The Golden Room

by Irving Wallace

'The important thing is to let this take place in the Ever-leigh Club, yet not let them know the so-called socialite aunts are running the house. Aida, you and I will just have to slip into the office and remain out of sight when the Armbrusters arrive, and stay hidden until they leave. We can do that with no trouble.'

  'You mean stay locked up all tomorrow evening?'

  'Not quite,' said Minna. 'We can go about our normal activity. But the minute that Edmund welcomes the Armbrusters in the entry hall, he can leave them a moment and rush in to Professor Vanderpool at the piano. You know all those music cues, those codes, we gave him to play when he wants to warn us of danger? Well, when the Armbrusters arrive, let him play "More Work for the Undertaker." That

  will be the song that tells us the Armbrusters are here. Wherever you and I are, we'll hear it played and hurry into the study. When the coast is clear, Professor Vanderpool is to play it again. How does that sound?'

  Aida was mollified. 'It sounds foolproof.'

  'It is,' said Minna, 'so don't worry. Let the Armbrusters come and go. The reputation of Cathleen and Bruce Lester won't be damaged. I give you my word.'

  At noon the following day, Bruce Lester had gone in search of Karen. He found her setting tables in the restaurant.

  He went to her. 'Karen, have you got a moment?'

  'Time on my hands,' she said. 'I have no real work until supper this evening.'

  'Good. Can we have a word outside?'

  Puzzled, Karen accompanied Bruce out of the restaurant. In the hallway she said, 'We can talk here.'

  'It's nothing earth-shaking, just something to feed my curiosity.'

  'About what?'

  'My aunts' home here,' said Bruce. 'I've never had a real look at it. Whenever I ask Aunt Minna to show me around, she always says she's too busy, and so is Aida. Maybe a coincidence, maybe not. Anyway, I'd like to see the place. Since Minna and Aida are still asleep, I thought you could guide me through the mansion.'

  Karen was immediately reluctant. 'It's not my house. I'm not certain I can do that.'

  Bruce persisted. 'I'm sure there is nothing to hide. Unless you know of something.'

  Torn between loyalty to Minna and Aida and the desire to please Bruce, Karen said hesitantly, 'Of course, I don't know their home as well as they do. But I've been all through it a number of times, and I could show you whatever I know.'

  'That's all I want,' said Bruce. 'It's such a tremendous place for two small ladies, I'd like to see what they did with it. You don't mind?'

  'Well, I suppose it's all right,' said Karen, taking Bruce by the hand. 'We can start with the library Minna is so proud of.'

  She directed Bruce past the restaurant and into the library.

  Bruce surveyed the library. 'All this intellect intimidates me,' he admitted.

  'It is intimidating,' agreed Karen. 'Minna has over 3,000 books here. Look at that complete collection of Shelley. Over there, nineteen volumes of Chinese poems. Next to them, Guy de Maupassant. A complete collection of Edgar Allen Poe. Minna told me that Poe was a relative of hers on her mother's side.'

  'I never knew that.'

  'Did you know your Aunt Minna is writing a book of her own?' said Karen. 'She even discussed it with me. It's to be called Poets, Prophets and Gods.''

  Bruce shook his head in wonder. 'Minna's brother, my father… I always thought he was the big brain in the family. I think I can say now that Aunt Minna is at least equal to him.'

  As they left the library, Karen suggested that they skip the Art Gallery. 'Not my strong area,' she said. 'I only know the reproduction of Bernini's Apollo and Daphne. I don't know the paintings at all. Want to go to Minna's favourite retreat -the Gold Room?'

  'You mean the one with the small pure gold piano and the gold cuspidors?' said Bruce. 'I've already seen it. I can't imagine anything gaudier.'

  Karen laughed. 'Well, start imagining,' she said, leading him past the Gold Room. 'Have you seen the Copper Room?'

  'No, but I'd like to.'

  Karen led him into the Copper Room. The walls were panelled in copper and hammered brass. The furniture was made of Arabian brass. In the centre was a mahogany table with a table top made of Italian marble. All around the chamber were cages of yellow canaries singing in full voice.

  They went on to the Rose Room, with its rococo pink wall hangings and its scattering of rounded easy chairs and divans upholstered in pale-pink silk damask.

  Next, they came to the Grand Ballroom, dominated by a massive chandelier of cut-glass drops, shedding light on a hardwood floor made of rare woods in mosaic patterns.

