One way or another.Molly grinned, “And one poor sprout lost all of his money — two months’ wages — playing poker. Couldn’t even go upstairs ...or a poke.”Like it had been back in Little River, whorehouse patrolling was pretty routine, pretty quiet. Oh, there was an occasional problem with a belligerent drunk. Usually it wasn’t a regular customer; just a drummer, or a cowboy, or a gambler passing through.One night at the Red Light Saloon, a little before midnight, I was downstairs talking idly. It wasn’t that she wanted sex, per se. She didn’t want a man– or a woman– to make love to her or even kiss her... or, for that matter, even talk to her. She just wanted someone to SEE her. She was, as are many women– or men– of extreme intelligence, almost asexual... and a total introvert. She didn’t want to be in a relationship with anyone. But she did want someone to appreciate her body as well as her mind. No one at the facility, however, seemed to even notice her.Once, she decided to work. I was pretty sure Karen would charm them, so, no; I wasn’t worried.Gillian parked in the drive. Dad would never permit his cherished, 1960 three litre Ford Zephyr to stand outside. We walked to the door which opened as we got there. I was shocked when Mum stepped out and wrapped me up in a hug; more so when I looked in her eyes and realised they were glistening with tears. “Well!” She announced. “Introduce us!” Shocked? I couldn’t remember being hugged by my mother, though I’m sure I was as a. ‘I hope so.’ Tom’s reply was murmured quietly as he was suddenly entranced by Jemma’s beautiful eyes. ‘Do you want a coffee?’ Jemma broke her hypnotic stare, startling Tom. ‘Y-y-e-a-a, that would be good.’ Jemma got up, and walked slowly into the kitchen, swaying her hips in a slow and sexy motion. Tom couldn’t stop himself from watching her, she looked so beautiful. Jemma’s perfume still lingered in the air, her fantastic, exotic perfume that made Tom’s head spin. The smell was so luxurious.