The Golden Room

She spread her legs as he knelt on a step. She grasped his head and brought him closer.

She closed her eyes and arched her back as he licked her vulva.

At first, she began to moan. As he continued, she wanted to scream, then repressed the impulse. 'Can… can anyone hear me?'

He lifted his head slightly. 'We're alone.'

He ducked down to pleasure her again, and now she screamed lustily.

This excited him. His mouth pressed harder, his tongue probed deeper.

Suddenly, she shook, lifting herself with such force that she almost threw him to the floor. This time he was sure of her orgasm, a noisy and prolonged one.

When it was done, she sank down, breathless, gradually opening her eyes to find him.

'That was something,' she said. 'What about you, Herman?'

'I'm ready when you are,' he said. He stood up over her, stripped off his underwear. His penis was hard as a rod.

She took it expertly in her hands, pulled it to her mouth, and then closed her lips around it.

Blinking down at the nape of her neck, he knew that she was a marvel, but what was most marvellous about her was the back of her neck. He was glad that she could enjoy herself so much before losing her head.

The thoughts of her head, her neck, excited him even more. As she went on, he tried desperately to contain himself. It was impossible. The witch was relentless.

Then he came and came.

When he was limp, she toyed with him, laughing, 'You had a good time, didn't you, Herman?'

'I'll never forget it.'

'Neither will I,' she said.

Holmes pulled free of her, and snatched up his underwear. 'I'll be right back.'

'Where are you going, Herman?'

'Just want to freshen up. I'll be right back. You'll find a towel on the end of the table. You can tidy up too.'

He went off through the open sliding door, and pushed the button to shut it.

Before it closed, he heard Greta's voice calling out, 'Hey, why are you closing the door?'

'Never mind,' he called back. 'I'll be with you shortly.'

The door slid shut.

Pleased, Holmes went to his office, pulled on his union suit, his shirt and trousers, then his stockings and shoes. He knotted his tie. Then he started for the row of levers, prepared to turn on the gas.

He was halfway to the lever when he thought he heard the front doorbell ring. He halted, listened again, and heard the bell ring more distinctly.

Holmes detoured out of his office and headed for the foyer, wondering who the unexpected visitor could be at this hour. He still had much to do after he turned on the gas. There would be great joy in cutting up Greta's plumpish body. Definitely orgasmic.

He put his hand on the knob of the front door and pulled it wide.

The doorway was filled by a huge middle-aged man with plastered hair, a full moustache, an expensive suit, and carrying a cane.

He had a calling-card in his free hand, and he offered it to Holmes. 'I am William A. Pinkerton, supervisor of the Chicago branch of Pinkerton's National Detective Agency,' the man announced. 'I'm here at the instigation of Miss Minna Ever-leigh, your employer, who feels you may give me some help in a matter I'm investigating.'

Glancing at the calling-card, Holmes said graciously, 'To be sure. Please come in.'

Leading Pinkerton to his office, Holmes cast a sidelong look at the sliding door. It was tightly closed, and if Greta was still voicing her confusion, she could not be heard.

After seating Pinkerton in his office, Holmes took his own place behind the desk.

His posture one of hospitality and relaxation, he said, 'What can I do for you, Mr Pinkerton?'

Pinkerton was not one to delay. 'Miss Everleigh is distressed because three of her girls have disappeared in the last two weeks. This is something that has never happened at the Club before.'

'I'm sorry for her. Of what help can I be to you?'

'Miss Everleigh thought it might be useful if I questioned you for some clues to their whereabouts.'

'Who are these girls?'

Pinkerton extracted a pad from his pocket, and flipped the pages. 'Miss Fanny Spenser, Miss Avis Kaufman, Miss Greta Ryan. They are all young prostitutes employed by the Everleigh sisters. Do you recognize their names?'

Holmes bobbed his head. 'I think I do. While I never knew their last names, I do recognize the first names. Fanny, Avis, Greta. Yes, I've medically examined them.' He seemed to recall something. 'As a matter of fact, now I do remember. I missed Fanny and Avis on my last visits to the Club. I meant to ask Minna where they were, but it skipped my mind.'

'Then Greta. She was one of the girls Miss Everleigh housed in the Tremont House Hotel. She checked out late this morning. What is unusual is that neither she nor the other two informed Miss Everleigh that they were leaving. They just left without word as to their destination. They simply vanished into thin air.'

Holmes shook his head sympathetically. 'Too bad. Still, why would Minna have you question me about them?'

'Because you were the one person who saw them regularly and intimately, and Miss Everleigh hoped that you might

have heard from one or all of them – about any plans they might have had.'

'I see, I see,' said Holmes. 'Well, there is some conversation when I'm examining the girls, but rarely anything meaningful. Let me concentrate on the last times I saw these girls. Fanny, you say?'

'Fanny Spenser.'

'The last time I saw her was a few weeks ago. I can't remember anything noteworthy that she had to say. Oh, something about being displeased because her income would be reduced for a while. One might say she was complaining about this, and hinting that she had heard of a few houses in Nashville and San Francisco that paid as well as the Everleigh Club and guaranteed work regularly.'

' Nashville and San Francisco,' repeated Pinkerton, making notes. 'We'll check around.'

'As to Avis,' continued Holmes, 'I do recollect that she mentioned being tired of prostitution, and planned to one day give it up to take on some other line of work.'

'Did she speak of what line of work? Or where such a job might exist?'

'I'm afraid I can't recollect. My memory for names isn't what it used to be.'

Pinkerton looked down at his notes. 'Greta Ryan.'

'You know I examined her early this morning at her hotel,' Holmes said openly.

'I know you did,' said Pinkerton.

Holmes shrugged. 'She seemed quite satisfied with her lot. I had the impression that she was pleased with her vacation. She spoke of catching up on her shopping. I think she mentioned seeing some kind of garment that she wanted to purchase at Carson, Pirie, Scott. That is the most I can remember, I'm afraid.'

'Yet, she did not go shopping today, because she packed her bags and checked out of the hotel.'

'I am truly surprised,' said Holmes.

Pinkerton lifted his big body out of the chair. 'I appreciate your cooperation, Dr Holmes. If you can jog your memory to recollect any more, I wish you'd give me a call with any information, no matter how seemingly insignificant. You have my card with the telephone number. Do phone me if something comes to mind.'

Holmes was on his feet. 'I will, you can be sure. We must help Minna get her girls back.'

He preceded Pinkerton to the front door and showed him out, securing the lock firmly behind his visitor.

Returning to his office, he chuckled. He'd done a smooth job, and that fool of a detective had swallowed it whole. No one, anywhere, was smarter than Herman Holmes, and no one more clever and deceptive.

Still chuckling, he crossed his office to the levers and brought up the top lever, turning on the gas.

Goodbye, dear Greta. When he had his scalpel in hand, he would have another orgasm with her – the most exciting one of all. He could almost hear the gas hissing into the airtight room. It was a wonderful day, wonderful.