Page 33 of My Darling Clementine

An older woman wearing a bright white apron bustled in with a basket over her arm. “Okay, then get in the chair and let’s get started. I’m Sally.”

Clem was ready when the barber turned and inspected her face. “It hasn’t grown in yet. I shave it once a week to encourage it, but so far…” She rubbed her smooth chin and jaw.

“How old are you, honey?” Sally shrugged and picked up a comb and scissors. “Doesn’t matter, you’re big enough. The house has an age limit of sixteen, but don’t worry, I won’t tell.”

“I’m twenty-one.” Clem, needing to make a point, grabbed Sally by the waist and pulled her up close and personal.

“Beg pardon, sir.” Sally chuckled while removing her hands. “Don’t be too worried about it, big boy, some men never do grow a beard, or hardly enough to shave. I’ll just give you the aftershave towel so you can relax as I cut your hair. How long do you want it, down to your ears, or would you rather it be short as they wear it back east?”

“Winter’s coming.” She shook her head. “Cut it to my ears and it’ll keep my neck warm ‘til spring.”

As Sally brushed it straight back from her forehead, Clem panicked for a moment, remembering nannies and ladies' maids pulling it up in styles meant to enchant suitors. But her natural waves parted in the middle, lying on either side of her face, and Sally cut them even with her earlobes. In the mirror the barber handed her, Clem’s hair now lined up with her jaw, emphasizing rather than softening. With her weathered skin, she looked even more masculine. “Good job,” she pronounced.

“Thank you,” preened Sally, adding a dash of powder to the back of her neck. “I’ll take you to the bar and you can show off.” She laughed. “It’s only three in the afternoon. You’ll have your pick of the girls, those who are awake, anyway, and they’re still fresh.”

“Always a bonus,” agreed Clem, patting her bottom on their way out of the bathroom. “Sure you’re not on the menu, pretty Sally?”

The older woman blushed and patted Clem’s cheek. “You’re a charmer, and tempting if I were younger, but no. Once I was the most popular girl in the house, but I don’t turn tricks anymore.” She gestured through a pair of red velvet curtains. “There’re plenty in there that do.” She slapped Clem on the butt as she passed through. “Go get ‘em, charmer.”

Barney was standing at the bar in a clean white robe, hair cut above his ears, drinking a beer and chatting with several women moving about the room in their colorful chemises and frilly bloomers. “Hey, Clem,” he cried, seeing her come into the room. “You look great.” He waved her over.

“You, too, Barn,” said Clem, but her eyes were on the ladies, all kinds of ladies, short, tall, buxom, slender, pale, dark, blondes, brunettes, and redheads.

“Uh, I already picked a girl for the night.” Barney blushed but turned and pulled a small, slender, sweet-faced woman forward. “This is Tina.”

With dancing brown eyes, black curls, a dazzling smile, and wearing a short robe over an unlaced corset, the petite girl looked pert and playful, perfect for Barney. “Howdydo,” she said with a small curtsy, just as cute as could be.

“Nice to meet you, Tina,” Clem said with a nod, taking in her best friend’s excitement. She winked at Barney. “Well, don’t let me hold you.”

“Meet you at dawn, down by the stables.” Without a backward glance, Barney swept an arm around Tina’s waist, turned her around, and let her lead him up a flight of stairs.

Having already decided on her story, Clem looked at the bartender as he handed her a beer. “Lady Jane says I can have up to three more girls for the night.”

“She told me.” The bartender looked her over. “And the best room in the house. That’s a lot, even for an eager young man. You know who you want?”

Clem leaned on the bar. “Listen, friend. I got kicked in the bags shoeing a mule at fifteen. It broke my pecker.”

The bartender winced.

She downed half of the beer. “It quit growing, and I can’t do anything with it but pee.” She shrugged. “I won’t lie, I look like a little kid down there, and it’s damned embarrassing.”

“That’s tough. So, why pay for three girls when your equipment ain’t workin’?”

Clem grinned. “I ain’t dead, and my eyes and ears work just fine. I want women who’ll do what I want to do, but to each other, and let me watch.” She finished her beer. “Got any who’ll do that?”

The bartender twitched his nose. “Any of the girls will do it.” He looked at Clem with sympathy. “But we’ll get you a couple of girls who’ll give you a show to remember, you paid enough for it.”

He handed her another beer. “We’ve got two who really enjoy it, and each other.” He looked over the room, then glanced at the clock. He hollered up the stairs, “Poppy and Joy are probably doing each other right now, while a lucrative opportunity will go to someone else who won’t enjoy it half as much!”

Clem laughed. “Sounds like just the pair I want. I’ll take ‘em sight unseen.”

“You sure?” asked the bartender, with a huge grin and a nod. “They can be a handful when they’re together, no mistake about it.” He laughed. “Just turn ‘em over your knee and give ‘em a spanking if they act out.”

“Even better.”

Nervous about Kizzy’s reaction to hearing all of this, Clem nevertheless smiled at the memory. “I spent a wonderful night watching Joy and Poppy. After several visits to watch them, I wanted in on the fun and exposed my secret.” When Kizzy laughed at her double entendre, Clem relaxed a bit.

“They were roommates and lovers, happy to keep my secret, and more than willing to let me, uh,” she grinned, “pay for their favors. Both skilled and talented, they taught me a thing or two.” She chuckled at Kizzy’s fascination.