M
montycrusto
Guest
That’s putting the “dent” in “President” !... just before she collided with President Grover Cleveland
-
Sign up or login, and you'll have full access to opportunities of forum.
Against All Odds: A Gilded Age Romance
- Thread starter Barbaria1
- Start date
-
- Tags
- humour punishment romance sex
Chapter 17
When Barbara finally emerged from her bedroom, clad in her bathrobe, around 2 that afternoon, she was surprised to find her father waiting for her in the sitting room of their Grand Union Hotel suite.
“Father, what are you doing here? Why aren’t you out making your usual connections with your business associates here at the hotel?”
“Good that you’re finally up and about this morning, Barbara” he replied, ignoring her question. “That must have been quite a date you had last night with young Archibald Vandergrift. I was asleep when you came in. It must have been late.”
“Oh, it was quite late, father. I had such a grand time. Victor Herbert and his orchestra were absolutely wonderful. Archie and I just danced the evening away. And Herbert even came back out to do an encore too. That was so exciting!”
“Uh-huh.”
“Is something wrong, father? I can tell by your expression. Why are you here rather than hobnobbing downstairs? And what is that strange looking wooden contraption over by the wall? Where did that come from? It wasn’t here before!”
“Sit down, Barbara. It’s sadly come to my attention that your activities last night included more than dancing the night away with young Archibald. You and I need to have a nice father-to-daughter chat right now about what really happened.”
“Father! You had me spied on, didn’t you! Really, father! How could you? I’ll bet it was that fat house dick Stan pointed out to me who was doing the spying, wasn’t it?”
“Barbara! What the Devil were you doing with that disreputable fellow Goldman? You were supposed to be with Vandergrift!”
“Did I say, Stan? Silly me. I must still be half-asleep. I meant to say, Archie. It was Archie who pointed out the house dick, as he … Archie … called him … out to me.”
“Don’t lie to me. Barbara! I know everything. I’m told that you were out on the dance floor not only with young Vandergrift, but with that despicable Jew boy, Goldman too! And what’s worse … what’s even more alarming … absolutely shocking even … is that I’m told that you stole out and went to Goldman’s room late last night after Vandergrift bade you goodnight and left you here at our suite!”
“Shit!” cried Barbara, her face ashen as she collapsed into an easy chair.
“Proper ladies don’t say “shit”, Barbara. Mind your tongue, young lady! Now, you ask what that wooden contraption over by the wall is? Well, I’ll tell you. It’s a sawhorse. Carpenters use them. But I have a different use in mind for this one, as you’ll soon find out. Now, get up out of that chair and go to your room, and return with a bed pillow.”
“Really, father!”
“Do it, Barbara. NOW!”
“Yes, father,” she murmured as she retreated from the scene, her mind all awhirl. How could things have gone so terribly wrong? It was that odious hotel dick who had tripped her up! But, no, worse than that … it was her father, after all, who had put him up to it. It was shocking to her that her father so mistrusted her as to employ spies to keep her in line! How was she ever going to find the man she wanted … her Goldman type … while under her father’s thumb? This was going to call for entirely new levels of subterfuge on her part.
“Barbara! What’s keeping you?” came the angry call from the sitting room.
“Coming father!” she called, her mind now refocused on that “sawhorse”, as he called it, and the punishment she knew, from experience, he was determined to deliver.
Snatching a pillow from her bed, she dutifully returned to the sitting room, reasoning with herself that whatever was coming was well deserved. She had, after all, broken every rule of propriety expected of a young woman like herself when she snuck off late at night to a man’s hotel room! Whatever was coming was going to hurt, but she would have to endure it, as she always did, because it was justly deserved.
She wondered briefly whether she even liked being punished, as it happened so often, and she never seemed to avoid getting into the kinds of trouble that triggered it.
“There you are. Stop stalling now and get over here.”
He was holding some lengths of rope in one hand, and a strip of leather in the other. He nodded meaningfully toward the sawhorse that he had dragged out to the center of the sitting room floor while she was away in her room.
“Yes father.”
“Now, kindly place your pillow over the crossbar, put this strip of leather in your mouth to bite down on, and bend over the crossbar.”
“Yes, father.”
“Good! That’s it. Now, hold still while I secure your wrists and ankles,” he further instructed as he knelt to force her ankles wide apart and secure them to the nearest uprights, before circling around to the far side to do the same with her wrists.
“This is not very comfortable, father!”
“Don’t complain, Barbara. You’ve brought this on yourself, remember.”
“Will it be the tawse again, father?”
“No, Barbara, what you have done this time calls for more severe measures. This time it’s the cane for you,” he said sternly, producing said instrument of punishment from where it lay on the sideboard and stooping low to place it where she could view it as she looked, head upside down, through her forcibly spread legs. He tapped it gently against the backs of her calves a couple of times to demonstrate its suppleness.
“Oh shit!” she moaned.
“Watch your language, young lady! Now get ready. This is going to hurt me as much as it does you. These punishments would be so unnecessary if you’d only learn to behave yourself.”
“Yes, father.”
“Now prepare yourself,” he instructed as he flipped the bottom half of her robe up onto her back to bare her ass. Tapping the rod gently across her spread cheeks several times as a preamble, he added. “You’ll take a dozen strokes today. Ready?”
“Yes, father!”
The searing pain from the first stroke came as an unwelcome surprise. Her eyes opened wide and she bit down hard on the leather strip in response, as the shock drove her hips into the pillow and the sting spread like wildfire across her butt. The second, delivered a bit lower, sent her head jerking backwards. This was, indeed, much much worse than the tawse!
And so it continued for ten more excruciating strokes, delivered calmly and in measured cadence … the intensely smarting bite of the cane, each time it connected with the supple softness of her tight little quivering globes, sending shock waves through her senses.
When it was over at last, he lowered the back of her robe, and hastened to release her wrists and ankles. After he had released her from her bonds, she lay there for awhile, unable to move. Then slowly she straightened up and turned about to face him, face reddened and eyes teary.
“Lesson learned, Barbara?” he asked, stern-faced with hands on hips, the fearsome cane still held in one hand. “No more sneaking off to see this Goldman?”
“No, father,” she managed to say between sobs. “I won’t.”
“Promise?”
“Yes, father.”
“Good, but keep in mind now that I’ll have O’Neill watching you every minute of every day that you are out of this suite, as a precaution, for the rest of our time here in Saratoga Springs.”
“Yes, father.” She uttered once again, those contrite but increasingly meaningless words, resolving as she turned away from him and headed for her bedroom that she would find a way, multiple ways in fact, of seeing Stan Goldman. Now that they had found one another, and even kissed, she was determined to pursue him.”
