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Josie Ch. 01

Josie Ch. 01

Amateur

Josie – Chapter 01 – by Polly+Anna (3513 words) An Aviatrix in 1921 Detroit (2/6/20)

MARCH 1921

Josie adored her apartment atop the carriage house on Iroquois Avenue in Detroit’s Indian Village. It was quite close to her employer’s home, but not close enough to encourage idle gossip. Not that Josie had found that being prudent discouraged wagging tongues, gossips well, they gossip. The fact that Edsel’s wife had given him four lovely children – one of whom was a mere infant, or the fact that her family virtually ran every civic organization of significance in southeast Michigan would be deemed irrelevant, so was the fact that the Hudson family owned a department store chain, an automobile manufacturer, three banks, a stove works, and the Detroit City Gas Company. Ah, but those wagging tongues would say, Josie was six years younger than Eleanor Lowthian Clay Ford, so there were unfounded stories.

Edsel had “found” her the lovely two-bedroom apartment, just a block down the street from the elegant English Tudor “Honeymoon Cottage” with eight bedrooms and five baths that Edsel and Eleanor Ford and their four little children lived in. Close by so that she might always be available whenever Edsel or his father wanted to go for a ride, ahem, a trip somewhere in one of the many airplanes that Henry Ford owned.

Theirs had been a fortuitous meeting a year ago she had been flying, shooting a few touch-and-goes just for fun at the Ossewa aerodrome when the elder Mister Ford had been there looking over a de Havilland Model Nine aeroplane that his aviation enthusiast son Edsel had just purchased. Henry had stopped for a moment, and admired the crisp precise turns that she had been making on her approaches to land, before examining the D.H. 9.

Both men had been surprised when she climbed down from the cockpit of her JN-4 “Jenny” and tied it down next to the hangar that the Ford airplane resided in. Edsel, who was only five years older than she, had struck up a conversation with her as she was busily covering her airplane’s cockpit opening with a tarpaulin. Henry then complimented her on her precision, and she told him how much she had admired the deHavilland, not knowing who had owned it. Impressing him with the knowledge that it flew five times as much payload almost twice as fast as her Curtiss. How perfect his airplane would be to fly the new airmails and parcels.

Henry likely would not have spoken to her had he known how she knew so much about payloads and power to weight ratios. Half an hour before speaking to him Josie had been on a dusty dirt road somewhere west of Saint Claire Michigan. She had met Harriett at a pre-arranged spot to transfer four dozen bottles of first-class Scotch Whisky from the improvised racks that required modifications to the seat in the second cockpit of the Jenny into her flivver. Josie had to confine herself to smuggling top-tier whiskey due to the payload restraints of the Jenny.

With an airplane like the deHavilland she could carry five times the payload. But while the Jennys had practically been given away after the recent War in Europe and were everywhere in the hands of barnstormers and hobbyists, the Avco D.H. 9 would attract attention wherever it went. Of course, if you were Henry or Edsel Ford and you attracted attention wherever you went, Josie thought, where better to hide a tree than in a forest.

“You know that father built the Liberty engine that is in the deHavilland,” Edsel had said. “He designed a new process for cutting and pressing steel, and cylinder production at Ford went from about 150 a day to over 2,000…”

“My son has quite the ‘gift,’ for talking to the ladies,” Henry had said with a smile.

“No,” she had said, smiling as well, “I am proud that the man who invented such wondrous processes to create affordable automobiles and aircraft has deigned to speak with me.”

The two men went on to tell Josephine how The Ford Motor Company manufactured every single cylinder produced, for every single Liberty Engine ever made, in addition to building the already contracted for 4,000 complete engines. How Edsel’s neighbor William Durant, being an avowed pacifist, declined to have his Cadillac Motor Division producing war material, and how Henry and Edsel had invested in the new Lincoln Motor Company that his other neighbor Henry Leland had formed after leaving Cadillac’s management over the issue. Leland’s new plant had built nearly half of the 20,000 engines that were made in just over two years.

Josephine’s mother had told her that people, especially people who thought that they were important, enjoyed talking about themselves. That if you smiled, made consistent eye contact, and occasionally – without interrupting – made brief comments that showed that you had been listening, that people would think you were “the world’s greatest conversationalist.” In 1920 Henry and Edsel Ford didn’t just think that they were important, they were important. Mom’s advice was spot on, for about a week or so later Harriet was working at her family’s Inn when Henry Ford stopped by looking for “Josephine,” and he left Escort bayan a personal invitation for her to take a ride in Edsel’s newest aeroplane acquisition.

