Chapter 5

The hectic weekend over, Claudia once more picked up the loose threads of her life. Frank continued to take her about town, but a new and hitherto unknown problem was confronting her the age old tormentor: money. At last her funds had reached a perilous state, and Claudia began to look about her for some means of making enough money to sustain herself. She studied the newspaper want ads and went through the experiences common to most average people living in cities today. No matter how quickly she would run to the business house which had placed the advertisement, she invariably was too late. The pavement commenced to feel increasingly harder beneath the worn soles of her shoes. Meals were fewer and harder to obtain. Claudia took her punishment like the courageous girl that she was. She could not bring herself to accept money from Frank. Write home, she would not. Tommy Thomas probably would be glad to send her money if she would get in touch with him, but it offended her sense of fair play. They had had their fun and Tommy had paid his bill in full. There was only one way out. She simply had to get a job.

The bitter struggle went on. It has been said with considerable truth that once one is forced to go out into city streets to seek employment, one loses something which is never regained. For sensitive people, job-hunting is a horrible ordeal. Claudia was sensitive.

One day she got a job.

She had spent the entire morning following up fruitless leads. She had seen swarthy little Italian girls given jobs as candy wrappers in preference to herself. She could understand the justice of that, too. After all, these girls had experience. She had watched their fingers flying like a flock of jittery sparrows. There was nothing, Claudia thought, that she could do well. She waited for hours in smelly lines in cheap department stores, and always would come the same questions: "Any experience, Miss? Who did you work for last?" And even if she were "lucky" enough to secure the miserable job, the few pennies she would earn would do little toward keeping her.

Now she was on her weary way home. She took a last glance at the small drab type in the help-wanted section of the newspaper and the following advertisement caught her eye:

YOUNG WOMEN-to learn the art of massage. Earn big money. Become a competent masseuse. We teach you how. Pleasant, dignified work available to young women who qualify. See Madame Sylvia at Herford Bldg. Room 312.

It looked like a pretty forlorn hope, but nevertheless, Claudia decided to investigate. It would not cost her an extra fare, as the Her-ford Building was situated within walking distance of her rooming house.

The building had, to Claudia's eyes, a rather sinister aspect. It smelled slightly of decay. It leaned over against a red-painted hotel which looked as though it would not be greatly concerned over what type of guests availed itself of its hospitality, except that they be able to pay.

A shaky, rickety cable elevator wheezed Claudia up to the third floor where the Madame Sylvia Massage System was located. With mingled feelings of curiosity and apprehension, she opened the door and stepped into the anteroom. The entire place was jammed with girls. They sat and stood in various attitudes, all types, shapes and complexions. The room hummed with the sounds of many voices. At last a tall, remarkably well-built woman with a rather severe manner entered the crowded room. She was attired in a crisp white uniform. It seemed to Claudia that she wrinkled her nose in displeasure at the assembled rabble. Her sharp eyes swept the room. She approached six girls and touched them with her hand. "All but these can go." The room of girls filed out in a reluctant grumbling stream. Claudia was one of the six.

"Now girls," Madame Sylvia said, "step back here with me."

They followed her back into the establishment. As they passed through various chambers they heard the sound of slapping and the grunts of "patients."

"Take off your coats," they were ordered. When they had done so, Madame Sylvia lined them up and looked them over with her sharp eyes. She walked around them as if she were a judge in a cattle show. She stopped before Claudia and her gaze lingered.

"How tall are you, my dear?" she asked.

"Five feet seven."

"And your weight?"

"One hundred and twenty-nine pounds."

The madam nodded her head. She ran her hands swiftly and expertly over her body. Claudia felt a strange reaction at her touch, but she said nothing.

"You may sit down, my dear. I will talk to you later."

She studied the other girls once more. At last she selected a tall blonde girl of apparently Norwegian ancestry.

"Your weight is . . . ? "

"One hundred thirty-eight."

Madame Sylvia's eyebrows shot up. She smiled calculatingly.

"The rest of you girls can go," she said.

When, at last, the three of them were alone, Madame Sylvia began to unbend and to speak confidentially. She asked the girls their names.

