“Nothing at all sir”, said the fellow rising slowly, hesitantly. “I was just, … well, I was …”
“I know damn well what you were doing boy, I know damn well”, fumingly spumed Roger. “I was young once, too. But I never got carried away with myself. We respected women in those days. You’ve got a hell of a nerve to be coming into my house, and making love on my couch …” Roger was gesticulating and shaking his head for emphasis.
“Oh Dad, be serious”, Nancy said, weepfully embarrassed.
“That’s enough, Nancy, go to your room”, Roger turned to her imperiously. “I want to speak to this young man alone …”
Roger turned back to the young man in front of him, who stood akimbo, biting his lip nervously, annoyedly shifting from one foot to the other. Nancy, as she left, shrugged her shoulders in signal to her date, as if to say, “I’m sorry, … it will only be a short ordeal”.
“Listen here young man”, began Roger after listening for Nancy’s tread ascending the stairs. “I don’t want this sort of carrying on going on in my house”, he said slamming dust off the table as his hand came down heavily. “This is a respectable house, and a respectable little town, and I won’t stand for this sort of thing. What are you little wise acres making of this town, … a cat house … you God damn college wise guys. What do you think my daughter is, … kisses every fellow that takes her out. I don’t mind you kids going out and having a good time, but God damn on this sort of nonsense … don’t let me see this sort of thing around here again, you hear me?” raged Roger with eyes that almost glared out of his head, pointing his finger in the fellow’s face. Roger’s austere, round face, with the glasses still grasping the nose, had flushed to a purplish red, even his bald pate was colored with the flood that he had summoned to give him strength for screaming. He towered above the seated young man.
“Yes, sir”, said the young man, more to end the ordeal and get home, than in sincerity. “I’m sorry it had to happen … I’ll be sure it never does again”, he said, knowing that was what Roger wanted to hear. Shit on you, you antiquated bastard”, the young man simultaneously thought to himself, evil minded old bastard.
“This is a nice town we have here, and we don’t allow none of the fooling around they do in the city. Let’s see it doesn’t happen again”, said Roger to the young man as he guided him to the front door and watched him go down the steps of the front porch.
Roger stood in his bathrobe, leaning against the column that supported the roof of the porch. The moon bathed the porch and Roger in blueness.
When the sound of the disappearing car had also disappeared, Roger turned into the shadows, shut the door, bolted it with the double bolt and went up the stairs. Have to get some sleep, thought he to himself. “Bill’ll be over at eight thirty to drive me to the airport. Big day tomorrow” Roger was envisioning his trip to New York and the business meeting there tomorrow night.
“Nancy”, Roger whispered as he gently knocked and then pushed open her door.
“Yes, Dad?” said Nancy in an exasperated way.
“I know it wasn’t your fault, baby”, he said as he sat at the edge of her bed, “but I want you to be more careful. These men these days, they don’t care for a woman”, Roger continued slowly, emphasizing each word. He cupped his hand behind Nancy’s head, caressing the soft hair that fell to her shoulders. “You have to be careful all the time … it’s not like when I was a boy. We respected women then”.
As he stroked Nancy’s hair, Roger felt a warm moisture transferred to his arm from her cheek. She was crying. “I’m not trying to tie you down, honey”, he said assuringly, “I’m just doing these things for your own good. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you”.
“I’ll be very careful from now on”, Nancy said resignedly.
“Good girl”, said Roger as he kissed his daughter on the forehead. “And we won’t say anything about this to mother, okay, honey?”
“Thanks, Dad”, Nancy said as she was expected to do.
“Good night, dear”.
“Good night, Dad”.
“Listen, Rog, ol’ boy”, said Charlie, a heavy jowled, rotund faced home office representative, who was showing Roger New York, “I have just the place for us, a little spot downtown where they have a terrific show”.
“Well, now, Charlie, I don’t know. I have to get up early in the morning … I’ve got that plane to catch”.
“Oh, c’mon, … just a little while. It’s only eight thirty. Driver, take us down to Third Street and Sixth avenue”, said Charlie to the cab driver.
