That room was still, the sight of the opened hide-a-bed somehow seemed erotic. Like a man’s sex, unrolled and grown out of its nest? The opened dra...es allowed the moon’s light to fill the room with soft luster but cast mysterious shadows, mysteries holding joys unknown. Duncan lay quietly on the hide-a-bed in a shaft of moonlight. Standing looking down at him she felt warmth for him sliding through her again. He looked so strong, so masculine, so good there on her couch. What her ambivalence. Couldn’t even go upstairs for a poke.”Like it had been back in Little River, whorehouse patrolling was pretty routine, pretty quiet. Oh, there was an occasional problem with a belligerent drunk. Usually it wasn’t a regular customer; just a drummer, or a cowboy, or a gambler passing through.One night at the Red Light Saloon, a little before midnight, I was downstairs talking idly with the bartender. In a way, Louie ‘Scooter’ Libby reminded me of Ollie Chambers. Not physically — Ollie was plump,. More

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