by Len Levinson
She looked him over with her sharp twinkling eyes, and so did the bouncers and the other woman, who was Chinese. Maybe they figured he was a cop or an MP, so he thought he’d better set them straight.
“I’m just a regular soldier,” he said, “and I’d like to get together with a nice girl.”
The old woman smiled. “You came to the right place. What’s your name?”
“Bannon.”
“Go upstairs and somebody will take care of you,” she said, reaching for the telephone.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Bannon turned around and saw the flight of stairs a short distance down the corridor. He walked toward the stairs and climbed them. The red wallpaper beside him was covered with designs in a maroon material that looked like velvet, and he touched it with his fingers as he ascended. It wasn’t velvet, but it was something fuzzy that was similar.
He came to the top of the stairs, and his heart sank when he saw a tough-looking middle-aged woman with her brown hair in a shiny curly permanent. I don’t feel like fucking her, Bannon thought. I hope they got somebody up here better-looking than her.
“You, Bannon?” he asked.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Her face broke into a big smile. “Well, don’t look so scared, honey. I ain’t gonna eat you.”
Bannon found himself in another corridor like the one downstairs, with the same style wallpaper and the same chandeliers. “Real nice place you got here,” he said.
“I’ll bet it’s a lot better than what you’re used to.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You’re a southern boy, aren’t you?”
“I’m from Texas, ma’am.”
“I knew it, because you southern boys are always so polite.”
Bannon blushed. “Yes ma’am.”
She pinched his cheek. “You’re real cute too. Come on with me.”
“Where you from?” he asked, following her down the corridor.
“Seattle.”
“I ain’t never been to Seattle.”
“Well, you ain’t missed much.”
She stopped in front of a door and opened it up. “Have a seat in there. Can I get you something to drink?”
“Could I get a cup of black coffee, please?”
“Sure thing.”
He entered the room and she closed the door behind him. The room was a little bigger than an average hotel room and had upholstered chairs and sofas lining the walls, which were covered with white wallpaper. Pictures in frames were on the walls and the room was illuminated by electric lamps. It looked comfortable and inviting to Bannon, and he sat on a chair in a corner, opposite two soldiers talking to two attractive young women wearing cocktail dresses. The women smiled at him and the guys made believe he wasn’t there, because they were a little embarrassed to be seen by a stranger in a whorehouse.
Bannon wasn’t embarrassed at all. The way he looked at it, you had to pay for women no matter how you went about it, and some supposedly nice girls were as fussy about how much you spent on them as any whore. On top of that, the nice girls sometimes wouldn’t give you any pussy after you spent all the money, but a whore always would, because that was her job. Whores excited Bannon, because they’d do any depraved thing you asked them to do, providing you’d pay.
The two soldiers left with the two whores, and while the door was open the tough-looking woman came in with a little silver pot of coffee, a cup, and a saucer.
“All alone in here, huh?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Well, you won’t be alone for long.” She set down the coffee and cup. “Can I get you anything else?”
“How about a redhead?” Bannon asked.
“Coming up,” she replied.
She turned and left the room, and Bannon poured himself a cup of coffee. It was steaming hot, and he raised it to his lips, gingerly taking a sip. He smiled and said “Aaahhh,” because it was delicious, not like Army coffee, which had the taste of kerosene. It was so bad, they usually didn’t even call it coffee. They called it java or joe or something like that.
He lit another cigarette. Somewhere out in the corridor a girl laughed. Bannon had been in whorehouses before and he knew what the score was. Customers and girls met each other in rooms like this and chatted awhile. When a customer found one he liked he told her so, and she took him to her bedroom, where they talked money and did that good thing. In most places you could get just about anything you were able pay for, including two or three girls in a bed if your tastes ran in that direction. Bannon just wanted one girl in one bed. He wasn’t too bizarre when it came to sex.
The door opened and a redhead in a white cocktail dress sashayed into the room. “Are you Bannon?” she asked.
“I sure am.”
She looked him up and down and sat beside him. “I bet you’re kind of lonely in here.”
“Not really.”
“Do you want me to leave?”
“No, ma’am.”
She smiled and did something with her shoulders that made her boobs wiggle around; her dress had a low V neck and Bannon could see half of them. He figured she was in her late twenties, a few years older than he. She wasn’t as pretty as he had hoped for, but she wasn’t that bad either.
“Like what you see?” she said with a smile.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“My name’s Julie.”
“Whataya say, Julie. Where you from?”
“Chicago.”
“Never been there. Hear it’s a big place.”
“Where you from?”
“Texas. A small town called Pecos.”
“What’d you do before the war.”
“I was a cowboy.”
“Really?”
“Yup.”
“You rode a horses and all that stuff?”
“Yup.”
“You married?”
“Nope.”
“Got a girl back home?”
“Yup.”
“Miss her?”
“Yup.”
Julie winked. “Is she prettier than me?”
“Nobody’s prettier than you, baby.”
She laughed. “You might have been a cowboy, but you sure as hell know what to say, don’t you?”
