Wolf! Stay Away...-Chapter 4-

CHAPTER FOUR

When I got released from the hospital and was out in the world on my own again, I didn't worry about the old wolf hardly at all. Maybe it was because I'd got to be a civilian grown-up and wasn't as scared about things as I once was. Besides, I had enough money in my pocket that I didn't have to think about where the next meal was coming from.

And, too, things had changed a lot by then. Where I used to get doors slammed in my face and an occasional boot off a doorstep, I found that people had learned to be just the opposite. Heck, I'd go limping down the street playing tic-tac-toe with my cane and wood leg, and people would just bust a gut being kind. More that once I'd sit down in a restaurant for a meal and some sweet old lady would pick up my bill and just insist that she was part of the war effort too. It got so I was feeling just like a celebrity or something for a while.

But I had restless feet in those days. I had overheard a lot about things I hadn't known about while I was in the Army. I used to listen to some of the fellows coming back off leave telling and bragging on all the cathouses they had toured. The guys always seemed to compare the cathouses where we were to the ones in New York and claimed there was none better than there. So that's where I finally headed, figuring to see some of the country and a couple of cathouses, before I settled down and ran out of money.

But, on my way across country, I got to talking to a porter on the train, and he shot all kinds of holes into the theory about New York owning the best cathouses. He claimed the best were all in Chicago. He even gave me an address to call at, if I was interested in a good proposition. So when the train stopped in Chicago, I got off, hailed me a taxicab, checked into the "Y" Hotel, and went on out to take a look at my first cathouse.

That porter sure must have had his wires crossed, because the address on the slip of turned out to be a beer joint way out in Cicero. I was let down pretty bad when the cabdriver let me off there, but the people inside were just whooping it up so good that I decided to join them. First thing I knew I was sitting there drinking fancy highballs with the best of them, and wasn't in no hurry to see a cathouse at all.

The bartender got friendly right off and set me up one or two drinks. I got to talking about everything and telling him how I'd come to his place expecting to find a cathouse and found a bar instead.

The bartender laughed so hard that he got me to laughing too, and it got to be a pretty good joke between us. He started calling me Joe then, and I didn't have the heart to tell him that wasn't my real name, especially since he promised he'd get on the phone and get me a sure-fire appointment with a friend of his at a real nice cathouse.

He was kind of a funny guy in some ways, though, because when this cute little blonde came up to me and got nice and loverly, just before he made his telephone call, he got mad as all get-out and ordered her out of the place. He called her a dirty name too, and that made me a little sore, because it felt good having my arm around a girl. Heck! I was feeling so good with the highballs that I wasn't in any hurry to see his friend's cathouse anyway.

But just as I was about to say something to him about it, this cabdriver came in and the bartender called him over and introduced us. The bartender said that the cabdriver was a very close friend of his who would get me right out to the fanciest cathouse in Cicero. So I took his word for it and went along without getting into an argument about the blonde.

He was right. The cathouse turned out to be a real plush joint. I almost blacked out when I saw it, because I wasn't used to being around fancy places like that. But this fellow wearing a black hat and red and gold uniform, who looked like one of those British National Guard soldiers, came down a long flight of marble steps and opened the cab door for me. I couldn't back out gracefully then, but I wanted to. And just as soon as I stepped out of the cab I came darn near saluting the soldier fellow, but I remembered I wasn't in the army anymore, so I called him Colonel and let it go at that.

He smiled knowingly at that and said, "I'm a General, Joe."

I apologized and told him that I was sorry, but I just wasn't familiar with the British system of classifying officers. He said it was all right and that it didn't make much difference, because nobody else in Chicago knew either.

I'll say one thing for the soldier though. For a negro general in the British National Guard, he sure was a perfect gentleman. The way he treated me you'd of thought officers were slaves to the enlisted men.

I soon found out that the people inside were a lot different than him. I had figured that since the general had been so kind to me, I'd just mosey on in and bluff my way around like I was used to being in rich places...you know, just acting unconcerned and nonchalant. But right after I stepped across this marble entrance way, my feet sank into this fluffy red carpet, and my wood leg got all tangled up crossways, and I fell and dumped over this flower vase filled with sand and made a bad mess all over the floor. I felt so red in the face that I just wanted to play dead, but I couldn't because I was breathing too hard.

Anyway, I didn't have time, because this plainclothes policemen came running up to me like the place was on fire and jerked me up to a sitting position. "What'sa matter with you? Ya drunk or something?" he yelled right into my face.

That made me sore, mostly because his breath stank, and I was going to yell right back at him, until I saw his forty-five sticking out of his shoulder holster under his coat and realized he was just a cop doing his job.

"No, sir," I answered him. "My leg just twisted in your carpet and I couldn't keep my feet."

"You sure couldn't, buddy," the cop said. "Look at this mess. I ought' a make you clean it up."