Edsel was at the aerodrome with William Stout who had built and would fly the airplane they were about to take a ride in. Bill Stout had been on the Liberty Engine design team at Packard and had built four experimental all-metal aeroplanes for the U. S. Army during the war. Unlike the D.H. 9, Stout’s ‘Air Sedan’ was underpowered, using the same ninety horsepower engine as the Jenny that Harriett had learned to fly in. They flew around the field not daring to go very far with four people on board.

During the flight Henry and Edsel talked about having some engineers figure out how big of an engine the ‘Air Sedan’ might be able to accept, Bill had wanted to put a Liberty Engine in it, but Edsel thought that inadvisable. So as Josephine enviously watched Bill fly his wondrous, albeit underpowered duralumin airplane, she heard the Fords discuss the advisability of investing the princely sum of one thousand dollars apiece in Bill’s new aeroplane company.

When they landed Edsel said to her, “Did you enjoy the ride?”

“Yes, very much, indeed” Harriett said.

“Do you want to learn to fly it, Bill’s aeroplane?” said Henry.

“I would very much like to,” Josephine said, valiantly holding back the urge to scream with joy.

“Bill,” Henry said, “we will have some engineers out here tomorrow at nine. I want you to teach them and Miss Josephine here everything that you know about this airplane.”

“Josephine,” Henry said, “Josephine, Josie, do you mind if I call you Josie?”

“Not at all,” said Josephine, now Josie, how many people are christened by Henry Ford himself. “But…”

“Yes, child,” said Henry, “what is it?”

“Harriet expects me to work lunch at the Inn’s dining room tomorrow, it wouldn’t be right–” she said.

“Edsel,” Henry said, “get a kitchen servant over to the Inn to work Josie’s shift tomorrow.” Turning to Josie he said, “can you be right here at nine am?”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Ford,” Josie said ecstatically.

“Henry… Dear girl, please call me Henry.”

These were the thoughts that Josie was thinking as she was walking those few blocks from her beloved apartment to the market. It was just across Jefferson Avenue from the beautiful Beaux-Arts Memorial Gate to Water Works Park on the Detroit River. Josie sometimes found it difficult to comprehend that she was literally living in the most affluent neighborhood in Detroit, arguably the most affluent city in the nation.

As she walked down Iroquois today she had passed by the cream-colored stucco and red brick home of George Holley, whose company supplied Ford with carburettors, and the Neo-Renaissance home of Louis Kamper, the famous architect. She passed the Prairie Style home of Robert Hupp, who one time was an employee of Henry, he went on to build the Hupmobile. Walking towards the river on Iroquois she had passed the Italianate Mansion of Christian Hecker, the son of the railroad car builder and president of his family’s Insurance company, and finally the Gothic Tudor Mansion of Arthur and Clara Buhl who built the magnificent 26 storey Buhl Building downtown.

Sometimes from the market, she walked through the Hurlbut Memorial Gate, and into the big park on top of the water plant, or down Jefferson Avenue past Rowland’s brand new Presbyterian Church, with its twelve ornate carvings of corbels in the forms of medieval shields, one for each of the Apostles of Christ. That route took her past the Colonial Revival home of the famous sculptor Julius Melchers, and on to the Pewabic Pottery workshop of Mary Chase Perry Stratton, the always interesting artist who was currently working on tiles for new Shedd Aquarium in Chicago.

After making her purchase Josie took Seminole the parallel street back home past the Tudor Revival Mansion of Henry Leland, the founder of Cadillac before creating Lincoln which he was negotiating to sell to Henry Ford. She walked past the Federalist red brick home of John Beaumont, one of the most prominent attorneys in Detroit. She passed the German Baroque home of Fritz Goebel. It was across the street from the Arts and Crafts Tudor built by his father and now the home of his older brother. They were the scions of the now-defunct Goebel Brewing Company. Like her childhood friend Harriet Elsinore, their family business put out of business by the hypocrisy of the Eighteenth Amendment. At the corner, she passed the Enoch Smith House where her employer Edsel Ford lived.

Indian Village was an absolutely amazing place to live, where Josie casually and daily interacted with the people who ran Detroit, or at least with their servants and retainers. Sometimes she walked uptown to the little park on Burns by the extravagant English influenced combination of windows and stucco that was architect Albert Kahn’s Liggett School. If she walked up there on Iroquois and back on Burns, in turn, she passed jeweler John Kay’s Colonial Revival and the English Cottage mansion that was Bayan escort the home of Detroit News Publisher Warren Scripps Booth.