Bannon shrugged. “Do I?”
“You sure do, soldier boy.” She took his cunt cap off his lap and put it on. “How do I look.”
“You look better without it.”
“How’s your coffee?”
“Real good.”
The door opened and three sailors came into the room, accompanied by two girls. The sailors were drunk and talking loudly. The girls twirled the ends of the sailors’ black neckerchiefs and ran their fingers through their hair.
“What a way to make a living,” Bannon said.
“What do you mean?”
“Doing what you do.”
“It ain’t so bad.”
“It must be a pain in the ass to go to bed with guys you don’t like.”
Her smile cracked for a moment, then came back. “I love ‘em all,” she said.
“Bullshit.”
“I do.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“You wanna go to a room with me?”
“After I finish my coffee.”
She looked at her watch. “Okay, take your time.”
“If you wanna, you can go sit with those sailors over there. They’re short one girl and they look hot to trot.”
“What’s the matter?” she asked, a hurt tone in her voice. “You don’t like me?”
“I love you all,” Bannon replied.
“Bullshit,” she said.
Bannon laughed, and when he settled down he took another drink of coffee.
•••
In another part of the whorehouse, Nettie Simmons was in one of the ladies’ toilets, applying makeup to her face. She’d just finished screwing a Marine and she felt as if she’d been wrestling for the championship of the
world. He was a big guy and she was a little female, five feet three inches tall, with long brown hair and a cute little upturned nose. She didn’t feel as if she had the strength to handle another serviceman, but it was early in the evening and she didn’t go off duty until four in the morning.
She wore a dark blue silk dress, cut low in the front like all the dresses the girls had to wear, and she had big boobs for a girl her size. She was twenty-three years old and had low self-esteem, which was why she was a whore.
Leaving the toilet, she walked down the corridor and saw Mae, the tough-looking brunette.
“Which room?” asked Nettie.
“That one over there—and smile, for Chrissakes.”
“I’ll smile when I get into the room,” Nettie said.
True to her word, she opened the door and smiled. Patti and LouAnn were talking with two sailors, and Julie was with a tall soldier who wore the combat infantryman’s badge on his shirt. Nettie always tried to be extra nice to the combat veterans, because she figured they needed her most. He was a nice-looking fellow, real tall, with long legs, light hair, and deeply tanned skin. She walked across the room and sat down on the other side of him.
“Hi,” she said. “What’s going on?”
“Meet Bannon,” said Julie. “He’s from Texas.”
“No kidding,” said Nettie. “I bet you rode a lot of horses in your day,” she told Bannon.
“That ain’t all I rode,” Bannon replied with a wink.
Well, he sure ain’t shy, Nettie thought. “My name’s Nettie.”
“Whataya say, Nettie. You from Kentucky?”
“South Carolina.”
“I thought I heard some cornpone and hushpuppies coming out of your mouth.”
“Why sho’ ‘nuff,” she said, going along with the gag.
Bannon looked at her and tried to figure out whether she was pretty or not. With most girls he could tell right off the bat. Either they were or they weren’t. But Nettie was a flawed beauty, or at least that’s what he thought at first. Her nose was a little too small and turned up too much, and her chin wasn’t well formed—it didn’t cut back sharply enough—but it wasn’t a double-chin either. Bannon narrowed his eyes as he examined her. Maybe she is beautiful, he thought, reconsidering. She’s just got a look that’s all her own.
“You don’t like me,” she said, her voice falling.
“No, I do like you.”
Julie cleared her throat. “Don’t worry about it,” she said to Nettie, “he doesn’t like me either.”
“That’s not so,” Bannon said, taking out a cigarette. “I like you both.”
“Liar,” said Nettie. “Well, I think I’m gonna talk to that sailor over there.”
Bannon grabbed her wrist and was surprised at how slim it was. She was like a little doll, except for her hefty tits. “No, stick around.”
“What for? You don’t like me.”
“Yes I do.”
“No you don’t.”
“What do I have to do to prove it to you.”
She smiled, and he felt his heart melting away. “You know what to do.”
“Okay,” Bannon said, “let’s go.”
Julie leaned back in her chair. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
Nettie’s smile broadend. She looked like a little girl who’d just been given a box of candy. She stood pertly and held out her hand to him. “C’mon.”
Bannon gulped down the rest of his coffee and stood beside her. He was six feet tall and she barely came up to his chest. She was like a child, except for those boobs and a certain wickedness around her mouth and eyes. He thought she was very intriguing and strange. Part of him wanted to protect her, and the other part wanted to fuck her brains out.
She led him out of the room and into the corridor, where Mae smiled at them. Bannon threw her a salute with one finger; his mind was still a little pickled by all the drinking he’d done. He walked down the corridor hand in hand with Nettie and felt ludicrous, because they were behaving like lovers going to their hotel room instead of a whore and a horny GI on the way to a business transaction.
Her hand was small and frail, like a little bird. He bent down and smelled the fragrance of her hair. She walked gracefully, with her head held high, and he thought there was something precious and sweet about her. His heart beat faster. He felt dizzy and confused.
