?”.

Teddy smiled, she could see it in the mirror “Only my favourites” he tells her “And my bests”.

Rambova was addicted to his praise and admiration, and did everything to impress Kosloff.

She knew that her height was a weakness in this business, but by his “Mercy” and by his love for her, being his favourite student, she was given leading parts by the thirty-two year old, that was a given, but she always felt as if she had to prove that she wasn’t just his favourite.

That she was the best… Whom he had also fucked.

The next thing she remembered that evening was looking herself in the mirror, clinging to the railings as her breaths fogged it up, as she found herself taken from behind by Kosloff, whom had gone at her like a rabbit in heat, clinging to her hips as he rutted their ballerina.

Pulling her into his thrusts, he was almost growling in her ears, at least that was what it had sounded like, his grunts and curses, Natacha herself also cursed, though she squealed as he did his work, her breaths were like music, his hands upon her breasts give way to high notes.

Her head was against that mirrored wall, her eyes rolling back when they weren’t locked on the woman in the mirror, when she found her body shaking, her lips quivering and her loins dripping, all the while Kosloff kept at it… He’d cum about a minute after she had orgasmed.

Firmly she clung to the railing as lazily she swayed, Theodore Kosloff meanwhile had went to pack his rod away, not before drying himself off with a towel

“You’re welcome” he said with no prompt to be seen, a kind of pride in his tone before telling her to dry and to freshen up.

“Y—Yes sir… I’ll d… That” she eventually made out.

So that was how their sexual relationship had began, their work one had begun much later.

Their introduction to Hollywood came in 1917, when he caught the attention of Hollywood.

It was earlier in 1909, the year he came to the United States, that he came onto the radar of a film director named Cecil B. DeMille, doing so two prong, first by way of a triple threat, an actress, writer and mistress of DeMille, a charming one by the name of Jeanie MacPherson. Cecil B. DeMille was also encouraged to sign Mr. Kosloff due to the persistence of his young niece Agnes, an ardent fan of the ballet dancer, and DeMille was immediately impressed by the dark-haired young dancer and so was quick to put Kosloff Theodore to work as an actor.

"The Woman God Forgot” was the pairs first project

“An Aztec story with Geraldine Farrar and Wallace Reid” he informed her as she got to work pondering the designs, the dresses and the robes, her mind was a-flutter with imaginative head-dresses and gaudy but sterling suits of armour for the conquistadors, key players in the romance, one her lover would have a role in…

She too would have a role, uncredited as one of the costume designers, though Kosloff had taken most of the credit in designing the costumes

“What exactly do I get out of this?” she asked him “The experience” he said casually Natacha.

Rambova knew he was bullshitting her, she was already experienced, both in designing and in pleasuring Theodore, it didn’t take her too long to figure out that Theodore didn’t want a partner, he had wanted eye candy for others to gawk at, whilst only he could truely taste her. She hated it, but she had burnt many a bridge in her life for him, so she was stuck with Ted.

She pondered this as she prepared for the night…

At least the two would spend it with Alla Nazimova.

They invited her to their place that evening, where they intended to wine and dine her, hell, maybe Ted would have Natacha give them a show, him and their guest, he knew Nazimova wouldn’t mind a woman on her lap, and had almost seen it as waving candy over Allas head.

Too high for her to take a bite, but low enough for her mouth to water and her legs tremble.

Teddy still didn’t know that Alla already took a bite.

Alla Nazimova would join them, doing so fashionably late of course, and coming alone, her husband Charles was nowhere to be seen, which amused Teddy, and made his much cruder thoughts wander about, dancing dangerously close to the tip of their tongue, yearning to tease but still wishing to humiliate Bryant, a man whom he saw as either foolish or queer, as no man in his right mind would marry Nazimova solely for the non-sexual kind of company.

“Charlie is a fool” Theodore told Nazimova at some point

“Charles is a busy man… So am I” “Not the man bit, right?”

Kosloff asked Nazimova, to which she laughed, noticing how it had sounded, though Rambova tells her from across their table “You’d make a handsome man”.

Alla would disagree, she would make a pretty man.

Teddy had wanted to say “Then maybe Charles would be interested” only to be kicked in the shin by Rambova, he’d almost spit their meal before holding her foot down with his’, hiding his annoyance with a smile as he chatted with Alla, doing so on anything other than why she was there, almost as if he had wanted to drag it out for as long as humanly possible, Natacha knew why he did it, to have power over his guest, t’be the very one with all the cards at hand.

Nazimova figured, and she was deeply annoyed…

“While I’m flattered… Shall we discuss business?”.

“There is just something upon my mind: Nila Mac”.

“Nila Mac?” Alla Nazimova asks “What about her?”.

Ted chuckled a little bit “Come on, don’t play foolish”

Alla tells him “I’d never play foolish”“Nila Mac, she starred alongside you in War Brides, both on stage and the film adaptation”

“Yes, she and I were friendly, I’l admit that” she said “I’ve heard ‘Romantically’ so” he smirks.

Silently Nazimova had thought back to the filming.

She teased and enticed them with innuendo and risqué double entendre, so much so that by the films rap party, Nazimova had her wrapped around her pinky finger, though she still missed Mercedes, who was nowhere to be seen, having business elsewhere in the country…

“…Wasn’t she married?” Theodore asked Nazimova

“Hm?” Alla asked him “Oh, yes, so nothing occurred” Nazimova had lied to Theodore Kosloff, it was after enough drinks, and Macs husband being nowhere in sight, that Nazimova found the blonde and friendly looking Mac was simply unable to keep her arms off of the Russian.

“I heard she was willing to drop everything to be with you” Nazimova lied

“You’ve misheard”, though she couldn’t help but think about the way Nila squirmed and the way she kissed her, there was so much hopeless romanticism in her kisses, though drunken and sloppy at times.

Subtly Alla bit her lip “…Lets discuss why I’m here" Teddy gave Alla a counter offer “…How about a show?” as he gestured to Natacha Rambova.

For a second or more Rambova blushed before she nodded, agreeing to give them a show.

Said show is performed in Kosloff’s smoking room.

Rambova exotically performed for Theodore Kosloff and Alla Nazimova before the fire place.

Her mother surely would have blown a gasket if she saw what her tall little girl was doing…

Nazimova fiddled about with that cigarette held elegantly between her fingers, her eyes are on her every move, watching Natacha ever so intensely with one leg over the other, it had all been so long since the last time they had made love, so long since she had entertained Alla.

Her movement reminded Alla of a belly dancer, if not a dancer, then the snake they’d entice. Before them, she would shed layer and layer until she was in nothing but a bra and panties.

Alla didn’t know how to sit on that chair of hers, whether it be with her legs together or wide.

Nazimova kept her knees touching before Rambova had suddenly pulled her legs apart, her fingers gently dancing up along her legs as she stares her down, as with only their eyes they conversed, both knowing they wouldn’t enjoy the night in it’s entirety, but they’d enjoy this.

Rambova drops to her knees before climbing up…

She spun around to face Teddy as slowly she pulls herself up, dragging herself over Alla as she seemed to sliver up her every curve until her ass was in the lap of Nazimova, gently she gyrates, Alla could not help but quietly swoon as her head arched back, taking a long drag.

Teddy chuckled as he watched Nazimova falling under Natachas spell “You know me so well”

Alla said as Rambova sat upon their lap, leaning back into Nazimova as she strokes her hair, Teddy asked Nazimova: “So… What do you think?”

“Your girl’s a work of art” Nazimova purred “As Galatea was to Pygmalion” Kosloff told them

“…Oh, did Pygmalion’s art love him back?” Alla asked Ted “Did he even love it in the end?”

Nazimova muses “Our kind are always unsatisfied”.

Theodore correctly figured that she was talking about artists, meanwhile the lovely Natacha, still entertaining the Russian actress and director, had thought something else, but at the end of the day she had said the same thing to the proclaimed artist, his creation and herself.

“Or maybe I’m Aphrodite?” Nazimova would muse

“I’d have told you that” Kosloff admitted, having had enough drinks t’make him growl it out, leering across at her with hunger in his beady eyes

“Playing with the love lives of mere mortals for fun and… No, not profit, though I’d love to”

Alla Nazimova tells him “We can make a profit if we played nice, wouldn’t you agree Teddy?”