“I’m not finished yet, Barbara. What the Devil is this?” her father called after her.
She turned back and looked at the object he had produced from behind his back.
“It’s a dildo, father,” she said matter of factly. “It’s Kristina’s. She lent it to me to take on this trip. What gives you the right to look through my toiletries?”
“My right, as your father. Please tell me you haven’t used this dreadful thing!”
“That would be a lie father. Good girls never lie to their fathers.”
“That does it, Barbara! Kristina will definitely have to be sacked as soon as we return to New York. Disgusting girl!” he retorted, tossing the brightly painted wooden phallus onto the fireplace grate.
“Really, father. Please don’t.”
“It’s entirely within my rights to sack her, and I intend to do it. I should have done it long ago, in fact.”
“Yes, father.”
“Oh, and Barbara … one last thing. I’ve arranged for Archibald to call on you at 4 o’clock this afternoon. He wants to take you on a promenade. The Hotel grounds and gardens are a delightful place for young lovers to stroll and get to know one another. Go get yourself ready now for when he calls. He plans to take you out for dinner as well.”
“Yes, father. But I have a couple things I want to say to you. Firstly, in the future I’d prefer to have a beau ask me out directly, rather than through my father. And secondly, perhaps you should hide that sawhorse before Archie comes to call on me. We wouldn’t want to give him the wrong impression now, would we?”
“Insolence doesn’t befit you girl. Your face looks like a storm cloud. Please try not to do it again.”
“Yes, father.”
***************
Late afternoon found Barbara strolling on the arm of Archibald Vandergrift as they circled the grounds of the lovely enclosed and intensely manicured formal garden adjacent to the Hotel’s south wing, stopping every so often at key vantage points to marvel at the stunning views they offered of Saratoga Springs’ nearby and highly-renowned, basin-shaped Congress Park.
As they strolled, Archibald kept up a steady patter, telling her of all the interesting places and attractions to which he hoped to escort her in the coming days, including an outing to the Saratoga Race Course two days hence and a day of boating on Saratoga Lake.
For the most part, she was barely listening, her mind focused instead on the stinging sensations radiating from her caned butt. Much to her distress, they had not lessened much, despite the liberal applications of Kristina’s lotions, which Barbara had packed for the trip.
But it was not just her physical discomfort that distracted her. She was also pondering how she might work around her father’s emphatic prohibition on on any further dalliances with Stan Goldman. For she found herself now more determined than ever to pursue him and his affections. The very thought of the previous night’s stolen kiss and embrace in his hotel room, however brief and illicit, had kindled the flames of passion within her … passions she could not and would not deny.
And Archie’s mention of an outing to the Saratoga Race Course, had set off a train of thought. The idea was intriguing. It sounded like it might well contain real possibilities. She imagined it was exactly the kind of place that Stan Goldman might frequent. And she imagined that the crowds there might well provide an opportunity to become separated from Archie and from her father … who undoubtedly would insist on accompanying them there despite his well-known abhorrence of horse racing and gambling. Just the kind of opportunity she could put to good use!
So she actually startled Archie moments later, as he was beginning to think she wasn’t listening, when she suddenly exclaimed, “Oh Archie, I love the idea of going with you to see the horses race and of going boating on the lake too! They both sound exciting and fun! Come! Let’s go see father for his permission!”
When Barbara finally emerged from her bedroom, clad in her bathrobe, around 2 that afternoon, she was surprised to find her father waiting for her in the sitting room of their Grand Union Hotel suite.
“Father, what are you doing here? Why aren’t you out making your usual connections with your business associates here at the hotel?”
“Good that you’re finally up and about this morning, Barbara” he replied, ignoring her question. “That must have been quite a date you had last night with young Archibald Vandergrift. I was asleep when you came in. It must have been late.”
“Oh, it was quite late, father. I had such a grand time. Victor Herbert and his orchestra were absolutely wonderful. Archie and I just danced the evening away. And Herbert even came back out to do an encore too. That was so exciting!”
“Uh-huh.”
“Is something wrong, father? I can tell by your expression. Why are you here rather than hobnobbing downstairs? And what is that strange looking wooden contraption over by the wall? Where did that come from? It wasn’t here before!”
“Sit down, Barbara. It’s sadly come to my attention that your activities last night included more than dancing the night away with young Archibald. You and I need to have a nice father-to-daughter chat right now about what really happened.”
“Father! You had me spied on, didn’t you! Really, father! How could you? I’ll bet it was that fat house dick Stan pointed out to me who was doing the spying, wasn’t it?”
“Barbara! What the Devil were you doing with that disreputable fellow Goldman? You were supposed to be with Vandergrift!”
“Did I say, Stan? Silly me. I must still be half-asleep. I meant to say, Archie. It was Archie who pointed out the house dick, as he … Archie … called him … out to me.”
“Don’t lie to me. Barbara! I know everything. I’m told that you were out on the dance floor not only with young Vandergrift, but with that despicable Jew boy, Goldman too! And what’s worse … what’s even more alarming … absolutely shocking even … is that I’m told that you stole out and went to Goldman’s room late last night after Vandergrift bade you goodnight and left you here at our suite!”
“Shit!” cried Barbara, her face ashen as she collapsed into an easy chair.
“Proper ladies don’t say “shit”, Barbara. Mind your tongue, young lady! Now, you ask what that wooden contraption over by the wall is? Well, I’ll tell you. It’s a sawhorse. Carpenters use them. But I have a different use in mind for this one, as you’ll soon find out. Now, get up out of that chair and go to your room, and return with a bed pillow.”
“Really, father!”
“Do it, Barbara. NOW!”
“Yes, father,” she murmured as she retreated from the scene, her mind all awhirl. How could things have gone so terribly wrong? It was that odious hotel dick who had tripped her up! But, no, worse than that … it was her father, after all, who had put him up to it. It was shocking to her that her father so mistrusted her as to employ spies to keep her in line! How was she ever going to find the man she wanted … her Goldman type … while under her father’s thumb? This was going to call for entirely new levels of subterfuge on her part.
“Barbara! What’s keeping you?” came the angry call from the sitting room.
“Coming father!” she called, her mind now refocused on that “sawhorse”, as he called it, and the punishment she knew, from experience, he was determined to deliver.
Snatching a pillow from her bed, she dutifully returned to the sitting room, reasoning with herself that whatever was coming was well deserved. She had, after all, broken every rule of propriety expected of a young woman like herself when she snuck off late at night to a man’s hotel room! Whatever was coming was going to hurt, but she would have to endure it, as she always did, because it was justly deserved.
She wondered briefly whether she even liked being punished, as it happened so often, and she never seemed to avoid getting into the kinds of trouble that triggered it.
