He lifted her chin, wiped a tear from her cheek, and then bent to kiss her. His urgency surprised her, not only because of its intensity, but mostly because she wanted more.

"You're beautiful," he said.

And when the music stopped, he took her hand and they passed Moose as they left the lounge and went upstairs.

Sam loved her that night. She felt it in every fiber of her being. For the time, she didn't have a care in the world except for the moment... with her old self nowhere to be found.

Before her eyes opened the next morning, Sam was on her mind. She sat up, but of course, he was gone. She noticed a pile of bills on the table. The money was a reminder that whatever had happened between them, whatever feelings she had, didn't matter. After last night, she was nothing but a pathetic whore, and in most eyes, probably had been for years. No decent man would ever want her for keeps. She lay back, feeling empty, the booze not so friendly now, and thoughts of Sam squeezing out every last bit of happiness.

She wanted to throw the covers over her head and sob. Although, she knew that would just make things worse. She forced herself out of bed and went to take a shower. It perked her up enough so that she dressed, and went down to the kitchen, planning on a hearty breakfast. Toni had scolded her several times because she wasn't eating, and she wasn't in the mood for another lecture. Still, she had to admit, the woman's attention pleased her.

Toni gave her a good looking over when she walked in, several ta ta's, and then turned back to the stove. "I'll bet you've lost five pounds since you got here, Emily. Soon you won't have the energy to climb the stairs."

Emily chuckled. "I've got plenty of energy, Toni. Haven't you heard?"

Toni smiled suggestively.

"Dancing. Dancing, Toni. I'd far rather do that than climb those stairs."

She pulled down a plate and handed it to Toni, letting her room, planning to finish everything off, but when she picked up her fork, she had to force it down. She wrapped the leftovers in a paper sack and stuffed it at the bottom of the garbage can, and then put the empty tray into the hallway.

She locked her door and lay across the bed with a book, although she couldn't get past the first few words before her mind wandered back to Sam. If only he had wakened her before he left, and reassured her. If only she had never seen Maxine. If only Michael hadn't betrayed her. If only she had never run into Claude that morning.

Her regrets were unbearable, and she began to think of the glasses of cool drink downstairs waiting to give her a lift. She took a deep breath and smiled, imagining the potent aroma of brandy, its tang sliding over her tongue and down her throat into her veins where it would saturate every cell of her body and make her happy again.

That night she didn't make it back to the bar because a group of men beckoned her over, insisting she join their party. The drinks came, and as she hoped, the power of the alcohol hit her with such force that her troubles were lost in a blur of frolic and laughter. Without giving it much thought, a plan began to spin a course that she hoped would keep her from what she dreaded most.

Several men wanted to dance with her, but more asked her to dance for them. With each request for a trip to her room, it was easy to lie her way out of having to go up with any of them. Finally, with another fib and a promise she had no intention of keeping, she managed to find the right man to take her to her room and say goodnight outside her door. His name was David. Even with her limited knowledge about menswear, everything about him said "top of the line." What made him so appealing was that he was the kind of fellow you just knew wouldn't push. In some ways, he was like Peter. The only disappointing thing was that he was wearing a wedding ring. Though she felt quite at ease about her desperate actions, she was certain her luck would run out soon enough. She was counting on finding Samuel first.

Emily arranged for a night off on the day she was to meet up with Samuel. A few days earlier, she noticed that her old clothes had disappeared and figured Toni had gotten rid of them at the boss's request. She put on a pair of slacks and top Beatrice bought for her, although she missed her own clothes. They were old, but they were familiar. Now that they were gone, it was like losing a part of herself.

Hoping she wouldn't have to return to the Palace, she packed her notebook and necklace. Then she reluctantly added one of the new outfits, along with a few others things that would come in handy.

She took a bus to the pier and walked the streets, stopping at a number of restaurants to see if they were hiring. The first three said "no", and the fourth wanted to know how much experience she had. One said to come back in a month, and another said a dishwashing job might open in a few weeks. They all wanted a home address and telephone number, which she couldn't provide.

Fifteen minutes before she was to meet Samuel Dimsmoore, she walked into Mack's House of Food. There were customers at seven or eight tables, two waitresses, neither of them were Maxine.

She took the end counter seat where she told Samuel she would wait for him. She ordered a coke and fries, and for the next few hours, each time the door opened, she turned, expecting it to be him.

By five-thirty, she realized he wasn't coming. She was disappointed, although from what Maxine said, it was possible he hadn't picked up her letter yet. She left then and headed up the street toward the bus stop, deciding to try another restaurant to inquire about a job.

"What kind of experience do you have?" the woman asked.

"...I haven't actually had a job... but... I can cook and I could wash dishes for a start."

The waitress laughed. "I'd like to help you out, young lady. But see these?" She held up her hands. "That's what you call dishwater hands. I'll keep you in mind though, just in case something changes. Leave your phone number and I'll keep it in the file."

