Free Ladies In The Parlor by Jim Tully Page A

you cut their throats they would bleed ice water.
    “Make the weakest man you know feel that he is a giant. If he touches you a little, just say something like `Please don’t hurt me, dear, you are so strong,’ then watch him perk right up.”
    The shrewd student of sex looked admiringly at Alice and then toward Leora.
    “And learn to wear clothes well; though I must say you look very nice today. Men like a clothes mare—even if she’s big as a stallion. And never mention anything about your body. Deep in every man’s little head is the idea that a woman is still an angel, and would naturally have no natural functions. There are no toilets in Heaven.
    “You must never be self-conscious or ashamed of yourself in the presence of men. You have as much right to sell your body as the priest has to sell a Mass.” She smiled, her wide gold false teeth showing.
    “If men talk to you about only poor girls being in houses like this, say nothing. There’s many a rich whore, and if the poor girls get the kings it’s because they’re better bedfellows, that’s all.”
    She looked from Leora to Alice.
    “What can Mr. Everlan buy nicer than Alice—I’d like to know.” As neither girl informed her, the immense woman looked at Leora, and resumed, “I wouldn’t talk to you so long if I were not so fond of Alice and if you were not so beautiful.
    “But keep your head and heart to yourself—for if you don’t kick a man, he’ll kick you harder. Don’t trust any man. They’re all after something. Not even a preacher prays on his wedding night. Mr. Everlan would not stay with Alice tomorrow if she got smallpox or a hump on her back. And don’t wait for any of the men who come here to lie to you—lie to them first—and always remember to get your money in advance, for not even the President would want to pay when the horse is limber. And of course you must talk some—but not too much—just start the man talking. If he’s a lawyer, just say, ‘Dear, I’ll bet you make a fine presence in court.’ That’s all—then ask any silly question so long as it lets him talk about himself. If you find he’s a doctor, tell him how soothing he must be—
    “Talk always as though you have some money, or your people have. Men like the feeling that you are superior—they wouldn’t be interested in Cleopatra if she was in a crib on Placer Street and had one leg.”
    She swung her watch a few times. “And remember, girls, your chief concern is to make men love you, but not have them jealous of you. And no smart girl can afford to be emotional. I’ve seen women in my house fall in love with men so ugly they’d stop a clock in a morgue. That would have been all right, but the men had no money. And a man should have something to offer a girl.
    “Press the bell, Alice, will you, dear?”
    The housekeeper removed the table.
    “You’ll stay here tonight—will you, Alice—he’ll be with his family—and who knows who may come—” Mother Rosenbloom rose slowly. “I think I’ll telephone Mr. Skinner,” she said, “and tell him we have a virgin in the house.”
    Her giantess chuckle came again. Alice laughed merrily.
    “Now you introduce her to the girls, dear, and pick a last name for her.”
    “All right, Mother,” returned Alice. She took her cousin’s arm and led her toward the reception room, which was commonly called “the parlor.”
    Mother Rosenbloom left the telephone and strolled about the rooms.
    She was proud of her house. She loved the thick rugs under her feet, and the touch of the soft brocade drapes.
    Though the house was often flamboyant, it was alive, and everywhere gave evidence of the unusual personality that dominated it.
    Bowls of beautiful flowers were scattered over the house. A dozen long-stemmed roses were always in a bronze vase on the piano. Mother Rosenbloom had them changed several times a week.

Chapter 11
    Four girls, in evening gowns, lounged about the room. All were in their early