Burns boasted the English Colonial Bliemaster House built for Jacob Schaeffer who seemed to own every warehouse in Detroit and the Mildner and Eisen building at Mack and Gratiot. She would walk past the Bernard Koether and Harriet Bowerman House, he was the director of sales, advertising, and public relations at GM executive. They were a most modern couple who lived together openly without benefit of marriage. Jacob Danziger’s mansion, he was the general manager of Detroit Motor Casting, was on the corner just caddy-corner from her apartment.

Accompanying her employer, Josie was welcome in places that she could not have dreamed of being accepted as a child, had they even existed then or had she known about them. She ate lunch at the Savoyard Club up on the top floor of the Rowland designed Neo-Gothic and Romanesque Buhl Building in Detroit’s Financial District. She wasn’t a member, but her name was on the list of ‘permanently approved’ guests at the door. Three of Rowland’s architectural creations faced each other there on the corner, the Penobscot Building and the Guardian Building, being the other two.

Dining on the 27th floor, she could legally partake of her guest’s private reserve of Canadian and Scottish whiskey, Jamaican Rum or French wines stockpiled before Prohibition and the Volstead Act. Sale, transportation across state lines, and manufacture for sale were prohibited by federal law, possession and consumption were not. Just like in the days of old, the working poor were beaten by Cossacks for fancying a beer, while President Wilson’s private liquor supply was moved out of the White House, and first President Harding and then President Coolridge’s was moved into those now empty cellars by those same thirsty laborers paid for by the Federal treasury.

A year of violence had followed the implementation of the Volstead Act, when the truce that had established fairly equal control over the various local rackets was rendered obsolete. The man who through a host of subordinates had employed Harriet’s husband Blake, Sam Gianolla, the head of one of the two largest gangs casually walked out of his bank and died in a hail of bullets. A year later, after dozens of associates on both sides had been murdered, John Vitale, the leader of the other gang, would die as mobsters in two moving cars fired hundreds of shots at him. Eighteen had found their mark.

Josie had made several flights to locations in southern Ontario promoting the ‘Reliability Tour’ and other Company ventures, and after each she had landed the ‘Air Sedan’ in a remote location where she and Blake loaded the airplane to capacity. With the new Hispano-Suisa engine that was six times what the Jenny held. Then she landed in an equally remote location in southeastern Michigan to unload the liquor onboard into a vehicle in Harriet’s employ. All while hoping that they would not become targets of the violence.

“Singing” Sam Catalanotte whose chief skill was diplomacy took the survivors of the Gianolla-Vitale war and established an uneasy peace. His “Pascuzzi Combine” was a practical unification of several local gangs into a very loose affiliation of co-operating groups. Josie recalled so many conversations with Harriett and Blake regarding the danger of continuing with their business and the danger of leaving it to do something different. Flying, even in the dead of night never scared her, and the authorities never scared her, she planned and took precautions. But the gangsters were scary, unpredictable and violent, Josie was so relieved when she finally arrived and saw Blake’s car at the curb across the street from her apartment.

When Josie entered her apartment Blake was setting up a motion picture camera on a tripod while Harriett was boiling some eggs and chopping a head of Boston lettuce.

“Glad I gave you a key,” Josie said, “now I truly fit into the neighborhood, I have my own servants.”

Blake finished adjusting the focal length of the lens and grabbed Josie, pulling her into him and kissing her passionately.

“We figured that we would have a nice dinner and then make a movie,” Harriett said.

“Sounds good to me,” said Josie as Blake released her. She walked to Harriett and she kissed her every bit as passionately as Blake had just kissed her. “Like this Blake?”

“Actually I was thinking of shaving your pubes on camera,” said Blake.

‘What if I have become attached to them?” said Josie.

“Well,” said Blake smiling, “you seem to like Harriett’s shaved quim.”

“I do,” said Josie, “but what if you slip?”

“I would cut him if he cut you, babe,” said Harriett, “your parts belong to me.”

“You never fly after dark, right Jo?” said Blake.

“Nope,” said Josie, “not for work. By the time we are finished with dinner the night will be ours.”

“Do we have anything to drink?” said Harriett, prudently they never kept even one bottle of their high-class haul around.

“There is wine in the cupboard,” Escort Josie said, “Burgundy, Claret, and Riesling.”

