Rain In The Doorway

Thorne Smith

CHAPTER XVII

LASCIVIOUS DANCING

"AM I not?" replied Mr. Larkin. "All the girls are saying that to-day, at any rate. What a time we had getting our customers out of the store."

"Never saw the place so full," observed Mr. Dinner.

"One large lady came charging back at me three times," declared Major Barney, "before I successfully repulsed her. Said she wanted to buy a bird cage."

"The poor thing," remarked Mr. Larkin sadly. "And the bird. I suffer for the bird, too. But still, all work and no play would simply be too bad. Besides, people buy too many things, anyway. Everybody wants to own something. Would you believe it? Frequently I haven't a shirt to my back, and we have a counter devoted entirely to shirts— lovely ones. I rebel. I refuse to participate. I feel like giving my possessions away and running naked through the streets. Of course, I should wear shoes. Light ones."

"Are we to spend our holiday mentally watching you run naked through the streets?" Mr. Dinner inquired.

"Naked save for shoes," corrected the senior partner. "I have the most amazingly sensitive feet. They fairly shriek at the approach of a pebble."

"I must confess," observed the Major, "that your thoughts are veering to-day as they have never veered before."

"But people do grab and snatch," Mr. Larkin protested. "You'll have to admit that. They do grab and snatch. Makes me so ashamed, I'm frequently reluctant to approach one of my own counters on some slight personal mission. Therefore, my back sometimes finds itself without a shirt." He turned to Mr. Owen as if in search of an understanding heart. "You see how it is," he resumed. "Our partners are too degenerate to care about backs and shirts. Drawers are a joke to them, if they ever think of them at all."

"I thoroughly understand," said Mr. Owen, "and sympathise deeply. Do you like to drink?"

The senior partner's face brightened visibly. He clasped his hands.

"Immensely!" he exclaimed. "Copiously! How did you ever know? Why, you removed the very words from my mouth. I was going to suggest that we all go out and get ourselves rotten drunk, if you'll pardon the expression."

"God, yes!" cried the Major. "It's the only intelligent thing you have said."

"And then we'll dance lasciviously with lewd women," continued Mr. Larkin. "Oh, life, life, life and a whole lot of lust."

"He's outdoing himself to-day," said Mr. Dinner in a low voice. "These poetic raptures of his will get us all into trouble."

"Where shall we go?" asked Mr. Dinner.

"I suggest the Woods," said the senior partner. "There'll be a large, open taxi, and we'll all get in it."

"What's the Woods?" Mr. Owen wanted to know.

"Oh, a jolly place," replied Mr. Larkin. "There are woods, you know."

"I know," said Mr. Owen. "Just woods?"

"Heavens, no!" exclaimed Mr. Larkin. "What would we do with a lot of woods? There are other things—acrobats, for example. I know a couple of artists. They contort. We'll have them to lunch with us."

"I know the man who handles the bears," announced the Major. "A sterling character."

"It would be safer if he were of iron," observed the senior partner, "or brass, if he associates with those bears. They're a hard lot. I know them."

"May I suggest," put in Mr. Owen, "that we begin actively to enjoy these rare delights instead of merely discussing them?"

"You may and you shall," Mr. Larkin declared. "Let us hurl ourselves into a lift and then debauch into the boulevards. Holidays come to us too rarely. We must take advantage of everything and everybody. Hats and sticks are in my office."

As they left the little chapel, as Mr. Owen had come to regard it, he glanced back almost regretfully. It had been a pleasant retreat. He still saw in fancy Satin seated at the organ, playing away his hangover.

"It was quiet here, wasn't it?" he said to her in a low voice.

"Yes," she answered, "and eventful, but now the battle is on. These men are entirely mad, and we are not much better."

"It isn't such a thin way to be," observed Mr. Owen philosophically. "There's plenty of room in my system for a lot of madness."

Satin made no reply but pressed his thin hand as the door closed behind them. A few minutes later they were debauching into the street.

"On such a morning as this," declared Mr. Larkin, "an employer would be a criminal not to declare a holiday."

"Especially when he wanted one himself," remarked Satin.

