There wasn’t a great deal of material to fit these qualifications, and after a while the supply dried up. The bookers got a little more daring. They’d go after girls who wanted jobs as models. They persuaded them to pose in the nude, take photos secretly, and then threaten to show the photos, which had mysteriously become exceedingly obscene by clever faking, to narrow−minded parents. This succeeded for a time.
Although Carrie had ceased to worry about the supply of girls, the bookers were continually having headaches. They got well paid for new material, but they were constantly having to think up new ideas to ensnare unsuspecting girls into the racket.
Finally they got so bold that they’d kidnap girls and hand them over to Carrie to break in. This meant a lot more work for Carrie to do, but she realized their difficulties and she entered into her new task with philosophical fortitude.
Some of the girls were so popular that she kept them in the house as permanent workers. They had been well broken in, they got good money, and they showed no inclination to leave. Such were Andree, Lulu, Julie and Fan.
They were sitting in the big reception−room waiting patiently for Carrie to tell them to go to bed. The last client had gone over half an hour ago. Carrie made a habit of having a word with her girls before turning in for the night: to hear any complaints and to hand out punishment to any of them who hadn’t given satisfaction.
The girls were all dressed in flimsy knickers, black silk stockings and high−heel shoes, with big showy garters to keep their stockings in place. They had all thrown wraps round their bare shoulders as soon as the front door closed behind the last client.
Carrie thought it was all very well to sit around half naked when the guys were in the house, but when they had gone she liked to see her girls look decent.
Lulu reached for a cigarette, yawning. “Gee!” she said. “Am I tired? I’ve gotta get my hair fixed tomorrow morning and I don’t know how I’ll make it.”
Fan, a red−headed girl with a superb figure, but a hard, almost brutish face, gave a short metallic laugh.
“You don’t want to bother about that,” she said. “Get a guy to fix it for you. Do it on the exchange system.”