****
Clarence paced the length of Gloria’s small rented room. “If I don’t do something soon, I’ll lose her.”
“Darling come to bed, I’ll make you feel much better.” Gloria purred from the bed where she lay in a transparent negligee.
He turned and pounded a fist into his open palm. “You don’t understand. Lester wants the man who marries his daughter to assume control of his businesses. If Henderson moves in, everything will be gone. My job, my ambitions, the wealth that should be mine.” He leaned over her, anger surging through him. “And you, my lovely one, will lose as well. No expensive jewelry, or silk dressing gowns, or expensive home.”
Gloria backed away from his rage.
“Why isn’t Henderson falling at your feet? You’re a trained whore. Did you forget how to ply your trade?”
Gloria shook her head. “He’s not interested. I tried seducing him at lunch the other day. He had more excuses than my maiden aunt.” She swung two shapely legs over the side of the bed and stood, stretching so her tempting gown plastered against her body.
Clarence grabbed her upper arms, and threw her back on the bed. He stood over her, as he released his belt, then pushed his trousers down. In one swift movement, he shoved her legs apart, fell on top of her, and thrust into her. Brutally, savagely. Gloria’s eyes glowed, and a smile graced her lips.
After he plunged into her a few times, she screamed her release. He was never sure with Gloria how much of her actions were pleasure and how much part of her training. She’d been a high priced whore in St. Louis when he’d found her. Tired of the constant string of men night after night, she agreed to travel with him to Oklahoma City with promises of wealth and pampering.
He rolled off her, and fumbled alongside the bed for a cheroot. Touching a lit match to its end, he inhaled and blew out a stream of smoke, extinguishing the flame. “Goddamn that Henderson. Heidi is a stupid enough bitch to think he’s some kind of hero. Her ticket to independence.” He lay back on the pillow, and blew circles of smoke above his head.
Gloria shifted, turned to him, propping her chin on her clasped hands. “When I dragged him off to lunch, his conversation centered completely on his stupid family. How wonderful they all were. And he blabbed forever about his great Uncle Jesse. The big shot Senator. Like I haven’t spent enough years hearing about the wonderful Jesse Cochran.” She snorted.
Clarence gazed at the ceiling, fuming over the stupid bitch he still intended to marry. And when he had her under his thumb, she’d pay. He’d promised her parents they wouldn’t have sex, but he’d make sure she spent enough time on her knees pleasuring him with her mouth. Kneeling at his feet-exactly where she belonged.
Let her take that to Mother and Papa. He grinned at the thought of the little mouse trying to complain to her parents about his requests.
“What?” His head whipped around. Gloria’s last words finally penetrated his brain.
She turned, her eyebrows raised. “What, what?”
“What did you say about Senator Cochran?”
“Nothing. Just that Michael spent all his time talking about him.”
Clarence propped himself up and regarded her. “No. You said something else. Something about spending enough years talking about him.”
“Oh, that.” She waved a dismissal. “I worked alongside his mother for a couple of years when I first got the job at the brothel in St. Louis. Then she died.”
“Wait a minute. Go back.” He sat up, and tapped the end of the cheroot on the ash tray until the end no longer glowed. “What was his mother doing in the brothel?”
“She worked there.”
“As what?”
Gloria huffed in impatience. “What else? A whore. Had been there for years.”
Clarence stood and placed his hands on his hips. “Are you telling me the great Senator Jesse Cochran of Oklahoma Territory, upholder of family values, is the son of a whore?”
She sat up, and crossed her legs. “Yes. Rosie came to the brothel as a girl of fifteen. A year or so later—before she wised up—she gave birth to Jesse. I wasn’t there at the time, naturally, but when I was hired, she still worked there. His mother was old and diseased, but the owner let her stay, and service whatever customers would pay for her. She didn’t earn much.”
“And he lived at the brothel?” Clarence’s heart began to pound.
“Not then. He had gone off to college or law school, or something, the other whores told me. Just about every other day Rosie would drink from her brandy bottle, and cry about her son.” She considered him with narrowed eyes. “Why are you so interested?”
“My lovely whore, this story may save us.”
“How?”
He grabbed his pants off the floor, and dragged them on. “Don’t you see? The wonderful Michael Henderson is Senator Cochran’s nephew.”