“Yes, of course” he said as if it was a no-brainer, he tells her “That brings us to why I am here”

Alla smiled before Rambova jumped up with this lovely little cry, sharp and quick, clutching her lovelier behind, having just received a pinch from the elegant fingers of Alla Nazimova.

“You respect my vision” Alla affirms “So does she” Ted tells her “Because you’re the director”

“True, but it helps when one likes the work, correct?” Ted nodded to what Nazimova told him

“You’re not agreeing because I’m in charge, right?”

“No, I agree with that” he’d admit to Nazimova a bit dismissively “And since I’m the director”

Alla said “I feel that ones work should be credited, and so, since Natacha is helping us out—”

“As my assistant, yes—“ Nazimova cuts him off “On her own” Alla said with cool confidence…

Ted looked as if he had wanted to argue this, that was until Rambova strolled towards them.

Sitting on his lap, she did so like she was a kid on Santa’s lap, asking “Please? Pretty please?”

“I—I thought I was the one trying to make a deal here” he said trying to keep his composure

“You can agree or disagree” Nazimova said casually as she puts out her cigarette, telling him

“You can rob her of the credit, or you can allow me to credit her on Aphrodite, and if you do?”

Nazimova sat with legs wide open “Well, both of us would be very… Very thankful… Hm?”.

She saw his hand passing behind Rambovas rump.

As he hastily began to unbutton his pants with a doe eyed look on his face, Rambova rolled hers, a gentle groan escaping hers before Alla got up from her seat…

No, she wasn’t going to like this, but she was at least going to try and tolerate it, and being an actress, she would give them a performance, with Nats help of course.

Rambova had climbed off his lap when he had his hands fumbling with his belt, though he slowed down, he didn’t want to look desperate, before telling Nazimova, if she was in fact a woman of her word, then she would

“Put your money where your mouth is” whipping it out. Alla had seen bigger, but she didn’t say this to Ted.

“So, you are the money?” she asked Teddy playfully

“How humble“ she said going down on her knees, resting her hands on her lap as she knelt there besides Rambova “We can work together just fine, can’t we?”

Nazimova asked Kosloff as he stroked himself, though Rambova was quick to assist him with her spit upon her palm

“Yes, we can… Now give me what I want and I’ll—“.

Without warning, Alla had gently shoved him down on his seat before joining Rambova in beating him off, the amount of pride he felt in that smoking room could have been lethal, rivalled only by the euphoria, strengthened by her quiet Russian curses and elegant tongue.

Natacha slowly released Teddy and simply watched

“Fuck” Kosloff slowly groaned out once he felt that tongue slowly drag up his erect member, shivering as she made her way to his head, it was a surreal moment for Rambova, usually it was herself in this position, and she had never seen Nazimova in a position like this, Alla was usually the dominant one in a situation like this…

Adjusting the way he sat, he leaned forward, wanting to see the look on Allas face as she did it, as she pleasured him, as he told her to “Suck it”

Alla feigned her annoyance “Oh, must I?” she asked before sighing “Oh well” proceeding to go down on Theodore Kosloff like a pro…

With little to no gag reflex to be seen by Rambova.

She watched with gently parted lips as Nazimova sucked that cock she was familiar with, the same one which had taken her virginity, the same one which had split her hymen, and had entered her “Starfish”, a cock she had licked cum from before and struggled t’swallow whole.

And almost in awe, she had watched Alla sucking it

“That’s it…” Kosloff breathed out “That’s it… Take it all in you whore” he growled before he grasped the back of her head, only then did she struggle a little bit, their voice was muffled, and replaced only my moans pass the inches in her mouth, as he used her head like a toy…

“I should have invited Charlie over to watch this” Theodore had crudely mused to Nazimova “Tell me I’m better than him, admit it! I’m more of a man than he’ll ever be, aren’t I? Huh?!”

Nazimova did her best to nod, but she had really wanted to laugh in his round, small face…

She tried her best to laugh with him in her throat, though that was difficult on account of the penis in her mouth, the same one her tongue was lapping at, only forcing her head away in order to tell him

“…None for your lovely Natacha?”

“Hm?” Rambova said before Nazimova gave her a deep and sensual kiss, one which had not only aroused Teddy, but Natacha herself, she didn’t mind Alla licking her face as she parted. She had almost forgotten what it was she had suggested, but she quickly figured the kiss was to get her prepared for Teds prominent taste…

Then again, both Natacha Rambova and Winifred Shaughnessy were familiar with the taste.

Rocking the world of Kosloff, those two beauties would share his cock between their lips and their wormy tongues, lapping him, savouring him, eyeing one and other as their lips met, as he dug his nails into the cushion of his seat when he wasn’t tightly gripping their raven hair.

One normally would not last long in that situation.

Impressively, Teddy would last just a tad bit longer.

“I’m almost there…” Teddy tells them “I…” Nazimova pulled him out of her mouth and she tells him to hold it for a second

“Natacha” she told Rambova “Do a woman a favour, please?” she didn’t have time to object, as Kosloff had grabbed his assistant by her dark, flowing hair and would pull her down onto his rod, standing fully erect and upon the verge of bursting, Alla sat back a little exhausted as she watched Rambova getting deep throated so viciously.

She heard Natacha gagging a little before Kosloff—

“Fuck!” he loudly groaned out, Nat felt that cock spasm and pulsate as he fired their viscous white load down her throat, forcing them to guzzle it down, to swallow every last drop of him as he used her face, having already used her body for years… Both artistically and carnally.

“Oh my fuckin’ god” he said in a groan of pleasure

“Swallow” he told her as Nazimova sat with her back against his knee, watching as she did it. Once that cock left her lips with an audible “Pop”, Rambova felt it smacking against her face, as it to mark her as his territory, his property alone.

“…So do we have a deal?” Nazimova asked him with a dainty, undaunted smile on her face, the only sounds audible the crackling of the fireplace, the breathing of Mr. Kosloff, and the far more rasp and worn breaths of Rambova, whom would slowly clutch their groin region…

“…We have a deal” Kosloff said after a deep breath

“Wonderful, wonderful” Nazimova said as she gently caressed the face of Natacha Rambova

“Don’t you agree?” she asked her, to which Natacha had slowly nodded, welcoming the lips that came against her face, gentle and passionate, their true taste was even starting to show.

But their kiss didn’t last too long, it never did, especially when her “Lover” was in the room.

One day she was going to leave her, she just didn’t know when, and sometimes? With who.

No, she didn’t leave with Nazimova that evening, she didn’t want Teddy to be too suspicious.

Instead, Alla intended to spend the rest of the night with her lovely new pet “Le Gallienne”…

So Natacha would stay with Theodore Kosloff, who thankfully was all spent for that evening.

As he slept, Nat excused herself to her bedroom…

Unamused, Natacha dragged this tissue pass her lipstick and cum stained lips in the mirror.

Rebellious, Rambova wonders what her mother would think of the decisions she had made.

They chose not to linger to much on the thought, no, instead she chose to think about Alla…

Natacha wasn’t the only one, as from her sea to the other shining sea, Jean Acker could not help herself, even as she gushed about Grace Darmond, having found a new reason to do so, feeling her heart aflutter as she held it to her chest, as if Cupids arrow was lodged in her.

“Dear Jean Shorts, we’re all missing you like crazy”

Jean giggled a bit at Grace’s nickname for her, wishing she could hear it once more, reading

“I can’t stop thinking about you, then again, it must be the fact that I’m here in your place but you’re not here, everything reminds me of you, and I both love and hate it” she’s moved by the comment, at first sad until

“I mainly love it”.

Grace wrote a little about what she did that morning and what has changed since the two had last met, and to her pleasure, Grace had actually written positively about Alla Nazimova for once, though she kept it brief, simply saying that the two of ‘em were on speaking terms.

“Yours forever, Grace Darmond” Jean read before her eyes land on something on the bottom

“P.S., I’m gonna send you a little present on your birthday, or at least I’m gonna try it for you”.

Jean couldn’t help but ask Tallulah “Isn’t it lovely?”.

“Hm? Sounds rather plain” Tallulah told Jean Acker

“Oh you’re only saying that” Jean said crossing her arms, pouting like a child, telling them

“She’s my best friend” Bankhead remarking “Cute”.

