"Well, I was a big, green, corn-fed country girl, in the corn and Bible belt in Kansas, wasn't hard to look at (of course, that's before I had all these scars on this pan of mine)—and the guy—was the son of the rural mail carrier, who had just come out of the Navy, and what he knew was plenty, and I had always read what devils sailors were with the women—I guess I was just as curious as he was ambitious. Come on in the kitchen and I'll put the coffee on the stove, and finish my confession."
"For God's sake, make that coffee strong—I sure need it," said Evelyn, as she and Pearl followed Mickey in the kitchen, and sat down at the table. "Oh, I forgot—I'll get the cups and saucers," as she rose from the table and went to the cupboard.
"Go ahead with that dirty story you started to tell us," said Pearl. "One of my pet weaknesses is the true story of How, Why, and Where Trollops like us three came from, and what caused it."
"Well, as I was saying, I was as green as they come, and I had already spurned, so to speak, the advances of the hired hand, which he made to me one day in the barn. We drove to church as usual on Sunday, in the Goddamndest rig you ever saw, a buckboard buggy with two horses. Dad and Mother sat in the seat, and me, being the only child, I stood up in the back and held on to the seat, and there I was, with my skirt and underskirts and drawers starched so stiff that when I sat down it sounded like somebody breaking macaroni in a cooking pot, hair done up in the latest, two big buns over each ear—when I look back at that now, I have all I can do to keep from screaming with laughter at the way I must have looked. Well, I was introduced to Jerry at the church, and he asked me if he could take me home in his buggy—that is, it was his old man's buggy that he had borrowed for the purpose. Mother and Dad thought it would be lovely if he drove me home, so they went on ahead when church was over, and left me with Jerry. Of course, him having been places and seen and done things, I was a pushover for him. When I look back at it, I must have been a panic. He drove off the main road, and said we should tie the horse, and go for a lovely walk under the trees. I was timid at first, as we sat on the ground under an old pine tree. He kissed me, and I wasn't so keen on it, then he took me in his arms, and it done something to me, and I came right back at him. In my ignorance I decided that I would show him that us country girls was just as up to date as any of those girls he met in foreign countries, and I stopped at nothing—well, that was the memorable time when I stopped being a virgin."
"I bet that was a sight," said Evelyn.
"And how," from Pearl.
"Ah, damn, that coffee would boil over—hey, Ev, get the cream out of the ice-box, will you?"
"I'll get it," said Pearl, as she rose from the table. "You haven't told us what happened after that afternoon."
"There's not a lot more to tell. Jerry got an awful crush on me, so I thought—he came after me every evening or so, and took me for a drive—and a walk, as well, and three months after that first Sunday afternoon I began to blow up like somebody had been using a bicycle pump on me, and then Jerry decided to re-enlist—which he did do, without even saying good-bye—shortly after that my father found out all the dirt, and he literally put his foot against my dainty behind, and kicked me out, that being the proper thing to do to a wayward daughter in the Bible belt, and me, I went from bad to worse, and then to Kansas City—and by that time I had learned to step, and did I use to burn Twelfth Street up. I'd start at the old Gaiety Theatre, on 12th and Wyandotte Street, and on down 12th to McGee Street, then back on the other side of the street. Sometimes I'd be a long time making the round, but I made the money. That was in the days when Kansas City was good—a girl could easily make twenty bucks in a night of hard labor, besides what you could roll a guy for when he went to sleep—but eventually the police gave me the works in the form of a floater out of town, and I floated to Denver. Boy, Oh boy, will I ever forget Denver? Many's the pair of heels I wore off on Curtis Street and many's the dollar I've earned there—and from there to many places, till I arrived here, and this will probably be my finish—but what the Hell, drink your coffee."
"In that case, you blame the cause of your—well—the cause of this life, on a man, then," from Evelyn.