2. The alley behind the speakeasy on 34th Street reeked of uncollected garbage, vomit and urine. Holding my breath, I stepped over and around several passed out drunks on my way to the rear entrance, which turned out to be a forbiddingly heavy door sheathed in metal.
I rapped out the signal, just as Al described it, and waited. After a minute or two, the door's peephole cover slid aside, and a bloodshot eyeball appeared in the tiny aperture.
The door opened out on groaning hinges. I stepped aside, held out my hand, and said brightly, "Hi, Al sent me to ..."
A fist the size of a ham, shot out and grabbed me by the wrist. I literally flew through the doorway and gasped as the owner of the fist spun me about just inside and slammed me up hard against the wall.
"Shaddup," he hissed in my face. Then he slowly released his iron grip from my wrist, pointed to an open doorway halfway down a dimly lit hallway and grunted, "in dere."
I made haste getting away from him. On reaching the doorway, I looked back to make sure he wasn't behind me, then turned and walked through.
As I entered the room half a dozen young women looked up at me. They were seated along a wall. At the far end of the room a beefy thuggish-looking guy stood cross-armed before a double doorway.
I took a seat. Over the next 10 minutes another half dozen women entered the room. No one talked. About half of them smoked. Some of them looked rather tough ... prostitutes, I thought ... others quite young and innocent. Everyone seemed very nervous.
Then one of the double doors burst open and a young man, dressed in an expensive pin-striped double-breasted suit and silk tie, slipped into the room. He had a hatchet-thin face, eyes too narrowly set, and way too much grease in his shiny slicked-back hair. I thought he looked creepy.
Everyone got to their feet and more or less stood in a line. Hatchet-face proceeded to stroll up and down the line, looking each girl over closely. Then he said, "you, you, you, you, you and you," pointing at select girls as he walked down the line one last time. Turning on his heel and striding for the double door, he hollered, "You'se all falla me. Dah rest of ya, clear outta here."
Luckily for my big scoop, I was one of the half dozen who made it! I trooped through the double doors with the others, and found myself facing the Don himself. He was seated behind an enormous carved mahogany desk.
The Don turned out to be an old man with sagging jowls and silver-grey hair. His eyes were hidden behind dark glasses. He had an enormous diamond studded ring on one finger, and was wearing a dinner jacket.
Flanking him on either side were two goons, one with a bald head the size of a prize ripe melon, the other a Neanderthal-looking type with a lantern jaw and a nose that looked like it had been broken a number of times.
We lined up facing the Don. I was on the far right, which put me in a good position to observe both him and the other five girls. I was already imagining the exclusive story I would be writing, anticipating getting an interview with the big man.
Then he spoke, in a surprisingly smooth and precise manner. "Welcome girls and congratulations on your selection. My capo has an eye for good female flesh. Nice work Alphonso! These girls should do quite nicely."
Alphonso bowed theatrically.
The Don continued, "I just want to mention a few ground rules and one last requirement before we seal the deal here and hire the lot of you as hostesses in our establishment. First, you will be paid, but most of your earnings will come in the form of tips from our clientele, half of which you will turn over to Alphonso here for room and board. You will live here while you work for us."
I raised my hand and blurted out, "Oh wait, I didn't bring anything. Will I be allowed to go home and pack a bag?"
The Don turned my way, and his two goons stiffened. Melon-head clenched his fists menacingly. Neanderthal glared at me.
"Did I ask you to say anything," purred the Don. "The second rule around here is that you keep quiet as a mouse when I am speaking ... Or else!"
"Yessir. Sorry."
"You will be minimally dressed when you are on the job here. Each of you will wear heels, and this will be your costume," he said holding up a glittery g-string and several strings of beads to hang around the neck.
"Now that last requirement that I mentioned earlier is that we need to assure ourselves, right now, that you all look pleasingly good with almost nothing on, so kindly strip naked now."
I was about to protest, even refuse, but after thinking about that Pulitzer I decided to play along ... hey ... what the hell ... it's humiliating perhaps to strip naked in front of these guys, but not the end of the world. The other girls were undressing quickly. I decided to do it too, and reached for the zipper on the back of my dress.
I stripped quickly, avoiding eye contact with the Don, his capo or his goons, although I could feel their eyes following my every move. Soon I was down to my bra and panties, I opted for the bra first, hesitating for a moment before pulling it away and letting my breasts fall free.
But then there was a problem. I had just dropped my panties, stepped out of them and straightened up, totally nude and trying, however ineffectually, to cover my pube and boobs with hands and arms, when I noticed Alphonso going through my handbag.
Oh shit, I thought. It had never occurred to me that they would search my bag. How could I have been so careless?
"Hey, Boss!" shouted the hatchet-faced capo. "Look at dis! It's dah brunette on dah end's business card. It says: Barbara Moore, Reporter, Daily Herald! Jesus, Boss! Dat little broad on dah end is a fucking newspaper reporter!"
My cover was blown. On impulse, I bolted for the double doors, but they were locked. I beat on them to no avail with my fists, then turned to face the Don's muscle, who were advancing on me. Seconds later I was lifted off my feet and helplessly pinned against the doors.
The Don was still seated behind his ornate desk. He did not look amused. The other girls stood around naked, staring at me as though I was from another planet.
Rising abruptly to leave, the Don turned to Alphonso and speaking so softly I could barely hear him, "Al, kindly have the boys take Miss Moore to the cellar."
TO BE CONTINUED
Nothing to worry about.
Go for it Barb.
)
What more seal of approval do you need than that? 