  'There's more?' asked Bruce with amazement, as they resumed walking.

  'Here's the Chinese Room,' said Karen.

  Bruce studied the Oriental hangings and draperies. In the middle of the chamber he saw a teak table holding an oversized brass beaker filled with packages wrapped in red tissue. 'What's this?' he inquired.

  Karen started to explain that it was used by the girls, then caught herself. 'Those packages are Chinese firecrackers. When diners come in here for champagne, your Aunt Minna sets a few of them off. If they make more noise than the pulling of a champagne cork, Minna gives the diner a – a playful kiss on the cheek.'

  'That's an unusual game,' said Bruce.

  They went on to the Moorish Room. It was furnished with deep African couches and the fountain sprayed a musky, intoxicating perfume. 'Your Aunt Minna likes to open boxes of live butterflies.'

  Involuntarily, Bruce was shaking his head. He pointed to folding doors leading to another chamber. 'What's that?' he asked.

  'To be perfectly frank, I don't know,' said Karen. 'I've never been inside it. Shall we have a look?'

  'Why not?'

  Karen opened the doors and showed Bruce inside. 'Heavens,' she gasped. 'The entire floor is mirrored.'

  'Astonishing.'

  'I've heard of a Mirror Room,' said Karen. 'This must be it.'

  She walked past Bruce inside the chamber, going gingerly over the mirrored floor, and stopped, fascinated by the mirrors beneath her feet.

  Bruce was looking at Karen. His eyes went downwards to the hem of her skirt and the tops of her shoes.

  'Karen,' he called out. 'I can see what you're wearing underneath your skirt.'

  'What do you mean?'

  'You're… you're wearing a lace-trimmed chemise beneath your corset.' He gulped. 'It separates but covers you between your legs.'

  'My God!' Karen exclaimed. She came off the mirrored floor as fast as if she'd been walking barefooted on burning coals. At the door, she brought her hand to her mouth. 'What can a floor like that be doing in your aunts' home?'

  'Or for that matter, what's a restaurant doing here?'

  Bruce took Karen by the arm as they walked away. He was lost in thought.

  'You know, Karen, I'm not sure this is Aunt Minna's and Aunt Aida's home,' Bruce finally said. 'It's more like a house.'

  'A house?' Karen repeated. 'What do you mean?'

  'I mean,' said Bruce, 'once in Louisville I was taken to a house. It was not as classy or large as this one, but almost as luxurious. It was a house of ill fame, Karen. This resembles it. You know, a house is not always a home.'

  'Bruce! Do you know what you're saying?'

  'I'm not really sure,' Bruce said.

  'Well, don't say it, please don't say it!'

  At nine o'clock that evening in the Everleigh Club, the Armbrusters, father and son, the latter uneasy in his woollen brown suit and bow tie, had finished their supper.

  Harold Armbruster felt relaxed, expansive, as he continued to ply Alan with champagne.

  Armbruster had advised his son to eat lightly and drink heavily to overcome his nervousness. They'd both dined on roast chicken, and now Armbruster sat back to enjoy a cigar and watch Alan steadily sipping the champagne.

  'Quite a place, this Everleigh Club,' Armbruster admitted.

  'Yes.'

  'No one ever told me a whorehouse could look anything lik
e this. I bet the girls are just as beautiful.'

  Alan made one last effort at resistance. 'Father, I don't have to do this. I'll know what to do with Cathleen. Let's just go home now.'

  Armbruster shook his head vigorously. 'It's now or never. If I let it be never, you'll be in real trouble next week when it matters. I'm going to see you through this, Alan. You won't be able to count the times you'll thank me later.'

  'If you insist,' Alan mumbled.

  'I've never insisted on anything more.' Armbruster waved his hand at Edmund, who was immediately attentive. Armbruster said to him, 'We're through eating. I'll wait down here and have another few drinks until my son is ready to leave. Will you see that he's taken upstairs for some entertainment?'

  'Certainly, sir.' Edmund beckoned the nearest hostess – it was Karen. 'I'll have our hostess escort him upstairs.' When Karen reached his side, Edmund leaned over and whispered to her, 'Take the boy up to Margo's room. You know which one. Margo will be expecting him.'

  Karen extended her hand to Alan, who rose reluctantly. He cast one wretched glance at his father, and then he trailed Karen out of the restaurant.