"Exactly, my dear, exactly," said Mr. Larkin. "The Major might know a sterling bear tamer, but he overlooks the fact that my heart is entirely of gold. I love to share my pleasures. Ah, yes, indeed, to share and let share. Taxi! I hope he stops. That's just the kind."

He did stop, and the party with much dignity and seemliness distributed its members upon the seats of the open taxicab. Soon they were speeding along the handsome boulevard in the direction of the Woods. Suddenly Mr. Larkin espied a café and became highly excited.

"We must stop there for a rest," he proclaimed. "It's simply filthy with lewd women—the lewdest and lowest in town. Also the most beautiful. Stop at the Wild House, taxi. We will break our journey there."

The Wild House was doing good business for so early in the day. Already the tables were well filled, and the floor was sprinkled with dancers. Mr. Owen regarded the couples a little nervously in an effort to ascertain how lasciviously they were dancing. He did not know the first thing about it and was not at all sure whether he wanted to learn.

"Captain," Mr. Larkin commanded, "we want something just a trifle better than the best table in the house."

"Certainly, Mr. Larkin," replied the captain. "Be sealed right here at this one. It's a new table."

"How nice!" exclaimed the senior partner as the party arranged itself round the table. "I am greatly pleased. New tables affect me that way. Now, captain, we intend to get very drunk and perhaps disorderly. You know, the strain. It has been great. It has been terrific. One must relax with a crash. Bring us lewd women. We wish to dance lasciviously while we're still on our feet."

The captain understood perfectly. He was almost sympathetic about it. He glided away, as captains do. Presently the party was reinforced by four girls. Mr. Owen could not remember ever having seen such evil-looking faces. At the same time he had to admit that these women were not without an element of fascination.

"Don't mind me," Satin whispered to him. "You have to go through with it now. Dance with one of these molls when the time comes. I'll stay here and pick up the pieces."

"All this is very upsetting," Mr. Owen complained. "I can hardly dance decently much less the other way— lasciviously, as he keeps calling it in a very nasty manner."

The drinks came thick and fast. Everyone began to feel better. The dark eyes of the senior partner were gleaming with infantile happiness. He rose abruptly from his chair. The orchestra had burst into a frenzy of syncopation.

"Now, ladies," he said, "you must take us out there on that floor and make us dance lasciviously whether we want to or not. We are on a bit of a holiday, you know. The strain has been great. We must relax all over the floor.

Before Mr. Owen knew what was happening, he felt himself seized, dragged from his chair, and whirled out upon the slippery dance floor.

"Darling!" breathed his woman, and, swirling suddenly, bent forward seductively and dealt him a terrific blow with the most prominent part of her body. Mr. Owen was entirely unprepared for this particular manifestation of lasciviousness. He was literally shot through space and would have fallen had he not slid into the senior partner, who seemed to be performing the same manoeuvre. In mutual protection they clasped each other round the neck.

"We seem to be alone," remarked the senior partner. "God! My woman's lascivious. She's nearly killed me already."

"What do they wear in their pants?" gasped Mr. Owen. "Horseshoes?"

"No, my boy, it's training. They're in perfect condition, these girls."

"Must we go back?" asked Mr. Owen. "I feel shattered."

"We can't very well stand here embracing one another," said Mr. Larkin.

With a wrench they were torn apart. Mr. Owen found himself once more in the arms of his lewd woman.

"Slow down," he pleaded. “Not with you in my arms," she panted.

"Well, why the hell don't you keep me there," he managed to get out as they spun, "instead of buffeting me about?"

"This is the double rumba," the woman told him, and thrust a powerful leg between his.

Once more they parted company. Mr. Owen's legs were as tangled as human legs can well get. For a brief moment he gave the appearance of a man giving a solo performance; then as nature sought to readjust itself, he involuntarily spun about and dived on top of Mr. Dinner, who, very white in the face, was sliding on his back stiffly across the floor.

"Sorry," said Mr. Owen. "Couldn't help it."

"How's your woman?" asked Mr. Dinner exhaustedly.