“There you are. Stop stalling now and get over here.”
He was holding some lengths of rope in one hand, and a strip of leather in the other. He nodded meaningfully toward the sawhorse that he had dragged out to the center of the sitting room floor while she was away in her room.
“Yes father.”
“Now, kindly place your pillow over the crossbar, put this strip of leather in your mouth to bite down on, and bend over the crossbar.”
“Yes, father.”
“Good! That’s it. Now, hold still while I secure your wrists and ankles,” he further instructed as he knelt to force her ankles wide apart and secure them to the nearest uprights, before circling around to the far side to do the same with her wrists.
“This is not very comfortable, father!”
“Don’t complain, Barbara. You’ve brought this on yourself, remember.”
“Will it be the tawse again, father?”
“No, Barbara, what you have done this time calls for more severe measures. This time it’s the cane for you,” he said sternly, producing said instrument of punishment from where it lay on the sideboard and stooping low to place it where she could view it as she looked, head upside down, through her forcibly spread legs. He tapped it gently against the backs of her calves a couple of times to demonstrate its suppleness.
“Oh shit!” she moaned.
“Watch your language, young lady! Now get ready. This is going to hurt me as much as it does you. These punishments would be so unnecessary if you’d only learn to behave yourself.”
“Yes, father.”
“Now prepare yourself,” he instructed as he flipped the bottom half of her robe up onto her back to bare her ass. Tapping the rod gently across her spread cheeks several times as a preamble, he added. “You’ll take a dozen strokes today. Ready?”
“Yes, father!”
The searing pain from the first stroke came as an unwelcome surprise. Her eyes opened wide and she bit down hard on the leather strip in response, as the shock drove her hips into the pillow and the sting spread like wildfire across her butt. The second, delivered a bit lower, sent her head jerking backwards. This was, indeed, much much worse than the tawse!
And so it continued for ten more excruciating strokes, delivered calmly and in measured cadence … the intensely smarting bite of the cane, each time it connected with the supple softness of her tight little quivering globes, sending shock waves through her senses.
When it was over at last, he lowered the back of her robe, and hastened to release her wrists and ankles. After he had released her from her bonds, she lay there for awhile, unable to move. Then slowly she straightened up and turned about to face him, face reddened and eyes teary.
“Lesson learned, Barbara?” he asked, stern-faced with hands on hips, the fearsome cane still held in one hand. “No more sneaking off to see this Goldman?”
“No, father,” she managed to say between sobs. “I won’t.”
“Promise?”
“Yes, father.”
“Good, but keep in mind now that I’ll have O’Neill watching you every minute of every day that you are out of this suite, as a precaution, for the rest of our time here in Saratoga Springs.”
“Yes, father.” She uttered once again, those contrite but increasingly meaningless words, resolving as she turned away from him and headed for her bedroom that she would find a way, multiple ways in fact, of seeing Stan Goldman. Now that they had found one another, and even kissed, she was determined to pursue him.”
“I’m not finished yet, Barbara. What the Devil is this?” her father called after her.
She turned back and looked at the object he had produced from behind his back.
“It’s a dildo, father,” she said matter of factly. “It’s Kristina’s. She lent it to me to take on this trip. What gives you the right to look through my toiletries?”
“My right, as your father. Please tell me you haven’t used this dreadful thing!”
“That would be a lie father. Good girls never lie to their fathers.”
“That does it, Barbara! Kristina will definitely have to be sacked as soon as we return to New York. Disgusting girl!” he retorted, tossing the brightly painted wooden phallus onto the fireplace grate.
“Really, father. Please don’t.”
“It’s entirely within my rights to sack her, and I intend to do it. I should have done it long ago, in fact.”
“Yes, father.”
“Oh, and Barbara … one last thing. I’ve arranged for Archibald to call on you at 4 o’clock this afternoon. He wants to take you on a promenade. The Hotel grounds and gardens are a delightful place for young lovers to stroll and get to know one another. Go get yourself ready now for when he calls. He plans to take you out for dinner as well.”
“Yes, father. But I have a couple things I want to say to you. Firstly, in the future I’d prefer to have a beau ask me out directly, rather than through my father. And secondly, perhaps you should hide that sawhorse before Archie comes to call on me. We wouldn’t want to give him the wrong impression now, would we?”
“Insolence doesn’t befit you girl. Your face looks like a storm cloud. Please try not to do it again.”
“Yes, father.”
***************
Late afternoon found Barbara strolling on the arm of Archibald Vandergrift as they circled the grounds of the lovely enclosed and intensely manicured formal garden adjacent to the Hotel’s south wing, stopping every so often at key vantage points to marvel at the stunning views they offered of Saratoga Springs’ nearby and highly-renowned, basin-shaped Congress Park.
As they strolled, Archibald kept up a steady patter, telling her of all the interesting places and attractions to which he hoped to escort her in the coming days, including an outing to the Saratoga Race Course two days hence and a day of boating on Saratoga Lake.
For the most part, she was barely listening, her mind focused instead on the stinging sensations radiating from her caned butt. Much to her distress, they had not lessened much, despite the liberal applications of Kristina’s lotions, which Barbara had packed for the trip.
But it was not just her physical discomfort that distracted her. She was also pondering how she might work around her father’s emphatic prohibition on on any further dalliances with Stan Goldman. For she found herself now more determined than ever to pursue him and his affections. The very thought of the previous night’s stolen kiss and embrace in his hotel room, however brief and illicit, had kindled the flames of passion within her … passions she could not and would not deny.
And Archie’s mention of an outing to the Saratoga Race Course, had set off a train of thought. The idea was intriguing. It sounded like it might well contain real possibilities. She imagined it was exactly the kind of place that Stan Goldman might frequent. And she imagined that the crowds there might well provide an opportunity to become separated from Archie and from her father … who undoubtedly would insist on accompanying them there despite his well-known abhorrence of horse racing and gambling. Just the kind of opportunity she could put to good use!
So she actually startled Archie moments later, as he was beginning to think she wasn’t listening, when she suddenly exclaimed, “Oh Archie, I love the idea of going with you to see the horses race and of going boating on the lake too! They both sound exciting and fun! Come! Let’s go see father for his permission!”
Last edited:
A note to chapter 17.
The vista that Barbara and Archie paused to enjoy as arm-in-arm they strolled the Grand Union Hotel’s formal garden, was of Saratoga Springs’ famous Congress Park.
The centerpiece of the park, Congress Spring, was named in 1792 when it was visited by two members of the newly established U.S. Congress. A decade later, in 1803, an entrepreneur named Gideon Putnam bought the acre (2,000 m2) around the spring and built a hotel for guests, famously known as the Congress Hotel or Congress Hall. Two years later he bought the 130 acres (53 ha) around the original acre and laid out plans for the town of Saratoga Springs.