“Well, okay, but let’s not stay out too late. I’ve got that plane to catch. So, you really think that this deal with Morgan will go through, eh?” asked Roger.
“Sure, sure it will, but let’s not talk business now. We’re going to a joint where you’ll see the curviest broads in town”, said Charlie devoured by a carnal anticipation.
“Oh, one of those places, eh?”, asked Roger awakening. “What is it, Charlie, one of the stripper joints?” concluded Roger with wide eyes.
“That’s a nice name for it”, Charlie snickered. Over in this place they take off what the other places leave on …”
“Sounds like you know the right spots, Charlie”, Roger smiled.
“Got to keep the boys from the field happy, eh Rog?”, said Charlie, slapping Roger’s arm for emphasis.
“Did you say the boys from the feel?”, said Roger, bursting with laughter, pounding Charlie’s arm.
“Yeah, the boys from the feel”, repeated Charlie, laughing loudly, grasping Roger’s arm as he swayed with amusement.
“Here you go, Mac”, said the driver as he U-turned and stopped on the corner of 3rd and Sixth Avenue.
“Here are the places, Roger”, said Charlie looking up as he ducked out the cab door. “Take your pick. The Blond Bombshell over there” … Charlie pointed to the different illuminated signs hanging from the joints along the street. “Candy Doll over there, and Sugar Baby over there. Which one do you want to hit first?”
“Let’s see—that Blond Bombshell. I always did like blonds”, said Roger, laughing. Both men were laughing as the eager doorman, a military peaked cap on his head, opened the door for them.
Inside there was only gloomy darkness, relieved by dim yellow lights. On one side behind the bar, the lights revealed shadowy people. A rectangle of blue lights outlining a stage was lit up against the far end of the club. Within the frame of the stage lights was a woman with stringy black hair, too old to strip anymore, who introduced herself as the Mistress of Ceremonies—quite the appropriate description—Standing at the bar, behind a velvet cord suspended between thick chrome poles that kept them herded together like cattle, were a number of men, in one state of excitement or another. At the entrance end of the bar, near the front of the club, were girls, who shifted on their stools as Roger and Charlie walked to the bar.
“Want to sit at a table or stand at the bar”, asked Roger, twisting to Charlie who was behind him.
“Let’s stand at the bar. This way we can duck out to one of the other joints if this one isn’t hot, and I mean hot”, said Charlie breaking into a leering laugh.
“Give me a scotch and soda”, said Roger to the bartender who had come over to get their order. “What are you drinking Charlie?”
“Give me a, … well, make mine the same”.
Hoarsely talking from the stage, the MC, who was in front of the closed stage curtain, said, … “and now we want to present to you, the one, the only wowww, … hey—take it easy back there boys”, she said as she moved the lower part of her body away from the curtain, as if it had been grabbed suddenly from behind. “I don’t mind the ring, but the wrist watch?”
“Ha, ha, … not the wrist watch”, laughed Charlie gleefully. “What a crazy place, hanh, Roger?” he said turning to Roger so they might laugh together.
“Sure is Charlie”, said Roger paying more attention to the small blond girl at the end of the bar,
who was demurely smiling back as Roger looked her way.
“… yeah, I’m part Spanish and part Scotch”, continued the MC, “hot and tight”.
“Hot and tight”, laughed Charlie as his elbow dug into Roger’s arm … “you hear that, Rog, hot and tight?”
“Hey, Charlie, watch, you’ll make me spill the drink”, admonished Roger as he was clinking his glass against the one he had just bought for the little blond from the end of the bar, who was now sitting next to him. “Charlie”, said Roger as he tapped on Charlie’s shoulder, “Charlie, this is Marie”.
“Say”, said Charlie admiringly, “you’re a pretty fast worker, aren’t you Roger. I didn’t know you still had it in you”, Charlie said starting to laugh.
“You sometimes get the best tune from an old piano”, said the blond.
Roger smiled. “See Charlie, … women know a good thing when they see it”.
