Returning from carrying out his instructions, the butler was accompanied by more than just ‘that woman and her girls’. They entered on his heels, walking in a loose arrowhead formation. Following them were half a dozen of the male servants employed, much against his wishes on account of the cost, by the wife of George Wigg who was at present on vacation in New York City. Spread along its fourteen-foot length, the men were staggering under the weight of a bulky roll of thick carpet.
Recognizing the woman in the lead, surprised exclamations burst from some of the male guests. The response was caused by them finding it difficult to believe their sour-faced and parsimonious host would even know such a person, much less invite her into his mansion while giving a dinner party even though his wife was absent. Mary Wilkinson, although exhibiting better control over her emotions, also showed puzzlement rather than the kind of objections which might have been expected from a respectable—at least, by family background and upbringing—female member of good class society at finding herself in such unsavory company as was now entering the dining room.
However, it was obvious that Brigadier General Moses J. Buller for one guessed what was forthcoming and was looking forward to it with considerable eagerness. He was devoting all his attention alternatively between the second and third woman after giving a brief nod of greeting to the foremost of them. Although he had never mentioned his taste for such a form of entertainment to the undertaker, and wondered how it had been discovered, he was pleased to think it was to be provided.
Peering with what appeared to be shortsighted benevolence through gold-rimmed spectacles, as she walked demurely behind the butler, Mrs. Amy Cutler was dressed soberly and respectfully in a tastefully expensive fashion. Small, white-haired and fat, albeit in a ‘pleasingly plump’ rather than obese manner, she had pleasant features which seemed intended for kindly merriment. Certainly there was nothing in her demeanor to suggest the reason for her presence. She might have been a devoted grandmother paying a visit, or a kindly aunt who would not hesitate before offering to care for the children while their parents were on vacation.
Nobody who was unaware of her true status would believe that Mrs. Cutler could put tongue to a range of profanity capable of turning a thirty-year Army sergeant, or an equally long serving chief bos’n’s mate in the Navy, green with envy. Or that the benevolent looking elderly woman was madam of the most exclusive and highly priced brothel in Washington, District of Columbia. Yet both were true. Furthermore, in addition to having established a well justified reputation for the cleanliness, health, honesty, discretion and excellent behavior of her ‘young ladies’, she would supply certain special services to cater to the less usual whims of those clients with sufficient money to meet her far from niggardly charges.
Turning their respective gaze to the two much younger women following the madam, all the guests except Buller wondered what kind of specific service they had been brought to supply. The men considered it unlikely to be for sexual participation on their part and Mary shared their point of view. Even with his desire to win their support, neither she nor the men could envisage Wigg allowing such conduct on his premises. Feelings of delicacy and propriety would not have prevented him from doing so, if he believed such would serve his ends, but he would be afraid word of it might get out and have an adverse effect upon what a later generation would call his ‘public image’ although the term had still to come into usage.
As was the case with their employer, nothing in the appearances of the two younger women offered a clue as to why they were being brought into the dining room. Both were wrapped from neck to foot in black cloaks. While they were attractive looking, the garments prevented anything more than a general impression of their figures being formed. Looking to be in her early twenties, the girl at the right was a blonde. Although hanging loose, her hair was long and showed signs of generally being plaited into braids on either side of the head. About five foot five in height, she offered a suggestion of being stocky in build and her pretty features had a distinctly Germanic cast. About the same age, unless appearances lied, the second of them was an inch or so taller and much more beautiful. Her skin pigmentation was a rich olive brown indicative of Latin, or at least Gallic, origins. However, her shortish and straight hair was of such a fiery red she might have dyed it that hue with a henna solution. Clearly more slender than the blonde, even though almost completely concealed by the cloak, her carriage was lithe and possessed the grace of a dancer.
Of the guests, only Buller suspected what was going to happen. The moving of certain furniture and the unrolling of the mat, which was square in shape and a good three inches deep, gave strength to the supposition he had formed. After it was set in the corner they had cleared, so that the walls ran along two sides, the servants positioned chairs a short distance from it. With this done, they were ordered from the dining room by the butler and, following, he closed the door behind them.
‘Gentlem—!’ Mrs. Cutler began, after the guests had transferred from the table to the chairs at their host’s request. Then, peering in her apparently shortsighted fashion—which was only a pose, her eyesight being exceptionally keen—at Mary, she gave a sniff and made an amendment with obvious disapproval. ‘Lady and gentlemen, may I present two of my young ladies who have a quarrel they wish to settle?’
‘By god!’ Buller breathed, piggy eyes glinting as he resumed the study of each of the “young ladies” with interest. He had heard that such “settling of quarrels” was one of the special services offered by the madame. Having a penchant for watching spectacles of that kind, xi he went on at the conclusion of his inspection, ‘I was right!’
‘This is Lotte, of Germantown, Philadelphia,’ Mrs. Cutler claimed, ignoring the scowl of hatred being directed at her by Mary and, then her left hand indicated the redhead in the same fashion, ‘And Francoise, from Sault-Sainte-Marie, Ontario, Canada.’
