elsewhere, but this is how we do it at the Poppy.” And then I throw him out on his ass. As soon as he could stand he was back inside, laughing. He even bought me a whiskey.
You have to know how to treat them, the gents, in a way that keeps the peace and keeps them coming back. You have to understand that what they seek here, all of them, no matter what shape it takes—if it’s Jennie hanging from a strap or Laddie bent over a chaise, drink or smoke or dope or whatever-may-have-you—it’s relief they’re after, right? They have an itch, or a pain, or a broken heart, or a stiff prick, so you get ’em scratched, or soothed, or fucked or sucked or petted on—Pearl is best at that—and you take their money, and you thank ’em. And they always come back. Some gents still come who were here the very first night; I remember them. I was here, too.
I had come down from Victoria, where my sisters were, and my wife—I was married, yes, and happy, until she died, my Annie, the cholera got her and the little baby, too, and afterward I didn’t care to be married again so much. And my sisters, well, one of them was wed to a soapy churchman, he was always on and on about the torments of the flesh. We get a few like that here at the Poppy, pure tit-mad but always scowling in the morning. The girls don’t like them. And they’re cheap, that type, they don’t want to pay for their sins.
Anyroad I left Victoria, and since I didn’t care to rob I fought my way up the river instead, bare-knuckling it for a few dollars a bout, for anyone who’d pay to watch. I learned to shave my pate, then, so’s there would be nothing to grab on to; it kept me cleaner, too. And I learned I could take a deal of pain and come back shiny. Bad thing was, it made me a bit of a brawler—and I was a youngish chap, already I thought I could whip anything in shoe leather, right?
So when I came here I fought all the townies, and beat ’em, and was casting about for something else to beat on when I met Rupert. Now, to look at him, lean as he is, and dark as a diddakoi, you wouldn’t think he could box it up man-to-man. But Jesu, he destroyed me. Not that he could hit so hard—although he can—but that he never quit, just kept on and on until I was on the ground and crawling and Stop, I said, I’m all in. You win. And then he gave me one more, just to think about. And then he hired me.
Men need refreshment, he said to me, as we sat drinking in the Four Cups; nasty place, the ale reeks like bilge water. But he was talking about the Poppy. If all they want is to dip their wicks, fine, they can go to Suzette’s, or to that mongrel Angus. Or the Alley, and stop in at the sawbones on their way home for the clap they just caught. But we can offer them something more.
He’s a deep, deep thinker, you know, Rupert, and Miss Decca, too; she was in it as much as he was, and in a way the building’s hers, right, since it was her old man who had it first. So she could do as she liked with it, and didn’t we work to tart it up! They were both tickled to find that I could sew—as I can, a fine, neat seam, my sisters taught me. So Miss Decca and I made the costumes, and the curtains. And Rupert used the hammer and the broom.
It was my idea to have the dope, mostly because I enjoy a taste myself now and again. It’s better than drink, leaves your belly alone, and you can mark up the price however high you like, because those who want it’ll pay no matter what. Same as some of the gents’ desires, you know: they can get plain-fucked any place, even their own wedded wives will do that. But to fuck the girl you carry in your mind, you know, the one who wouldn’t have you, or the one you’ll never have, the one you shouldn’t have—or the boy, there are those who like it that way, too—to have just what you want, as you want it, served up private and discreet: well, who wouldn’t pay for that? However much, it’s always worth the cost.
And for the
You have to know how to treat them, the gents, in a way that keeps the peace and keeps them coming back. You have to understand that what they seek here, all of them, no matter what shape it takes—if it’s Jennie hanging from a strap or Laddie bent over a chaise, drink or smoke or dope or whatever-may-have-you—it’s relief they’re after, right? They have an itch, or a pain, or a broken heart, or a stiff prick, so you get ’em scratched, or soothed, or fucked or sucked or petted on—Pearl is best at that—and you take their money, and you thank ’em. And they always come back. Some gents still come who were here the very first night; I remember them. I was here, too.
I had come down from Victoria, where my sisters were, and my wife—I was married, yes, and happy, until she died, my Annie, the cholera got her and the little baby, too, and afterward I didn’t care to be married again so much. And my sisters, well, one of them was wed to a soapy churchman, he was always on and on about the torments of the flesh. We get a few like that here at the Poppy, pure tit-mad but always scowling in the morning. The girls don’t like them. And they’re cheap, that type, they don’t want to pay for their sins.
Anyroad I left Victoria, and since I didn’t care to rob I fought my way up the river instead, bare-knuckling it for a few dollars a bout, for anyone who’d pay to watch. I learned to shave my pate, then, so’s there would be nothing to grab on to; it kept me cleaner, too. And I learned I could take a deal of pain and come back shiny. Bad thing was, it made me a bit of a brawler—and I was a youngish chap, already I thought I could whip anything in shoe leather, right?
So when I came here I fought all the townies, and beat ’em, and was casting about for something else to beat on when I met Rupert. Now, to look at him, lean as he is, and dark as a diddakoi, you wouldn’t think he could box it up man-to-man. But Jesu, he destroyed me. Not that he could hit so hard—although he can—but that he never quit, just kept on and on until I was on the ground and crawling and Stop, I said, I’m all in. You win. And then he gave me one more, just to think about. And then he hired me.
Men need refreshment, he said to me, as we sat drinking in the Four Cups; nasty place, the ale reeks like bilge water. But he was talking about the Poppy. If all they want is to dip their wicks, fine, they can go to Suzette’s, or to that mongrel Angus. Or the Alley, and stop in at the sawbones on their way home for the clap they just caught. But we can offer them something more.
He’s a deep, deep thinker, you know, Rupert, and Miss Decca, too; she was in it as much as he was, and in a way the building’s hers, right, since it was her old man who had it first. So she could do as she liked with it, and didn’t we work to tart it up! They were both tickled to find that I could sew—as I can, a fine, neat seam, my sisters taught me. So Miss Decca and I made the costumes, and the curtains. And Rupert used the hammer and the broom.
It was my idea to have the dope, mostly because I enjoy a taste myself now and again. It’s better than drink, leaves your belly alone, and you can mark up the price however high you like, because those who want it’ll pay no matter what. Same as some of the gents’ desires, you know: they can get plain-fucked any place, even their own wedded wives will do that. But to fuck the girl you carry in your mind, you know, the one who wouldn’t have you, or the one you’ll never have, the one you shouldn’t have—or the boy, there are those who like it that way, too—to have just what you want, as you want it, served up private and discreet: well, who wouldn’t pay for that? However much, it’s always worth the cost.
And for the
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