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Whoring Around, a novella in six stories.
Prologue
Blowing It
Between Whores
Dreaming of Glory
A Sense of Propriety
More and more we lunched at his tennis club. He had recently become its honorary treasurer. I remember an afternoon, with the washed blues and faint yellows of early winter, when we ate on the terrace. The stonework was damp where the sun had not touched it. The other tables were empty, so it was early in the week.
Humphrey's world was a cradle of security, supported by cocktail parties, sporting clubs and fours of Bridge. His wife Mimi derides his effort to take a top position in the Fossil Extracts Conference. She was wrong.
His Cartel takes him to Tokyo, where the pattern of his life falls into early conferences with Japanese executives until late, then sessions in the whore houses of the Ginza and their astonishing practises, which captivate him because he knows Mimi was happy to see him go.
Until:
Sitting in a profane and prodigal night-club next to a young and inexplicable whore was not where he wanted to be. He felt a fondness for the banal and lustreless dinner tables of his friends and for the comfort of his own rooms and wardrobes, his office and his club. Before the lights darkened again for the next act he left the table, to find the toilet, he told her, paid on his way out, and took a cab back to his hotel.
Prologue
Blowing It
Between Whores
Dreaming of Glory
A Sense of Propriety
More and more we lunched at his tennis club. He had recently become its honorary treasurer. I remember an afternoon, with the washed blues and faint yellows of early winter, when we ate on the terrace. The stonework was damp where the sun had not touched it. The other tables were empty, so it was early in the week.
Humphrey's world was a cradle of security, supported by cocktail parties, sporting clubs and fours of Bridge. His wife Mimi derides his effort to take a top position in the Fossil Extracts Conference. She was wrong.
His Cartel takes him to Tokyo, where the pattern of his life falls into early conferences with Japanese executives until late, then sessions in the whore houses of the Ginza and their astonishing practises, which captivate him because he knows Mimi was happy to see him go.
Until:
Sitting in a profane and prodigal night-club next to a young and inexplicable whore was not where he wanted to be. He felt a fondness for the banal and lustreless dinner tables of his friends and for the comfort of his own rooms and wardrobes, his office and his club. Before the lights darkened again for the next act he left the table, to find the toilet, he told her, paid on his way out, and took a cab back to his hotel.
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