"I don't know how lascivious she is," Mr. Owen replied, "but I do know she's as tricky as hell."

"Mine pulled a fast one on me with her stomach," explained Dinner. "I fairly bounced off like a rubber ball."

"Shall we get up?" suggested Mr. Owen. "Or relax all over the floor?"

"I suppose we better had," sighed Mr. Dinner, "though we're a great deal safer here."

The two gentlemen arose painfully only to find their partners cutting various capers round them while snapping their fingers in the air. Mr. Owen regarded his woman broodingly. His manhood was stirred, but hardly lasciviously. Awaiting his opportunity, he made a sudden wicked lunge. He caught the woman about her revolving stomach and carried her halfway across the room. There, encountering an entangling foot, she went over backward with Mr. Owen on top. "That's the half Nelson," he grated, glaring down in her face.

"Not here," said the woman, game to the last.

"Do you think I did that for pleasure?" he indignantly demanded.

"Chéri," she whispered.

"Chéri, hell!" exclaimed Mr. Owen. "I'm sick of this double rumble and the whole brutal business."

He climbed to his feet and helped the woman to hers. With a crash the music fell silent. They made their way back to the table.

"Waiter!" cried Mr. Larkin, "bring me two collar buttons and one safety pin. What a dance! What a dance! So stirring. I fear I'll never stop drinking."

Satin was busy getting Mr. Owen back into some sort of condition. He was still eyeing his lewd partner with a dangerously hostile light in his usually mild blue eyes. It looked as if at any moment he might hurl himself upon her and pitch her across the floor. He felt very much like doing it, if only to ease his injured dignity.

"Want a rub-down?" suggested Satin.

"General overhauling," he muttered. "Lay me up in dry dock like a battered old hulk. That little affair was worse than a bullfight."

"Do you gentlemen wish to take further advantage of this splendid opportunity to dance lasciviously?" Mr. Larkin inquired.

Mr. Dinner laughed a shade hysterically. "How beautifully you put it," he said. "The answer is, no. I don't intend to let any more lascivious dancing take advantage of me."

"How about you, Major?"

"I managed to keep my feet," that gentleman explained, "but I think I'm internally injured. I'm quite willing to declare the battle a draw."

"Not today, thank you so much," said Mr. Owen politely. "I didn't manage to keep my feet, and I know I'm internally injured."

"Then the lewd women may withdraw," announced the senior partner. "I'm sure you did your best, and we're all very grateful. The captain will give you your fee."

As the girls filed away, Mr. Larkin looked fondly after them.

"Such nice, willing girls," he murmured, "and so very, very lewd."

"Hell hath no fury like the double rumble," quoth Mr. Owen.

"Rumba, dear," said Satin. Beneath the table Mr. Larkin's hands were doing things with the safety pin. On his face was an expression of profound concentration mixed with a shade of alarm.

"There!" he exclaimed at length in accents of relief. "They're fixed. Shall we skip along to the next stop?"

The party rose and departed. Soon it was speeding merrily along in the direction of the Woods. Arrived at that gracious park they rushed to the nearest café, where they drank like men but recently rescued from the desert.

"A thirsty dance, the rumba," breathed the senior partner, gulping down a champagne cocktail.

"Especially when it's double," put in Mr. Owen.

"Let's all go swimming," suggested Satin.

For a moment the partners paused and seemed to consider. Fresh cocktails arrived and were hastily despatched. After this there was no more hesitation. They were enthusiastic about going swimming. Nothing could restrain them. A short walk brought them to the pool. It gleamed beneath the sunlight, blue water caught in marble. To-day the large pool contained a frolicsome rout of bathers. Mr. Owen looked at the women, and his heart went out to them. Never had he seen such lovely figures so satisfyingly unadorned. What little covering they wore literally hung on a thread. Many of them seemed to have clad themselves on a shoe string. At the sight of so much beauty the partners, like old war horses, threw back their shoulders and put their best foot forward. Satin remained undisturbed. She knew she had little to fear where figures were concerned. God had been gracious to her. She departed to the bath house and bought a ravishing outfit, feeling the occasion justified the expense.