Charlie turned back to the bar and ordered another drink, then he turned to Marie. “Listen, Marie, why don’t you invite one of your friends over here to have a drink with me. How about that red-head”, said Charlie, glancing toward the end of the bar. “Hey, where’d the red-head go?”
“You mean Red Hot?” said Marie. “She’s on now”. Marie nodded toward the tall red-haired girl who was now walking toward the stage. She disappeared behind the curtain.
“She gonna dance now?” asked Charlie.
“Yeah”, said the blond finishing her drink.
“Want another drink?”, asked Roger.
“Well, if you insist”, said the blond smiling coyly.
“Bartender, the same thing again. You’re kind of nice Marie”, said Roger turning to her. “You always work here … I mean, is this your steady job?”
“For the time bein’”, said the blond as she tilted her glass to her mouth and emptied half of it. “Excuse me a minute, will ya?” she said, touching Roger’s arm. “Joanie, Joanie, come here a minute, will ya?” she called toward the end of the bar.
From the corner where the girls had been sitting, came Joanie, a short, plump, in a sensual way, sandy-haired girl.
“Don’t you think you should introduce your friend, Charlie, and Joanie. She looked so lonely over there, … and Charlie is all by himself, too”, said Marie to Roger as Joanie joined them.
“Charlie, this is Joannie … I’m Roger, Joannie”, Roger shook her hand. Charlie walked around Roger, put his arm around her waist and guided her to his far side. “Bartender …”
“Let’s have a celebration toast”, said Marie.
“What’ll we celebrate?” said Roger.
“We’ll celebrate all of us being together, how’s that?” Roger and Charlie liked the idea.
“Teddy”, called Marie.
The bartender came over and filled all the glasses.
“And now boys”, the MC announced as she came in front of the curtain again, “we have a real special treat for you. She needs no introduction—Red Hot!”
The curtains started to open; the brassy little band in the recessed darkness of the stage started into one of its noisy, bumpy tunes.
“This ought to be pretty good”, said Charlie, staring at the stage without turning around to Roger.
“Yeah”, said Roger, who twisted toward the stage, leaning on the bar with his elbow, his back toward Marie. Joanie and Marie watched unconcernedly as Red Hot, covered completely in a flowing black cape, strutted on stage in time to the beat. The cape, as she turned around, could be seen to go up the back of her neck, forming a little cap behind her head. Red Hot danced and cavorted around the stage, in time with the music, twirling occasionally so that her legs, right up to the skimpy g-string covering her lower torso would show beneath the lifting material. She turned, with her back to the gaping men, opened the front of the cape and twirled back again. The cape slid off her shoulders. Catching it in her hand as it fell, she now stood clad in only a red mesh bra and g-string. Red Hot turned her back again to the bulgyeyed patrons, and as she did, she hooked the black cape with its little cap on the middle of her bra so that it covered the front of her body. Red Hot began to skip around the stage, and when she reached the front, facing the hypnotized audience, that black cape didn’t look like a black cape any more. It resembled the shadow of a man, clinging to her body, the cap was his head, the cape his back.
The music started again in a slow booming rhythm, and Red Hot danced with her arms around her imaginary lover, clasping him to herself. She twisted and twirled, and the cap assaulted her body with imaginary kisses. Red Hot twisted her head to escape the imaginary kisses. Slowly, as her body pulsated to the beat, the cape began slowly to slide lower on her body until the cap was lodged at a level in the hollow between her breasts. She twisted languorously, the cap now covered one of her breasts. Her lover was devouring one of her breasts; and she twisted and contorted with contrived delight. Her entire body was pulsating, but she remained in the same spot twisting away from and holding her lover at the same time. Then her dusky lover assaulted her other breast as she twisted her upper body. The cap twisted center again, and Red Hot pushed both breasts behind the cap.
“Roger, would you buy us another drink?”, said Marie from behind Roger’s back.
