As Diana steered he car along the torturous set of instructions Deputy Gunn had given her, a phone call was being made to the Howards to let them know a ‘city girl’ was heading their way.
Diana wove her car along a number of side streets that felt more probable in the seediest sections of the big cities of the North than in a small, nowhere town down South; yet the ‘shops’ and ‘establishments’ all seemed to be ‘doing well’ judging by the number of citizens bustling along those streets… and it wasn’t just men! Diana fumed from behind the wheel.
“Oh, Brandyne, have you seen the new bustiers for sale at Mr Morton’s Porn Emporium?” screeched a young brunette in a strapless, sparkling red, figure hugging dress.
“Why, Mary-Ann,” declared a young woman with bleached blonde pigtails in tight denim shorts, red hi-tops and a white blouse knotted across her ample chest, “didn’t I just git one the other day that got my Earl’s blood just pumpin’ an’ a pumpin’ as soon as he took sight of it – an’ not just his blood if you know what ah’ mean,” the two young women, who might have been educated professionals in any other city, burst into knowing laughter as Diana passed by.
“If’n I ain’t pushin’ a pram by the 24th of August, why I don’t know what I’ll do,” pouted Mary-Ann.
“Pshaw! Your Earl’s as fertile as a centaur an’ twice the ride,” giggled Mary-Ann.
Diana’s head snapped round as she heard Mary-Ann’s reply. Centaurs! That word was so out of place here in this hick of a town and why did the 24th of –
PAAAAAAAAARRRRP!!!! PAAAAAAARRRRP, PAAAAAARRRP, PAAAAAAARRRP!!!
Diana’s eyes snapped back to the road to see a farmer’s honking truck hurtling towards her. Only her lightning fast Amazon reflexes enabled her to swerve her car in time to dodge the truck and come to a safe stop on the other side of the street. An angry fist waved out of the driver’s window as the truck sped past and a man’s voice shouted, “Keep yur eyes on the road, missy! Or git a man t’drive.”
Diana gasped and gripped the wheel hard enough to indent her fingers into in and growled deep in her throat to stem the flow of Amazonian invective that pressed to be free. Her tight, red lips unlike Pandora’s box contained those curses. This town was getting under her skin in a way only the Joker had done in the past.
Remain focussed, she reminded herself, Wonder Girl is missing and may need help. Drawing attention to yourself, Diana, isn’t helping anyone and nothing these people have done so far is illegal. Disturbing, disgusting and degenerate but not illegal. Your not on Paradise Island anymore, Diana, and that’s no mistake!
“Devine Athena give me the wisdom to ignore their oafish ways and long suffering Hera, defender of women and wife of wayward Zeus, give me strength to endure their chauvinistic attitudes,” she prayed quietly.
Putting the car into gear and flicking the indicator she moved on. The interchange between the two young women worrying her in the back of her mind for reasons she couldn’t quite figure but one thing was certain, the mention of a centaur coupled with the Amazon statue in the museum meant she was on the right track… if only here hidden worry would resolve itself.
It took fifteen more minutes for Diana to reach the ’s boarding house. A frustrating fifteen minutes when she realised the deputy had sent her all round the houses for a laugh; Diana had turned a corner earlier and found herself back at the scene of her near crash experience and with a dozen more twists and turns to go to the boarding house. There was no sign of Mary-Ann or Brandyne but the sidewalks contained a dozen more young women just like them: shallow forms of womanhood, Diana despaired, parading themselves for the male onlookers. What was it with this place? Had they no television, no radio, no internet or even papers to tell them the world had marched on from the primitive, misogynistic past they still lived in?
Ten minutes later Diana finally sat outside the ’s boarding house and paused to de-stress. She took the time to view her surroundings and found they weren’t as bad as she’d feared. The road was quiet with wide, tree-lined sidewalks. The houses were all large and set back from the road behind white picket fences. In the distance came the sound of a lawnmower but Diana couldn’t see anyone around.
The Amazon princess got out of her hire car and stretched. It was something Barbara had mentioned she should do after a long journey to release the stiffness that normal humans suffered from. Diana didn’t need the reminder after her brief but eventful drive through Cutter Creek. She next took her jacket from off the back seat and put it back on, covering her khaki T-shirt she’d driven down in. She took a step towards the white gate that lead to the boarding house when she stopped, suddenly, and twirled round to the car. From off the passenger’s seat she retrieved ‘her’ small, light brown, handbag. Another of Barbara’s suggestions and containing a list of pointless items as far as Diana could make out but Barbara had considered ‘essential’. She left her cases in the trunk and strode over to the gate that lead to the ’s boarding house; there was a sign on the gate and Diana wanted to see what it said.
From the street the house itself looked very impressive – three storeys and a gable-windowed attic, wooden construction, except for the tall pillars supporting the upper story verandas, as with all houses she’d seen in this region, with what looked like doors to a coal or root cellar to one side. The ground floor had a porch complete with swing seat and the upper two floors had ornately carved wooden balustrades around the verandas. The porch and verandas went around the left side of the house to catch the morning sun. The grounds were neat and bushy with roses being the predominant flower.
The sign looked old and weather-beaten but still retained some of its original colour and legible.
“Howards' Parlour Rooms,” Diana read, “Discrete with elegant decorum. The most luxurious ladies establishment of its kind in Cutter Creek!” Hmm, snorted Diana, hardly a recommendation. “All our patrons receive the very best treatment in the most accommodating of environments. No reservation required! Group rates available upon request. Open all day every day,” here there was an asterisk which directed Diana to the bottom of the sign, “closed every Sabbath 8:00 AM for 1 hour.” That suggested to Diana that the ’s might be religious folks and non too happy with the direction Cutter Creek was heading in – potential allies? She could hope. “This establishment is the prime place for you to socialise with the diverse population of Cutter Creek. Just 10 minutes walk from the of the Holy Mother and 15 minutes walk to our bustling town centre with its many attractions for young ladies and budding brides! To maintain our high reputation in the community please ensure your gentlemen callers are escorted at all times and obey the house rules. Enquire within for a vacancy today. Remember: your accommodation is our business!”
Diana hand never heard of the of the Holy Mother nor of a Second but she had made a quick overview of the state of religion in almost as soon as she had arrived from and knew there were a plethora of cults, sects and churches throughout the country with a loose association to Christianity. Diana even hazarded a guess that the Holy Mother referred to would be a woman called Mary. It was the next section that got Diana’s blood boiling just as it had started to cool back down.
“Our prices will not be beat - tailored to your needs.
Payment for all services in advance - No Credit!
Clean sheets changed daily.
Spurs not to be worn in the beds.
No spitting in the bedrooms.
No gunplay or discharging of firearms.
We cater for all types.
No coloreds, Jews, Catholics, Injuns, Heathens, Half-Breeds nor Chinamen.
Hobos, drifters & saddle tramps use rear entrance.”
Then,
“Certified Disease-free by Dr. Hyram I. Slape, Chief Medical Officer, Cutter Creek.”
Technically, as she held in high reverence the ancient Greek gods, she’d have to class herself under ‘Heathen’ which would disbar her from entering the establishment; not that she felt like entering the place at all given the racist and intolerant nature of the owner’s sign.”
There were two pictures of women either side of the list of ‘house rules’: one dressed like an old style saloon girl and the other an equally old style but prim lady.
“We cater for all types!” Diana echoed scornfully. “As long as the sheets are clean according to Dr Slape who cares about the rights of the customer?”
But really there was no obvious alternative and it did seem well located as a base to scout out the town. Fixing her jaw firmly in place, Diana opened the white picket gate and headed up the path.