Making it understood the price of admission would include both the show and sex with the performer afterwords.Vin's father had been broadly hinting he...would like to visit the whorehouse, transparently intendingto purchase Frankie's flavors.Vin allowed Saturday afternoon at two o'clock would be a perfect time.There were fifty or sixty young sailors, glassy eyed, with obvious bulges and their uniform trousers.They were staring at a well-built vinyl covered low table in the exact center of an area. Fucking Anna. He could not believe this. What the hell did she mean she was quitting? For a minute, he just stood there, staring at the wall, then his eyes fell on his stand mixer, pushed up underneath a shelf crammed full of spices and utensils. Shoving up the sleeves of his sweater, he pulled the mixer—Charlie’s old mixer—out and frowned into the large, silver bowl attached to the rounded base. He loved that mixer, its shiny, dark blue casing and the dozen or so attachments that went with. More

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