  As they walked slowly to the staircase, Karen said, 'You look like you're going to the guillotine. Is it your first time?'

  'First,' Alan answered in a quavering voice.

  'It may be an ordeal,' said Karen, 'but it can be fun once you're relaxed. I don't think you'll be sorry. Margo is very nice.'

  'I… I hope you're right.'

  They reached the top of the staircase, and Karen guided him past the numerous doors.

  'Margo, Margo,' murmured Karen to herself, 'she's in eight or nine. I'm sure it's nine.'

  She opened the door partially and peeked in. 'She must be in the bathroom. In fact, I can hear the water running. All right, Alan, you just go in alone. Take off all your clothes and sit on the bed. Soon as she comes out, she'll tell you what to do.'

  'Okay,' Alan swallowed.

  Karen shut the door tightly, and left for the downstairs, praying it went well for the poor kid.

  And that Bruce would never find out about this.

  In the boudoir, Alan stood helplessly, surveying the room and seeing nothing but the brass bed, with its thick mattress covered by a white cashmere blanket.

  As the sounds from the bathroom ceased, he realized that he could not just stand there fully clothed. With numbed fingers he began to shed his clothes and drop them in a heap, first his jacket, then his bow tie, then his shirt, next the shoes and socks, and finally his trousers. He was left standing in his sleeveless, one-piece union suit with its button fly partly fastened.

  Embarrassed to wait naked, he moved towards the bed, and was about to slip under the blanket, when he heard the knob of the bathroom door turn.

  Heart going like a triphammer, he turned towards the bathroom as its door opened and a small, attractive girl, lost in the dim light, appeared. She was loosely clad in a pure white peignoir and he could make out her legs, and then her lovely figure, even the dark patch between her legs. Momentarily breathless, his gaze went up to her breasts, fully evident beneath the thin garment, and then his gaze went up to her face.

  When he saw her face, he gasped audibly.

  This was no whore named Margo.

  This was Cathleen, his Cathleen Lester, the virgin he was engaged to marry in a matter of days.

  He jumped to his feet just as she realized that a young man was present in the room, almost undressed, and then she gasped too. 'Alan!' she exclaimed in a strangled voice.

  Momentarily stunned, he found his voice. 'Cathleen! What are you doing here?'

  'What do you mean what am I doing here? I'm living here with my aunts in their home until our marriage.' She stared at him. 'The question is what are you doing here – and in my room?'

  'Cathleen, this isn't your aunts' home. This is a famous house of prostitution. It's the Everleigh Club.'

  'You must be crazy. It isn't. It can't be. Where did you get the idea that this is a…?'

  Alan broke in on her. 'It is. It's a brothel, a house of prostitution. It's known everywhere. Whatever your aunts told you, they are running this place. They are madams.'

  'Don't you dare say that -'

  'I'm saying it because it's true. Listen to me, Cathleen. For heaven's sake, listen to me. My father decided I must have some experience in sex before our wedding night. It's an old-fashioned idea. Take your son to a sporting house and make him learn what women are all about. The biggest brothel in Chicago is a house called the Everleigh Club, run by two sisters named Minna and Aida Everleigh – not Lester, but Everleigh. He brought me here against my will. I don't want to be with any woman but you. But my father insisted. He dragged me here for dinner and drinks tonight – I mean, what would a restaurant be doing in a private home? – and then he sent me upstairs to consort with a prostitute named Margo. The person who escorted me sent me into the wrong room. Now do you understand?'

  Cathleen was pale, shaking her head. 'I can't believe it, I just can't believe it. You mean my Aunt Minna and Aunt Aida are actually madams, and they've been lying all these years? My father sent us here in good faith, to stay with our aunts before the wedding. He doesn't know…'

  'Nor does my father know about Minna and Aida. He must never find out that his future daughter-in-law has been living in a house of prostitution.'

  On her bare feet, Cathleen had moved closer to Alan. She said in a low voice, 'Alan, it's not important what your father thinks. To me, it's only important what you think.' She hesitated. 'Because I'm here, surely you don't think I'm a prostitute?'

  'Of course not!' He shook his head vigorously. 'I know who you are. I know you're not working here.'

  'But maybe you're not sure.' She reached out and touched Alan's chest. 'Darling, you've got to be sure before we go ahead. You've got to know I'm not one of those girls. Everything that I've told you is true. I'm a virgin, Alan, and I can prove it.'