The basin-shaped park contained several springs in addition to the original Congress Spring, rack of which had its own distinctive qualities. Quite notably, the waters of the Congress 3 Spring on the south side of the park were bottled and distributed worldwide in the 19th century.
By the middle of the century the city and its park of springs were one of the country's most popular leisure attractions. It was easily accessible due to its excellent railroad access. Some of its business was lost during the Civil War when its Southern clientele could not visit. But it overcame that downturn when the former heavyweight boxing champion, John Morrissey, opened the Saratoga Race Course, giving the city another major tourist attraction.
He also founded the the elegant and spacious Saratoga Clubhouse within Congress Park, which after the Civil War become the Canfield Casino.
In 1866, Morrissey was elected to Congress and was a major player in New York City's Tammany Hall political machine. He was well-connected, acquainted with the big tycoons of the Gilded Age, like Jay Gould and Cornelius Vanderbilt. And In 1876, he used his political influence to get Frederick Law Olmstead, the famous landscape architect who laid out New York City’s Central Park, to apply his landscaping skills to Congress Park.
The vista that Barbara and Archie paused to enjoy as arm-in-arm they strolled the Grand Union Hotel’s formal garden, was of Saratoga Springs’ famous Congress Park.
The centerpiece of the park, Congress Spring, was named in 1792 when it was visited by two members of the newly established U.S. Congress. A decade later, in 1803, an entrepreneur named Gideon Putnam bought the acre (2,000 m2) around the spring and built a hotel for guests, famously known as the Congress Hotel or Congress Hall. Two years later he bought the 130 acres (53 ha) around the original acre and laid out plans for the town of Saratoga Springs.
The basin-shaped park contained several springs in addition to the original Congress Spring, rack of which had its own distinctive qualities. Quite notably, the waters of the Congress 3 Spring on the south side of the park were bottled and distributed worldwide in the 19th century.
By the middle of the century the city and its park of springs were one of the country's most popular leisure attractions. It was easily accessible due to its excellent railroad access. Some of its business was lost during the Civil War when its Southern clientele could not visit. But it overcame that downturn when the former heavyweight boxing champion, John Morrissey, opened the Saratoga Race Course, giving the city another major tourist attraction.
He also founded the the elegant and spacious Saratoga Clubhouse within Congress Park, which after the Civil War become the Canfield Casino.
In 1866, Morrissey was elected to Congress and was a major player in New York City's Tammany Hall political machine. He was well-connected, acquainted with the big tycoons of the Gilded Age, like Jay Gould and Cornelius Vanderbilt. And In 1876, he used his political influence to get Frederick Law Olmstead, the famous landscape architect who laid out New York City’s Central Park, to apply his landscaping skills to Congress Park.
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Very considerate ...
Words that are always said, yet never meant ...
Doragon
Tribune
Moral education always fails if there is confusion about punishment and reward. Though in this case I have strong doubts of the capability of this girl to become decent at all.
Migoz2
Senator
That's meta!
Also, it might occur to her that her father likes punishing her........
windar
Teller of Tales
Well, excuuuuuuse me!
The check is in the mail. Really it is! Honest!
Who? Me? I hear there's gambling going on there (though if you have the right information it isn't really gambling)...
Migoz2
Senator
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Neither do proper ladies say "Yikes"!?
But across the generations, the Moore ladies are hard to instruct about that!
twonines
LIMERICUS
"Jeese", "Shit" and "Yikes" should all entail an automatic twelve stroke penalty.Neither do proper ladies say "Yikes"!?
But across the generations, the Moore ladies are hard to instruct about that!
One wonders what goes through the mind of young
windar
Teller of Tales
Chapter 18
Stan tarried in bed mulling over the events of the previous night. That Barbara, or Barb, as she had suggested he call her, had managed to find his room given that he had registered as Gould, was surprising enough. That she had dared to knock at his door was beyond surprising. That she had entered his room and kissed him, was truly shocking. And it had been quite a kiss; one that he wouldn’t soon forget.
The girl was not only smart as a whip, she was brazen as all hell! To do all that given her father’s obvious dislike of Goldman and everything he represented was not something he would have anticipated. Barbara Moore was not your average society girl; that much was certain.
Stan considered whether it was possible that that fat house dick had been too lazy or drunk or both to have followed her up the stairs. He supposed that depended on how much James Moore was paying him. It seemed that Barb had suspected something, because she hadn’t stayed long in his room.
Or was she just teasing him with a taste of further delights to come? The prospect had Stan’s member rising to attention, which he quelled with a soothing bath, before descending to breakfast, at which seating, he saw neither one of the Moores.
In keeping with Stan’s ebullient mood, it was a beautiful day, the previous day’s humidity having broken with a late night rain, perhaps around the time that he was holding Barb in his arms. The stroll over to the track was invigorating under the cloudless sky.
The only horse running today on which he had good information was in the second race, so he didn’t plan to be there the entire afternoon. It wasn’t a true longshot, going off at 4-1, but his $ 20 bet paid sufficiently well that he didn’t feel compelled to remain there for the remainder of the races, though he did make a quick circuit of the grandstand without catching site of Barbara, before heading back to the hotel.
Once there, he picked up a copy of The Times at the lobby newsstand and installed himself at a table in one of the hotel’s garden cafes, next to a row of bushes that set the open space off from the walking path where couples and families strolled. There, he sipped a cool beer and caught up on the recent news.
He read with interest of the recent developments at Mr. Carnegie’s steel mill in Homestead, just outside of Pittsburgh, where the workers had unionized and were striking for a new contract. Stan chuckled reading about how Carnegie, who publicly supported workers’ right to unionize, had turned matters over to his partner, Henry Clay Frick, who had brought in Pinkertons and strikebreakers to crush the strike. ‘It all depends whose ox is being gored,’ he thought.
As he was nearing the end of the article, he couldn’t help but hear two familiar voices approaching along the walking path. Peering through the bushes, Stan confirmed that it was Barbara and Archibald Vandergrift. The young man was proposing some activities to entertain his paramour-to whit, rowing on Saratoga Lake tomorrow and the race course the following day.
And there was Barbara’s sweet little voice, chirping, “Oh Archie, I love the idea of going with you to see the horses race and of going boating on the lake, too! They sound both exciting and fun! Come! Let’s go see father for his permission!”
This from a girl who had practically broken into his room and kissed him less than 24 hours ago. Despite that, Stan saw cause for concern. In the race for Barbara’s heart, Archibald Vandergrift had two great advantages over Stan: a means of support that was almost certainly much more secure and socially-accepted and the approval of James Moore as a prospective match for his daughter.