My daddy had always told me that when you hurt somebody's feelings it was only fair to do something good for them to make it right.

"Well, sir, Mr. Policeman," I said, trying to smile. "If you'll just help me to my feet and show me where the broom is, I'll be glad to clean everything up for you."

The policeman looked at me real queer-like for a minute or two. "Oh, gee, Joe," he finally said. "I didn't realize --"

I started to tell him I was sorry again, but he reached down under my armpits and lifted me straight up to my feet so fast that it took my breath away.

He dusted me off real good and said, "Don't worry about cleaning nothing up, Joe. I was only kidding. What can we do for you?"

Right about then I figured that the cop recognized me from the bartender's telephone message. "Well, sir," I said. "I've come clear from California to visit me a cathouse. My bartender friend over in Cicero said this was the best one in Chicago."

"It sure is, pal," the cop grinned. "How much do ya wanna spend?"

"Heck, I don't know. Where's the ticket window, so I can see the price of seats."

That cop must have been bothered with nerves or something. His chin dropped down to about chest level, and it looked like it took him about two minutes to get it back in gear so he could close his mouth.

He blinked his eyes a few times like an owl waking up, then he said, "How much money are you carrying, Joe? This here cathouse ain't only the best in Chicago, it's got very stiff prices."

Well, nervous affliction or no nervous affliction, I wasn't going to let him bluff me out, not after I'd come that far, anyway.

"About fifteen hundred bucks," I bragged.

It was really only twelve hundred, but I didn't want him to believe that I couldn't afford to be in his place, even if I didn't have the education or breeding to go with it.

The cop's chin dropped down again. I really felt sorry for him. I sure wouldn't want to be seen in public with an affliction like that.

"Say, you old hound dog," he finally said and winked. "You don't ... heh, heh... want to get your ashes hauled this early in the evening, do you?"

"Heck, no," I said, "I don't even want to clean the furnace."

"Hah, hah," the cop laughed. "I didn't think you were interested in that part of our business. Come along with me and I'll introduce you to some of the cats. They'll see that you get what you want."

He led me to a room down the hall a ways and I was sure let down when I saw the cats. Heck, all they were was a bunch of guys standing around a big felt table shooting craps. If I'd know that, I'd a stayed in California where the crap shootin' was good and the fishin' better.

"Hey, Sam," the cop said to the guy that was running the table. "Take good care of Joe here. He's just bustin' to have some fun."

I didn't pay much attention to what I was doing then. I just walked on over to the table and tossed a twenty dollar bill out, and Sam handed me the dice, and I jiggled them for a second or two and threw them back.

Sam said, "No, dice! Gotta hit the rail, Joe."

He gave me the dice again, and I threw them where he said. I was feeling kind of sore at myself. Heck, I just couldn't figure out how the guys in the army could talk about pussy and cathouses so much like they were something exotic, when all the time they were just blowing off about shootin' craps in a fancy joint.

"A natural!" Sam said. "Let her ride, Joe?"

Not paying much attention to him, I picked up the dice and tossed them at the rail again. Boy! Was I sore at myself for being so stupid. All the way from California just to shoot craps, I kept thinking.

"Four! Four's the point!" Sam said.

I threw the dice at the rail like I was mad at them and looked across the table. A big redheaded marine was grinning at me. I grinned back.

"Five is almost!" Sam said. "That counts in horseshoes, but the game is craps. Lay yer money out gentlemen, or go home losers."

There was a sudden flurry of hands and money on the table.

I threw the dice and looked at the marine again. He winked and I winked back. He had a couple of pretty women clinging to each arm. One was blonde and one was brunette. I got to thinking that I ought to work around the table and make friends with him.

"Four's the point and four it is!" Sam said. "Still yer dice, Joe. Let her ride?" He pushed the dice over to me with his little cane.

I threw the dice.

"Eleven!" Sam said. "Black dot ticket to Heaven. You're hot tonight, Joe."

The big marine and his two women came around the table and shoved in beside me. He winked at me and so did one of his women...the brunette. I threw the dice.

"Eight! Eight's the point!" Sam said, "Can he do it forever or does he crap out. Hitch up yer wallets or get your money down, gents."

There was another flurry of hands and money.

The big marine whispered in my ear, "Let's see you do it, buddy I'm with you all the way." He tossed fifty bucks down on the table.

This little brunette the marine had with him unwrapped herself from his arm, shoved over close to me, smiled real pretty, and got me all excited. I threw the dice.

"Eight right back," Sam groaned.

The marine grinned again and said, "My name's Barney."

I said, "Mine's Hank," and we shook hands.

"This is Marge," Barney said, nodding toward the brunette.

I winked at her and she winked back.

"And this is Betty," he said putting his arm around the blonde and giving her a hug.

"Glad to meet you all," I said.

"Still your dice," Sam growled.