“Hunh … oh, yeah, sure … the money is on the bar”, he motioned to the bartender, … “get them another …” said Roger, never taking his eyes off the twisting, cavorting body and her imaginary lover who, now aided by the pulsations, slid down further on Red Hot’s body. Red Hot was gritting her teeth in feigned ecstasy. The cap lodged now at a spot at between her thighs. Red Hot was standing on the stage, with the little band beating a constant rhythm … boomba … boomba … boom, her arms extended above her head, her body twisting, pushing, sliding against her imaginary lover’s head with each beat. She now bit one of her arms with the sheer ecstasy of her dance gyrating her torso to the brass booming of the band.
Roger and Charlie were mesmerized, motionless, staring at the stage, their drinks suspended in their hands. Joanie and Marie chatted with each other, sipping their drinks occasionally.
The brassy music stopped. Red Hot continued gyrating her hips in the middle of the stage; then she emitted a scream which shattered the stillness of the bar. She grabbed and pulled her hair in excruciating delight. Red Hot straightened up and smiled at the audience. Weak applause filtered forward.
Red Hot gripped the flimsy material of her mesh g-string and drew it aside quickly letting it snap back into place and walked off the stage.
Roger and Charlie kept staring at the stage as the curtains closed, swayed in place and were still. Charlie turned around and looked at Roger who was facing him. His eyes widened.
“Ever see that in Tylersville, Roger?” Charlie was virtually astounded.
“No, no I didn’t”, Roger said slowly. “I think she’s wasting time with that dummy, though”, said Roger, as he laughed leeringly. “C’mon girls have another drink”, he said finally.
Marie and Joanie perked up and slid their glasses forward for another round.
“Let’s get a table”, suggested Joanie. “We could be more chummy that way”.
“Nah, … we aren’t going to stay that long”, said Charlie.
“How come”, said Roger, “we’re doin’ alright right here”.
“Yeah, c’mon”, chimed in Marie, holding Roger’s arm. “We’ll have some laughs”.
“No, we can’t Rog. We’ve got that other place to go to”, said Charlie, trying to catch Roger’s eyes.
“Okay, Charlie”, Roger shrugged, “you’re the boy tonight”.
“We’ll have one more round”, said Charlie, “and then we’ll go, okay? C’mon girls, drink up”.
Both Roger and Charlie were a little high as they hailed a cab outside the bar.
“Why couldn’t we stay there?”, asked Roger, swaying in the headlights of the approaching cab.
“Because—here, let’s grab this cab … I’m going to show you an even better place”, said C
harlie as he jumped into the back compartment of the cab. “The Brummel Club, up on forty eight street please”, said Charlie, as Roger sat next to him. Roger slammed the door and settled back into the seat.
“We shoulda stayed there”, said Roger looking out the window on his side of the cab, “those girls were all right, … especially that little Marie”.
“Naw, they just drink your booze, … and that table action, three and a half bucks per person just to sit down. That’s all they want you to do is sit at one of those crummy tables. They’ll bring out all kinds of crap bubbly wine, and you pay like hell for it. You notice these dames keep drinkin’ and don’t get drunk? The bartender must give them watered drinks. I always figure they’re making money on every drink they make you buy, and then they hustle off home, leaving you holding the bill. Besides, they work until four o’clock. What the hell are we, owls?” Charlie laughed at his own words.
“Yeah, owls”, repeated Roger laughing. “Where the hell are we going now?” Roger looked at Charlie.
“What’s the difference?”, said Charlie throwing his head back. “Your wife and family aren’t here to keep check on you. This is our night to howl … yaahhooo”, screamed Charlie.
“Hey, Mac, you want to keep it a little more quiet”, said the cab driver, looking at Charlie through his rear view mirror. “A cop’ll stop us and give me a ticket”.
“Shhh, Charlie, you wouldn’t want our chauffeur to get a ticket, would you?” asked Roger lightly.
“No, Sir, not me”, answered Charlie lurching himself upright with the aid of the strap hanging from the side of the cab, looking out the window. “This is the spot, … this is it, right here. Hold it”, Charlie said impatiently to the driver.
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