"Callahan 05 - Lady Sally's House 02 - Lady Slings the Booze v1.0" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robinson Spider)

"I'll be right with you," I agreed.
"Sure," he said, and left.
When the door had shut behind him I turned to Lady Sally. "You first," I said.
"I'd like you to leave all your weapons here on the desk, please," she said, with just enough emphasis that I knew she'd received a full report. "I don't like people walking around my House armed. There's a gun check at the front door; they'll be waiting there for you with your overcoat when you leave."
I shrugged. "How about if I keep the blackjack? I might meet the Little Man Who Wasn't There."
She frowned slightly. "True. All right."
I put both guns, the knucks and the switchblade on the desk.
"Now you," she said.
"You don't happen to have somebody...well, more like my kind of guy available to show me around? A little more,...I don't know..."
"Butch?" she suggested.
"The guy's got rope burns on his wrists, for Christ's sake. I just don't think I could be very simpatico with a guy like that."
The twinkle went out of her eye. I have to say I was sorry to see it go. "Mr. Quigley," she said, all the tiddliness gone from her voice, "I begin to wonder if this is a waste of time. Yes, I have artists on staff who are 'more your kind of guy'-and they would teach you very little. The most important lesson you have to learn about my House you will get through your head right now, or get the hell out: within these walls, you will be tolerant of anything you find strange. I don't insist on sophistication, but I won't accept rudeness. Think what you like about Tim's tastes- or those of anyone here, artist or client-but if you don't show perfect respect to each one of them, at all times, I'll have Priscilla kiss you goodbye. That will be all for now."
I stopped at the door and turned back. This was where a wisecrack was supposed to go. "Uh. . ." I said.
She loOked up-and softened when she saw my face. "I beg your pardon, Joe. Look here: I probably have two dozen artists on staff whose sexual tastes and proclivities closely overlap your own. But not one of them suffers from the delusion that theirs is the Only Right Way To Be. That syndrome is the single most common sexual psychosis of this era, and it is my belief that it is virtually always the victim' s fault But I could be wrong."
"I don't know about that," I' said. I felt lousy.
"You are not a bad man, Joe Quigley. For your place and time. Plop you down in the Renaissance just as you are now, you might be the Bertrand Russell of your day. Will you keep one thing in mind for me? No one is going to ask you to do anything you find repulsive-or even uninteresting, I promise." Suddenly she smirked. "That is, they might very well ask-but they will take a no philosophically, and for keeps."
"I get you," I said. "Thanks. Uh...one last thing. Just to keep things straight. Is an 'inspection tour' the same thing as being comped?"
The twinkle was back. "Yes. But remember, you've only got 'til dawn."
"I'm a business-first kind of guy," I assured her.
"Just remember one other thing."
"Yeah?"
"I know your real name too."
I blinked. "Yes, Ma'am."


3. The Spot...

Behold how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity...
-Psalms cxxxiii:1


"I'LL show you some of the Function Rooms first," Tim said as we strolled down the hall. -
I was startled. "You hold conventions here? Speeches and panel discussions?"
He chuckled. "Not that kind of function room. I mean each one has a specific function. You just left the Teenager's Bedroom, male version. The female version's pretty much the same, and it's occupied at the moment anyway. Same for the Doctor's Examining Room and the Executive's Office. But here's the Locker Room-"
I understood him now. Fantasy scenario rooms. I'd heard of such things-but I'd never expected to see any as realistic as the one I'd just left...or the one we entered now.
It even lacked a doorknob, like real locker rooms do. And when we got inside...well, it was funny: it smelled right, and it didn't. I mean, there were enough authentic locker room smells-soap, water, terry cloth, basketballs, talcum-to make your subconscious accept it as a real locker room...but it didn't have the sour sweat and old mildew smells that usually make you want to leave one as quickly as possible. The benches between the banks of lockers were a little wider than usual, and there were more mirrors than I was used to. There was a working shower room off to the left, with a non-skid floor that wasn't completely dry yet.
"Boys' or girls' ?" I asked Tim. Echo of locker room tile...
"Depends on which bank of lockers you open. Each bank has a full complement of utensils, in the locker with the lock on it. As a matter of fact, you might end up spending time here, if you decide to join us: we haven't got a good Gym Teacher at the moment."
For the sake of my cover, I tried to look as if I was giving it some thought. Beneath the surface, I gave it some thought.
"If that suits you, of course," he added. "That's the very best thing about this place: no one ever has to take a gig or a client they don't want."
Now that was something I'd never heard of before in a whorehouse. If it was true, then maybe it was conceivable that I might, for a few days, experimentally, in the line of duty...
"But you've got the build for a gym teacher, and a macho face," Tim finished.
There's a way he could have said that and pissed me off-not that I would have showed it. But he didn't say it like that, like flirting; he said it like a casting director. I decided I had nothing against the guy.
"Maybe," I agreed. "That leads to a few fairly basic questions, though."
"Ask away, Ken. By the way, has anybody ever told you that you look a hell of a lot like-"
"Yeah," I interrupted flatly, and he had sense enough to drop it. "First of all, what's the split here for beginners?"
He looked startled. "We're starting from square one, then. Brace yourself, Ken. There is no split. We're on straight salary here."
I stared at him. "Straight salary?"
"Weekly check, withholding taken out and everything. You get a nice chunk of circus money back from the IRS every spring."
I didn't get it. "Then you don't have any incentive to hurry up and get to the next customer."