"Think you can do it again. Hank?" Barney grinned.

"Sure," I said. "If Marge here will kiss the dice for luck."

"Honey, if you keep this up, I'll kiss more than your dice." Marge cried, holding my hand and putting her lips against my fingers.

I threw the dice.

"Seven!" Sam groaned, as Marge jumped up and down and squealed.

Barney said, "That's my boy. I'm with you all the way."

I grinned at Marge, and she put her hand up on the back of my neck and rubbed it hard.

"Were you serious about what you said about kissing," I asked.

"Baby, one more toss like that last one, and you've got yourself a broad for a week," Marge said, her voice just dripping with sex.

"I don't know as I want a broad," I said. "But I sure would like to do some kissin' tonight."

"Any way you want it, Hank...any way you want it," Marge said and squeezed my hand.

"The game is craps, soldier," Sam growled. "Let's get on with it. You can do your screwin' later."

I guess I was making him nervous some, taking so much time like that, but I was more interested in Marge than the game by then anyway. I held the dice over for Marge's good luck kiss again.

She took hold of my right hand--the one holding the dice--and rubbed it against one of her breasts and then the other. Then she bent over and kissed my fingers with her tongue.

Boy! I came damn near throwing the dice clear off the table.

"Seven!" Sam growled with a croak in his throat.

Marge threw herself against me so hard that I had to put my arms around her to keep from falling backwards. She wiggled up against me so tight that I about forgot where I was at.

Barney said, "Hank, old buddy, we sure are gonna have a party to end all parties tonight. You gonna rake in now or go for broke?" He was grinning like a hot piano player on a nickelodeon.

"Razz my old tazz," I said. "Go Again!"

Sam handed me the dice. He was sweating bad. He wasn't smiling much, either. I guess he didn't like the way Marge was rubbing all over me, but heck, I didn't care. I was having lots of fun with my new friends, whether he liked it or not.

Right then, Marge did something that really surprised me. She took my hand and rubbed it way sown low on her belly. I got to shaking so bad that I just about didn't get the dice up against the rail.

"Nine! Nine's the point!" Same said, and, for a change, smiled a little.

"Marge," I said. "Don't get too good with your luck bringin'." I was still shaking.

I could see that she understood, because she sobered up real quick

Sam was grinning.

Barney winked at me, "Don't let it worry you, Hank," he said. "You're too hot to crap out now."

By then a lot of people had crowded around the table and were spoiling my aim. It took me about five tosses before old number nine rolled up again. Just as soon as Sam handed me the dice, I turned to let Marge do her tricks again.

Barney grabbed my arm. "Pick up your money, Hank," he hissed. He pulled all of his in and stuffed it into his pockets real fast. "Just roll a twenty and let's get out of here."

"It's okay with me," I shrugged and picked up my money.

Marge helped me stuff it all into my pockets.

I rolled the dice.

"Snake eyes," Sam said, and sounded just like a snake.

Barney grabbed my arm and Marge grabbed the other. Just as we got to the door, that cop-fellow stepped out in front of us.

"Not leaving so soon, are you gents?" he said, not smiling.

I guess he must have been mad about something, because he had his coat unbuttoned and his hand on his forty-five.

Barney's face twisted into a snarl. He hunched forward a little bit. "Yeah!" he growled.

That's when all hell busted loose. The cop started to pull his pistol out, and big Barney hit him on the chin and knocked him colder than a sow's belly in a snow storm.

The next thing I knew, some fellow that looked like old yellow fangs, the wolf, was coming straight for me with a blackjack in his hand. So I just ups with my cane and speared him straight in the belly.

By this time, big Barney was bustin' heads all over the place. He yelled to Marge and the other girl to get me out to the car. I never saw so much confusion in one place at one time in all my life. People were running all over, in all directions, and shouting something about an air raid at the top of their lungs. One poor guy came out of a room across the hall without his pants on and even ran out to the street in his bare feet.

Marge and Betty got to pulling on me so hard that I just couldn't maneuver. Then, too my wood leg kept sticking in the carpet so bad that I couldn't make any time at all. Then it all struck me as funny and I got to laughing about it so hard that tears came to my eyes and I fell down and couldn't move at all.

Marge and Betty got disgusted with me and ran on out of the place. But I'm just like my daddy was in a lot of ways. When I get to laughing, nothing in the world matters until I get it all out of my system.

All of a sudden, big Barney caught up with me and hoisted me up on his back and carried me out to the car, where Marge and Betty were waiting.

Then Barney drove us to his hotel, and we went up to his room and all got acquainted real good.

And it was a real Wing-Ding party we had. Marge wasn't kidding about what she had said about kissing. She gave me a lesson in sex that I've never forgot. She sure charged me enough for it though. I knew that I could afford it after the crap game at the cathouse, but five hundred dollars is a lot of money. I sure wish I had it all back now.