Read The Consummata for Free Online Page B

away. Where we go, they will not find you.”
    “You sound confident.”
    “That is because for such a place as I am taking you, many precautions must be taken for it to exist at all.”
    “It’s your show,” I said.
    And so far, tonight, she’d been the star.
    *
    The suite had an atmosphere about it, all right—nothing you could quite define, because the space was neither big nor elaborately furnished. But some thought had been given to it, a living room area, a bedroom, and a bathroom where I’d washed the makeup off, gotten out of the coveralls and taken a quick shower. Alone.
    Now I sat in the big, comfortable chair with a cold can of beer in hand and gave my new surroundings some thought. It took a while, but it finally came to me.
    This was a man’s room, browns, yellows, tans, touches of black, furniture with strong simple lines suggesting strength but comfort...but a suite decorated by a woman for a man, with masculine comfort in mind, designed to instill male confidence.
    Oh, there were enough feminine touches to inspire the beginnings of masculine passion, like the modern paintings that somehow suggested female figures, nude ones, with orange and red tones. From then on, comfort and confidence could take over.
    Clothes had been waiting for me, and the sizes well estimated— a dark gray sport coat, black sport shirt, even darker gray slacks. I still had my own shoes and socks, but was damn glad to be rid of those lousy coveralls.
    Still in her peasant blouse and skirt, Gaita sat at the dressing table, the stiff-bristled brush in her hand crackling through her lustrous hair, her eyes on me in the mirror while a faint smile played with the corners of her mouth.
    “You are right, Señor Morgan. This is a burdel .”
    Whorehouse. Rose by any other name.
    I took a pull of the beer. “I didn’t say anything.”
    “Ah, but you have an awareness. It shows.”
    “Not on my face it doesn’t.”
    “In your eyes, it does.”
    I let out a laugh. “Well, a bordello like this usually has out-of-the-way approaches. Like those damn alleys and tunnels we took to get here.”
    Her smile was a little too knowing. “You have been in other establishments like this before, señor ?”
    “Perhaps.”
    “...or perhaps not?”
    “Really, no perhaps about it. Some of my best friends are putas .”
    For a second the brush paused in mid-stroke. “You do not seem like one who would need to make use of such facilities. To turn to the recourse of a woman who requires payment, this does not seem right.”
    I finished the beer. “I didn’t say I paid any of them, kitten —but in my racket these places come in handy now and then. You can hide out in a whorehouse, because nobody’s supposed to be there.”
    “Well put, Morgan. A most intelligent answer.”
    “Must come from having damn near a complete college education.” I grinned at her. “Ask anybody—I’m an intelligent guy...in some ways.”
    One eyebrow arched though both eyes were half lidded. “Could not such intelligence have been put to better use?”
    “Not by me. I’m one of those guys born in the wrong era that you hear about. Baby, I wasn’t made for this world.”
    “Possibly it wasn’t made for you either.”
    “I get by.”
    “Do you?” She put the brush down and stood abruptly, still facing the mirror, hands on her hips, legs apart, then took a deep breath. “You seem relaxed for what you have been through in recent days. Almost...placid. Why is that, Señor Morgan?”
    “Just ‘Morgan,’ querida . Why not be relaxed? I’m not going anywhere—not until you tell me the score.”
    Gently, she pivoted like a dancer to face me. “Those who look for you...they will be here. They will know of this place. Perhaps some have been patrons.”
    I frowned. “Yeah?”
    “But they will not find you. Fortunately for your sake, this is the...house extraordinario .”
    “Delicate way to refer to a whorehouse,” I said.
    “Our clientele appreciates