In Awe of the Pleasure Palace
Lord Bumbridge tapped at the green door of the Shop with No Name and heard the familiar clippety clop sound of his daughter’s high-heeled mules. She opened the door and ushered him into what appeared to be a reception room, with cedar wood panelling on the walls and a cream marble floor. There was nothing much else of note in the spartan reception apart from a desk, a potted fern and a picture of a loved up couple in a gondola. Lord Bumbridge noted with pride how lovely his daughter looked, with her mane of thick hair, the colour of Gunbridge Bells brick and moss green eyes, just like his.
He stood on tiptoe to kiss his amazonian daughter on the forehead. Elvira, a name she had adopted for her job as madam of the Pleasure Palace, but called “Willie” affectionately by her father, giggled and took him by the hand and led him to a lift, camouflaged by the wood paneling. “Daddy, lovely of you to come at such short notice, I want you to look at the brothel, now that it’s just had a face-lift, and want to explain a little dilemma I’m having, but let’s go down first”.
Lord Bumbridge had time to spare. They sped down in the lift to tunnel level, the doors opened with a ‘swish’ and they stepped into a large vestibule of impossibly blue marble. There were vast turquoise, aquamarine, sky blue and indigo stained glass walls and arched doorways. In the centre, a fountain bubbled away with water spurting out of a nymph’s nipple.
Lord B’s eyes were like saucers and not being able to contain his excitement, rather over-enthusiastically blurted “so where are the girls? I want to see the girls!”. Elvira, unperturbed, answered nonchalantly “they’re either working, on holiday or have finished early for the day, probably spending their well-earned cash in the Midas District.
They walked over to a satin covered chaise longue, Lord B rubbing the fabric as they sat down. “So, tell me about this other thing” he asked his daughter. Elvira’s usually calm temperament faded and in its place, a look of annoyance. “It’s the Roland Dyke Siblinghood, they’ve been stirring up trouble. Not fans of brothels and prostitution, they’ve been sending zealots down here to dissuade clients. Not only that, they’ve been here with sacks of rat shit, emptying it onto the floors on a daily basis. The cost alone to clean it continuously is putting great pressure on our resources – they want to ruin us and I don’t know what to do...”. Lord B stroked Elvira’s red hair and reassured her “Roland Dyke is an arse, he’s powerful and has a svengali-like appeal, especially to middle-aged women, but an arse all the same. I might just have the answer... I might just have the answer”, he smiled cunningly to himself.