"Claudia and Elsa? That's fine. That is how you will be known as long as you work in my establishment. I want to explain to you girls how I conduct my business, just what I expect from you and what you can expect from me. I will give you the benefits of my seventeen years in this business. At one time or another I have worked upon the most famous people in this country and abroad. Yes, with these very hands . . . " and she held out a pair of large, powerful, broad-wristed hands. "Ask them about Madame Sylvia in Hollywood. What actor or actress does not know of me?" Circumstances seemed to bear out her contentions, for the walls of the room were literally covered with what appeared to be personally autographed photographs. Some of the world's most famous people posed with Madame Sylvia, and all this seemed to surround her with an air of authenticity.

"Now," she went on, "I am perfectly willing to teach all you girls all I know of anatomy and the exhilarating effects of body manipulation. All this I place at your feet. I will even pay you a fair salary while you are learning. I know you will find this work to be quite interesting as well as remunerative. That is all for just now. I want you to come back here tomorrow and bring your belongings with you. For the first few weeks, at least, you will spend a good share of your time here and you might just as well arrange to stay here. Goodness knows we have enough room, and you might as well save yourself a little rent for the time being until you are earning real money. Then you will probably take apartments in a fine residential hotel. I'll expect you tomorrow afternoon."

The girls went down the elevator together.

"How does it sound to you, Elsa?" asked Claudia.

"I don't know," answered the tall blonde. "What have I got to lose? I'm practically out on the street now."

"I'm in the same boat," said Claudia. "But somehow I can't get it into my head that everything is legitimate."

"To tell the truth," said Elsa, "I can't say that I swallowed everything that big dame had to say either. Anyhow, it's worth a gamble. I've got to take that chance."

"I'll take it with you," said Claudia. "See you tomorrow afternoon."

The next day the girls moved into Madame Sylvia's establishment and began the life of novitiate masseuses.

They were given bare little rooms and told to leave their belongings in them. Then they received two white uniforms and several pairs lof panties and brassieres. They were told to change into their uniforms and to appear in Madame Sylvia's office as soon as they were ready.

When the girls came into Madame Sylvia's office, there were several anatomical charts ready and a plaster of paris figure of a well-built man with his nerve centers and nervous system indicated by white lines upon a red background. Especially the section around the male organ was minutely constructed so that the section could be removed at will. The whole figure was marvelously constructed. The girls could only stand and gape.

Madame Sylvia began to discuss the human system. She spoke with an air of great authority. She explained the various muscles and their functions; how the spine played such a tremendous part in human well-being and how it could be manipulated in the hands of a competent masseuse to give the patient considerable relief and stimulation. "Why," she said, "some of the most prominent men in this town come to my parlor to get a beneficial massage. It enables them to relax for a little time and get their minds off their troubles. When they get through lying in our baths and have their muscles flexed and limbered, and their spines stretched and snapped, they go out of here feeling years younger. And you will find that you will need your strength to give a competent massage. That is why I selected you girls. At least partly why. You both look like fine healthy girls and that is what we need in this business."

She continued her instructions. From time to time, Madame Sylvia's presence was required elsewhere. She would leave to return almost immediately and resume where she had left off.

"Now, girls," she said, "I think it is best that we get a little first-hand practice. Claudia will remove her clothes so that Elsa may manipulate the back muscles and long muscles in the legs. Come, Claudia; it is necessary that you undress."

Claudia hesitated, but there did not seem anything that she could do about it. She would appear silly if she refused. Modesty was a doubtful virtue in a massage parlor. She took her clothes off and lay down upon the rubbing table. Madame Sylvia ran her eyes along her beautiful white length. She put a hand that felt like a steel claw upon the girl's swelling thigh and moved it upwards until the hip curved in under her. Her hand dipped in at the waist and flared out again as it cupped Claudia's firm rosy breast. Madame Sylvia's hands lingered at the breast.

She paused a moment and said earnestly, "My dear, nature has given you a priceless heritage. Now Elsa-you stand over Claudia . . . so. Take your clenched fist and knead the spine like you were punching into a pan of dough."

Elsa proceeded to administer the treatment and soon Claudia began to feel a delightful tingle running up and down her spine. When Elsa desisted, Claudia already felt refreshed. She said so to the Madame, feeling somewhat reassured, thinking that perhaps everything was going to be all right after all and deriding herself for her foolish fears.

