Longarm on the Thunderbird Run

And after all, tomorrow was when the White Hoods were supposed to strike. After the arrival of the afternoon train he wouldn’t have to worry any longer about keeping his occupation a secret. Then he could pay for whatever he needed with vouchers.

He reached deep into his pocket and gave the bitch her money.

“Thank you, Mr. Long.” Jessie lifted her finger once again, and slim, pretty little Rosalie appeared soundlessly in front of them. Now that he knew what was up in this house of horrors, Longarm could see the pain of frightened anticipation in the girl’s downcast eyes.

“You may escort the gentleman to room five, Rosalie.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Without ever once looking Longarm in the face the girl took his hand with a light, trembling touch and led him toward the stairs.

Chapter Twelve

The room was small and surprisingly plain after the luxury exhibited downstairs. There was a reason for that, though, a reason that was evident in the peculiar furnishings of the place. In addition to a sturdy bed and hard mattress with no covers except a single sheet, there were the odd trappings of a “special” whorehouse.

A wall rack that held a selection of quirts and whips and willow switches. A box of leather and steel fetters. Ropes and gags and hatpins and even, incredibly, a razor and strop for those whose quirks demanded blood and serious pain.

Longarm looked at all of it in partial disbelief. He had been expecting it in a way. But now, confronted with the reality of it, his mind stubbornly refused to accept it until the second or third inspection of the vile chamber.

He looked at Rosalie and realized only then that while he had been staring at the embellishments of a virtual torture chamber, the young Mexican girl had been calmly removing her gown. Now she dropped the garment onto an oddly-shaped stool that had manacles and steel anklets attached to its legs. Naked—and admittedly lovely, but with her eyes still downcast and unable to meet his—she turned to face him.

She stood with her chin low, arms slack, and shoulders slumped. Longarm could not begin to guess what she expected him to do to her—not with her but to her now—but whatever it was she offered no resistance. She stood mute and accepting before him.

She was a lovely girl, although her body was flawed. Flawed not by nature, but by plan. Her nipples were scabbed and misshapen from something that had been recently done, and there were the welts and bruises of a beating on her hips.

Longarm cleared his throat, the sound loud and awkward in the silence of the small room. “I, uh, have a special request for you.”

She nodded without looking at him.

“First thing, Rosalie, I’d like you to turn around, please.”

She turned, posing naked for his inspection, as if that were the most normal and natural thing for anyone to possibly do.

Longarm felt a kernel of ice develop deep in his belly. The teenage girl’s back was a latticework of fading welts and cuts. Someone had whipped her severely within the past few weeks. What had Whoremistress Jessie said? Rosalie had undergone a “training” period. These marks on her slender body must have resulted from part of that training. And surely no one, not even the most desperate and hungry whore, would willingly allow any person to cause her such pain. Not for any amount of money.

“I, uh, I was told I can do anything in this room, Rosalie. Is that right?”

“Yes, sir. I will do as you say. Anyt’ing.” She was still facing away from him, but he could hear the hopelessness in her voice. The tone was what he might have imagined should come from a grave. And he could see the slight trembling in her shoulders and across her marred back.

“Anything at all, right?”

“I do what you want.”

“And if for some reason you don’t?”

“I do what you want. Anyt’ing, sir.”

“You might not like what I want you to do, Rosalie. Yo might think it’s kinda strange.”

“Anyt’ing you want, I do it for you,” she said softly. There was a small catch of fear in her voice, but there was no hesitation whatsoever.

“Good,” Longarm said with a smile. “The first thing I want you to do, Rosalie, is to put your dress back on.”

Unquestioning, the girl bent to retrieve her gown and dressed again. Still she faced away from him. He had not yet told her to turn again after once instructing her to face away. Obviously this girl, barely more than a child, had been trained to total obedience.

Perhaps, he thought, this would be easier for both of them if she stayed facing in that direction.

“Now sit on the edge of the bed, Rosalie, facing toward the wall over there.”

She did as she was told.

Longarm wiped a suddenly sweaty palm on his corduroy trousers and helped himself to an uncomfortable seat on the strangely shaped stool.

“Now the thing that really pleases me, Rosalie, and what I want you to do for me, is to tell me about yourself. Everything about yourself. Particularly how you came to be here at Jessie’s Place and what you had to learn before you started working here. And it all has to be the truth, Rosalie, or it won’t please me. Do you understand what I want from you?”

She shrugged.

Hell, he realized, she understood nothing about what any of Jessie’s customers would want from her.

But if that was what the customer wanted, that was what the customer would get.

She had been taught to give obedience that was instant and complete. However abnormal, Longarm’s request was just another thing she had to do. So without hesitation, little Rosalie began to do as she was taught and please her customer.

Chapter Thirteen

Longarm was feeling pretty chipper when he came down the stairs forty-five minutes later. He was relaxed and ready for tomorrow’s business. Better yet, a gray-haired, distinguished-looking man with a badge pinned to his vest was lounging on the settee with Jessie.

“Mr. Long,” Jessie said graciously, extending a manicured hand to him. “Do you already know our sheriff?” There was no mention of Rosalie, no questions about whether the girl needed any sort of help upstairs. The whore treated the whole business like nothing might have happened at all. She was a cool bitch, Longarm thought, and no longer attractive to him in the slightest.

“No, I don’t,” he said.

“Mr. Long, Sheriff Paul Markham. Sheriff, Mr. Long.” Smiling, she rose to her feet in a fluid motion. “Now, if you gentlemen would excuse me

” She left them, joining another customer on the far side of the room.

“Jessie said there was someone who wanted to see me,” Markham said. Longarm could smell liquor heavy on the man’s breath, though he did not give any appearance of being under the influence.

“That’s right, Sheriff, but what I have to discuss with you has to be confidential.”

“My dear sir, anything and everything that happens inside these walls is completely confidential. That is only one of the many attractions of the place.” He winked, and for a moment Longarm thought he was about to get a nudge in the ribs. Instead, the sheriff motioned for one of the girls to come. “A drink while we talk, Mr. Long?”

Longarm gestured impatiently for the girl to go away. He leaned close to the sheriff and in a voice too low to carry said, “We are going to go down to your office to do our talking, Markham. And we are going to do it now, sir.” There was no threat in his voice, not exactly, but there was considerable steel there.

“Yes, uh, perhaps we could do that, Mr. Long,” the sheriff said. He stood and airily tossed toward Jessie, “The gentleman and I have business, dear. I shall be back shortly. You’ll make the arrangements?”

Jessie smiled brightly, like she had never heard anything nicer in her entire, sheltered life. “Of course, Paul. Everything will be quite ready for you.”

Longarm said nothing, but Paul Markham would have no free time this night for whatever weird pleasures were customarily “arranged” for him in this house of ugliness.