“In here,” she said.
She took a key out of her pocketbook and opened the door of a room that looked like a basic hotel room. It had a bed, dresser, chair, and a big mirror hanging over the dresser. On top of the dresser were bottles of cosmetics. She closed the door and placed her purse on the dresser.
“Well,” she said, “what do you want?”
He puffed his cigarette and felt awkward, which surprised him because he usually wasn’t awkward around whores. But this one was making him feel as if he were doing something wrong. “I don’t know,” he said. “What do things cost?”
“Five dollars for a straight fuck, seven-fifty for a half-and-half, and ten dollars for a full blowjob.”
“How much time I get?”
“As much as you need.”
“How much is that, usually.”
“How much time do you need, usually?”
Bannon shrugged. “I dunno—I never timed it.” He reached into his pocket and took out his roll of bills. He peeled off two tens and handed them to her. “I guess this ought to hold us for a while.”
She stared at the bills with her big brown eyes. “Sure will.” She scooped them up with her elegant fingers. “I’ll be right back. You can take your clothes off.”
She left the room, her silk dress rustling, and Bannon flicked his cigarette ash into an ashtray. He set his cunt cap on the dresser and looked at himself in the mirror He was bleary-eyed and a little wasted. He unknotted his necktie, pulled it off, and dropped it on his cunt cap. Then he unbuttoned his shirt. The chain that held his dogtags showed against his tanned chest.
Nettie returned to the room. “You’re not undressed yet?”
“Nope.”
“I won’t hurry you. This is a slow night here. Usually is toward the end of the month.”
She tugged something at her side and her cocktail dress fell away. She hung it over a chair; she was naked underneath. Bannon’s hand froze on his shirt button as he stared at her. Her boobs stood right up there all by themselves, she had a terrific ass, and her legs were muscular and powerful. She was a strange, beautiful combination of fragility and strength.
She acted shy and coy. “Ain’t you ever seen a naked girl before?”
“Lots of times.”
“Well, stop looking at me like that. You’re making me nervous. You look like you want to eat me up alive.”
“Baby, I’d love to eat you up alive.”
“I wouldn’t want anybody to eat me up alive. That must be the worst thing in the world that could happen to a person.”
“I wasn’t talking about chewing you up and swallowing you down. I didn’t mean it that way.”
“Well, that’s the way it sounded.”
She stood in front of the mirror and fluffed her hair out with the backs of her hands. He sat on the chair and took off his shoes and socks. Then he stood and dropped his pants and shorts. She walked across the room to the sink and turned on the water.
“Come on over here,” she said.
Bannon crossed the room and stood beside her. The fragrance from her hair was wonderful. He didn’t feel very lustful, and thought maybe he should have picked another whore. This one was pretty enough, but there also was something innocent about her that made him think of her as his kid sister. Yet, she was naked as a jaybird and had those great tits and that ass that wouldn’t quit. It was very unsettling.
“Lemme look at you,” she said.
She dropped to one knee in front of him, held his cock in her fist, and squeezed it, examining the head.
“You don’t have a disease, do you?”
“Nope.”
She looked his joint over, scratching here and there, wrinkling her nose, twisting it around so she could see its underside.
“You look okay,” she said, standing up. “Come on closer to the sink.”
He stood closer and she filled the bowl with warm water. She dipped her hands in the water, lathered her hands with soap, and then washed his cock. The slippery, smooth sensation felt good, and it turned Bannon on. His cock began to get hard.
“There you go,” she said, looking down at her handiwork proudly. “You know, you’re a real nice-looking feller. Some of the guys who come in here really aren’t that nice-looking.”
“It must be awful, screwing guys you don’t like.”
“It’s my job.”
“Why don’t you get another job?”
“Let’s change the subject.”
“Okay.”
She rinsed the soap off his cock, massaging it gently with her hands; he was as hard as a rock.
“Where’d you get that scar on your side?” she asked.
“That’s where the bayonet went in.”
“Jesus.”
She pulled his cock out of the basin and dried it off with a fresh towel. She was being very diligent and thorough, and it made him sad. She was really a nice girl, very conscientious about her lousy job, and she shouldn’t be there.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“Working in a whorehouse.”
“I said I don’t wanna talk about that. Lie down on the bed.”
He walked across the room to the bed. She pulled down the bedspread and exposed the gleaming white sheets. They must change the sheets after every fuck, he thought. Butsko was right. This really was a very nice whorehouse.
He lay down on his back, and she climbed onto the bed, perching between his legs. She took his cock in her hand, jerked him off a few times, then bent over and put it in her mouth. Bannon placed his hands behind his head and looked down at her. He thought her very beautiful and lovely, and there she was, sucking his cock like a good little girl because it was her job. A lot of whores—in fact, nearly all whores—didn’t care at all. They just went through the motions once you paid them. But this little one was trying hard. She was a good kid, and he felt sorry for her. This was what she did every day—sucking the cocks of drunken servicemen. This was her life. How could she do it?