In response to the introductions, having walked until standing facing one another diagonally on the sides of the mat, the girls slowly spread open and dropped the cloaks to the floor behind them. Appreciative murmurs arose from the male guests at what was revealed by their action. All each ‘young lady’ now wore was a sleeveless white cotton bodice with an extreme décolleté, black tights and ballet slippers from which the hard padding of the toes had been removed. Nor did the precautions to minimize the inflicting of excessive or permanent damage while ‘settling their quarrel’ end there. Neither wore any jewelry and their fingernails were cut short.
Each of the girls was attractive in a different kind of way. Whereas Lotte filled her skimpy costume almost to overflowing with her buxom yet curvaceously firm body, Francoise lacked her bulk. However, while much slimmer, the redhead could not be classed as skinny and flat-chested. Her bosom might fall short of the imposing bulk of the blonde’s, but it was well developed for one of her build. What was more, although her bare arms and black-encased legs were far less obviously muscled, they did not look in any way fragile. Rather the opposite, in fact. They conveyed the impression of possessing a wiry strength which would lend itself to considerable graceful agility.
‘May the young ladies start, Mr. Wigg?’ the madam inquired, having allowed a few seconds to elapse while the male members of the audience feasted their eyes upon their companions.
‘W—What?’ the undertaker almost yelped, the word popping out as if he was startled at having been addressed. Running the tip of his tongue across his thin lips and keeping his gaze on the far from concealed feminine attributes of the buxom blonde, he went on hurriedly, ‘Yes, get them started!’
‘Lotte, Francoise!’ Mrs. Cutler commanded, although she sounded more as if she were suggesting the children should go and play in the garden rather than ordering the commencement of a fight. ‘You may settle your quarrel!’
Converging in the center of the mat, which had clearly been manufactured for such a purpose, Lotte and Francoise began to circle, exhibiting more caution than aggression. Making ineffectual grabs with their hands, each time one made contact, she would release the hold and jerk away as soon as it seemed the other would lay hands upon her in return. Furthermore, on coming to grips in response to a signal redolent of annoyance from their employer—who had been watching the reactions of the audience—their behavior became closer to that of a couple of tomboy schoolgirls tussling to amuse their friends than grown women belonging to a profession which did not call for the possession of meek and mild spirits when seeking to settle a quarrel by means of physical combat.
After turning around a few times on their feet and mauling ineffectually at each other, the girls tripped. However, they contrived to fall to the mat with far greater care than would have been the case had they been fighting seriously and with a mutual determination to emerge victorious. Nor was there any more noticeable anger or efforts at inflicting pain as they began to roll over and over, being careful to reverse direction when it seemed they would pass beyond the well padded surface. Although they grabbed one another by the hair, neither pulled hard enough to cause suffering. They clutched at other parts of the body too, but with just as little vigor.
‘Are those tail-peddlers supposed to be fighting?’ Mary asked, inserting a profanity before employing a derogatory term for a prostitute, having taken a seat next to Buller.
‘That’s what they’re sup—!’ the General commenced, finding the physical appearance of the girls more enjoyable than their efforts. Then, remembering something he had heard about the beautiful yellowish-brunette, he revised his surly comment. ‘Sure they’re fighting. Do you reckon you could do any better?’
‘I certainly do!’ Mary asserted. ‘In fact, if that’s the best they’re capable of, I could lick the pair of them with one hand tied behind my back!’
‘You reckon you could, huh?’ Buller queried, his manner redolent of disbelief. ‘Well, perhaps so. Those boots would give you a hell of an edge if you tried!’
‘Who needs the boots?’ the brunette snapped, glancing with disdain at the struggling pair on the mat. ‘I could do it just as easily barefoot!’
‘Talk’s cheap!’ the General sniffed, feigning disdain despite being delighted by the responses he was eliciting. ‘It’s doing that counts!’
‘If I go and do it,’ Mary said, eyeing Buller in a calculating fashion. ‘Will you take me to your meeting with the General Staff?’
‘Huh?’ the General grunted, then stared at the brunette. ‘Hell, no!’
‘Why not?’ Mary challenged.
‘What I’m doing is noth—!’ Buller began. ‘I can’t take a woman to meet the General Staff!’
‘If you don’t take me,’ the brunette replied. ‘I’m going to tell the General Staff you’ve been to meet them. I’m sure they’ll be most interested to hear about it!’
‘How’s that?’ Buller snarled, his attention snapping from the still far from aggressively tussling girls.
‘It’s very simple,’ Mary claimed calmly, showing no sign of being intimidated or even slightly perturbed by the raw fury with which she was being surveyed. ‘I have every intention of going with you to the meeting with your “General Staff”. I want to see what General Aaranovitch, shall we call him—has discovered in his laboratory that’s so important it’s brought you running here from Arkansas at a time when most people would think you wouldn’t want to leave.’