Oh sure, she was a pretty woman, even Tallulah had to admit that, but then again, Bankhead wouldn’t have called herself a queer either, that would make it sound like she was simply a dyke, which wasn’t accurate, as she wasn’t the kind of person to lock herself down in a box.

Bankhead liked to tease her, she liked to entice her and occasionally finger and eat ‘em out.

“There’s nothing gay about teasing” Bankhead told herself, not wanting to get too attached.

To Tallulah Bankhead, Jean Acker was just a friend with benefits, an acquaintance whom she would occasionally engage with carnally, mostly for her own enjoyment, but Jean managed to get her kicks out of their arraignment, even if she didn’t really know the ins and outs of it.

But Bankhead had plans for the soon to be birthday girl, plans that would blow Jeanie away.

Chapter Text

“Happy birthday Jean!” the crew had sung to Acker, Jean was clearly surprised by the gang whom greeted her as she entered the set, more than happy to be showered with praise as a cake was presented to her, one with candles to blow out once they had gave their “Hoorays!”.

Jean Acker is overwhelmed, but in a very good way

“I… Thank you, thank you all for this” Jean said blushing as she held her hands together, the hands seperate before she is handed the plate, a small chocolate one with a pair of candles, one shaped like a number two, and another like a number five, candles she’d slowly remove.

Humbly she asked what they’d be filming that day

“Lets blow up a train in your honour!” Richard Stanton said, bringing forth louder applause.

The scene was set at night, but they’d film it in the middle of the day, although most of the scenes set inside of the train were filmed on a set, the scenes they did shoot outside, in this rural but very open part of New Jersey, were scenes of Checkers, Pert and Remorse, better known as Thomas, Jean and Brownie, getting out of the train, and the pièce de résistance, blowing up an entire train car to kingdom come…

Jean posed with the detonator, a dynamite plunger with a prominent handle for her to press down on, but in that moment she wore a dainty smile and one leg up in a very dainty pose as a photographer snapped pictures of the starlet before Richard Stanton gave them the all clear, having barked orders for their film cameras to be aimed at the train carriage they were just about to blast into smithereens, having already filmed all their scenes with the train car.

“Aren’t you the quirkiest saboteur” joked a woman.

Jean recognised the woman in question as a welcomed guest at the Algonquin, the woman whom had introduced her to Bankhead, and three out of the Four Riders of the Algonquin, Dottie Parker, who was there on business for the most part, reporting on it for Vanity Fair…

But the moment she got close to Jean she told her:

“Luna Park at Coney Island” adding that “Lula asked me to tell you that, so there, I told you”

“Thanks” Jean said before Richard rolled out a picnic blanket for Jean to be kneeling on for when she actually detonated the bomb, giving her instructions on how to push the plunger.

It was only then that the suspense had dawned on her, only then that the gravitas struck her.

So, Acker would break the tension with a rude joke

“I hope nobody gets any bad ideas, what with the carpet marks on my knees” she said as she did her best to cover her knees before getting down on them, a couple folks cracked smiles, and Richard gave off a hardy and very manly laugh

“Grace would be proud” Jean thought to herself, as her fingers lingered over the detonator.

“Everybody ready?!” Richard asked his cast and crew, most of whom were right behind him.

Most of them were trying to cover their ears, some having even brought earmuffs to watch it.

Even Brownie was still present, his handlers behind him, keeping him as calm as they could have, though nobody wanted to stand behind him, incase he were to kick back or empty his bowls, or possibly even both, though most of them were hoping neither would be the case.

“Um… Yes, Mr. Stanton” Jean said a bit nervous…

It wasn’t every day that they had to blow up a train:

“I’m sorry, it’s not every day I get to blow up a train” she told him as she grips the plunger.

“Alright” Stanton lets out before he counted down.

Those three seconds had seemed t’drag on and on.

“Three!” Richard Stanton would bark “Two… One!”.

As Jean pushed down as hard as she could, she felt a funny feeling resonate up her arms, an audible click, more akin to a “Cluck” had rung in her ears, followed by a hissing which would come and go quickly, all the way towards the dynamite and the old train car down the hill…

They kept Brownie calm. As calm as one could keep a horse when a train car was exploding.

Jean Acker wasn’t sure what registered first, whether it was the train cars consumption by a cloud of smoke and debris, all caught on camera, bound for silence and music to accompany it, or the mighty bang that brought to mind the loudest crash of thunder she had ever heard.

It reminded her of the feeling she must have felt the first time she heard thunder crashing.

The way ones stomach dropped upon hearing something so otherworldly, so alien to them.

Like everything dropped to be slingshot back up…

Jean almost jumped, and so did the others, Dottie was in the middle of writing something, hence her pencil trailed off sharply and almost broke in her startled hand, meanwhile Rick had tried not to laugh at how cool it was, Brownie defecated, and one of his handlers cursed.

Sitting back on the blanket, Jean looked on in awe

“Nice take!” Rick said holding back more cheering

“Holy fuck” Jean laughed before she had sprung up and hugged Stanton, soon hugging fellow cast members, except for Brownie, she decided it was better for her to pet them, almost soothing the equine costar of hers and Tom.

All around? The shoot and the boom was a success.

And wanting to celebrate? Jean went to Coney Island, where Bankhead would be waiting…

The arched entrance on Surf Avenue was grand and fancy, with four monolithic figures, one at each of its corners, the entrance gate itself had contained five ticket kiosks, shaped like Roman chariots and all staffed by young women dressed in evening attire and Merry Widow straw hats emblazoned with red feathers, their faces, some of them freckled but mostly tired, wore smiles that were forced upon their youthful faces, they pretty eyes gleaming a little bit.

Jean could’ve sworn to’ve seen one rest their jowls.

Stepping foot inside the large avenue dubbed the Court of Honour, extending straight from the entrance, surrounded by fifty-three buildings, it was like Jean Acker had stepped foot into a fairy tale book, her eyes overwhelmed with childlike wonder as she took in the sights.

To the right of the court her eyes are drawn towards a replica of Venice, one which included a miniature Grand Canal with gondoliers, as well as a model of the Piazza San Marco, whilst to the left of the Court of Honor were three large buildings, which proudly featured attractions.

The Grand Casino, the Old Mill and Helter Skelter were placed alongside the Court of Honor.

“Holy fuck” Jean said taking in the courts beauty…

At the centre of the park, drawing most fresh eyes in particular, was in the middle of a lake, a 200-foot-tall electric tower that was decorated with 30,000 incandescent lamps, each of the tower's sides had 48 illuminated circles, intricately adorning the white, red and yellow beast.

“Hey birthday girl” Jean Acker heard before the arms had wrapped around her from behind, she was surprised at first, before recognising them

“Lulah!” she exclaimed gleefully, almost jumping before she spun around to embrace her.

Tallulah Bankhead was clad in a comfy looking coat, warm and expensive looking, atop their head of auburn hair she wore a wide brim hat and in her eyes she wore a dominance which reminds Jean of Alla Nazimova, the gloved hand against her cheek only further enticed her.

Then Tallulah gently hushed Jean, opening her coat a little, pulling down the scarf she wore.

Acker slowly noticed that wrapped around Tallulah’s neck was a ribbon, one tied with a bow

“Oh… Oh my” Jean said, clearly surprised by what she saw, pleasantly surprised, asking her what this meant “Well, presents deserve bows, so here’s mine” Bankhead said adjusting it.

“But I’ve got a present waiting for us at my place” teased Tallulah “What kind of a present?” Jean asked Bankhead a little nervously “A surprise”

“Everyone seems to like surprising me… Not that I should complain, it’s usually a nice one”.

“Now lets paint Coney Island red, how about that?”

“You’ve read my mind” Jean Acker said to Tallulah.

Holding the hand of Jean, Tallulah Bankhead lead her through the gaudy, extravagant park.

Yet Throughout it all, Jean couldn’t help but find something more pure and innocent to the amusement park, that castle of make-believe and childlike wonder, than the Babylon which Jean Acker wished to return, and whose queen of make-believe she wished to enlighten…

The smile Jean wore almost warms Tallulahs heart.

From the Witching Waves which shook them about in their scooter-style carts as they circled the waving floor, to climbing Helter skelter and going down its slide the two women having to hold down their dresses and coats as they went down, just as they did on Shoot-the-chute.