The beautiful blonde girl stripped and stretched herself at length upon the table. She was all pink and white like tinted snow. She had the heroic build of some legendary maiden in a Scandinavian saga: a Brunhilde come to life, waiting for her Siegfried. She was a sight which could make ten thousand limp male organs jump erectly to attention. Elsa was made for love on the grand scale. She was truly voluptuous. Her milky skin was crammed with firm flesh in just the right places. Her hips, breasts and thighs were all of the wonderful roundness which has inspired artists and creative geniuses for centuries. You find this feeling for fleshly curves intensified in pottery and even architectural design. Consciously or unconsciously, the physical qualities of women creep into man's creative life as is attested by his works. Her warm flesh had that glow which the Italian Renaissance painters were able to breathe into their women.

"Come, Claudia," said Madame Sylvia. "Give Elsa the same treatment she gave you."

Claudia could not resist placing her hands gently over the fragrant flesh. Wherever her fingers rested for an instant, the imprint remained in the soft flesh. Elsa's body seemed to course with rich red blood. Claudia began to knead her spine as she had been taught and her clenched fists made a livid path on Elsa's backbone.

"That's enough for the time being, girls," they were told. "You may go into the dining room for supper."

They washed up and went into the little dining hall. There were about six other women seated at the table when they arrived. The Madame did the honors.

"Girls, this is Claudia and Elsa. They are going to stay with us and I want you to extend every courtesy to them. Lola, Ada, Sari, Jane, Helen and Mabel," the Madame called off the names of her little force.

Claudia was instantly struck by the uniform prettiness of all the women. They looked like a front line of a Follies' chorus. They were all pretty in a different way. It was as though the Madame had assembled a fine example of every kind of beauty admired by man. Lola looked like a picture of a Southern belle, with her languid voice and manners and the way she wore her hair in a clump of curls. Sari was French. There was no mistaking that. She wore the Gallic imprint like a proud soldier wears a medal. She was tiny and delicately made. A thought came to Claudia: here was one masseuse who was not required to be so large. Ada was a lovely Negress the color of a fine piece of manila paper, with smooth black hair parted in the middle of her pretty little head. She looked like a tropical flower which has been culled from some remote jungle and transplanted to bloom again on alien soil. Jane, Helen and Mabel were different types as to build and coloring, but one thing they had in common: a certain fleshiness bordering on coarseness; a pretty obvious sensuality; a slackness about the mouth which indicated a loose manner in living.

Following the introductions, all proceeded to eat heartily of the plain, wholesome food which covered the table in abundance. There was little talk, although the others kept looking at the newcomers with typical feminine curiosity.

When the meal was over, they all arose and went into another room, a kind of a parlor. Here each girl sat in a separate chair. These were placed about the room in a circular fashion. Still no one said more than a word or two at the most. The walls of the room were covered with pictures and illustrations of nude men and women in peculiar positions-at least so it seemed to Claudia from where she was sitting. A strange fear clutched at her heart. It couldn't be, yet she jumped to her feet quickly and walked over to the pictures and drawings. Her heart pounded. It was true! She was caught in a brothel!

Every picture showed a man and woman in the process of intercourse! Although there were dozens of pictures and photographs, no two depicted the sexual act in the same manner. The walls explained and taught the diversities and possibilities of the sexual union. Every conceivable manner and style of coitus was portrayed luridly before Claudia's startled eyes.

"Elsa! Come here!" she cried. "Look! Look!"

Elsa jumped to her feet and rushed to Claudia's side. When she caught the significance of what was portrayed, she said, "Come. Let us get out of here! Now! At once!"

Claudia sped after her down the hall and as they left the parlor and it's gallery of lust behind, an evil laughter seemed to pursue them in their flight.

At the other end stood Madame Sylvia. There was nothing threatening in her manner or in the way she stood, but they felt instantly that she barred the way to freedom.

"Where are you girls rushing to?" she asked mildly.

"We want to get out of here," Elsa told her with .grim determination in her tone.

"You want to leave your wonderful positions and the Madame? And just when you're getting on so well, too? Incredible!" There was unmistakable anger in her tone.

"Stand aside, please," Elsa ordered. She stood an inch shorter than the masseuse.

"Come now," the latter said abruptly. "You haven't a chance to get out of here. You're here to stay. Forget all this nonsense or you will only regret it."

Elsa was white. She looked like an enraged Amazon.

"For the last time, Madame, will you stand aside?"

An amused laugh was her only answer.

Elsa swung a clenched fist at her obstructer, who nimbly stepped aside, caught her from behind and held her about the waist, swinging her helplessly a few inches above the ground.

"Now, now," she said quietly. "Be reasonable or you won't be so pink and so white and so pretty when I get through with you. I'll give you a different kind of a massage, you stupid fool!"