‘Who the hell told you about Aarano—?’ Buller began, his voice starting to rise beyond the sotto voce level at which he and the brunette were speaking, but he realized just in time what he was doing and brought the furiously commenced question to an uncompleted end.
‘I’ll tell you after you’ve let me see what “the General Staff” is up to,’ Mary promised, then glanced at the two girls who were still rolling about on the padded mat in their pretense at fighting. ‘But I’m a good sport and, to prove it, I’ll still make you the same bet.’
‘You mean you’ll go and fight the pair of them?’
‘Just that!’
‘Without your boots?’ Buller asked, concluding he would be ill-advised to refuse her demand to accompany him and, although he doubted whether he would win if all he had heard about the brunette was true, considering that accepting the wager might at least produce some more genuine action than was happening so far.
‘Without them!’ Mary confirmed, showing not the slightest hesitation and holding forward her right hand. “Is it a bet?’
‘Yes!’ Buller assented, giving the offered hand a confirmatory shake. ‘We’ve got us a bet!’
‘That’s what I wanted!’ the brunette declared, glancing around and satisfying herself that none of the other spectators had seen or heard what was taking place. ‘I’ll take them off and be ready in a few seconds!’
Returning to the table and sitting down, Mary watched the girls while starting to do as she had promised. Nothing she saw led her to change her opinion of their behavior, nor to revise her assumption that she would not have the slightest difficulty in winning the bet. Even if she aroused them to far greater anger than they were displaying as they continued to turn one another over and over across the mat, she was confident of having sufficient ability to render both hors de combat without sustaining more than minor suffering herself. On the other hand, she reminded herself, she must not finish them off too quickly if she was to achieve her purpose.
Ever since she had received hints that ‘General Aaranovitch’, whom she knew to be a brilliant young chemist, was engaged upon some kind of research for which funds had been provided by Buller, the brunette had tried without success to become privy to the secret. On hearing of the dinner party to be given in honor of the General, and being aware that it had an ulterior motive, she had decided that it offered her a chance to make his acquaintance and she had obtained an invitation by hinting to Wigg that her father might be induced to donate financial backing. Her quick temper had threatened to ruin her ambitions, but the unusual form of entertainment being provided by their host had suggested a way she might further them. Guessing the entertainment had been selected because he was keen on such events, she felt her participation would cause the General to take an active interest in her. He might even forgive her curiosity regarding his private affairs and allow her to join his entourage. For all the less than satisfactory state of the campaign he was conducting against the ‘Johnny Rebs’ in Arkansas, this would grant her a higher status than she had been able to obtain in Washington. What was more, annoyed by the way Mrs. Cutler had reacted on discovering she was present, she wanted to cause the madam to suffer humiliation and, perhaps, lose at least a proportion of her fee for bringing the ‘young ladies’ to supposedly settle a quarrel.
After she had removed her boots, as she was never averse to flouting what she knew to be a gorgeous and eye-catching figure to members of the opposite sex, Mary decided to grant her male associates some added sensual pleasure. With that in mind, she removed her coat and, taking off the cravat, unbuttoned the man’s shirt to a less than decorous level. Standing up, conscious that her otherwise uncovered bosom was displayed by her actions, she stalked forward to set about what she assumed would be the easy task of winning the wager with Buller.
Startled exclamations burst from Wigg and all but one of his male guests at the sight presented by the brunette as she walked from behind them towards the mat. However, if Mrs. Cutler was alarmed or distressed by the possibility of interference with the activities of her ‘young ladies’, she gave no sign of it. She did not even so much as glance at the undertaker to discover whether he approved of what was clearly intended by Mary. Instead, she stood peering in her apparently myopic and benevolently understanding fashion to where the brunette was continuing to advance without looking back.
Although he had known what Mary was intending to do, Buller had not expected that she would discard more than the riding boots and, possibly, her jacket. Therefore, he was surprised, yet far from disapproving, of the sight she presented in passing. In fact, the removal of the cravat and the unbuttoning of the shirt was creating the kind of impression she was wanting to induce and had anticipated might be the case. Running his lascivious gaze over her as she passed, especially at the tightly filled riding breeches and the sensually hip-rolling motion she imparted to them while walking, he lost some of his resentment towards her over the intrusion into his very private and, he had hitherto assumed, secret affairs. Forgetting for the moment even his determination to discover and punish whoever had betrayed his confidential business, he waited with eager anticipation and hoped the two ‘young ladies’ would survive the attentions of the brunette for long enough to supply the kind of spectacle he desired.
Much the same thought was passing through Mary’s head. Although she had never engaged upon anything of the kind, her previous experiences in unarmed combat having been restricted to controlled contests against others of her kind which were never allowed to go beyond clearly defined limits, she did not doubt her ability to cope. A latent bully and sadist, she had not the slightest remorse over what she was intending to do to the blonde and the redhead. In fact, her only regret was that she would not be up against opponents anywhere near worthy of her skill.