The pair must have seemed oddly queer on that gondola ride they took together in the parks recreation of the Grand Canal, Jeans head was on the shoulder of Bankhead when she found her arm creeping around hers, it wasn’t too long before their fingers had slowly intertwined.

She clung so tightly to the arm of Bankhead throughout the “A Trip to the Moon” dark ride, the flagship and namesake of Luna Park, mesmerised by the rides immersive experience, its simulated trip for thirty passengers seemingly passed over a panorama of Coney Island and Manhattan's skyscrapers before rising into the clouds, all to land atop a papier-mâché moon, one inhabited by insectoid “Selenites" and beautiful “Moon Maidens”, dancing angelically.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve met one of those ‘Moon Maidens’ before” Bankhead quipped to Acker.

Of course there were simpler attractions at Luna Park, simpler pleasures, like cotton candy.

Acker picked on the pink fluff on her cone as she Bankhead watched the young men playing with the high striker, testing their strength and trying to impress the pretty girls of the park, all the while Jean imagined her friends from the West and how they’d probably interact…

Jean Acker imagined Grace Darmond dropping the mallet mid swing upon Nazimovas foot.

Crude and more than a little rude, especially if it was on purpose, but it also didn’t happen.

“What’s so funny?” Tallulah asks her “Oh, nothing”.

Bankhead smiled, knowing or at the very least assuming, that Jean was not prepared for her surprise, which was likely impatiently waiting for both Bankhead and Jean to finish up there, though time seemed to both pass them by and drag on and on like taffy bein’ tightly pulled.

When it occurred to Bankhead she’d let out a loud:

“Oh fuck me”, basically in the middle of that crowd

“…Not in that way!” Tallulah said to the young boys ay the high striker, waving them away before she grabbed Jean by the arm and said “We should not keep your surprise waiting”…

Throughout the whole ride back to the apartment, Jean Acker was waiting on bated breaths, what little she had left after that night they had together in Luna Park, conquering almost all the rides they came across, trying not to break under all the pressure of Tallulah’s blue eyes.

At the door to Tallulah’s, Jean Acker wondered if she would even want to come back to Alla…

Blyth Daly was sitting on the bed with her legs crossed, having clearly awaited for those two.

Apart from her underwear and her bra, she was only clothed by the ribbons which wrapped all around her body, her wrists tied together behind her back upon her rump, her ankles to were tied, as were her legs and her chest, and around her neck she had a delicately tied bow.

“Surprise, Jean” Blyth said so gently and sweetly…

Ackers mouth hung open, only for Tallulah to slowly close it shut, gently pushing her chin up

“Cute little thing, isn’t she?” Bankhead asked, before whispering “Yep. This was all her idea”

“Was it?” Jean asked her “She was saving it for a rainy day… And for another friend of ours”.

Ackers mind had ran blank for a couple seconds before softly uttering “Don’t I feel special…”.

She admits “Nazimova did a similar thing for me—”

“She did what?!” Blyth asked her, sounding excited before Bankhead had warmly giggled

“…Well, don’t leave us guessing, just spill the tea”.

“Well, to make a long story short, she had tied up a friend of mine on the bed” Jean started

“And we had sex in front of them” Blyth seemed amused before Bankhead asked for clarity

“What kind of a friend?” to which Jean Acker told them “Grace Darmond… My roommate”

“Kinky” Bankhead said “So all she could do was watch? Must’ve quite the show” she purred

“I couldn’t stand watching Grace suffer there” she lamented “So I begged Alla to untie her”

“Aw, how sweet” Blyth Daly said with a dainty smile

“Alla only untied one hand, and she was sitting upon her face when me and Grace… Did it”

Daly couldn’t help but howl a little, giggling as she writhed about with lust and temptation

“Oh, forgive her if she’s a tad too ‘Depraved'” Tallulah Bankhead told Acker “She misses Eva”

“I’m not depraved… Just untie me and find out…”

“Is that so?” Jean asks “Well, maybe if you asked me a little more… Politely, with a ‘Please’”.

Blyth pouted “…Please” she told her gently “Please” she quietly begged, wanting to feel her lips against her, and maybe Tallulah Bankhead’s ass upon her face, straddling them like she were some fancy rocking horse from her childhood

“My, my…” Jean said before gently caressing their face, Bankhead was on the bed with their arm around the shoulders of Daly, her hand lingered around their neck as they urged Acker to be a doll and give them a sweet an’ delicate kiss

“How can I not?” Jean said as she relented and came in, giving the usually boyish young girl a sweet and gentle kiss which lasted longer than innocent, a kiss which Daly didn’t seem to mind an awful lot, swooning as Acker delivers this.

“You two have your fun” Tallulah climbs off the bed

“Oh, why are you leaving us?” Daly asked “I’ve gotta get comfy, but don’t let me distract you”

“Well, you heard Bankhead” she said to Blyth Daly:

“Back to it” before once again they kissed passionately, Jean could not help but taste some sweet cider of sorts upon the thin but delicate lips of Blyth, she couldn’t help but smell what was a far sweeter perfume in the air, one which shot the intoxication straight into their brain.

Jean Ackers eyes rolled back as it registered to her.

She had more than willingly permitted Daly to lather her long and elegant neck with kisses, which were all she could really give her in that tied up position of hers, this only pained the much younger aspiring actress a tad, as she knew full well she wouldn’t be tied up forever…

Blyth was just starting to go lower on Jean, stopping around her collar, a quick glance up to make eye-contact told Jean that she should get to work taking off her clothes, unbuttoning her shirt before fumbling with her tie, not that Daly mind being introduced to their cleavage.

Jean heard the footsteps behind her draw closer and closer, not quite louder and louder, as it soon came to her attention that Bankhead was not wearing any shoes, she was barefoot and in her skimpiest of nightgowns as she climbed atop their bed to join Blyth, who looked mesmerised at her as she posed about on the bed beside her, Daly could easily forgive Jean for being distracted by the show s puts on, because she too couldn’t look away from Tallulah.

“Well? What are you waiting for?” Bankhead had purred to Jean Acker “Open your presents”.

Acker almost held back… She almost held back, her fingers may have trembled the moment they made their way towards the ribbon on Bankhead’s neck, but as soon as she felt the lips of Tallulah, smelt her intoxicating breath and felt that tongue playfully flicking at her head…

“Stop that” Jean tried to complain, wearing a smile

“Make me” Tallulah smirked to Jean Acker cheekily.

Jean couldn’t help but feel a little guilty giving in to her lust, but the moment she felt it, her lips against those of Bankhead, she couldn’t care less, those hands which gripped the sides of her head might as well have been moulding wet clay so erotically and almost phallically.

Tallulah pulled her down, laying back before she suddenly mounted Jean Acker, asking her

“You wanna see ‘em?” gesturing to their lovely bod

“Yes” she told her “I have… Waited for so long” she admitted, trying to pick herself upright

“Uh-uh” Bankhead teases wagging her finger in front of Jean Acker

“Just lay back, but touch”she said before she guided Jeans hands up to her chest, one could have seen it, the way the pleasure crawled up her body t’Bankhead’s breasts

“Oh…” escaped Jean delicately once her hands had finally landed upon her plump breasts.

Daly giggled as she made her way up to Jean, kissing them upside-down before she found her knees resting around the head of Jean Acker, her lap gives way to the head of the actress as they fondled and felt Tallulah Bankhead, their hands dragging up and down the sides of their body, hands behind their head as they gyrate upon Jeans lap, as her belly hypnotised the birthday girl, almost distracting them from the girl begging for release from her ribbons.

Acker’s loins loved the show, but begged for more.

Jean had tried to yank her sleep gown off her body

“Oh, you’re just thirstin’ for ‘em, aren’t you?” she asked her playfully as she climbed off her, she wrapped one of her arms around her breasts as that dress began to slowly creep down, Jean could just make out the outline of her nipples in that thin gown of hers “I am starving”

“Then sit back and relax” Bankhead said to Acker…

Just as she climbed off her body, Jean found Blyth

“Pwease?” Daly begged Jean Acker once more as she nestled against their head and neck “Fine” Jean relented as she sat up finding her hand a little lazy as it drifted down their back to the arms tied behind it, finding that two sets of ribbons, one above her elbows and one around her wrists had restrained the younger lady.

