Speakeasy: Cecil’s

August 14, 2014

 London

I was lost, walking down a darkened alley with not a creature stirring. I felt a pang of fear hit me like a silver blade. What if it’s a trap?

Out of the misty fog, two men cloaked in black allure stood staring at me. They beckoned me towards them. I tottered forward, in the hope they could help me.
“Are you looking for Cecil’s?” one said.
I breathed a sigh of relief. I had found the place I was looking for down this dusty empty road. The men lead me down some dark stairs where the soft rumbling of jazz was just out of reach. A girl in a sequined dress appeared and place a tea cup in my hand.
“Drink and enter,” she smiled. 
It was sweet and made me instantly feel at ease. A curtain was peeled back revealing the dazzling home of Cecil’s. Everyone was dressed in a perfect 1930’s uniform. Sparkles, feathers and suits were worn in such a perfect way that I began to wonder if everyone was hired to be here.
The light glittered over everyone including the dapper jazz band performing on stage. Cecil himself was in a milk bottle white suit was introducing himself to every one who entered. He spotted me sitting alone next to the saxophone player and made his way towards me. With a bow, and a flick of his silver moustache, he asked me to dance. I politely accepted his hand and was thrown into a pirouette.

After a ballroom dance underneath dimmed lights, I grabbed a cocktail. It was called Aperitif No.20 which was a tequila punch mixed with marmalade and lemon. It was absolute genius and I would say that was the best drink on the menu.

This was the perfect place to bedazzle a lady. I began to wonder why a man hadn’t taken me here before. Before I let the highballs and whiskey take it’s hold, I began to leave. A vixen with her long slender back exposed, grabbed my arm and smiled at me with a charm that matched the speakeasy. It was the bartender, and she urged me to do a shot of Soldier before I left.

As the concoction of Johnny Walker Black, Martini Rosso & Cherry Heering splashed my red painted lips, I felt the urge to stay. Cecil’s is a 30’s dream which is a wonder why anyone leaves.

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