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“Good evening, sir. Let one of the girls take your coat.” Wally completed the fumbling with his overcoat and the scarf tucked tight within against the December cold, and handed both items, with shaking hands, to a young rouged woman standing patiently in the middle of the Brooklyn brownstone’s parlor. The girl departed with Wally’s outer wear, and the madame’s smile turned from her bared back to Wally’s nervous eyes roaming the sparse parlor, which was connected to a den emitting cigar smoke and a pair of low guffaws from presumable customers. “Is this your first time to such a place, sir?” “Yeah, except a stint in Nevada on a road trip,” Wally caught the older woman’s look of fearful uncomprehension above a firm smile of acceptance, “but never mind, I just need a girl for the night.” The look relaxed. “Well, you’re certainly in the right place for a girl.” “Only the best you have. I don’t plan on doing this too often, so—” “Understood, sir. You need say no more.” The madame clasped her hands together. “In fact, I know just the girl for you. She’s very new to this, and very pretty. I think you’ll like Heidi a lot.” “Heidi, that sounds good.” “Yes, a nice German girl recently arrived here. Betty?” Betty emerged from the closet that had been converted into a coatroom and curtsied to her mistress. “Betty, show this gentleman to Heidi’s room.” Then the madame turned back to Wally. “That’ll be fifty dollars for the night, sir. It’s customary to pay up front.” |