“Someone didn’t want you to get out” Jean Acker quipped as she tried to both watch what she was doing in regards to the restraints on Daly, and the auburn haired woman before her, whose warm, beautiful body appeared from behind that faint and loose fitting nightgown…

Once Blyth Daly was free, she felt her wrists before pouncing upon Jean, wrapping her arms and legs around her, their right leg in particular coming right between hers, with every move Blyth gently grazed and teased, exciting Acker as she laid there on the bed, loving this.

As Jean made herself comfortable, Bankhead had came back into their vision, asking them if this was their favourite birthday present of the day

“Well, I had a decent chocolate cake, I blew up a train, went to Luna Park and am now here”

“So is that a yes or a no?” Bankhead asked them “Coming in at a close third… Okay, second”

“Let’s see if we can change that” Bankhead told her

“…Do your worse” Jean smiled to Tallulah Bankhead as they tugged her dress off their legs. With the click of her fingers, Tallulah had Blyth crawling down Ackers body, to between their legs, it was there that she lathered the fingers of the dominant Bankhead as both women had massaged the pussy of Jean Acker, who wore a funny, quivering smile as she accepts it.

But her lips hungered for the flesh above their belt

“Aw” Tallulah pouted “Is the birthday girl hungry?”

“…Yes” Jean uttered as she tried to keep her composure, but Bankhead and Daly wouldn’t have any of that, so she sits Jean up, she had her face between her breasts, lathering them in kisses and nibbles, her tongue flailing about like she was drunk off her ass whilst beneath the two women, Daly tongued out the birthday girl

“Mh… Mhh! Meh—M—Yes! Oh yes!” Acker lets out.

Jeans eyes rolled back, as for a moment she forgot all about Nazimova and yes, even Grace.

No, that’s not too accurate to say she forgot them, it was more like Bankhead and Blyth Daly had filled the gaps their absence had left behind, more accurately Bankhead and Blyth Daly had managed to feel the gaps Nazimova and Grace tended t’fill whenever Jean felt that way.

As she gripped the back of Tallulah, she lets out a cry, her chin’s guided up by Tallulah, who’d tell her so delicately

“You‘ve got such a pretty face”

“Thank you… You’ve got such a pretty… Everything” amused by her words, Bankhead added

“I’m going to sit on that pretty face, and you’re gonna be a doll and give Blyth a little break”

“Okay” Acker said eagerly, almost laughing in glee.

Daly wasn’t too pleased, she wasn’t anywhere near finished with them, and so she would try to whine and moan about this, until Bankhead granted them a deep, and passionate kiss, one Daly was more than willing to accept, one she’d likely think of whilst petting her kitty…

She would do just that as Tallulah rode atop Jeans face, a rude series of words escaping the lips of that young and bisexual Alabaman woman—

“Eat me out you fucking dyke!” she begged with a heavy emphasis on “Fucking” and “Dyke”

“You like this… You like grabbing my ass and digging your tongue in me like a little prick”

Bankhead talked dirty as she Jeans face “You must do this all the time with your girlfriends”

Tallulah wanted an answer, and she didn’t care if said answer was muffled between her legs

“Say it… Say that you’re a bad girl, say that you’re Nazimovas little whore! I wanna hear it!”

“Mh! Mh!” Jean lets out in a high tone “Yes! Yes—“

“I said…” she started as she gave Jean some air "I wanted to hear you say it… So? Say it…”

“I… I am her favourite… I’m a bad girl, a bad person even… But I know she wants me bad”

Tallulah stirred a little, aroused by what she said with what had sounded to her like defiance

“I’m a fucking mess” Jean Acker said as Tallulah dragged her thumb against their pretty face

“But she ain’t here” Bankhead smiled domineeringly “Luckily for you I am just… As… Bad”.

Oh, Tallulah and Blyth may have been her presents… But Acker was the one who’d be used.

Daly was riding atop Jeans knee, getting herself off, when she wasn’t mesmerised by the two beautiful women in front of her she was fantasising with eyes rolled back, thinking of all the things she had wanted to do with Le Gallienne.

Bankhead meanwhile was fingering herself before the hungry lips of Jean Acker, who kissed and licked it desperately, Jean Ackers every breath seemed as if she was on the verge of an orgasm that could shatter glass, one that she’d edge closer towards with every move made on that bed, the wooden legs ached as the bed bounced up and down with their threesome, when those three finally came, they did so screaming out of animalistic pleasure and want.

Daly wanted her best friend back to share their fun.

Bankhead wanted t’get her brains fucked right out.

And Acker… Still wasn’t too sure what she wanted.

Oh, short term? She wanted to be recognised for her talents, she wanted to “Make it” in the industry, not because she wanted the money and the fame, but because she genuinely liked it, though of course they were more than happy to be paid for what they already liked to do.

Long term? Maybe it was love that Jean had wanted, but if she was not loved by her work?

She wondered if she was having what was dubbed

“Post-nut clarity”, which would have been odd, as she didn’t really have “Nuts” to begin with.

Oh, she certainly came, as had Tallulah, in fact, Jean Acker was desperately lapping away at said juices when Bankhead finally released it, savouring the warmth of her fluids along with an equally as thirsty Blyth Daly, all three women were moaning and caressing one and other.

Jean Acker clings to Bankhead, who was sitting up:

“That was better than I thought” she tells Jean, who snuggled beside her, their bangs were nuzzling against her plump breasts, at one point her lips grazed gently against her nipples, perky and stiff, enough to subtly please Jeans lips.

Daly had climbed up beside Tallulah, and she too would wrap her arm around the Alabaman

“…So, are we still second?” she asked Jean Acker “Or was that cake earlier today so tasty?”

“Fuck the cake” Jean Acker said as she snuggled with her, wanting to fall asleep in her arms.

But Tallulah Bankhead didn’t sleep, not yet, instead, she decided to have herself a cigarette. Jean rolled over to her side, a smile’s on her face, blissful as her hand drifted out of the bed.

The scent of tobacco burning in the air, blown in this puff of smoke from the stained scarlet, almost evil rosebud of a mouth, almost distracted Jean from what she saw upon the bedside table, a note beneath another note, a telegram…

And just barely she had made out a name.

She waited for her presents to drift peacefully off to sleep, doing so after she thanked them for what might’ve been the best birthday in her life

“You’ve got a couple more years to come… So don’t get your hopes up…” Bankhead teased.

Jean gave Tallulah this gentle, loving kiss before she allowed them to drift off to sleep, she’s still able to taste the cotton candy from earlier, though the smokey taste tobacco over powers it, she would wait until she was sure they were asleep before she quietly climbed out of bed.

Picking up the telegram, she left to the living room

“Met Nazimova. Wants you to keep eye out for a friend. Jean Acker” the telegram had read…

She was silent for a good moment… That was until she decided to make a long distance call.

Jean waited and waited and waited before she heard this familiar, albeit tired voice ask her

“…What? Who the fuck is calling me at this hour?”

“It’s, it’s Jean” they said “Jean Acker… Alla, it’s me”.

“Jean?” she said, their tone quickly changed to “Oh, what a… Well, what a pleasant surprise”

“Believe me, not as surprising as it’s been for me” Jean said “Oh, Grace will be so jealous”

Nazimova said “How are you calling me?” she asks

“A friends phone, one whom I made in New York—”

“One of a Ms. Eva Le Gallienne?” Nazimova had asked Jean Acker “I… Yes actually” she said as it slowly dawned on her

“Did… Did you plan this all out?” Jean asked, almost laughing

“Dear Jean, I’ve just wanted to keep an eye on you”

“Ah? So was me being fucked part of the plan too?”.

Jean Acker started to giggle before she realised there was an uneasy silence coming from the other end of the line…

Soon she heard Nazimova speak up “Excuse me, what the fuck?”.

Chapter Text

There were eyes upon the younger Alla Nazimova that evening in 1916, eager, hungry eyes.

“Isn’t she in War Brides?” some must’ve asked

“I saw her on the silver screen” another would have surely declared, they must have surely wondered what brought her there, and far more importantly who the woman accompanying her was…

That is, if they were not in the know.

Those in the know knew damn well whom she was.

And they would know that Mercedes de Acosta wasn’t accompanying Nazimova, that in fact it was the other way around, though fewer would’ve known that Mercedes de Acosta had the seemingly electric and powerful Nazimova upon their knees before they went to the theatre.