"Thanks, anyway, but I'll stop back."

When Emily returned to the Palace, Beatrice called her into her office.

"I hear you've been turning men down left and right. From now on, you do whatever you're asked. You hear?"

Emily nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"I heard you laid into Erich. You hurt his feelings. You know these men pay good money just to be able to enter our doors. Some of the other joints make the girls line up like a firing squad and wait to get picked. They never think of not going with any of the men. You give them what they want. You understand?"

"Yes, I said I would. And... I'm sorry about Erich."

"Well, just don't let it happened again. He's not a bad guy, you know. Besides, his family is loaded. Oh, and by the way, Donald Schillings is coming by to take you out to dinner tomorrow night."

"W-why?"

"He didn't tell me, and I didn't ask."

She left Beatrice's office and went straight to the lounge. A maid glanced up, then went back to cleaning as Emily picked up a bottle of brandy and stuffed it in her bag.

Upstairs in the bedroom, she pulled out her notebook, slipped her shoes off and propped herself on the bed. She lifted the feather from her last entry, set it aside, and then picked up a pen and began: Erich was like a lost bird with a broken wing. He searched for something to make him happy, but... wondered what he had gone through to make him want to feel pain, and if it was really just a way to cover it up. She had actually liked him. He'd been so sweet, yet there was plenty she didn't understand. She should've been more patient, asked him why he wanted her to whip him. It just seemed so odd.

She leaned back and closed her eyes, let the pad and pen slip to the bed.

It wasn't but a minute or so later when someone tried the door. "Auh... hold on a minute." She swung her legs off the bed, stepped into her shoes, and hurried to see who it was. When she opened the door, there wasn't a soul in sight.

By now, her train of thought was lost and so she returned the feather between the pages, and then stored the notebook in its usual spot on a closet shelf. She tucked the bedcovers in, fluffed the pillows, and then pulled out the bottle of brandy and took a seat at the table.

Having it straight up wasn't her preference, although, by the time she went down to the lounge, she'd had just enough to take the edge off.

She looked across the room to the bar for Sam. He wasn't there, but she went back anyway and took a seat, hoping he would show. A mere nod and a smile from her put the bartender in motion mixing a drink. It occurred to her that her mouth was watering with the same anticipation she had back home while waiting in the kitchen for cookies to come out of the oven.

"Here's your double brandy, my lady."

David, the man who escorted her up to her room the night before, came and sat beside her. They said a few words, and then Lacey, one of the part-timers, and another girl she didn't recognize, joined him. Lacey's interest in David was obvious, and Emily had to admit she was a little disappointed because having him nearby and focused on her had worked out once.

She had barely finished her drink when another came.

"Thanks, Abe."

Someone turned the sound up on the jukebox and she sat nursing her drink for a change, listening to a song called I Put A Spell On You. She wasn't sure what came over her in that moment, but it was clear she wasn't the only one to feel it. The spell was cast. The rhythm and the words were like an explosion of emotions. As the song played again, the warmth from the alcohol was no longer an ember, but it was smoldering, the intoxicating beat of music sweeping through her like a furnace.

The crowd was buzzing with excitement, and when the song played for the third time, she slid from her chair and moved onto the dance floor. The room was spinning as she freed herself to the pulsing burn in her soul where the cares of the world no longer mattered.

At the height of her ecstasy, someone came up behind her, hands sliding down her hips.

"Sam!" She swung around to embrace him.

But it wasn't Sam at all. It was Moose. "Hello sweetie. I'm glad you like my music."

She pulled free, stepped around him, and went to sit at the bar.

He followed her over and took a seat. "I'm here to collect on that promise," he said.

"I know." She held her head back and poured in the rest of her drink.

"I've been thinking about you a lot these last few days," he said. "And I've decided you're going to be my number one girl at the Palace." He turned in his chair and moved his hands up around her neck, thumbs pressing against her cheeks, forcing her to face him. "You're mine now. You understand?"

She nodded because she was afraid not to.

He picked up his drink, stood, and then took her hand and led her out into the hallway. When they reached the foot of the staircase, he let go of her hand.

"Go on."

"Mm?"

"Up the stairs, go."

She took a step, and then another, feeling his eyes move up her legs.

"Slower."

She stopped, gripped the banister, and then continued up. It was as if Claude was there with his shifty eyes, ready with his arms and hands like sheets of steel rubbing up her thighs, his massive shoulders like boulders ready to crush her.

At the landing, she turned and rushed up the stairs toward her room. She took the doorknob with both hands, wrenching it open in a moment of hope, but then sighed in resignation as his footsteps came up the hallway. He reached around her and pushed the door open.

Inside, he handed his glass to her. "Here, drink this down."

She wanted to scream at him that no amount of alcohol could force her to give him what he wanted. But she did as he wished, took the glass from him, and finished it off. Then she set it on the nightstand and looked down at the beautiful spread she had tucked in so neatly.