And a romantic excursion on the water was an activity calculated to win the heart of a young woman who was doubtless missing the great outdoors of her home state and its famed ten thousand lakes. ‘Good move, Vandergrift,’ Stan thought, not wanting to underestimate his competition.
But Stan was not one to shy away from a contest. No, if Archie was going to take Barb rowing, Stan would be there to show that he, too, had similar inclinations. But, he knew, he couldn’t just show up solo, with all those romantic couples who would doubtless be out there along with Archie and Barb. That would make him look and feel sad and lonely, which he didn’t think would appeal to the object of his affection and lust.
No, Stan needed a date-a woman to accompany him on this excursion. But where would he find such company by tomorrow? Stan could think of only one place.
And so it was, that later that evening, fortified by dinner and two whiskies, Stan found himself knocking at that same door on Spring Avenue to which he had had recourse a few evenings before.
He was shown back into the parlor by the lady of the house. “Well look who had a good time with Susanna and is back for an encore,” she said, winking at him.
Stan shook his head. “No, ma’am, it’s not what you think. I mean, I did have a good time, but I am not here to enjoy Susanna’s most delightful favors right now.”
She looked at him a bit askance. “Then how might I help you?”
“I would like to borrow Susanna for an afternoon of rowing on the lake, tomorrow, if such a thing were possible. A regular date, like two respectable young people courting would have.”
The woman thought for a moment. Stan suspected that she had been asked many things in her career, but this may have been the first time anyone had requested this.
“You just want her to accompany you is all?” she asked, still sounding doubtful.
“Yes, just sit in the boat, look pretty and enjoy the scenery.”
“I don’t know.”
“Look, there is a young lady whose heart I wish to win, but she is pursued by another, who is taking her out on the lake tomorrow. I wish to show her that I can be just as romantic as him.”
“I see,” she replied. “I couldn’t let her go for the whole afternoon for less than $ 30. It’s our busy season after all.”
“I was thinking, $ 20, since all she has to do is sit there. But I could, perhaps, go to $ 25.”
“Alright, that’s a deal then,” the madam said. “You bring her back safe and sound, you hear. She’s one of my best moneymakers.”
Stan smiled and handed over the money. “Don’t you worry,” he said. “I grew up by the shores of a lake much bigger than this one,” a statement which, while true, obscured the fact that Stan had never actually ventured out onto Lake Erie.
He stood. “I will pick her up right after lunch and have her back in plenty of time to entertain clients this evening.”
The woman nodded. “You had best do that,” she said.
As he reached the door, Stan turned and asked, “You wouldn’t happen to know a fat, drunken ex-cop named O’Neil, would you?”
She laughed. “I would venture to say that there is no one on Spring Avenue or anywhere else in Willow Walk who doesn’t know Mr. O’Neil.”
Stan supposed that Susanna wouldn’t have an outfit appropriate for boating, so he wasn’t totally surprised when she emerged from the brothel the next afternoon in a dress with a low-cut bodice that amply displayed her professional assets. The hem was a bit higher than most respectable women would wear, and she flashed a generous bit of ankle as Stan helped her into the carriage.
The lake was a few miles east of town, past the race course. As they rode, Stan explained her mission to her. “If anyone asks, you are my cousin, Susanna Green, up visiting from Albany.”
She laughed. “Sure,” she replied. “Long as you’re payin,’ I’ll be Queen Victoria if ya want. Ya got any other cousins do what I did for ya the other night?”
Stan blushed. “Let’s keep that between us, shall we?” he said.
“Sure, no problem,” she replied.
“There’s a girl we may run into out there, named Barbara Moore. I don’t want her to know who you are really so you just pretend to be my cousin.”
“Is she prettier than me?” Susanna asked.
“You’re very pretty,” Stan replied.
“Bet she doesn’t do all what I do,” Susanna said.
Stan blushed. They rode in silence the rest of the way.
The carriage let them off at a wooden dock near the north end of the lake. Several rowboats were tied up at the pier. A few were out on the lake. While it hadn’t been windy back in town, out here there was a good breeze. That had the advantage of making it feel several degrees cooler. It also produced a light chop on the lake.
“How much to take one of those out for the afternoon?” Stan asked the young man working at the rental concession.
The kid could barely take his eyes off of Susanna’s tits long enough to reply, “Uh, a dollar, sir.”
Stan handed him the money and helped Susanna into the bow seat facing the stern, then sat in the stern seat facing her. The attendant handed Stan a pair of oars, which Stan fitted into the oarlocks, then untied the rope that held the boat against the dock. “Be careful, out there, it’s a bit rough,” he advised.
Stan headed out slowly in the direction of the other boats.
“It’s nice out here,” Susanna said.
“It is,” Stan replied. “You ever been out here before?” he asked.
“Nah,” she replied. “I don’t get out of the house much. Too busy workin’, if ya know what I mean.” Stan knew what she meant.
He rowed them close enough to the other boats to be fairly certain that none of them contained Barb and Archie. ‘I sure hope they didn’t change their plans,’ he thought. He glanced over towards the dock and saw a carriage pull up and a man and a woman whose shapes certainly matched those of the two objects of his excursion today.
He watched them get into a boat. The man rowed slowly out in their general direction. Stan rowed slowly in a broad circle that brought him close enough to be quite confident that it was indeed they. Barb had a parasol to protect her from the sun, while Archie wore a straw boater and, like Stan had stripped to his undershirt.
As he passed near them, Barb turned. She stared at him. “Mr. Goldman, is that you?” she called.
Stan rowed towards them, pulling up alongside. “Miss Moore, Mr. Vandergrift, fancy meeting you here.” Vandergrift did not look pleased by the coincidence, though Barb did. “May I present my cousin, Miss Susanna Green. She’s up for the day from Albany on the train and I’m showing her the sights.”
“Pleased to meet ya, Barb,” Susanna said.
“The pleasure is all mine,” Barb replied. “You didn’t tell me you had a cousin in this area, Mr. Goldman.”
“You didn’t ask,” Stan replied.
“Well it certainly is a lovely day,” Barb said.
“Indeed it is,” Stan said.
“Enjoy yourselves, then,” Archie said, pulling on the oars to move out into the deeper water. He didn’t look as though he meant it.
When the boats were separated a bit, Susanna said, “I know him.”
“Archibald Vandergrift?” Stan asked, surprised. “How?”
“Ya know that thing ya liked so much?” Susanna said. Stan nodded. “He likes it, too. I guess most guys do, come to think of it.”
“You mean?”
“He was at the house the night before you. Or maybe a couple a nights before; I’ve been kinda busy. It’s our busy season what with all you swells up here for a good time.”