That Alla had been treated like a pet by the older, slightly more curvy poet and “Star-fucker”.

Fewer knew that Alla carried a collar in her purse…

It was hers, just as much as she was Mercedes’, but she paid for the coat she wore that night.

Mercedes never wore the furs of an animal, but she wore a lovely coat, a fine, dignified one.

Nazimova wasn’t the centre of the attention, and neither was Mercedes de Acosta that night.

No, the centre of attention that evening were on the stage the Dionysian gang of six whom danced in Grecian evening gowns, one could have been easily mistaken into believing that the girls dancing angelically were the very Muses of ancient Greece, albeit three members short.

The audience was mesmerised by their movement.

Nazimova and Mercedes couldn’t help but smile…

There was something devilish in the smile of Mercedes, Alla noticed this, and she wondered

“She isn’t planning anything to do with these girls, is she?” almost amused by this thought, suddenly she felt a tugging on her arm, as de Acosta says “There she is” in this hushed tone.

The woman that their eyes were lead to was a much older, but she looked good for her age.

It must’ve derived from her many years of dancing.

After all, the woman of almost forty was not only the choreographer, but the namesake and by many accounts the owner of the sextets on stage, along with a contemporary dancer, one who wasn’t only a pioneer of modern contemporary dance, but was dubbed the mother of it.

Isadora Duncan, despite her melancholic, “Droopy” eyes wore this thin smile upon their face.

There was motherly pride to the way they watched her dancers with a glass of wine at hand.

“What are you planning?” Alla had asked de Acosta

“Oh? Nothing new” Mercedes had purred to Nazimova “…Well, nothing new for you, that is” adding

“My dear, when the show on stage is over, would you kindly bring Isadora to me?” Nazimova went a little quiet as she observed them

“And then what?” she asked her “…You’re not jealous, are you?” Mercedes asked Nazimova

“Why should I be?” Alla asked “What can she do that I cannot?” Nazimova thought to herself

“Good” Mercedes said, Nazimova felt her fingers dance beneath her chin, drawing her close

“Because if you do that? I’ll let you watch” she smiled before they shared a gentle little kiss.

Slipping away from Mercedes, Nazimova silently made her way towards where Isadora sat…

The older woman silently observed her students, watching as they performed on that stage.

She didn’t even noticed Nazimova until Alla asked:

“Pardon me, but aren’t you Isadora Duncan?” Isadora had glanced up at the beautiful actress

“Aren’t you Nazimova?” she asked back in return…

“You’d be correct” she said “Am I?” she asked Isadora, who’d nod “Yes, you would be, dear”.

Taking another sip of her champagne, she asks Alla

“Do you wish to sit with me?”, sounding a little bit flattered “No, not really” Alla admits to her humbly, almost bowing like she was in the presence of royalty before she informed Isadora

“But a friend of mine would kill me if I didn’t ask you to sit with us” she raised an eyebrow, a thin, almost ghostly one which had blended into her pale complexion, lit by the warm glow of the light upon their table

“…Who’s this friend?”.

Alla lead her to Mercedes de Acosta, who sat with one leg perched atop the other as she had awaited them, her face seeming to light up upon seeing Nazimova and Duncan coming to her table, Mercedes saying

“Isadora, your dancers are so beautiful, so talented” she fawned

“Well, they’ve learnt from the best” Isadora smiled.

Nazimova couldn’t help but sense something humble in her tone, even with that bold claim.

There was a sadness too, an emotional side to Isadora which she had overwhelmed with what she loved the most in the world, dancing, her students, and wine, although this likely stemmed from the fact that all three of her children had died, one shortly after birth in 1914.

The other two died earlier in the Seine, when the car their nanny was driving crashed into it.

The first incident was said to ’ave broken Duncan…

Duncan spent several months recuperating in Corfu with her brother and sister, then several weeks at the Viareggio seaside resort with the actress Eleonora Duse, where the rumours of their sexuality began to circulate, as Eleanora had just ended a relationship with Lina Poletti.

That question mark surely caught Mercedes’ eye…

So maybe that was why she decided to bring her to their table, why she wanted to know her, when de Acosta wasn’t probing her, and when Alla was not entranced by those two women, they were discussing the lovely dancers:

Anna, Maria-Theresa, Irma, Liesel, Gretel, and Erika.

Or as Alla dubs them:

Happy one, freckled one, Irma, Goldilocks, China Doll and Baby Doll.

Her dancers, dubbed the “Isadorables” were a sextet of barefoot, talented young girls whom danced under her instruction, ranging from twenty-four to sixteen, most of her girls having been with them since 1905, having came from disadvantaged backgrounds, where mothers were the primary breadwinners, and the fathers were either ill, dead or absent, hence why her students were chosen based upon financial need rather than their natural dance talent.

This isn’t to say they weren’t talented, if they weren’t then they eventually became talented.

“Shouldn’t you be waiting in the wings for them?” Mercedes asked Isadora Duncan, though Mercedes’ quick to admit “Not that I mind this opportunity to be in your presence, of course”

“Oh, my girl know what they’re doing” Isadora said

“Well, they’ve clearly learned from the best” Alla suggests, de Acosta glanced at them, under the table Alla feels her foot upon hers

“I was just about to say that” she said acting surprised.

Nazimova giggled a little bit as she tried to keep her composure beneath that small table…

Mercedes flattered her, showering her in buttery praise and affection as Nazimova watched.

Isadora clearly did not seem to mind this affection.

When they didn’t discuss how her dance style and that of her students emphasised natural movement in contrast to the rigidity of traditional ballet, they discussed poetry and art, with both women obsessing over art and over creating, with Mercedes seemingly very obsessed “With creativity we are on fire” she told her

“With passion to create and a daring to achieve”

“Is that so?” Duncan asked as she found Mercedes’ hands drifting towards hers on the table.

Alla had watched those two with a cute little smirk.

“What little hands you have” Isadora comments to Mercedes “Strong little hands” she added

“They get the work done” Mercedes said to Duncan

“And what work would that be?” she asked Mercedes de Acosta “Bossing around Nazimova?”

“No, I wouldn’t say I boss her around, I simply tell her to do things and she promptly does it”

“Well what does she get out of it?” Isadora asks her

“Oh? Just my love and affection” Mercedes waving this off “…And occasionally my tongue”.

Isadora blushed as she tries not to giggle at that…

“When this show’s over, what will your ‘Isadorables’ do?” Mercedes asked her with curiosity

“When the show’s over? They’re to return home, to stay in the hotel their manager’s paid for”

“And then what? You’ll tuck them into bed?” Mercedes asked playfully “Kiss ‘em goodnight?”

“On occasion, yes I do… But… Maybe not tonight”.

Mercedes smiled to Isadora, she quickly glanced back to Nazimova, who felt coldness climb up her leg from where it met her foot, brought about the womanly leg which had departed it just as Alla passed across the table to Isadora Duncan a card, one with a hotel’s name on it…

“They must be such a hassle sometimes, aren’t they?” de Acosta asked her “Well, a little bit”

Duncan said “I love them as I would my own children, so of course we have our arguments”

“I can’t possibly imagine raising six… Pretty young ladies” Mercedes said, Nazimova quips

“If you tried it, then you would probably get arre—”

Nazimova lets out an “Ow” upon feeling the leg of Mercedes coming against her shin, she’d brush aside what Alla was alluding to, instead she tells Isadora “You clearly derisive a break”

“I do, very much… I deserve a drink, and a stiff one at that, don’t you agree?” Isadora asked.

Mercedes purrs “Darling Duncan, when I’m done with you, you’ll be hungover past midday”.

Back at the apartment of Mercedes de Acosta had guided her guest for the evening inside…

They were arm in arm, with Nazimova following closely behind them, admiring the pair from behind, and would more than willingly accept the coats that slid from their finely aged bods

“Would you care for a drink? Maybe a… My, my…”

“What?” Isadora asked Mercedes, following her eyes and her eager little hands to what she wore around her long and elegant neck “What a lovely scarf you wear” Mercedes swoons to her, fawning like an innocent pixie like a children’s book fairy, not those of folklore or myth

“Why, I am merely a sucker for silk” Isadora admits

“Who wouldn’t?” Mercedes de Acosta asked her, leaning in close with what seemed like an almost devilish smirk “You wear it well” she tells Isadora before slowly pulling it off her neck.

