1930s Chicago. Notorious gangster Tom "Tommy Gun" Holland has been storming his way through Cook County, robbing banks and breaking hearts. One day you find yourself in the wrong place, at the wrong time when he makes a hit on your bank. There's...
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The plan was to have Capone's men in place first. The thug dressed as a copper stood by the entrance, as if he had purpose being there. He would stop anyone else from entering the building once you and Tommy arrived. The other goons would be sprinkled about the lobby, like some everyday joes doing regular business. Except these everyday joes were armed, much to Tommy's dislike. Another variable in an already complicated equation. One false move, and some trigger happy thug could turn the whole job on its head.
You and Tommy approached the steps to the bank. His satchel with his tommy gun hung firmly in his white knuckled grip. His hat lay low on his head, covering his face in shadow. You could still see all the worry that shined in his eyes, though. He glanced at you and the worry was replaced with adoration.
"How do you feel about a big family, Di?" he asked.
You cocked your head at him, surprised by the unexpected question. No amount of surprise was stopping that smile from spreading across your face, though.
"I like that idea, Tommy," you answered. He nodded, seemingly satisfied.
"Good," he said, his hand found its way to your rear and gave a greedy squeeze, "I'm afraid as soon as this is over, I'll have to rip your clothes off and ravage you until you can't walk."
You bit your lip, your pulse pounding with excitement. His fiendish eyes were no doubt undressing you right here on the steps of the bank. You reached behind you and removed his hand from your rear. You held it briefly, sliding your fist around his index finger and began to stroke it as you'd done to his member many times before. Tommy's eyes drifted down to watch with a grin.
"As long as I can still use my mouth," you purred seductively then gave your lips a deliberate lick. Tommy's grin broadened.
"God, I love you," he growled.
"I know," you winked, then proceeded up the rest of the steps. Tommy gave an audible gulp and followed. Capone's copper nodded at you two as you passed through the doors. Here goes nothing, you thought.
The lobby was already fairly full. People were milling about, men in suits, women with babies on their hips, joes with stained collars and worn shoes. Tommy abruptly stopped in the middle of the lobby floor. He stared down with a frown, his jaw clenched in an awful memory. Of course, you thought, this must be where he found Sammy. He hadn't been back since that day. Suppose we all must face our ghosts at some point.
You laced your fingers in his and whispered, "No time for ghosts, Handsome."
Tommy squeezed your hand and nodded, then reached inside his satchel to retrieve his gun.
"Listen up!" he shouted, brandishing his gun, "Everybody on the ground and no one gets hurt!"
You pulled your pistol out and aimed it, circling the lobby floor. Your backs were to each other, in that familiar dance of partners in crime.