Elsa only tried to fight her way out of the viselike grip of her adversary. Claudia could not move. She was rooted to the spot. She could only watch the drama which was being enacted before her eyes.

"What do you think you're going to do if you get free? Here"-Madame Sylvia released the girl with a shove which sent her flying. "Now what are you going to do about it?" she taunted the enraged girl.

Elsa's face was crimson with hate and determination. She advanced toward her tormentor with the steady courage of her Viking ancestry. She held one arm extended in an awkward simulation of a boxer leading toward an opponent. Madame Sylvia laughed aloud as she caught her arm and sent the girl to the floor writhing in pain.

"This is only the beginning,'" she said. "You two are going to learn your lesson now. And I'm going to brush up a bit on my judo."

As Elsa slowly and painfully rose to her feet, the Madame caught her over her hip and tripped her heavily to the floor, where the girl lay in a stunned heap.

By this time, Claudia could stand it no longer and she leaped upon the victor, catching her by the hair. A jolt in the pit of the stomach released her hold and she fell weeping to the floor. The Madame dragged them both to one room and slammed the door. When the girls recovered, they could only stare at one another piteously. They spent the night in tears in each other's arms.

Just a little more of this kind of treatment plus a curtailment of food and the girls were ready to take their place in the Madame's menage, rebelliously, it is true, but nevertheless they went about their duties.

All pretense of teaching them the art of massage was dropped beyond a few preliminary tactics. The rest of their time was spent in learning about the male nervous system and the possibilities of the sex organ.

In a short while, the Madame said, "Well, I think you two are just about ready. Tonight you will see how the others work and tomorrow you will go into service."

Business in the "massage parlor" began to accelerate after about five o'clock in the afternoon. "Patients" began to file in from then on, but the peak was reached between midnight and three in the morning. The patient entered, was examined by the Madame and then allowed to steep himself in a luxurious bath as long as he desired. He then retired to a little room in which stood a massage table. All this looked innocent enough. The catch came when the comely masseuse began to rub him down. Under her skillful operation, the patient suddenly discovered a desire to massage the massager-turnabout, as it were. The girls understood the rudiments of giving a treatment if they had to, and occasionally this was the case when they encountered some naive customer; but in the main, most of the patrons knew what it was all about and they seemed to thoroughly enjoy the transparent subterfuge.

That night the girls were inducted into the trade. Madame Sylvia called them both. "Follow me!" she ordered and they walked with her down the hall.

When they reached one of the little rooms, Madame Sylvia worked her finger around a particular spot in the wall and opened a long slit which enabled the girls to see clearly into the room without being observed by those within. With bated breath they watched, and this is what they saw:

Jane, a sturdy, well-built girl, was working on a paunchy elderly man. Everything looked circumspect and proper. Then Jane's hands descended to the patient's groin, which was wrapped in a sheet. He stirred uneasily. Jane continued to rub his flaccid body with seeming unconcern. The girls could see something rising beneath the sheet like a tent pole.

They heard Jane say, "Excuse me a moment. It's awfully warm in here."

With one motion she discarded her white uniform, which was cleverly constructed like an apron, and she stood clad only in a pair of panties and a skimpy brassiere, her full womanly figure straining against the closeness of the fit.

"Now," she said. "I'm ready to give a real massage."

The man reclining upon the table laughed an expectant and excited laugh.

Jane's hands were stroking him and he lay with eyes half-closed in a blissful state. It would not have surprised Claudia if he had purred like a cat. Jane's face drew nearer to her patient. She discarded her brassiere and her full melon-heavy breasts hung near his lips. He began to kiss and fondle them.

They could barely hear Jane whisper, "Which way do you like it, dear?"

His answer was indistinguishable, but they saw Jane strip off her tiny panties and straddle her erstwhile patient. She faced him, lifting herself up with her hands pressed to the side of the narrow table until she had raised her vagina over his stiffened spear, which reared its angry head into the air. She gently descended upon his throbbing organ, taking its length within her cavity. She rocked to and fro like a rider with the motion of a horse. She made a strange Lady Godiva.

"Come girls," said the madam. "You have seen the technique. You know how to approach a prospective customer. We use a little care to feel them out. We must watch out for investigators. There is a wave of reform threatening and we can't afford any undue risks. First find out if your patient is receptive, then go as far as you like. Before you begin, however, I want you to watch Lola. There is an artist. One of the best I have seen in my years of business."