His hands slid up her arms to her shoulders, pulling the straps of her dress down. She closed her eyes and trembled, contemplating on how she would leave the next morning, reminding herself that it was just a few hours away. After tonight, she would never have to spend another minute with him. She reminded herself of this again as his fingers crossed her back, tugging at her zipper, his face crushing into her neck, breathing spumes of hot air into her ear.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR.

Moose finished dressing then dropped a fifty-dollar bill on the nightstand. "You're a jewel on the outside," he said, "everything a man could want." He reached down where Emily lay and lifted her chin. "Next time, I expect you to bring along your dancing moves."

In a moment of anger, she wanted to rip the money into pieces and throw it at him. But she waited quietly, and when he left, she placed the bill in her pouch so she wouldn't be reminded.

She went to the shower, turned the water on hot and scoured herself raw. When her skin stung from the heat and the good scrubbing, she turned the knob all the way to cold, until making that misery stop became the most important thing to her.

It was early yet, and although it was unlike her, she crawled back into bed. She was sleeping when someone banged on the door.

"Hey, you. Open up! It's Desirae!"

Emily moaned, crawled out of bed, and let her in.

"You need something?" She yawned, trying to wake up.

"Yeah. My dress for the opera."

"Oh, no, I forgot. Mind if I pass?"

"You have to come along. Remember, the Palace is closed today and you're the only one that's not busy."

She wanted to tell her that indeed she was busy, preparing to leave. "Well, okay. But I can't stay long."

Emily went to the closet to find something to wear. She noticed her old clothes were back, washed, patched, and hung, and thanked Toni silently for doing what Beatrice said would be a waste of time.

She shoved the new clothes to the side, and pulled down the same blouse and skirt she wore on the train. Dressing in a hurry, she put on her hat, popped a lifesaver into her mouth, and stepped from the closet.

"Oh," Desirae said when she saw what she was wearing.

Emily ignored her tone, took a twenty-dollar bill from her purse, and stuffed it into a pocket on the way out the door.

Several times, as they wandered through the stores, she almost confided in Desirae. Then as they sat for lunch, she thought again of opening up to her, but something always stopped her. Whether it was the timing, or perhaps not enough trust, it just didn't feel right. As quarrelsome as Desirae and Beatrice seemed to be, the two were bonded in a way that was apparent, not only with them, but with the other girls too. Whatever it was, Emily knew she wasn't part of it. Not that she wanted to be part of this, this... thing they shared, giving their bodies freely to anyone who'd pay them.

They left the restaurant, Desirae to one of her friends for the night, and Emily back to the Palace. She was on her way up the stairs, anxious to pack and leave when Beatrice called to her. "Come in here, will you? I wanna talk to you."

When Emily walked into her office, Beatrice looked as if she might burst from joy. She closed the door, and then did a little happy-foot step as she crossed the room. Emily couldn't believe her eyes.

"So... before I forget. Donald Schillings will be here at five to take you out to dinner." Her eyes narrowed slightly, and then she scooped up a pitcher and began to water the plants on her desk. "I want you to keep in mind how important he is to our establishment."

Emily couldn't get over the twinkling eyes and flushed cheeks. She was sure her dinner date with Donald, which she had no intention of going to, wasn't the reason why the woman was lit up like a Christmas tree.

Beatrice set the pitcher down and leaned back on her desk. She sighed happily. "Well, it's official," she said, gloating like she would pop if she didn't say something. "Donald is giving us the new home for the Palace right there on his land. I've heard it's the most gorgeous piece of property you could ask for."

Emily was itching to leave, but she thought it best to play along. "Sounds like some good news there."

"Oh my, yes, yes it certainly is. It's been a long time in coming. And can you imagine, when it's finished there'll be every kind of recreation you can think of right at our fingertips? Our own little paradise."

Good for you, so now can I get out of here? Emily wanted to say.

"It'll bring people from all over the world," Beatrice continued. She stood, pulled a canvas from a shelf, and spread it out on the desk. "See, here's what it'll look like."

Emily took a step, and looked at the drawing of a beautiful building with archways, balconies, and long windows running along three floors. "He's waiting on a few circumstances to change before he begins construction. But when that happens, the Palace will be the first building to go up, right on top of a hill. Just think, a beautiful view of the valley from the lounge. Can't you just imagine how magnificent it'll be?"

"Yeah, a little," Emily said, hoping it burned the first night.

The older woman's sparkle fizzed suddenly. She pushed the drawing aside and settled back on the desk. "Anyway, listen here. When you go out to dinner with him, don't ruin things for me or...or yourself. He's a powerful man, if you don't already know."

She contemplated that before going on. "I want you to know right here and now, there isn't one thing he does without a reason behind it. And if he says there's somewhere he needs you other than here, I don't have any other choice but to let you go. Although, if he doesn't decide you're the girl he's looking for, tomorrow night I'm sending you up to the loft."