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By Root 29409 0

sitting on the back of his waist with his chin on his chest. Big Time Operator Prewitt. Who reads off all the other poor unfortunate bastards like himself who are so hungry to talk to a woman they willing to come to a whorehouse and pay three bucks to do it. Really showed him up, dint you? how he would take everything off of you and still not fight. Wanted to fight him bad, didnt you? you who make your brags about never checking a cinch into the next man, you who are so high and mightily humanitarian you cannot allow yourself to fight for Dynamite’s bloody boxing squad. Killer Prewitt, horny fisted veteran of a thousand battles. Blood makes you sick, doesnt it? You really looked good in there, Killer. You were truly championship material, werent you, Caveman? She ought to admire you a lot now. You really made a great impression on her, with your virility and fifteen bucks I bet she’d even go all night with you. And that was all you wanted, wasnt it, Killer? All you wanted was what she puts out for a living, wasnt it, Caveman? You didn’t want her admiration, or friendship, or closeness, or interest, or intimacy, or whatever the fuck they call it, the part they keep and dont put out for a living, did you? No, of course you didnt. Who ever wants the interest or admiration of a whore?

Across the room Maggio and the tall long legged Sandra were bidding a fond farewell to two sullen sailors. Did they want the interest of a whore? Sure not, thats why they’re sullen, with plenty others in the next room.

Little Billy was sitting on Stark’s lap with her mouth to his ear talking feverishly. Did Stark want the admiration of a little hot-eyed whore? Of course not, thats why he’s grinning so complacently. Man, you kill me, you really knock me out. Killer Prewitt, the Boy Wonder.

“How you doing, buddy?” Stark grinned at him swimmily. “You got it all fixed up?”

“Yeah,” he said. “All fixed up. Fixed up swell.”

Maybe you better take up surfboard riding, Killer, he thought.

“Did you tell her about gettin the three rooms together?” Stark asked him.

“No,” he said. “I forgot to ask her that.”

“We got it fixed up anyway,” Stark said. “Its okay. But dont forget to tell her when she comes back, or you’ll miss out on the dew.” Then little Billy bit him on the ear and he jerked his head and cursed, then laughed, then brought his wide-swinging attention back to her, where she wanted it.

“I wont forget it,” Prew said, to nobody. “I wouldnt want to miss out on anything. Anything but that, but missing out on something.”

Maggio and Sandra were shaking hands with the sailors in great friendship, like the host and hostess regretfully speeding the departing guests. As soon as the sailors had gone through the connecting doors into the second waiting room Maggio sat down with a great sigh and pulled Sandra down on his lap, whereupon Maggio completely disappeared from view.

“Hey,” Maggio said muffledly. “I dont think this is going to work out so good. How about me sitting on your lap? For a change?”

“Well,” Sandra said. “It would be an experience.”

She got up, laughing and wrinkling her pert nose and shaking her black cascade of gleaming hair, and they changed places, Maggio looking like a mahout perched on his favorite she elephant, or a circus monkey riding high up in the air on a big breasted Shetland pony.

“Hey,” he said, “hey, look at me. Do You Want One—Of Them Big Fat Mamas—Too,” he sang. It was a perfect mime of Wingy Manone’s chortling, whiskey-rusty vocal.

“What do you mean, fat?” Sandra, who except for her breasts was very slender, said indignantly. “I’m not fat, sonny.”

“I know it, baby,” Maggio said. “Dont call me sonny. I was ony speaking figurtively. Theres no call to get mad on me and insulting.

“Hey, Prew,” he said, changing the subject. “Them sailors remind me of what I forgot to tell you. I see our chum Bloom down to the Tavern tonight.”

“Yeah?” Prew said listlessly. “Who with?”

“With a great big bastard of a queen he’s got on the string named Tommy who’s even bigger than Bloom is, if you can picture that.”

“Oh,” Prew said. “Well, well.