They came to another chamber, and once more Madame Sylvia opened a secret little peephole so the girls could see what was taking place. Lola, the daughter of the South, was working on a powerful man. She was giving him an alcohol rub. Lola leaned over and her hot breath streamed into his ear. Her fingers crept up and down his neck with a fairy touch.

"None of that stuff, Lola," he said. "I want to play baseball."

Lola smiled. "All these boys up here want to play baseball, and Lola really knows how."

"That's what I was told."

"All right, honey," Lola said in her soft liquid voice. "You just stand here and we'll play."

She took a towel dipped in alcohol and cleansed him about the rectum and genitals. Then she got to her knees and her moist, pink tongue began to sink into his rectum. Her subject began to wear an expression of delight over his face as her tongue did its magic. His magnificent staff, with its acorn-covered tip, began to rise ceiling-ward. Now Lola was laving his sack. Her patient's lips were twitching. "Do it!" he pleaded. "Do it!" And Lola did.

Her tongue darted in and out against the side of his heated penis. And now she took its head into her mouth and began to suck as though she meant to draw the marrow out of his bones. At the same time her hands played with his testes. In a few moments, Lola released his organ just in time to escape the seminal geyser which shot into the air. Most of it was caught in a towel Lola kept at hand. Her patient sank back upon the table, exhausted. "Lola," he whispered. "That's a different kind of baseball to me, but I say to hell with the other kind."

"Lola has scored another home run," said the madam softly as she led them away.

"Sari is working now," continued Madame Sylvia. "I might as well show you how she operates. I believe in thoroughness above everything else. My pupils are famous the world over for their technique."

When they eavesdropped on Sari, she was in the middle of a real job. Behind the leather-covered massage table was a perpendicular partition. Behind this was a bed which was a necessary adjunct to the madam's business. On this bed lay two figures tied into a confusing knot. When the girls were at last able to decipher the puzzle, they saw to their amazement that Sari was lying on top of a man, downward and buried in his crotch. Her legs extended beyond his head. At the same time his mouth was glued to the juncture between her thighs. They were both busy slobbering away and lost to the world as they lay caught in the tentacles of lust.

"Of course, I don't expect you girls to do anything like that . . . yet," said the madam. "That is a little difficult for such comparative newcomers as you two. Now let us take a last look at Ada and then you can begin with your work for the evening."

When they looked at Ada, she seemed to be buried beneath the large white body of a heavy patient. Claudia trembled for her slim brown figure beneath that mass of flesh. But their fears were in vain, for Ada was a female dynamo. Like a tawny serpent she began to writhe and the patient who was mounting her began to move in earnest before her rhythmic onslaught. She handled the immense man as though he was a pound sack of sugar. Her rotating hips were irresistible waves as she tossed his hulk about. He began to sag like a pricked balloon as he was in his transport. When he lay still at last, a limp glob of flesh, the brown girl slithered from beneath the pile.

"Hah, goodness!" she said. "You like to have smothered me! Man, you don't wiggle your backside enough."

"I don't have to, Ada. You move around fast enough for the both of us."

Ada laughed richly.

The girls followed Madame Sylvia into the parlor, where they sat nervously awaiting their call. Their fingers worked jerkily in their laps and the smiles and suggestive looks of the others only added to their confusion.

Madame Sylvia touched Elsa upon the shoulder. "In room B," she said, and Claudia was left alone.

She closed her eyes and her mind retreated into the past, into memories of things past that crowded into her consciousness with the unforgettable pungency of an autumn fire of dried leaves. Her life flashed quickly before her like a poorly edited newsreel. There was no sequence. High spots and inconsequentialities all flickered before her in a mist. A hand touched her shoulder and Claudia rose, like a dream, to meet whatever fate had in store.

When she got into the little room, a patient awaited her. He had been lying upon the massage table, a towel about his middle. He looked at her curiously when she entered. One look and apparently he was satisfied and reassured by what he saw.

Claudia began to manipulate his body gently. The flesh was firm and hard beneath her touch. He had the clear translucent skin of a baby.

"That's fine," he said to Claudia. "Only harder. I probably won't go to pieces under your touch."

Claudia put her weight behind her hands and gave her patient a pretty good treatment. He reached out one of his hands and patted her hips as she leaned over him. She grasped his hand as if to push it away from her. "No, you don't," he said. "You know what I'm here for. Let's go into the other room."