  With that, she unfastened her peignoir and let it fall to her feet. She faced him, utterly nude.

  'Let me prove it, Alan,' she said, and then turned, walked to the bed, threw back the cover, and lay down.

  Dazzled by the sight of her, Alan swayed on his feet, choking. His eyes feasted on her body as she lay on the bed. He felt the swelling hardness in his crotch. Suddenly his thick penis came straight up and burst out of his underwear.

  He could see Cathleen's eyes widen.

  For Alan, there was nothing more to hide or hold back, no longer a need for modesty.

  He ripped off his union suit and tossed it aside.

  Trembling with excitement, he tried to contain himself as he approached her.

  He settled on the bed and dropped down beside Cathleen, so close that their bare hips and thighs touched.

  Rising, his lips went to her firm nipples, kissing and licking them, then he was kissing her mouth. Their tongues met, and gradually her breathing heightened.

  He was lifting himself, coming down between her legs, as her own legs came up to encircle him.

  He was entering her, gradually entering her, slowly, with difficulty, as she moaned. 'Oh, Alan, I love you.'

  'And I love you,' he whispered.

  And through the joyful minutes that followed, their marriage was consummated without a wedding.

  Downstairs, in a corner of the restaurant, Edmund came upon Karen Grant.

  'Well,' he inquired, 'did you take care of young Arm-bruster?'

  'You mean did I take him up to Margo's boudoir? I did. I put him into bedroom nine, and left him on his own with Margo. By now he knows the facts of life.'

  Edmund was blinking at Karen. 'What did you say? You put him in room nine?'

  'That's right. You told me to put him in room nine.'

  Edmund was shaken. 'No, I didn't. I told you to put him in room six. Margo's in room six.'

  'Oh, no…'

  'Never mind,' said Edmund harshly. 'Do you know who's in room nine? Stay here. I've got to get to
Miss Minna at once!'

  Edmund whirled about, hastened through the restaurant, and raced for the Everleigh office.

  He flung open the door without knocking.

  Minna and Aida were on a sofa, chatting. Minna raised her head. 'What is it? Did old Armbruster leave yet? I didn't hear the Professor's song.'

  Ignoring the question, Edmund entered the office, and propelled himself across the room to face the Everleigh sisters.

  'Miss Minna,' he panted, 'I have some terrible news. There's been a terrible mistake. I just heard about it.'

  'What is it?' Minna asked worriedly, rising.

  'Someone escorted Alan Armbruster upstairs to – to be entertained by Margo in bedroom six. There was a mistake. Alan was led into bedroom nine, instead.'

  'Nine!' Minna exclaimed, aghast. 'That's Cathleen's private room. I don't believe it! Are you sure?'

  'I'm positive, Miss Minna.'

  Minna's hands went to her head. 'Oh, my God, what a disaster. By now he knows Cathleen's Aunt Minna and Aunt Aida own a whorehouse, and by now he must believe Cathleen is a prostitute in this house. It's the worst thing that could have happened. I must put a stop to it -I must explain -'

  Aida was on her feet. 'Minna, don't go out there – Arm-bruster's there -'

  But Aida's warning came too late. Minna had already dashed out of the office.

  To get to the entry hall quickly and up the staircase, Minna cut through the restaurant. She ran up an aisle, oblivious to several guests who tried to greet her as she raced past.

  She was approaching the far end of the restaurant when she came on a lone diner, a hefty man puffing on a cigar as he watched her. He narrowed his eyes, then stared at her.

  He threw down the cigar and leaped to his feet, stepping into the aisle to block her.

  'Miss Lester!' he exclaimed. 'Can this be Minna Lester? What in the devil are you doing in this house of assignation? What are you doing here?'

  She stopped in her tracks, confronted by his bulk. For seconds she was speechless. At last she spoke. 'I own it,' she said. There was simply not another thing to say.

  'You own it?' Armbruster bellowed. 'You own this whorehouse?'

  'I own it, my sister and I own it,' she repeated. She tried for an explanation. 'My brother in Kentucky doesn't know a thing about it. That's why he felt he could safely send Cathleen and Bruce to stay here before the wedding. I could never tell him. And Cathleen doesn't know. We changed everything, almost everything, so she wouldn't know. So, please…'