It was the summer of 1937 and I was a single man travelling through the south. I was a Professor at a College up north and as a perk to my tenure I was given the year off for sabbatical. I was working on a new book to publish on a new form of teaching math to children and I started off driving straight from New York to Alabama. I generally love the south. The weather is always warm and I love the landscaping. So I had been in a home that I rented a room from an elderly woman in her sixties and she was so nice and welcoming. It was after my second week of writing and I was getting ahead of myself. I mean I had only been gone two weeks and I was already halfway done with my new book. I figured that I needed a little distraction. After all I had a whole year to write the text and I didn't want to be bored.
So I walked to the bar that was in town and I sat down and ordered a cold beer. The bartended was a burley fellow with a long handlebar mustache. "So tell me sir, where would a single man be able to find a little female companionship around here? I mean I was hoping that I would find some in here but I am the only one here other than the table of poker players over in the back."
"Well I tell you sir, that is definitely a thing this town does not have a shortage of but the best ones are over at the whorehouse." Said the bartender in a deep southern drawl cleaning a glass and setting it down.
"Oh fascinating. We don't have any whorehouses where I come from are they legal in Alabama?"
"Naw, it ain't legal. I guess the Governor decides what is and ain't legal for the state but the sheriff he doesn't bother anyone over there and it's a very popular place. I've been known to spend some time in there from time to time myself." He said leaning a bit closer, "Just don't tell the wife." And he laughed grabbing another glass to clean.
"Are the girls pretty clean?" I asked taking another drink of my beer.
"Well now that depends. If you go with the girls that are the most popular they can get pretty used up. They do have some girls that come in from time to time that are just passing thru. And they also have some young girls there too."
My heart started racing when he said that. "Young? How young?"
This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Mr Double's Palisade A MrDouble Production:
Changes last made on: Tuesday, April 14, 2015