Irving Wallace - The Golden Room

'I think it would be nice to start with a bottle of Mumm's champagne. Would that suit you?'

'Fine.'

'Now, unless you have some dish you prefer, I could make a few suggestions.'

'I'll trust you,' said Varney. 'I'll have whatever you have.'

Fanny was pleased. 'I'd suggest we start with Romano-Beluga caviar. After that, prime roast beef. How would you like yours done?'

'Rare.'

'Me too. I love rare meat. It gives one energy. Then we might have some crepes Suzette. How's that?'

'Perfect, Ma'am.'

'Jack, my name is Fanny. You needn't be formal with me. I hope we get to know each other much better.'

'I hope so too, Fanny.'

When the silver bucket appeared with the Mumm's and the bottle was uncorked and poured, Varney tried to concentrate on his mission. He was here because Mayor Harrison wanted to prove that this was still' a whorehouse. Varney's assignment was to go to bed with a whore. How did one go about it? Fanny seemed too ladylike, yet she had served up several double entendres. Varney determined to relax and play it by ear.

'I know you're a beer king,' Fanny was saying as they sipped their drinks. 'I hope you don't mind that I ordered champagne. It just seemed more appropriate for a good time.'

'It is, it is,' Varney agreed.

She had said a good time. He wondered if he dared read what he hoped to read in those words.

As the supper was served, Varney tried to answer Fanny's questions about St Louis. He had never been there, but neither had she, so he was safe. Then they talked about entertainment in Chicago.

'Do you like stage plays?' Fanny asked. 'Very much,' said Varney. 'Especially Trelawny of the Wells with Ethel Barrymore. I saw Peter Pan with Maude Adams.'

'Actually, I prefer vaudeville,' Fanny confided. 'The last stage play I saw was Uncle Tom's Cabin, with real live bloodhounds.'

'No kidding?'

'But give me vaudeville any day. Harrigan, the tramp juggler, or that magician, Herrmann the Great, or Princess Rajah, who dances with a python around her. I think the best act is "Sober Sue – You Can't Make Her Laugh". A $1,000 reward if you can. All the comedians try and fail. The rumour is that Sober Sue has paralysed facial muscles. You know what my favourite fun thing is?' 'No, what?'

'That new invention – movies,' said Fanny. 'At the Chicago Opera House I saw The Great Train Robbery, starring Bronco Billy Anderson. It was my first movie ever, but it was too short. Only fifteen minutes. Since then I've seen Cinderella, which has wonderful camera effects. There's a scene where the pumpkin changes into a carriage. The best one is The Passion Play, which is ten times longer than the average movie. You should try a movie some time.'

'I will,' promised Varney. 'I heard they were coming to St Louis.'

They had run out of entertainment topics to discuss, and silently swallowed the last of their crepes. Fanny touched her napkin to her mouth and murmured, 'Yum, that was good.'

'Very good,' Varney agreed.

'I should thank you for a marvellous meal,' she said. 'I want to thank you.'

She leaned over, across him, her full breasts pressing like twin cushions against his arms, and she planted a delicious kiss on his open lips. Her tongue darted out to find his and then teased against his tongue.

Varney could feel an immediate erection.

Fanny reached down and patted his stomach. 'How does it feel? Have you had all you want?' Before he could reply, her palm slid down his stomach, and reached his crotch and curled around his erection.

Withdrawing her hand slowly, she gave him a seductive smile. 'Or would you like more?'

'More,' he gulped, relieved that he didn't have to ask her to bed. She was plainly asking him. His confidence grew along with the size of his penis, and he added firmly, 'Much more. I want you, Fanny.'

'You have me,' she said simply, taking his hand. 'It's only a short walk.'

They went up the thickly carpeted mahogany staircase, between the potted palms and the statues of nude Grecian goddesses, to the upstairs corridor. There Fanny led Varney along a row of doors until she reached her own.

Opening the door, she turned on a lamp and beckoned Varney inside the boudoir. Its magnificence stopped him in his tracks. What caught his eye first was the Turkish-style headboard of brass, inlaid with marble. Nearby was a window covered from floor to ceiling by red velvet drapes with silk borders. On one wall stood an elaborately carved wooden mantel splashed with gold paint. There were freshly cut roses in two iron urns on the mantel.

This, thought Varney, is paradise.

Fanny was undoing the jet buttons of her blouse. As Varney moved to assist her, she said, 'It would take you too long to undress me, Jack. These buttons, then the hooks and eyes, and after that my blouse and skirt, and the petticoats, ruffles, and whalebone stays, and then my shoes to unbutton, and my stockings to roll down. It would take you half an hour, and by then you'd lose your erection.'

'I wouldn't,' he said adamantly.

'Believe me,' Fanny said. 'But I can go to the bathroom and get unpeeled in five minutes. I know how to do it. So you stay here and take your clothes off. I'll be with you in a jiffy.'

When she was gone, Varney took his clothes off slowly. When he was naked, he could feel that he was losing his erection. He glanced at the bathroom door, imagined what she'd be like, and immediately his penis began to rise.

Moments later she emerged wearing only a filmy pink dressing-gown. She considered his nakedness, nodded approval, and padded straight to the bed. She threw off her dressing-gown, and dropped to the bed on her back. The instant Varney's gaze moved from her blonde hair and beautiful face to the huge mounds of breasts, the sleek pinkish-white abdomen, the great pubic patch, as she lifted her fleshy thighs and spread them apart, Varney's penis hardened fully and stood straight out.

'Come on, young man,' Fanny beckoned. 'Let me enjoy that.'

Varney was on the bed immediately, atop her, and between her legs.

She shut her eyes, squealed with delight, put her arms around him to draw him in tighter.

He began to pump away, and as he did so, she began to undulate her bottom beneath him, until he felt he was going crazy.

Along the way, he had one fleeting thought of his real mission.

So much for the Everleigh Club as a chaste restaurant.

Soon, Mayor Harrison might be as happy with the word as Varney himself was right now with the proof.

Varney went on with her for – he didn't know – maybe ten minutes or so. She was the best, most experienced girl he'd ever coupled with. She pushed all the right buttons, until he was frenzied. When he had his orgasm, she made sounds of a prolonged orgasm too – but when his senses returned he knew it wasn't true. She was a prostitute, a sweet, loose girl, but a prosty nevertheless, and they never came for pay.

When they lay under the blanket, recovering, she was ready to listen to him and to talk herself. No rush job. The Ever-leighs had a class act going.

'You're the best I've ever had,' admitted Varney. 'Whatever you get, you should get more.'

'I think so too,' Fanny agreed ingenuously. 'You'll pay fifty dollars, and I'll get half. Usually, I accept that as fair. But now I'm going to be earning less, because – because for certain reasons – Minna and Aida are screening customers more closely and will be turning more away. I don't like that. It's the first time Minna has been unfair.'

'Why don't you leave the Everleighs?' Varney asked.

'And go where? This is the best-paying house in Chicago. If I had somewhere else to go that paid better, I'd certainly do it right now. That's how I feel.'

Varney had full command of his senses at last. His mind was on his mission. He could now testify that the Everleigh Club was a whorehouse. But Harrison had reminded him that if he could get one of the girls as a witness, their case for a shutdown would be perfect, a cinch.