years.
Her red-painted cheeks were puffed and dimpled. She wore a gold watch at the end of a long chain. It went up and down like a censor as her heavy body moved forward.
Her immense legs were covered with thin silk stockings, through which stray hairs protruded.
An unusually large woman, about six feet tall, there were no curves to her figure. Except for the immense breasts, it might have been a square block. Her head was large and powerful, her hair a faded russet. Below one ear a grayish brindle tuft protruded. Her mouth was wide, and her false teeth, full of gold in front, were even. Her clothing was expensive. Her moods were as changeable as November weather. She could be precise, dynamic, volatile, full of laughter and anger at nearly the same time. Generally her emotions were facile. Then, at times, she was somber, and full of feeling for a moment. Her eyes were walled, and were curved outward like the bottoms of saucers, giving her great round face even more animation than it possessed.
It was said that in her youth she had been a fine singer. This may or may not have been true, as Mother Rosenbloom hardly ever discussed anything that touched her vitally. At times she was capable of a sweeping gusto, and sang with all her young whores around her, while customers, lulled by a voice rare among women, bought liquor with abandon.
She reduced nearly everything to mockery.
Though Leora and Alice were unaware of it, they were approaching a powerful woman who would have dominated any position in which she happened to be born.
While she did not ask her girls in what creed they had been brought up, she was always pleased to meet a prostitute of her own faith. For nearly twenty years she had had one thousand dollars on deposit, drawing interest— ”High Masses for the peace of my eternal soul.” It was to be turned over to the Church on the day she died.
She wrapped the chain of the watch around her fleshy hands. Then dropping it, while the watch dangled, she pulled at gold-rimmed spectacles attached to a chain above her melon-shaped left breast. Adjusting the glasses on a nose that had once been aquiline, she looked at the girls.
“Hello, Alice dear,” she said, with a sharp tone; then, glancing at Leora, she adjusted the glasses again and asked, “Is this the young filly you telephoned about?”
“Yes, Mother,” replied Alice.
The heavy woman stepped around Leora as a shrewd buyer would a horse.
She then stepped closer, and her pudgy hand went down the girl’s breasts; then moved upward and rubbed her cheeks. She stepped back again and gazed at Leora.
“She’ll do, Alice, indeed, indeed.” She shook her head as if an old memory stabbed her. “Dear, dear, dear,” she sighed, “what pretty hair, a shade of red.” She looked at Leora, “Have you evening gowns—you’ll need a dozen.”
Alice answered, “Yes,” for Leora.
“And how are you, Alice? Is he good to you?”
“Yes, Mother, Mr. Everlan is a fine man.”
Her tone changed, “You tell me if he isn’t. I don’t want my girls abused.”
“I will, Mother.”
The large woman dropped her glasses.
“Her name, Alice.”
“Leora Blair.”
Mother Rosenbloom studied for a moment, “Pretty —the first name—the last—a trifle harsh—however, that can come later.”
She made a move as if to seat herself in a davenport. Alice started to help her.
Mother Rosenbloom shook her head. “No, no, not that—I can never get out of the God-damn thing.” She gave the chuckle of a giantess. Leora smiled. Mother Rosenbloom looked from one girl to the other, “Ah, my dears,” she said again, “there was a day—but all that’s over and done,” she chuckled again, “and now I feel as old and dismal as reading the will at midnight—I can lie awake and hear the leaves rattle in the graveyard.”
She sat down, then shook her head swiftly, saying, “Heavens—what a thought—and I never think of it until I see youth.” She chuckled
Her red-painted cheeks were puffed and dimpled. She wore a gold watch at the end of a long chain. It went up and down like a censor as her heavy body moved forward.
Her immense legs were covered with thin silk stockings, through which stray hairs protruded.
An unusually large woman, about six feet tall, there were no curves to her figure. Except for the immense breasts, it might have been a square block. Her head was large and powerful, her hair a faded russet. Below one ear a grayish brindle tuft protruded. Her mouth was wide, and her false teeth, full of gold in front, were even. Her clothing was expensive. Her moods were as changeable as November weather. She could be precise, dynamic, volatile, full of laughter and anger at nearly the same time. Generally her emotions were facile. Then, at times, she was somber, and full of feeling for a moment. Her eyes were walled, and were curved outward like the bottoms of saucers, giving her great round face even more animation than it possessed.
It was said that in her youth she had been a fine singer. This may or may not have been true, as Mother Rosenbloom hardly ever discussed anything that touched her vitally. At times she was capable of a sweeping gusto, and sang with all her young whores around her, while customers, lulled by a voice rare among women, bought liquor with abandon.
She reduced nearly everything to mockery.
Though Leora and Alice were unaware of it, they were approaching a powerful woman who would have dominated any position in which she happened to be born.
While she did not ask her girls in what creed they had been brought up, she was always pleased to meet a prostitute of her own faith. For nearly twenty years she had had one thousand dollars on deposit, drawing interest— ”High Masses for the peace of my eternal soul.” It was to be turned over to the Church on the day she died.
She wrapped the chain of the watch around her fleshy hands. Then dropping it, while the watch dangled, she pulled at gold-rimmed spectacles attached to a chain above her melon-shaped left breast. Adjusting the glasses on a nose that had once been aquiline, she looked at the girls.
“Hello, Alice dear,” she said, with a sharp tone; then, glancing at Leora, she adjusted the glasses again and asked, “Is this the young filly you telephoned about?”
“Yes, Mother,” replied Alice.
The heavy woman stepped around Leora as a shrewd buyer would a horse.
She then stepped closer, and her pudgy hand went down the girl’s breasts; then moved upward and rubbed her cheeks. She stepped back again and gazed at Leora.
“She’ll do, Alice, indeed, indeed.” She shook her head as if an old memory stabbed her. “Dear, dear, dear,” she sighed, “what pretty hair, a shade of red.” She looked at Leora, “Have you evening gowns—you’ll need a dozen.”
Alice answered, “Yes,” for Leora.
“And how are you, Alice? Is he good to you?”
“Yes, Mother, Mr. Everlan is a fine man.”
Her tone changed, “You tell me if he isn’t. I don’t want my girls abused.”
“I will, Mother.”
The large woman dropped her glasses.
“Her name, Alice.”
“Leora Blair.”
Mother Rosenbloom studied for a moment, “Pretty —the first name—the last—a trifle harsh—however, that can come later.”
She made a move as if to seat herself in a davenport. Alice started to help her.
Mother Rosenbloom shook her head. “No, no, not that—I can never get out of the God-damn thing.” She gave the chuckle of a giantess. Leora smiled. Mother Rosenbloom looked from one girl to the other, “Ah, my dears,” she said again, “there was a day—but all that’s over and done,” she chuckled again, “and now I feel as old and dismal as reading the will at midnight—I can lie awake and hear the leaves rattle in the graveyard.”
She sat down, then shook her head swiftly, saying, “Heavens—what a thought—and I never think of it until I see youth.” She chuckled
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