“Are you sure it was him?”
“On my mother’s grave,” she replied. Stan shook his head at how strange the world was sometimes.
It was then that he noticed the large figure, making its way rather unsteadily down the dock. It paused in front of one of the remaining rowboats while the attendant steadied it as best he could against the weighty bulk lowering itself onto the rear seat.
‘That could only be O’Neil,’ Stan thought, watching as the man rowed away from the dock in the general direction of the other boats. This was the point at which the breeze picked up, blowing steadily from the west, increasing the chop on the water.
Stan adjusted the boat so that the bow would point into the waves. Vandergrift had done the same, he noted.
But not O’Neil, who had blithely stopped rowing, allowing his boat to drift so that it took the chop broadside, as he reached into his pocket to extract a flask from which he took a long draught. A moment later, he started to lift the flask to his mouth once again, but, this time, it slipped from his fingers as the boat tilted.
The inebriated house dick reached to grab the errant container. His great bulk lurched at the exact moment the next swell struck the craft and the combined effect was to dump O’Neil right into the lake.
“Did you see that?” Stan exclaimed, pulling hard on the oars to make his way over to the floundering ex-cop. He saw Archibald doing the same, as well as the other boats, though they were further away from the man who was hanging onto the gunwale of the boat for dear life.
“Poor O’Neil, it would be a real shame if he drowned,” Susanna said.
Stan was going to ask how she knew him, but then he remembered what her employer had told him about how everyone in Willow Walk knew O’Neil.
Stan and Susanna arrived at the scene almost simultaneously with Archie and Barb. “Stay calm, O’Neil. We’ll help you,” Stan said. O’Neil looked anything but calm.
“Do you know how to swim?” Barb asked.
O’Neil sputtered something that sounded like, “No” and shook his head.
“It figures,” Susanna said.
“Hold his boat steady,” Stan said. Susanna took a firm hold on the gunwale of the empty rowboat. Crouching low to keep his balance, Stan somehow managed to hoist himself into O’Neil’s boat without dumping himself into the water.
Then, grasping O’Neil under the arms he pulled hard, trying to lift him into the boat. But as soon as his torso was lifted partway out of the water, the weight became too much for Stan to lift and O’Neil slid back into the lake. A second failed attempt was sufficient to convince Stan of the need for an alternate plan.
“He’s too heavy,” Stan said. “Archie can you help?”
“I’m afraid all we’ll do is capsize our own boat and that won’t help. We’ll have to tow him to shore.”
“How are we going to do that?” Barb asked.
“He holds onto the stern and Goldman rows like the devil. With his body in the water, his weight won’t be that much.”
Stan figured this was worth a try. With O’Neil holding onto the side of the boat, it was all he could do to balance the weight and keep it from rolling over. “Did you hear that, O’Neil? Move around to the back of the boat.”
The man didn’t move, paralyzed by fear. “Give me a hand here, Vandergrift,” Stan demanded.
Somehow, working together they were able to pry O’Neil’s fingers off the gunwale and move him to the stern. “Now row hard, Goldman,” Vandergrift urged.
“Yeah, Stan, row,” Barb concurred.
“What about you?” Stan asked Susanna. “Can you row back to shore by yourself?”
“Sure, why not?” Susanna said, shrugging. And it turned out that she was indeed multi-talented, as deft at rowing as she was at providing pleasure to clients, heading straight for the dock.
Stan struggled with the dead weight of O’Neil’s bulk, but, with great effort, made it to the beach beside the dock, where O’Neil, sobered up by his near-death experience lay, unmoving, but breathing, on the sand.
Stan looked down at him. “I don’t think the management of the Grand Union would be pleased to hear of this drunken mishap. Therefore, I suggest to you that you avoid any further embarrassment and report to Mr. Moore that his daughter had a very pleasant excursion with Mr. Vandergrift and that I was nowhere to be seen.”
O’Neil opened his eyes, stared at Stan and finally spoke. “I guess I owe you that much, Goldman.”
“You do, and more,” Stan said.
By the time he climbed onto the dock, the boat carrying Susanna and the one with Archie and Barb had both been tied up and the occupants helped onto the dock by the attendant.
“Is he OK?” Barb asked.
“He’ll live,” Stan said.
“That’s a shame,” Susanna said. She and Barb both giggled.
“I think I had best get you to your train, Susanna,” Stan said.
“Yeah, sure,” Susanna replied. “Nice to meet ya, Barb.” Barb smiled. “You too, Mr. Vandergrift,” she added, winking. Archie stared out at the lake.
Stan escorted Susanna to their carriage and they made their way back to town.
Stan tarried in bed mulling over the events of the previous night. That Barbara, or Barb, as she had suggested he call her, had managed to find his room given that he had registered as Gould, was surprising enough. That she had dared to knock at his door was beyond surprising. That she had entered his room and kissed him, was truly shocking. And it had been quite a kiss; one that he wouldn’t soon forget.
The girl was not only smart as a whip, she was brazen as all hell! To do all that given her father’s obvious dislike of Goldman and everything he represented was not something he would have anticipated. Barbara Moore was not your average society girl; that much was certain.
Stan considered whether it was possible that that fat house dick had been too lazy or drunk or both to have followed her up the stairs. He supposed that depended on how much James Moore was paying him. It seemed that Barb had suspected something, because she hadn’t stayed long in his room.
Or was she just teasing him with a taste of further delights to come? The prospect had Stan’s member rising to attention, which he quelled with a soothing bath, before descending to breakfast, at which seating, he saw neither one of the Moores.
In keeping with Stan’s ebullient mood, it was a beautiful day, the previous day’s humidity having broken with a late night rain, perhaps around the time that he was holding Barb in his arms. The stroll over to the track was invigorating under the cloudless sky.
The only horse running today on which he had good information was in the second race, so he didn’t plan to be there the entire afternoon. It wasn’t a true longshot, going off at 4-1, but his $ 20 bet paid sufficiently well that he didn’t feel compelled to remain there for the remainder of the races, though he did make a quick circuit of the grandstand without catching site of Barbara, before heading back to the hotel.
Once there, he picked up a copy of The Times at the lobby newsstand and installed himself at a table in one of the hotel’s garden cafes, next to a row of bushes that set the open space off from the walking path where couples and families strolled. There, he sipped a cool beer and caught up on the recent news.
He read with interest of the recent developments at Mr. Carnegie’s steel mill in Homestead, just outside of Pittsburgh, where the workers had unionized and were striking for a new contract. Stan chuckled reading about how Carnegie, who publicly supported workers’ right to unionize, had turned matters over to his partner, Henry Clay Frick, who had brought in Pinkertons and strikebreakers to crush the strike. ‘It all depends whose ox is being gored,’ he thought.
