-26-
He drifted with the crowd toward the door at the rear. In the anteroom sat men at cards, dim in the smoke. He moved on. A woman was taking chits from the men as they passed through to the shed at the rear of the building. She looked up at him. He had no chit. She directed him to a table where a woman was selling the chits and stuffing the money into an iron strongbox. He paid his dollar and took the stamped brass token and rendered it up at the door and passed through.
He found himself in a large hall with a platform for the musicians at one end and a large homemade sheetiron stove at the other. Whole squadrons of whores were working the floor. In their stained peignoirs, in their green stockings and melon-colored drawers they drifted through the smoky oil light like makebelieve wantons, at once childlike and lewd. A dark little dwarf of a whore took his arm and smiled up at him.
I seen you right away, she said. I always pick the one I want.
She led him through a door where an old Mexican woman was handing out towels and candles and they ascended like refugees of some sordid disaster the darkened plankboard stairwell to the upper rooms. ...
[!!! → CLICK HERE TO SEE MORE ← !!!]
Didn't write that.
Network looks different today.
[ooc: All text behind the cut--mentions some ladies of dubious reputation and their business, but no specific acts. Aaaaaaaand I just made you read some Cormac McCarthy. You're welcome. ...although, really, some enterprising soul or the curse or something probably just used it as a platform for, you know, further shenanigans. Anyway, I'm sure there's more spam to be had in the comments and feel free to have found him shooped into stuff today. Because, I hate to say it, but Rule 34 knows no bounds (and I have seen proof of this /)_(\;;).]
He found himself in a large hall with a platform for the musicians at one end and a large homemade sheetiron stove at the other. Whole squadrons of whores were working the floor. In their stained peignoirs, in their green stockings and melon-colored drawers they drifted through the smoky oil light like makebelieve wantons, at once childlike and lewd. A dark little dwarf of a whore took his arm and smiled up at him.
I seen you right away, she said. I always pick the one I want.
She led him through a door where an old Mexican woman was handing out towels and candles and they ascended like refugees of some sordid disaster the darkened plankboard stairwell to the upper rooms. ...
[!!! → CLICK HERE TO SEE MORE ← !!!]
Didn't write that.
Network looks different today.
[ooc: All text behind the cut--mentions some ladies of dubious reputation and their business, but no specific acts. Aaaaaaaand I just made you read some Cormac McCarthy. You're welcome. ...although, really, some enterprising soul or the curse or something probably just used it as a platform for, you know, further shenanigans. Anyway, I'm sure there's more spam to be had in the comments and feel free to have found him shooped into stuff today. Because, I hate to say it, but Rule 34 knows no bounds (and I have seen proof of this /)_(\;;).]