Claudia went into the little room with him. Her fingers fumbled with her white dress. At last she stood before him in all her stunning beauty. Her companion could only gawk as she emerged from her stiff, starched uniform like a nymph rising from the waves.

"My God!" he said. "They told me they had some beautiful dames here, but I never expected anything like this."

He pulled her down upon the bed. He pressed his face in the delicious softness of her bosom. "Um-mmh," he sighed happily, as his feverish hands sought the pleasure spots of her body. He mauled Claudia in his arms, straining her to him until she thought her very bones would crack. He bent over her, his fingers searching for her vulval lips.

"Come on, baby. Open up."

Claudia spread her legs. Her eyes were closed and she felt his hard hot lance imbedded between her thighs. It throbbed against her teeming insides. She felt him pushing into her, deeper and deeper until it seemed that he meant to drill right through her. She thrust upward to meet him in self-defense. He was grunting now with each forward motion. A wet, sticky substance trickled down her thighs. He was breathing chokingly, as though someone had a death-grip on his throat, and then he emitted a long sigh as he burst and shot her full of his warm seminal discharge.

He clung to her as though the passion of the moment had repercussions, recoil. She disengaged her arms. She had committed her first overt act as a whore.

Claudia cleansed herself thoroughly and went back to the sitting room. Elsa was already sitting there, sickly white and pale. They had nothing to say to one another. They sat quiet, awaiting the touch of a hand.

Madame Sylvia came in. "Claudia, your patient said you have shown him the finest time he has ever had in his life. He is going to recommend you to the boys down at the city hall. My dear, you will have the finest and most desirable trade in town. The city hall crowd! Every house in town has tried to get them. They're magnificent toppers. But you . . . " she turned on Elsa, who shrunk back in her chair. "You! Your patient told me how cold you were to him. You let me hear another report like that and I'll tear you apart."

The evening crept on with the horrible painfulness of a mortally wounded animal dragging itself to some quiet spot to die. Time after time Claudia was called to "massage" some patient. Always the same insipid beginning. The wait for the overture. It was about two in the morning that she experienced something new in the way of sexual diversion. A slender man of about thirty-five years received her ministrations. She had given him the customary amount of rubbing when he said to her, "Take your clothes off!" Claudia obeyed. He looked at her for a little while. "Very charming," he said, and he slid off the table until his feet rested on the floor. He leaned over the table, his elbows set solidly and his naked buttocks held out invitingly. "Whip me!" he said.

"What?" said Claudia, unable to believe her ears.

"I said 'whip me,' " he repeated.

"I couldn't do that," Claudia told him.

He cursed. "Didn't Madame Sylvia tell you about me?" He looked up, and there on the wall of the room hung a slender whip. He reached over and got it and put it in her hand. "Begin!" he ordered.

Claudia shrugged. A sudden anger surged within her. She revolted against them all. She would whip this man until . . .

Swish! The whip cut through the air and struck against the buttocks of her patient. Again and again she struck his bottom, raising terrible welts against the smooth flesh. A feeling of exaltation grew within her as she laid on with a will. She went insane with delight as she raised and swung her arm until her body was aglow with perspiration. Whack! Whack!

Her subject began to moan with pain beneath her lash. Claudia was carried away by an emotion she never knew existed. The dormant sadistic instinct, which is universal, came out at this moment. At last she stopped out of sheer exhaustion. She stood still, head bowed, brain awhirl, and in her hand she still held the whip. She felt as though something terrible had oozed out of her. How long she stood thus, she did not know. She felt something moist about her feet. She looked down to see her patient groveling on hands and knees, licking her feet.

The fantastic evening drew to a close. All the girls gathered in the little room. Now that the evening's work was done, they lolled in all attitudes of ease, smoking and thumbing through cheap magazines. The restraint had left them. They talked and chattered for all they were worth. Even the madam unbent and poured them drinks out of a whiskey bottle. Elsa's face was modeled in stone. Claudia felt tired, dreadfully tired. The madam spoke:

"Well, girls, we have had an excellent night. If business keeps up like this, and I don't see why it should not, we will soon be on easy street. Here is your share . . . " She began to parcel out little rolls of bills to the girls. "You ought to be thankful," she said, "that I don't let you go out and spend your money. You do the right thing by Madame Sylvia and you will all be rich."