Isadora Duncan feels the silk unwrapping her neck as it’s pulled off by Mercedes de Acosta.

And she caught Mercedes taking a very long whiff.

The two women locked eyes before Mercedes found herself pulled in closer by her own scarf

“Your hand wears it well” Isadora said to Mercedes.

Nazimova could have sworn to have heard de Acosta growl before she shared a kiss with her.

Alla watched them as the two women before her shared a sweet and impassioned moment, as Mercedes and Isadora locked lips, as the coats in her arms cloaked the funny feeling that stirred between her legs, as her knees and thighs rub together to heat up the chill she felt.

The “Chill" was in her chest and close to her belly, but not strong enough to make her hate it.

Alla was more surprised that she was not jealous…

That watching Mercedes begin to make love to a beautiful, much older woman didn’t stir in her loins and her mind, closely connected, anger or hatred, that it didn’t make them want to scream her lungs out…

It had aroused and excited her, she wanted to see a master at work.

Following them to the bedroom, entering with fine wines, Alla made herself comfortable on a chair beside the bed, Mercedes saying to Duncan

“Oh, you won’t mind her watching us… Will you?”

“You say that like people don’t watch my every move already” Isadora quipped as she began to remove her shoes, stretching her well defined yet elegant legs, allowing her skirt to crawl further up her lap, subtly flashing them her underwear as she did it playfully commenting

“Frankly? I am surprised I can take a shit in private”

Mercedes gently laughed as she gestures Alla over, saying “Do make my guest feel at home”

“Yes?” Alla asked them “Her feet must be so tired” de Acosta said “…Massage them, please”

“You say that like I was the one dancing earlier” Isadora said before the hand came up to her chin, guiding her up to the lips of Mercedes, who would tell her to relax, and to let Nazimova do the work, Duncan couldn’t help but stir, leaning back as she gently groaned in pleasure.

She couldn’t help but laugh, especially once Allas breath had tickled her now exposed feet.

Alla Nazimova took care of her feet, gently kissing and even smelling them when she wasn’t cracking them, her hands working wonders whilst her eyes glanced upward, watching as the dyke at the top of the stairs, atop the bed, went to work on the rest of Isadoras lovely body…

They way Mercedes looked down on Allas was so…

Fucking arousing, whereas Isadora Duncan was in a state of bliss, both by Mercedes and Alla.

Maybe it was the digits she found digging their way inside of her, or maybe it was the mercy Nazimova was giving her feet as she crawled up her leg, but Isadora was singing their praise the moment Alla had begged Mercedes de Acosta for permission to touch and entice herself.

She still thought about it, even there in Hollywood.

But… That night was about two or three years ago.

And whether Nazimova liked to admit it or not, definitely not, she found herself very jealous.

Nazimova was already pushing her luck allowing her pet, her Jean Acker, to up and leave the Babylon that was Hollywood, to head back east to the place that was once her home, before Nazimova firmly locked her fingers around her heart, nails inches away from plunging deep.

And now Acker repays Alla by whoring herself out?

Nazimova was infuriated, she was angry… She was jealous, something she thought would be impossible, it was she herself who made men and women jealous, it was her who’d bend them to her will, who would have them on their hands and knees, at her feet, kissing them.

Jean had hung up shortly after Nazimovas reaction

“Jean?!” she asked the phone, hearing nothing but a sterile hum before she shouted “Fuck!”.

She wanted to dial her, but instead she decided there was nothing better for her to do but to scream into her pillow, cursing both in Russian and broken english before she tired herself out, before she laid lazily, her magnetic, violet blue eyes locked upon the ceiling up above…

“I never had this problem with Mercedes” she said.

Then again, Mercedes de Acosta was a different breed of woman, one that Alla strived to be.

In control, the captain of her own ship, the leader of their own band, the queen of the castle.

Chapter Text

Grace Darmond was having a great day, you could tell by the smile she wore upon her face, the confidence which gleamed in her eyes, and the looseness to her movement as she sways about her home, it was her day off, and she was listening to music upon their record player.

“By The Light Of The Silv’ry Moon” more specifically, their outstretched legs dancing lazily…

Jean Acker would have gotten her present already.

Grace’s cladded in nothing but a buttoned up shirt.

But thankfully it was big enough to cover her loins.

Grace was sprawled across the sofa when a knocking came to her door “Who is it?” she asked

“It’s Nazimova” Darmond heard outside her home.

Grace stretched before they went to check the door, and opening it she saw Alla Nazimova, dressed in black: “I’ve had a less than lovely night”.

Concerned, Darmond invited her inside, asking her if she had wanted a drink or something to sooth her nerves, Nazimova wishing for some tea

“If you have any” Grace asked Nazimova “D’you think all I’ve got is booze? I’ve got a couple teabags, if y’want I can add some honey”.

Preparing Alla Nazimova a cup of tea, she’d ask her

“So is Eva finally proving to be a hassle for you?” Nazimova tells Grace “Oh no, far from it” waving this off “She’s a doll for the most part”

Darmond quipped as she turned on the kettle “You ever let her out of that glass case?” Alla scoffs “You say that like she’s my own daughter”

“Well, either way, she probably calls you mommy”.

Both women smiled at one and other as Nazimova lounged about, laying down upon where Grace was previously sitting “That’s my spot” pointed out Grace

“Thanks for keeping it warm” Alla said as she contemplated lighting her cigarette, though she would choose against this.

Alla had needed at least a couple sips of tea first…

“Eva was out last night, doing who knows what” Nazimova said “Or who knows who” teased Grace playfully, she didn’t see the frown on the face of the Russian on her couch, whom had slowly begun to slide the shoes off their dainty feet, the sudden sound of the shoes landing on the wood almost startled Grace when she went to pick up the kettle, although luckily she was well aware of the other shoe that would drop, and Nazimova knew it…

Smiling at them.

“…Ashamed I didn’t burn myself?” Darmond asks.

With one leg over the other, Nazimova could not help playfully wag her finger at Darmond, her finger slowly drifting down to her lip, almost as if she was pointing at her seductive little smile, one which made Grace cross her legs for a second, her calves rubbing together a bit.

Grace asked Alla “So, would you like some honey?”.

Nazimova told her “I’m starving for something sweet… I would like honey upon my tongue”

“You could have just said ‘Yes’” quipped Darmond

“Not that I’m complaining, you do you…”

“That is usually what you do…” Alla mused as she is handed her tea with honey “Thank you”

“Don’t mention it” Grace told her as she sat across from them, she could almost hear an’ feel those lips as they blew on their tea, gently raising the cup to them, softly sipping the liquid.

Grace took in a deep breath as her eyes search the ceiling

“I don’t think I’ve ever slept here” Alla noted out-loud

“…Really? You were fucking Jean before me, how is that even possible?”

“Most of the fun occurred at my place… You should know that” Nazimova said, sipping tea “By fun y’mean my emotional torture?” Grace asked her

“You say that like you didn’t join in” Alla told them “Don’t worry, I’m over torturing you”

“…Thanks?” she asked, sounding a little confused, but she couldn’t help but laugh a little bit

“Your welcome” Alla smiled as she gently giggled, though said giggle was quick to fade like a dream, almost as if her heart was too heavy to dance about in the levity of their situation, one which Grace Darmond was not yet made aware of, before she mused to Nazimova that:

“You know, I’m actually starting to get used to you”.

“How sad” Alla sighed both to Grace and herself, because she was about to ruin the morning

“Jean’s cheating on you” Nazimova told her calmly

“…What?” Grace asked Alla after a very long pause.

“She called me last night and she was bragging about it—“

Grace hissed “Oh fuck you Alla!” almost catching them off guard as Grace angrily repeated

“Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!”

“How polite of you” Nazimova said as she sat back.

“I literally just told you that you were starting to get on my good side” Grace had pointed out

“I literally just decided to burry the hatchet between us and you tell me that? You fucking lie to my face and tell me Jean is ditching me… Ditching me for what?! Some slut in Jersey?! What the… What… The fuck is wrong with you?! What kind of a game are you playing, Al?!”

Nazimova was somewhere between terrified and genuinely impressed by Grace’s dramatics.

