In the Land of the Long White Cloud

rear.
    “You know that’ll cost you a cent, right, dear?” she asked. “If I tell Madame Jolanda, she’ll go and put it on your tab. But I won’t be like that—for that cent, you can have a grab up here too.” The redhead pointed to her breasts. He groped heartily, joined by Johlen, one of the other men. Then the girl skillfully removed his hand. “There’ll be more of that later when you’ve paid.”
    The men laughed as she stalked away. She was wearing tantalizingly red high-heeled shoes and a dress in various shades of green. It was old and had been patched more than once, but it was clean, and the sexy lace flounces had been carefully starched and pressed. She reminded Lucas a bit of Gwyneira. Sure, she was a lady, and this half-grown child here a whore, but she also had frizzy red hair, pale skin, and that flash in her eyes that indicated that she was not at all resigned to her fate. This was certainly not the final station for this girl.
    “A real sweetheart, right?” remarked Norman, who had perceived Lucas’s gaze but misinterpreted it. “Daphne. The best horse in Madame Jolanda’s stable and, what’s more, her right hand. Without her, nothing would run around here, I tell you. She’s got everything under control. If the old lady was clever, she’d adopt the dear thing. But she only thinks of herself. One of these days that girl’s going to run away and take the best attractions with her. What do you think? You want her first? Or do your tastes run to something wilder?” He looked at the others with a wink.
    Lucas did not know what to say.
    Fortunately, Daphne returned with a second round of whiskey.
    “The girls are ready upstairs,” she said as she passed the glasses around. “Drink up at your leisure—I’d be happy to bring the bottletoo—and then come on up!” She smiled encouragingly. “But don’t make us wait too long. You know, a little liquor provokes the desire but takes away the performance.” Just as quickly as Norman had reached for her rear before, she now seized him between the legs for revenge.
    Norman jumped back but then had to laugh.
    “Do I get a cent for that too?”
    Daphne shook her head, letting her red hair fly as she did so.
    “Maybe a kiss?” she twittered and drifted away before Norman could answer. The men whistled after her.
    Lucas drank his whiskey and felt dizzy. How would he get out of here without failing miserably once more? Daphne did not arouse him at all. And yet she seemed to have set her eye squarely on him. Even just now, her gaze had lingered a bit longer on his face and slender, but muscular form than on the bodies of the others. Lucas knew that women found him attractive—that was unlikely to be any different with the whores in Westport than with the matrons in Christchurch. What was he supposed to do if Norman really did expect him to join them upstairs?
    Lucas contemplated escaping again, but that was out of the question. Without a horse, he had no chance of leaving Westport; he would have to remain in town for the time being. And that would not work if, first thing on the first day, he marked himself for all time by fleeing from a red-haired whore.
    Most of the men were already lightly swaying when Daphne finally reappeared and invited the company upstairs. But none of them were drunk enough not to notice Lucas’s absence if doubts were raised about him. And then Daphne kept resting her eyes on him.
    The girl led the men into a salon decorated with plush furniture and diminutive tables that would have looked vulgar in any setting. Four girls clad in elaborate negligees were awaiting them there, as well as Madame Jolanda, of course—a short, fat woman with cold eyes who, before anything else, took a dollar from every man. “Then at least no one will run away before he’s paid,” she explained calmly.
    Lucas paid his dollar, gnashing his teeth. Soon there would be nothing left of his week’s pay.
    Daphne led him to one of the red seats and pushed another glass of whiskey into his hand.
    “All right, stranger, how can I make you happy?” she said breathily. She had been the only girl not wearing a negligee, but now undid her bodice as though unintentionally. “Do you like me? But I’ll warn you: I glow red like fire! I’ve already set fire to a few.” As she spoke, she brushed her long strands of hair across his face.
    Lucas did not react.
    “No?” whispered Daphne. “Afraid? Tsk, tsk. Well, fine, maybe the other