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A. Verse: The Violation of Marcia Thomaston

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A. Verse The Violation of Marcia Thomaston

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There were many pictures, placed in abundance on the walls. She drew closer, to observe and suddenly she gasped.

For what she regarded was an enlarged photograph of a beautiful, naked girl on a couch, with an equally naked male bending over her loins, his face conveying a lustful expression.

Her eyes hastily recoiled. She gazed at the next picture-it too was a scene of carnal intercourse: a blond girl, clad only in a chemise, was on all fours on a lush rug; and, holding high the hem of her light garment in one hand, while with the other he groped for her pendant, bare breasts, was a naked male, his organ of consummation aimed for the delectable downed nook’ revealed between the girl’s widened thighs “Horrible…“ murmured Marcia, her face contorting with disgust. “What sort of place must this be and why has no one told me what the ransom terms are to be?”

She turned… at the right, the room ended with an arched doorway, covered by velvet~. drapes. Curious, she drew these aside and stood on the threshold of a smaller room.

It was a bedroom, in which the single furnishing was a great, wide bed, covered with exquisite lace and satin sheets, coverlets and pillows, deep, soft pillows.

And here again she was astonished: for this magnificent bed resembled her own in almost every detail!

It must be coincidence; but how came it that this outwardly appearing ramshackle old house should be so elegantly furnished within and that among the furnishings were a boudoir table and a bed that seemed exact replicas of her own?

She had an alligator-skin purse with her; she opened it, took out a cigarette, lit it and seated herself in one of the love seats.

No sound reached her. Was she to be left alone like this, incommunicado?

A half hour passed thus. She finished her cigarette, lit another with impatience. Her eyes involuntarily rose to the wall, but when they discerned the foul, lascivious tableaux, she shuddered and withdrew her gaze.

At last she heard the sound of footsteps along the corridor. They came nearer … neater still then stopped outside the door of her prison.

A key turned… she rose quickly, holding up her purse as if it were a weapon with which she meant to defend herself.

The door opened.

On the threshold appeared the woman who had met her downstairs and, her wrist captive in the woman’s bony hand, was-Marie!

Her own maid here, a prisoner too! It-it was impossible; she had seen Marie driven off in a taxi before entering her Cadillac en route to the Waldorf.

“Inside,” said the woman, shoving Marie into the room; and then she entered, planting herself, arms akimbo, before the door and confronting the two beauties, mistress and servant, but equals now in their confinement.

“Marie!” exclaimed Marcia, for once genuinely glad to see her erstwhile disdained maid.

The blond soubrette turned and her face expressed incredulous surprise.

“Mam’selle,” she exclaimed, “they:got you too? Mon Diets, que c’est terrible!”

“All right, all right, never mind the parleyvoo,” interposed the stern, gowned termagant, with a raucous laugh. “Let’s get things straight. You, blondie, your name’s Marie, eh?”

“Yes, Madame,” returned the pretty soubrette.

“You seem to know this other gal?” “Out, Madame, I am her maid.”

“That’s a nifty! Couldn’t have been better arranged. Well, then, Marie, you can keep on workin’ for your mistress. Pretty soon there’ll be gentlemen callers for her and you, too, my pretty one. And I want you to fix her up in. her best make her attractive… a little more rouge, some perfume… everythin’s on that table there.”

Marcia, hearing these words as in a. dream, at last cleared bet mind of the shadows that dung to her and, her eyes furious with vexation, exclaimed, “Just what do you mean? I’ll give you my father’s telephone number; kindly get in touch with him and tell him to get me out of here. I’m getting rather tired of this game.”

The woman regarded her and to Marcia’s indignation her gaze slowly swept the statuesque form of the lovely debutante’s gowned loveliness, as if appraising her treasures through the clinging fabric which accentuated the splendor of Marcia’s bosom and long, firm thighs.

“It won’t be necessary to call your father, dear,” said the woman in a mocking tone.

“But the ransom… I haven’t any money with me!” stormed Marcia, stamping her pump-shod foot with anger.

“What a temper! That’ll please our customers, I know.”

“Customers… that’s the second time I’ve heard that word. Please have the goodness to explain to me just what it is you want, if you don’t want ransom.”

“You’re an unobservant little fool if you haven’t made a study of your new quarters by this time,” responded her jailer, with a sensual smile. “Mean to tell me you haven’t got the drift of those pictures on the wall?”

“Whatt have they to do with anything? They’re vile, horrible,” burst out Marcia.

“Then you don’t care for men, my fancy miss? You’ll just have to get used to them, you see. For you’re going to earn your own ransom, as Marie will have to earn hers!” said the mysterious woman, appraising both the girls with an enigmatic smile.

“Earn our ransom?” echoed Marcia.

The face of the woman hardened, she contemplated Marcia coldly and said, “Yes, dear; that’s the long and short of it. This is a call house, where gentlemen with full purses and itching feeling’s get rid of both!” and she chuckled mirthlessly.

“Mon Diets,” gasped the lovely blonde soubrette, turning to her mistress, “c’est un bordel-it’s a brothel, Miss Marcia!”

And now it was Marcia’s turn to gasp in horrified terror.

She looked at the termagant as if she could not force herself to believe the ruthless fact.

The woman nodded, satisfied with the effect of her words and pursued: “That’s it. The blonde seems to have more sense about things; maybe she’ll earn her way out a lot sooner than you, Miss Fancy-Gown!”

“Do-do-you mean-that-that-you’re going to make us-entertain-men?” faltered Marcia; her arrogance and composure waning.

“Of course, you little fool! So, to get ready for your first customer, you’re going to let Marie fix you up. Marie, do you comprehend me?”

“Y-yes… Madame,” stammered the blonde, turning a;piteous regard on her interlocutor.

“Leave your mistress wear the same duds she’s got on. That’ll please the gentlemen who like high-toned furnishings and maybe raise the price,” said the shrew, with an evil smile wreathed on her rouged ups, “and as for you, Marie, you’re soft and blond-the boys’ll like to see somethin’ of your figure. When you’ve done your mistress nicely, take off your dress, hear me?”

Marie sank to her knees and, clasping her hands before the stony-faced termagant, pleaded brokenly, “Oh, Madame… such shame I-I-cannot do it! Let my mistress and me go we’ll pay you well… please… don’t make us! It… it … is too horrible!”

The woman regarded her for a long moment; then, turning, she opened the door and called harshly, “Joe!”

At once the older guard entered the room, his face a mask of lecherous anticipation.

Pointing to the kneeling Marie, still in her attitude of supplication, the woman said, “This blond doesn’t want to go through with it! Give her a little lesson and take her dress off!”

“Sure, Lil,” said the man, licking his lips and slowly advancing toward the trembling Marie.

Marcia, regaining her courage, moved forward to hold off the torturer, when the woman, drawing a pearl-handled revolver from the bodice of her gown, pointed it at her and said, “I’d sure as hell hate to spoil your looks, honey, but if you interfere you’ll get a slug between your eyes!”

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