As he was nearing the end of the article, he couldn’t help but hear two familiar voices approaching along the walking path. Peering through the bushes, Stan confirmed that it was Barbara and Archibald Vandergrift. The young man was proposing some activities to entertain his paramour-to whit, rowing on Saratoga Lake tomorrow and the race course the following day.
And there was Barbara’s sweet little voice, chirping, “Oh Archie, I love the idea of going with you to see the horses race and of going boating on the lake, too! They sound both exciting and fun! Come! Let’s go see father for his permission!”
This from a girl who had practically broken into his room and kissed him less than 24 hours ago. Despite that, Stan saw cause for concern. In the race for Barbara’s heart, Archibald Vandergrift had two great advantages over Stan: a means of support that was almost certainly much more secure and socially-accepted and the approval of James Moore as a prospective match for his daughter.
And a romantic excursion on the water was an activity calculated to win the heart of a young woman who was doubtless missing the great outdoors of her home state and its famed ten thousand lakes. ‘Good move, Vandergrift,’ Stan thought, not wanting to underestimate his competition.
But Stan was not one to shy away from a contest. No, if Archie was going to take Barb rowing, Stan would be there to show that he, too, had similar inclinations. But, he knew, he couldn’t just show up solo, with all those romantic couples who would doubtless be out there along with Archie and Barb. That would make him look and feel sad and lonely, which he didn’t think would appeal to the object of his affection and lust.
No, Stan needed a date-a woman to accompany him on this excursion. But where would he find such company by tomorrow? Stan could think of only one place.
And so it was, that later that evening, fortified by dinner and two whiskies, Stan found himself knocking at that same door on Spring Avenue to which he had had recourse a few evenings before.
He was shown back into the parlor by the lady of the house. “Well look who had a good time with Susanna and is back for an encore,” she said, winking at him.
Stan shook his head. “No, ma’am, it’s not what you think. I mean, I did have a good time, but I am not here to enjoy Susanna’s most delightful favors right now.”
She looked at him a bit askance. “Then how might I help you?”
“I would like to borrow Susanna for an afternoon of rowing on the lake, tomorrow, if such a thing were possible. A regular date, like two respectable young people courting would have.”
The woman thought for a moment. Stan suspected that she had been asked many things in her career, but this may have been the first time anyone had requested this.
“You just want her to accompany you is all?” she asked, still sounding doubtful.
“Yes, just sit in the boat, look pretty and enjoy the scenery.”
“I don’t know.”
“Look, there is a young lady whose heart I wish to win, but she is pursued by another, who is taking her out on the lake tomorrow. I wish to show her that I can be just as romantic as him.”
“I see,” she replied. “I couldn’t let her go for the whole afternoon for less than $ 30. It’s our busy season after all.”
“I was thinking, $ 20, since all she has to do is sit there. But I could, perhaps, go to $ 25.”
“Alright, that’s a deal then,” the madam said. “You bring her back safe and sound, you hear. She’s one of my best moneymakers.”
Stan smiled and handed over the money. “Don’t you worry,” he said. “I grew up by the shores of a lake much bigger than this one,” a statement which, while true, obscured the fact that Stan had never actually ventured out onto Lake Erie.
He stood. “I will pick her up right after lunch and have her back in plenty of time to entertain clients this evening.”
The woman nodded. “You had best do that,” she said.
As he reached the door, Stan turned and asked, “You wouldn’t happen to know a fat, drunken ex-cop named O’Neil, would you?”
She laughed. “I would venture to say that there is no one on Spring Avenue or anywhere else in Willow Walk who doesn’t know Mr. O’Neil.”
***
Stan supposed that Susanna wouldn’t have an outfit appropriate for boating, so he wasn’t totally surprised when she emerged from the brothel the next afternoon in a dress with a low-cut bodice that amply displayed her professional assets. The hem was a bit higher than most respectable women would wear, and she flashed a generous bit of ankle as Stan helped her into the carriage.
The lake was a few miles east of town, past the race course. As they rode, Stan explained her mission to her. “If anyone asks, you are my cousin, Susanna Green, up visiting from Albany.”
She laughed. “Sure,” she replied. “Long as you’re payin,’ I’ll be Queen Victoria if ya want. Ya got any other cousins do what I did for ya the other night?”
Stan blushed. “Let’s keep that between us, shall we?” he said.
“Sure, no problem,” she replied.
“There’s a girl we may run into out there, named Barbara Moore. I don’t want her to know who you are really so you just pretend to be my cousin.”
“Is she prettier than me?” Susanna asked.
“You’re very pretty,” Stan replied.
“Bet she doesn’t do all what I do,” Susanna said.
Stan blushed. They rode in silence the rest of the way.
***
The carriage let them off at a wooden dock near the north end of the lake. Several rowboats were tied up at the pier. A few were out on the lake. While it hadn’t been windy back in town, out here there was a good breeze. That had the advantage of making it feel several degrees cooler. It also produced a light chop on the lake.
“How much to take one of those out for the afternoon?” Stan asked the young man working at the rental concession.
The kid could barely take his eyes off of Susanna’s tits long enough to reply, “Uh, a dollar, sir.”
Stan handed him the money and helped Susanna into the bow seat facing the stern, then sat in the stern seat facing her. The attendant handed Stan a pair of oars, which Stan fitted into the oarlocks, then untied the rope that held the boat against the dock. “Be careful, out there, it’s a bit rough,” he advised.
Stan headed out slowly in the direction of the other boats.
“It’s nice out here,” Susanna said.
“It is,” Stan replied. “You ever been out here before?” he asked.
“Nah,” she replied. “I don’t get out of the house much. Too busy workin’, if ya know what I mean.” Stan knew what she meant.
He rowed them close enough to the other boats to be fairly certain that none of them contained Barb and Archie. ‘I sure hope they didn’t change their plans,’ he thought. He glanced over towards the dock and saw a carriage pull up and a man and a woman whose shapes certainly matched those of the two objects of his excursion today.
He watched them get into a boat. The man rowed slowly out in their general direction. Stan rowed slowly in a broad circle that brought him close enough to be quite confident that it was indeed they. Barb had a parasol to protect her from the sun, while Archie wore a straw boater and, like Stan had stripped to his undershirt.
As he passed near them, Barb turned. She stared at him. “Mr. Goldman, is that you?” she called.
Stan rowed towards them, pulling up alongside. “Miss Moore, Mr. Vandergrift, fancy meeting you here.” Vandergrift did not look pleased by the coincidence, though Barb did. “May I present my cousin, Miss Susanna Green. She’s up for the day from Albany on the train and I’m showing her the sights.”