Mr. Owen, who seemed to possess an instinctive knowledge of bath-house technique, found the partners no end of a bother. The first thing they succeeded in doing was to lock themselves in their bath houses. The din they raised was deafening. Attendants came running from all directions while Mr. Owen vainly strove to appeal to the imprisoned gentlemen's reason. Apparently at that moment they did not intend to exercise any reason.

"God Almighty by the score!" exclaimed the senior partner as he emerged. "What are they trying to do to us—give us claustrophobia?"

The attendants blinked.

"Wot's that?" asked one of them.

"Don't worry," Mr. Larkin assured the man. "You'll never get it. It has to do with the mind. Hurry away like a good fellow and bring us a swarm of drinks—champagne cocktails. I must and will relax."

The next contretemps arose over the showers. The partners strongly objected to being forced to immerse themselves. Mr. Owen, who had returned to his bath house to get his cigarettes, heard their voices raised in indignant protest.

"If I got under that shower," Mr. Larkin was saying, "it would be tantamount to a public declaration that I was an unclean man. I'll not do it."

"And if I stepped under that shower," rumbled the Major, "I would feel myself demeaned. I'm too big and too old to be forced to take a bath."

"It's an outrage, that's what it is, an outrage," vociferated Mr. Dinner. "I lost ten pounds I could ill afford to spare under a shower this morning. I'm as clean as a whistle."

"Or a hound's tooth," added Mr. Larkin.

"I don't care what the lot of you say," put in the flint-hearted attendant. "You don't go in the pool unless you take a shower."

"We will and we won't," Mr. Larkin declared.

Mr. Owen decided it was high time to take a hand in the affair of the showers. He presented himself to the group. His partners were well crocked. He could see that at a glance. He himself was feeling a trifle giddy, but some sixth sense still held him to the rails.

"What do you mean, you will and you won't?" demanded the attendant. "That don't make sense."

"I've forgotten," replied Mr. Larkin. "It was just a thing to say."

The situation seemed to be at an impasse, but suddenly Mr. Owen was seized by an inspiration. Without a word to his colleagues he deposited his cigarettes in a dry place, and hurrying to the nearest shower, began to splash water about with every indication of enjoyment. The partners looked at him in astonishment which gradually changed to simple-minded interest. They grouped themselves before him.

"Why are you doing that thing?" Mr. Larkin wanted to know.

"For no particular reason," Mr. Owen replied in a careless voice. "I always do it before entering a pool. It takes the edge off of the first plunge."

For a moment the three gentlemen eyed one another speculatively, then as if moved by a common impulse they dashed to the showers, under which they furiously sprayed themselves.

"We always do it too," shouted Major Barney, "but we don't like to be told."

"Oh, dear me, yes," called Mr. Larkin. "Nothing like a shower before taking a swim. I'd simply be lost without one."

"Tact is what they need, these attendants," proclaimed Mr. Dinner. "Tact and a deeper understanding of the human soul."

Eventually Mr. Owen succeeded in herding them to the deep end of the pool, where Satin, looking shockingly shapely, was waiting.

"My word!" exclaimed the senior partner. "Just to look at you makes me believe in God. You never simply evolved. Oh, no. You were most carefully planned."

"Did they make you take a shower?" asked Mr. Dinner.

"No," replied Satin. "I always take a shower."

"Isn't that splendid!" cried Mr. Larkin. "So do we, my dear girl, so do we. In fact, we're seldom without one."

Without a word of warning the Major threw himself away. For a moment he was seen scrambling hugely through the air, then the pool received his great body and concealed it. Mr. Owen watched with interest. The Major should be a powerful swimmer, but why was he not swimming? Why did he not come up? Presently his head did emerge. There was a frantic thrashing about. His face wore a surprised expression.

"I forgot——" he gurgled, but the water once more claimed him.

"Now what could he have forgotten?" queried Mr. Larkin. "Perhaps he forgot he couldn't swim," Mr. Dinner suggested.

"Can't he swim?" Mr. Owen demanded.

"Not a stroke," replied Mr. Dinner.