The whiskey had disappeared and Madame Sylvia opened another bottle. Ada, the colored girl, had little Sari on her lap and was kissing and fondling her as though she were her lover. Their lips and tongues were glued together. They seemed oblivious to the fact that there were other people in the room. Ada moistened her finger with saliva and pushed it up the little French girl's bottom, working her finger in and out.

Claudia sought release in whiskey. She was in a warm enveloping fog. The faces of the others grew dim and indistinct. The madam bent over her. "What's the matter, child?" she asked.

Claudia couldn't answer. She felt strong arms about her, caressing her, lifting her. Fingers were kneading her breasts. They hurt; she cried out. She heard voices from afar, and laughter-deep dark laughter; jungle laughter. Caresses of burning hands grew more intimate and demanding; a voice murmured smolderingly and insinuatingly and she knew no more.

Claudia awoke late that afternoon. She tried to stir in her bed and she could not. Her limbs seemed paralyzed and distinct from her body. It seemed to her she was a spirit drifting, drifting. What, she thought, must one do to bring one's body to life, to motion? She counted: one, two, three and go! But nothing happened. She looked down at her bosom. Its whiteness was marred by red and blue bruises, plainly imprinted by lustful fingers. Her hips and thighs throbbed.

A voice. "Come, girl. Out of bed!"

It was Madame Sylvia.

Her tongue refused to move in her mouth. She couldn't answer. She was dragged out of bed and thrust under a cold shower, which brought her out of her stupor. She was thrown upon the massage table and Madame Sylvia apparently intended to beat her into a pulp with her own muscular hands. She groaned under their relentless pressure, but when her tormentor had finished, she sat up and felt almost normal again.

She went down to breakfast. The other girls were just leaving the table, all except Elsa. She sat limp and quiet, her eyes on the floor. The big girl had wilted under the treatment. There was a good deal of the whipped puppy about her. The shadows of pain were dark beneath her eyes. Her face was pinched and drawn. The girl was suffering-that was plain. Claudia comforted her. "Don't take it so hard, dear. I'm sure everything will come out all right."

When they had finished toying with their food, they walked into the waiting room. All the girls were once more sitting in the circle of chairs. The madam was holding forth:

"I want all you girls to be doubly careful of who you take care of today. One of the newspapers is conducting one of their crusades and a lot of joints in town are getting the screws put on them."

A spark of joy flared up in Claudia's bosom. Pehaps that was her avenue of rescue. She faced the day with a heart full of anticipation.

She handled her first customer, and he was like all the rest. She gave him his fill and returned to her chair to wait. The second made her pause. There was something assured about his manner. He lay upon the table. "Give me the works, sister," he said with an air, and when he saw her strip for action his eyes popped in his head.

"My God!" he blurted. "There's something in this job at that. I'll have the works, and when you're through, you may repeat. Fire when ready, Gridley. I have but one peter to give to my paper."

Claudia started. This must be the investigator.

"You're drunk," she said. "True."

"I want you to help me," Claudia said earnestly.

"Sister, I'll help you till the cows come home, and come to think of it, what's the use of coming home? C'mon baby, let's go to bed. If I'm going to investigate, I'm going to investigate right. C'mere and let me conduct my investigation. It's for the paper. This is the first break I ever got on the rag."

"Will you help me if I go to bed with you?" Claudia asked.

"Jump in, honey," the reporter said, "Sure I'll help you. What d'ya want me to do? Keep the name of the joint out of the paper?"

"No, you fool!" Claudia nearly shouted, "I want you to plaster the name of this brothel all over the front page of your paper!"

"Uh . . . what?" he was sober now.

Claudia told him the story. When she had finished, he said simply, "I'll have the police here in an hour."

He began to rise from the bed slowly, staring at Claudia with longing eyes, like a small boy eyeing a second helping of dessert.

It amused Claudia. What was one more or less now, she thought. She climbed into bed with him. "You men," she told him. "You're all that Sadie Thompson said you were."

The newspaper man was too occupied to reply-

An hour later, axes smashed down the front door and Claudia and Elsa were herded with the rest into the patrol wagon.

The next day they appeared before the judge. Apparently, he had been informed of the imprisonment of the two girls, for he called them back into his chambers and told them they were free to go without any more degrading publicity.

As Claudia left the dingy station, she ran into the newspaper man who had expedited her rescue and release.

"Thank you a thousand times!" she said to him impulsively.

"Not a thousand," and he put his hand to his back with a groan.

Claudia blushed.