mostly bare hanging over the balcony stopped trying to entice male patrons and egged on the fighters. The fighters were ill matched and Dan got his man down not once but three times. The third time Tommy was out cold. He was hauled off to the alley. Dan raised his bloody hands in triumph and was given his purse. Then he passed among the crowd in his underwear with cap in hand to collect what people would give him. Several women embraced him.
Charlie the Chopper got back on his chair and bellowed, “Drink up orclear out, boyos! In half an hour, Katie and her Girly Girls’ll dance the cancan. Let’s all have a drink and toast the serving girls and have a good time.”
A fight broke out near the bar that ran the length of the immense room. Two burly men who appeared to be official bouncers quelled it. Charlie mounted his chair again to shout that he would not tolerate fighting between the patrons unless it was an official fight. The bouncers threw out the three men involved, and what passed for normality in the saloon resumed.
Anthony observed a regular passage of men up to the balconies. The women disappeared into curtained alcoves with their clients. Edward introduced him to four other young men, employed downtown by importers or law offices, clerks come to the city like himself from respectable and God-fearing families—here in this den of shame where women were garishly painted and men handled them at will. Some seemed much too young to be selling their bodies. Others looked too old to be salable, but all seemed sought by men who should know better. One of the women took a seat on his right. He suspected that Edward had motioned her over, for he bought her a drink. Drinks for the women cost more than for the men, Anthony noticed. She put her arm around him, leaning close, her bosoms loose in her gown. He froze.
“Don’t be afraid, dearie. I won’t hurt you. I know something about young men, and what they need.” Her breath reeked of beer and she smelled unclean. She put her warm moist hand on his thigh, then stroked his manhood through his trousers.
He was ashamed by his reaction. He closed his eyes for a moment and thought of the eternal fires of hell. “I’m not interested.” He pushed her hand away.
“Sure you are, dearie. I can feel you. You’re just scared.” She tried to touch his manhood again, but he caught her wrist.
“What I fear is what I should fear. Please let go of me.” He disengaged himself and stood.
“Then I won’t waste my time on you. Maybe you like the boys better, um?” She flounced off to pester someone else.
“Anthony, you passed up a golden opportunity. Sally’s a good whore. You could do a lot worse for your first time.”
“You’ve been with her?”
“When I can afford it.” Edward looked after her longingly. “She knows I don’t have the wherewithal tonight.”
The air was foul and getting thicker. He drank his soda and ordered another. He tried to discuss the place objectively with Edward, but his friend was accosted by another young man who began arguing the merits of various terriers used to fight rats in pits. Such fights offered an opportunity for gambling, as did, he gathered, dogfights and cockfights.
Charlie the Chopper mounted his chair. “Now the main event of the evening for all you sporting gents. Here comes Katie Sullivan and her Girly Girls ready to dance the cancan. And afterward, if you’re up to it, you can buy the girls a drink and drink in their charms.”
The woman who led the way out for three others was red-haired and sharp-featured, no spring chicken, dressed in a bright red outfit with several petticoats which, as the pianist started banging out some rancid ditty, she began kicking high up, turning and kicking some more, and finally holding her leg high above her head as she turned on one foot, hopping awkwardly. All four women including one who looked barely sixteen and had no more curves than a rake were kicking with great vigor
Charlie the Chopper got back on his chair and bellowed, “Drink up orclear out, boyos! In half an hour, Katie and her Girly Girls’ll dance the cancan. Let’s all have a drink and toast the serving girls and have a good time.”
A fight broke out near the bar that ran the length of the immense room. Two burly men who appeared to be official bouncers quelled it. Charlie mounted his chair again to shout that he would not tolerate fighting between the patrons unless it was an official fight. The bouncers threw out the three men involved, and what passed for normality in the saloon resumed.
Anthony observed a regular passage of men up to the balconies. The women disappeared into curtained alcoves with their clients. Edward introduced him to four other young men, employed downtown by importers or law offices, clerks come to the city like himself from respectable and God-fearing families—here in this den of shame where women were garishly painted and men handled them at will. Some seemed much too young to be selling their bodies. Others looked too old to be salable, but all seemed sought by men who should know better. One of the women took a seat on his right. He suspected that Edward had motioned her over, for he bought her a drink. Drinks for the women cost more than for the men, Anthony noticed. She put her arm around him, leaning close, her bosoms loose in her gown. He froze.
“Don’t be afraid, dearie. I won’t hurt you. I know something about young men, and what they need.” Her breath reeked of beer and she smelled unclean. She put her warm moist hand on his thigh, then stroked his manhood through his trousers.
He was ashamed by his reaction. He closed his eyes for a moment and thought of the eternal fires of hell. “I’m not interested.” He pushed her hand away.
“Sure you are, dearie. I can feel you. You’re just scared.” She tried to touch his manhood again, but he caught her wrist.
“What I fear is what I should fear. Please let go of me.” He disengaged himself and stood.
“Then I won’t waste my time on you. Maybe you like the boys better, um?” She flounced off to pester someone else.
“Anthony, you passed up a golden opportunity. Sally’s a good whore. You could do a lot worse for your first time.”
“You’ve been with her?”
“When I can afford it.” Edward looked after her longingly. “She knows I don’t have the wherewithal tonight.”
The air was foul and getting thicker. He drank his soda and ordered another. He tried to discuss the place objectively with Edward, but his friend was accosted by another young man who began arguing the merits of various terriers used to fight rats in pits. Such fights offered an opportunity for gambling, as did, he gathered, dogfights and cockfights.
Charlie the Chopper mounted his chair. “Now the main event of the evening for all you sporting gents. Here comes Katie Sullivan and her Girly Girls ready to dance the cancan. And afterward, if you’re up to it, you can buy the girls a drink and drink in their charms.”
The woman who led the way out for three others was red-haired and sharp-featured, no spring chicken, dressed in a bright red outfit with several petticoats which, as the pianist started banging out some rancid ditty, she began kicking high up, turning and kicking some more, and finally holding her leg high above her head as she turned on one foot, hopping awkwardly. All four women including one who looked barely sixteen and had no more curves than a rake were kicking with great vigor
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