"Then what did he jump in for?" Mr. Owen asked incredulously.

"Well, you see," explained the senior partner, "just because he couldn't swim the last time doesn't mean that he couldn't swim this time. People change, you know."

"Then the man is actually drowning," said Mr. Owen.

"That's it exactly," Mr. Larkin assured him. "You've sized up the situation nicely. The poor dear Major is drowning all by himself."

Looking disgustedly at his associates, Mr. Owen, without a word, dived into the pool. As he did so the Major's head reappeared and he finished his sentence in a great watery gasp.

"—I couldn't swim," he got out, and then he went down again.

Realising the hopelessness of attempting to drag the Major ashore, Mr. Owen resorted to desperate measures. He took the drifting body on his shoulders and thrust himself upward and forward. Twice he emerged for air and left the Major to his own devices. Finally, after a series of plunges and pushes, he succeeded in bringing his cargo to shallow water, where he abandoned it. The Major clung to the side of the pool and made horrid noises. Mr. Owen did likewise, only his noises were not as bad as the Major's. Finally, the big man quieted down.

"Thanks for the lift," he said. "It's so difficult to find out whether one knows how to swim or not."

Mr. Owen had no decent answer to this. He pulled himself from the pool and rejoined Satin and Mr. Larkin. In the midst of their congratulations he remarked the absence of Mr. Dinner.

"Where's Dinner?" he demanded.

"Dinner?" inquired Mr. Larkin as if hearing the name for the first time. "Ah, yes, Dinner. Why, the little fellow must have stepped off into the pool somewhere."

"Does he know how to swim?"

"Even less than the poor dear Major," said the senior partner, "but you know how he is—hopeful, always hopeful."

"Has he been gone long?" asked Mr. Owen.

The senior partner considered this. "Not quite long enough," he said at last. "He should have a few moments left."

"What do you mean?" cried Mr. Owen.

"Before he is dead, you know," was Mr. Larkin's bland reply.

"My God," muttered Mr. Owen, desperately scanning the pool, "what utter irresponsibility!"

Suddenly he saw a foot thrust up through the water— a small, thin foot that was wiggling appealingly. As winded as he was, he dived back into the pool and made for the foot. Dinner climbed all over him. He was an exceedingly active small man. He appeared to be bent on drowning his would-be rescuer. Mr. Owen saw little hope as he fought with the man in the water. Just as he was about to pass out himself he succeeded in stunning Dinner and dragging him to the side of the pool. Mr. Larkin was bending over in an effort to be helpful. To his own surprise and horror he fell in with a protesting splash. Cursing as bitterly as his strength would permit, Mr. Owen passed the limp body of Mr. Dinner up to the strong arms of Satin and turned wearily to look for Mr. Larkin. That gentleman was just emerging. "I'm an awful ass in the water," he cried. "You'll have to do——"

Down went Mr. Larkin, for once unable to have his say.

Under ordinary circumstances the rescue of the senior partner would have presented little difficulty. In his present condition of exhaustion Mr. Owen was taxed up to and beyond his capacity. Nevertheless, he went for Mr. Larkin and seized him by his hair.

The space separating them from the side of the pool was not great, but to the spent Owen it seemed leagues long. At last, with the assistance of Satin, he got his burden out of the water.

"Any more?" he croaked, grinning ironically up at the girl.

Instead of answering, she reached down and pulled him over the side of the pool. He collapsed by Mr. Larkin, who had collapsed by Mr. Dinner. Several yards away the Major had collapsed by himself.

"Can you swim?" Mr. Owen asked Satin wearily.

The girl nodded.

"Well, will you please dive in there," he went on, "and swim about a bit? Sort of represent the firm. I'm hors de combat."

While Satin sported in the water the partners lay crumpled grotesquely round the edge of the pool. "A hell of a way to go swimming," Mr. Owen kept saying to himself. He was bitter about it. Presently the senior partner weakly raised his head.

"The only way," he said, "to rid ourselves of the memory of this horrid debacle is to have an excellent luncheon. At least we know how to eat."

"And drink," added Dinner faintly.

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