“Have you ever considered acting?” Alla asked her.

Grace looked Alla Nazimova in the eyes and spat “Get fucked” trying to hold back her anger

“Oh, you say that you hate me, and I can even feel it… But you have so much to love me for”

Nazimova said to Grace Darmond “Oh? Well say it”

“If it wasn’t for me, you two would never have met”

Nazimova looked her in the eyes as she said that, her eyes a deeper shade of violet and blue than Grace’s, as she slowly picked herself up from the seat she was in as she went on to add

“For that alone? You… Should be thanking… Me”.

The look on her face wasn’t smug, Nazimova actually looked quite pissed at Grace Darmond, but Glee had still wanted to smack that look off her face, and she knew that Nazimova knew it as well

“…Thanks” Grace said with a smiled before she had sharply slapped Alla Nazimova, her pale cheek went red as she winced, her mouth stayed agog for a second or more as she seemed to silently stir about in pain, Allas delicate fingers making their way up her cheek…

Grace Darmond braced for anything, but what she didn’t expect was the sound which slowly left the open lips of the Russian actress

“…Ohh fuck” she uttered as her eyes opened, having rolled back as she slowly gathered herself, standing firm as she steadied herself “…Oh my”

“…Did they like that?” Darmond thought to herself

“It stings” Alla commented as she brushed her fingers against it “…Kiss it better” Alla said

“What? After you come in here and you—“

Nazimova cuts her off with a demand “Now, bitch”Grace was taken aback by this “Fuck, she did like it”

“Don’t make me count down” Alla threatened Grace, whom at that point had nervously and slowly approached her, she tried to wear defiance on her face as she leaned in close, just as they heard Alla Nazimova forcefully saying “Three”.

Planting a deep kiss upon her cheek, Grace would slowly back away, leaving a strand of spit between her lip and that red cheek of Nazimova…

Alla looked Grace in their eyes, she smiled back to them and simply said “Let me thank you”.

The back of Nazimovas hand came against the right side of Grace Darmonds face, a red hot, fuzzy kind of pain shooting through her cheek as out of their mouth came a sharp and loud “Fuck!” as she clutched her face, falling to her knees, her ear ringing as she held back tears.

“You fuckin’ bitch” Grace managed to mumble out.

She felt a hand tilt her head to the side before the lips of Alla Nazimova came down on her.

The kiss she gave her cheek was passionate, salacious, she shivered as she felt their tongue.

That tongue of hers would lather Grace’s red cheek.

Darmond didn’t want to moan, but her body couldn’t help it, her lips couldn’t hold back that strange and uneasy sound, not quite a whimper, she wouldn’t have called it such, but slowly the numb but hot sensation on their face vanished, replaced by a fuzzy feeling on her pussy.

Glancing up, she saw Allas tongue just as it was going back inside of her mouth, like a snake back to its cave, as it closes into a smile, telling her

“Your welcome” as her hand gently guided them up by their chin, a look is in her blue eyes.

Grace didn’t know if it was pride or something else, whether she was still angry or in a mood for activities she had typically saved for her bedroom, either way, those violet blue eyes were on Grace Darmond, and silently she waited for a response, either a “Thanks” or a “Fuck you”.

“If that’s how you go around ‘Thanking’ people… What do you do when you’re pissed off?” Grace asked her “Let’s find that out” Alla suggested

“Really?” Grace asked before she found Nazimova tugging her by the arm to the bedroom…

“I was telling the truth” Alla told them in the doorway “Jean has cheated” Grace asking her

“If she did… Then who was it on?” Alla stared her down, knowing what Grace wanted to say

“Get on the fucking bed” Nazimova told her, dragging Darmond straight into the bedroom.

Before she was forced upon the bed, Grace Darmond found Nazimova lips against hers, their kiss was rough but deep, Grace groaned out of annoyance, she wanted to smack her again, but she had a feeling that Alla Nazimova was going to smack her for simply thinking that… Or maybe she would spank her?

Seemed like the more like option, considering their kissing.

Grace’s hair stood on end the moment Nazimova’s hand made its way underneath her shirt.

Darmond sharply gasped once she felt it, and Alla couldn’t help but laugh at what she found

“My, my, my…” Nazimova smiled, her head against Grace’s as she queries “Where are they?”

“Wh—Where is… Where’s what?” Grace asked her “Your panties” Alla said “With Jean now”

Darmond admitted “But you’re keeping the bra?” she asked her “Is it to remind you of her?”.

Grace was on their bed when Alla suggested this…

“How slutty of you” Nazimova had mused to Grace, something cruel in her giddy tone before they rolled Grace over on her belly, roughly she would tear at the shirt, pulling it down in a way which made it difficult for Darmond to move her arms, bringing forth an annoyed shout

“Again?!” Grace asks before Alla had silenced them

“What the fh—“ tightly a pair of leggings was wrapped around their face, their loud mouth especially, the low growling of Grace Darmond only seemed to entice Alla, who continued to tie those wrists of hers behind her back, admiring their ass roughly before rolling her over.

She did so with a sharp smack across said rear-end.

“Now… Let’s play pretend” Nazimova said to Grace once she had straddled them salaciously, as she pondered what game the two should play…

“I know” she smiled “…Why don’t you play Jean Acker? You’d like being her, wouldn’t you?” Grace frowned, but she felt that hand tightly gripping her blonde locks, pulling her head up as she forces Grace to nod

“…Lucky you” Alla smiled, Grace turned away, but Alla leaned in

“Would you like a taste of what I’m going to give Jean the moment she comes back here?” Nazimova asked the muffled and gagged Grace Darmond “Nod if you like the sound of that”.

But Grace looks up at Alla, refusing to even budge.

“…If you do not respond… I am leaving you here”

Nazimova threatened them “Don’t give me the silent treatment after what you did, Jean…” adding “I’ve got a toy in my purse… And I’m going to shove it up your ass unless you nod”

Grace’s face changed “Uncertainty” Alla had read…

Closing her eyes she nodded on her own, unassisted, bringing this wicked smile across the face of Nazimova “Good girl” she told her in a nurturing tone, stroking Darmond’s chin ever so gently before she would proceed to sharply and harshly yank the bra off their lovely body.

Darmond’s eyes went so wide, she’s clearly startled

“Why so scared?” Alla asked “You can find another, much like how I can find another you…” she mused before tossing it aside, Nazimova kissed their neck, slowly coming down to their chest, teasing her

“But you are never going to find another me… So beg for my forgiveness” Grace tried to say something, but Nazimova couldn’t be sure what, on account of her being muffled and gagged, so she pulled it down around their neck, choosing to use it like a collar and leash

“Well? I’m waiting” Nazimova had told Grace “Beg for my forgiveness, Jean Acker”

“…Please” Darmond said unconvincingly “Please”.

Gently gyrating atop their lap, Nazimova orders her to “Beg for it!” a sharp thrust and tone in her voice made Grace give her the response she wanted, closing her pretty eyes and saying

“Please, please, please” almost like a whining child, one genuinely begging for forgiveness

“Tell me that you’re sorry” Alla told Grace Darmond

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry—“ Nazimova interrupted “Tell me you’re sorry for being a slut, Jeanie”

“I’m sorry for… I’m sorry for being… Being a slut, Nazimova” she told Alla “Just the worst” Nazimova told Jean Acker, that “You go about cheating on me with some east coast whore?!”

“I didn’t mean it!” Grace told Alla “I didn’t mean it”.

Nazimova looked like she wanted to laugh before she told her “…Prove she wasn’t worth it” Allas hand gently drifted about the neck and chin of Grace Darmond

“It wasn’t worth it at all” she uttered weakly “Oh? Then put your money where you mouth is… Like a good little girl”.

Darmond shivered with disgust before their kiss…

Yes, Nazimova was a really good kisser, Grace might have hated her, but she had to admit it.

But they still liked those of Jean Acker much more.

But she wasn’t wasn’t going to kiss Jean on her lips, she was going to eat out of Allas pussy.

Spreading her legs, Nazimova peacefully arched back before Grace Darmond went down on her, that pale Russians hand is on the top of her head as she guided them down to her lap, to the loins awaiting them and their tongue, as roughly she was buried between her thighs.

Nazimova wanted t’know what her Jean was up to.