“Pleased to meet ya, Barb,” Susanna said.
“The pleasure is all mine,” Barb replied. “You didn’t tell me you had a cousin in this area, Mr. Goldman.”
“You didn’t ask,” Stan replied.
“Well it certainly is a lovely day,” Barb said.
“Indeed it is,” Stan said.
“Enjoy yourselves, then,” Archie said, pulling on the oars to move out into the deeper water. He didn’t look as though he meant it.
When the boats were separated a bit, Susanna said, “I know him.”
“Archibald Vandergrift?” Stan asked, surprised. “How?”
“Ya know that thing ya liked so much?” Susanna said. Stan nodded. “He likes it, too. I guess most guys do, come to think of it.”
“You mean?”
“He was at the house the night before you. Or maybe a couple a nights before; I’ve been kinda busy. It’s our busy season what with all you swells up here for a good time.”
“Are you sure it was him?”
“On my mother’s grave,” she replied. Stan shook his head at how strange the world was sometimes.
It was then that he noticed the large figure, making its way rather unsteadily down the dock. It paused in front of one of the remaining rowboats while the attendant steadied it as best he could against the weighty bulk lowering itself onto the rear seat.
‘That could only be O’Neil,’ Stan thought, watching as the man rowed away from the dock in the general direction of the other boats. This was the point at which the breeze picked up, blowing steadily from the west, increasing the chop on the water.
Stan adjusted the boat so that the bow would point into the waves. Vandergrift had done the same, he noted.
But not O’Neil, who had blithely stopped rowing, allowing his boat to drift so that it took the chop broadside, as he reached into his pocket to extract a flask from which he took a long draught. A moment later, he started to lift the flask to his mouth once again, but, this time, it slipped from his fingers as the boat tilted.
The inebriated house dick reached to grab the errant container. His great bulk lurched at the exact moment the next swell struck the craft and the combined effect was to dump O’Neil right into the lake.
“Did you see that?” Stan exclaimed, pulling hard on the oars to make his way over to the floundering ex-cop. He saw Archibald doing the same, as well as the other boats, though they were further away from the man who was hanging onto the gunwale of the boat for dear life.
“Poor O’Neil, it would be a real shame if he drowned,” Susanna said.
Stan was going to ask how she knew him, but then he remembered what her employer had told him about how everyone in Willow Walk knew O’Neil.
Stan and Susanna arrived at the scene almost simultaneously with Archie and Barb. “Stay calm, O’Neil. We’ll help you,” Stan said. O’Neil looked anything but calm.
“Do you know how to swim?” Barb asked.
O’Neil sputtered something that sounded like, “No” and shook his head.
“It figures,” Susanna said.
“Hold his boat steady,” Stan said. Susanna took a firm hold on the gunwale of the empty rowboat. Crouching low to keep his balance, Stan somehow managed to hoist himself into O’Neil’s boat without dumping himself into the water.
Then, grasping O’Neil under the arms he pulled hard, trying to lift him into the boat. But as soon as his torso was lifted partway out of the water, the weight became too much for Stan to lift and O’Neil slid back into the lake. A second failed attempt was sufficient to convince Stan of the need for an alternate plan.
“He’s too heavy,” Stan said. “Archie can you help?”
“I’m afraid all we’ll do is capsize our own boat and that won’t help. We’ll have to tow him to shore.”
“How are we going to do that?” Barb asked.
“He holds onto the stern and Goldman rows like the devil. With his body in the water, his weight won’t be that much.”
Stan figured this was worth a try. With O’Neil holding onto the side of the boat, it was all he could do to balance the weight and keep it from rolling over. “Did you hear that, O’Neil? Move around to the back of the boat.”
The man didn’t move, paralyzed by fear. “Give me a hand here, Vandergrift,” Stan demanded.
Somehow, working together they were able to pry O’Neil’s fingers off the gunwale and move him to the stern. “Now row hard, Goldman,” Vandergrift urged.
“Yeah, Stan, row,” Barb concurred.
“What about you?” Stan asked Susanna. “Can you row back to shore by yourself?”
“Sure, why not?” Susanna said, shrugging. And it turned out that she was indeed multi-talented, as deft at rowing as she was at providing pleasure to clients, heading straight for the dock.
Stan struggled with the dead weight of O’Neil’s bulk, but, with great effort, made it to the beach beside the dock, where O’Neil, sobered up by his near-death experience lay, unmoving, but breathing, on the sand.
Stan looked down at him. “I don’t think the management of the Grand Union would be pleased to hear of this drunken mishap. Therefore, I suggest to you that you avoid any further embarrassment and report to Mr. Moore that his daughter had a very pleasant excursion with Mr. Vandergrift and that I was nowhere to be seen.”
O’Neil opened his eyes, stared at Stan and finally spoke. “I guess I owe you that much, Goldman.”
“You do, and more,” Stan said.
By the time he climbed onto the dock, the boat carrying Susanna and the one with Archie and Barb had both been tied up and the occupants helped onto the dock by the attendant.
“Is he OK?” Barb asked.
“He’ll live,” Stan said.
“That’s a shame,” Susanna said. She and Barb both giggled.
“I think I had best get you to your train, Susanna,” Stan said.
“Yeah, sure,” Susanna replied. “Nice to meet ya, Barb.” Barb smiled. “You too, Mr. Vandergrift,” she added, winking. Archie stared out at the lake.
Stan escorted Susanna to their carriage and they made their way back to town.
Ted Parry
Governor
The possibilities presented by this series of events are too numerous to mention ... dirt on Archie and O’Neil ... doppelgänger possibilities ... etc. etc.
Very well constructed apart from your rowing blue must have been earned in Kansas rather than Oxford ... The lady facing the stern ?
Very well constructed apart from your rowing blue must have been earned in Kansas rather than Oxford ... The lady facing the stern ?
M
montycrusto
Guest
M
montycrusto
Guest
I’m glad O’Neil is ok.. I’m sure he’s the real hero of this story!
windar
Teller of Tales
She couldn't take her eyes off the handsome guy back there!
In a way, he might be...I’m glad O’Neil is ok.. I’m sure he’s the real hero of this story!
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Excitment on the lake.
Stan starts playing chess against Archie! But Stan should consider his moves, and have himself accompanied by a fair lady with a proper high class accent, or otherwise have her take some lessons first by Professor Higgins! His charade becomes to visible now. Lucky for him, Archie has his own secret to keep towards Barb!
Stan starts playing chess against Archie! But Stan should consider his moves, and have himself accompanied by a fair lady with a proper high class accent, or otherwise have her take some lessons first by Professor Higgins! His charade becomes to visible now. Lucky for him, Archie has his own secret to keep towards Barb!