Harriet looked at the large tin can, “Riesling Grape Juice” it read, and it had a prominent label. “Warning: this grape juice is not meant for the production of alcoholic beverages in violation of state or federal law. Once opened the contents should be consumed immediately. DO NOT open this can add three tablespoons of sugar and leave it uncovered in a cool cupboard for 21 days or it will ferment and become wine.”

“Sweetie,” said Harriett, “did you read the instructions on this can?”

“Yes,” said Josie, “and I failed to follow them to the letter.”

They enjoyed a lovely dinner consisting of chopped Boston and red leaf lettuce seasoned with crushed peppercorns and chunks of blue cheese drizzled with olive oil and balsamic vinegar. The bed was topped with crumbled overcooked bacon, sliced eggs, diced Hass avocado, cherry tomatoes, thinly sliced English cucumbers, sliced swiss cheese, and dried cranberries. The meal was complemented by several glasses of a homemade Riesling. After partaking Josie, Blake and Harriett got all dressed up for the camera.

Harriet held the first three placards as Blake ran the camera, “

3 The Shave,” the first one read. It wasn’t how the pros did it, but they had the art of making a movie without having to edit it later down-pat. Blake went outside in his fine three-piece white suit with its matching hat and his brown leather doctor’s satchel. Harriet filmed Josie in a beautiful lace white blouse, black leather strap heels, string of pearls, and stylish black skirt answering his knocking. Then another placard was filmed as Josie held it, it read “Your sister asked me here. I am to shave you.”

Josie pantomimed for the camera, directing Blake to the sofa where she reclined erotically. Harriett turned the camera off, and it was moved on its tripod to the open bathroom door where Josie filmed Harriett, resplendent in a fine dress showing Blake the sink, and Blake filling a water basin and taking a towel and washcloth from the rod. Josie held a placard as Harriett filmed the scene and Blake returned to the sofa.

Josie returned to the sofa while Harriet filmed her for a few seconds before stopping. While Blake filmed Harriett held a placard that read, “You must remove your garment, madam.” Harriett then returned to filming as Blake watched Josie stand, and remove her elegant black skirt and her white panties, before laying back down on the sofa. Blake spread a towel under Josie’s butt, and opened his brown leather satchel, removing a small porcelain bowl containing a shaving soap cake and a brush.

Josie twisted and turned and giggled as her pubes were lathered. Then Blake removed a straight razor from the satchel and stropped it on a piece of leather. Josie pantomimed fear, and pulled her breasts out of her blouse, tweaking her nipples as Blake carefully shaved her Mound of Venus. He washed the razor and her mound after removing her pubic hair, then he reached inside of her just a little to pull her big lips out to meet the blade.

Blake carefully shaved her, removing the hairs from both of Josie’s outer labia, first the right one, and then the left one as Harriett filmed the process. Blake carefully washed the blade again and dabbed her pubis with the wet washcloth. Then after he washed her, he slowly slid his right hand formed into a duckbill shape, into her vagina.

Harriett stopped the camera, and Blake displayed a placard that was on camera as she resumed filming, it read “You brute!”

As Harriett resumed filming, Blake began to fist Josie hard on the sofa. In and out of her soppy vagina, pushing deep, the audience will love this action both Blake and Harriet thought to themselves. Josie was too engaged in the action to think about anything other than how good Blake’s fist felt inside of her, pushing on all of her hidden sexual structures, and making one nerve ending after another send tiny fireworks to her brain like the popping of corn at the cinema’s concession stand.

Harriett waved to Blake as she stopped filming, and on her signal he picked up another placard, it read “Should I stop?”

Blake resumed fisting Josie, pushing hard on the bottom of Josie’s vagina with his right hand, and getting a couple of fingers from his left hand in at the top as well. Nobody would hear it, but Josie was screaming and shrieking in the throes of her passion. Harriett was admiring how much of Josie’s ecstasy will be readily apparent to viewers of their silent film.

Frustratingly for Josie the action momentarily halted again as Blake held up another placard, it said, “Don’t you dare!”

As Harriett returned to filming, Blake climbed on top of Josie. They have filmed this sort of action before, and Harriett knew exactly where to place the camera so as to get an excellent shot of Blake’s engorged penis penetrating Josie’s soaking wet vagina, and usable film of her husband’s ass as he pummeled her childhood pal. Josie meanwhile had left planet earth for planet sex and was panting and moaning as his penile head went bump, bump, bump across her cervix on both the in stroke and the outstroke, pushing hard into the back of her pussy, and making her world a world of pure pleasurable sensation before they both orgasmed and Blake slowly softened.

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