Fortune Is a Woman - Elizabeth Adler [111]
“It’s like old times, Harry,” Mrs. Brice Leland told him, as he swirled her around in the first waltz. “How proud your dear father would have been of you. Such a triumph to rebuild this wonderful house. And no doubt when you have completed your studies at Princeton, you will be taking his place on the board of the bank?”
“I have already taken my father’s place, Mrs. Leland,” he replied, smiling, “as head of all his companies. I felt it was my duty to do so right away.”
She nodded sagely as the music stopped and he escorted her back to her chair. “A wise head on young shoulders,” she told him, smiling approvingly.
Harry danced with all the society matrons, charming them easily. Then he danced with each of the girls in turn. Some were beautiful, some pretty, and others merely attractive. None were ugly. He couldn’t abide plain women. But anyway, the girls were too young for him, he liked red-haired older women with knowing eyes and ripe bodies, women who knew what he wanted and how to give it to him. These girls flirted and smiled, but their eyes were clear and innocent, they smelled of scent not sex, and they were after a husband not a lover.
Harry enjoyed his party. He liked the lavish food and vintage champagne, the overwhelming flower displays, the thousands of candles flickering in the giant chandeliers, the gypsy violins and the waltzes, the jewels and the aristocratic names. It would set the standard for all his future entertaining. But when the last guest left, he knew where he was heading.
He had invited half a dozen of his young friends from back East for the party. They were waiting for him in the library, drinking whiskey and laughing as they discussed the evening and the girls. Harry strode into the room and clapped his hands for silence. “I have a surprise for you,” he said. “Follow me, gentlemen.”
The boys were his age, good-looking young aristocrats with money to burn, and they followed him eagerly into the waiting automobiles, ready for adventure.
Harry took the wheel of the big de Courmont. He drove fast down California Street and turned into Chinatown. Champagne and whiskey flowed in his veins as he zigzagged through a maze of smaller streets, laughing uproariously as the stupid Celestials leapt from under his wheels. He drove down a small, dimly lit alley and stopped outside a red-lacquered door with a small iron grille set in the middle of it. A lantern swung overhead, lighting up the boys’ eager young faces. A flap behind the grille suddenly opened and a pair of narrow Oriental eyes surveyed them. Then the door was flung wide and they stepped into another world.
They clustered together, staring apprehensively around. A few Orientals sprawled on low red divans in the dimly lit room, smoking bubble pipes, and the smell of their tobacco mingled with the sharp scent of incense and the sweetness of opium. Harry glanced at his friends, his eyes glittering with anticipation. “I told you it would be a surprise,” he said, as the Oriental clapped his hands to summon the girls from the back. “This is my birthday present to you, my friends. I’ve heard a lot about Chinese women and now we’ll find out if it’s true!”
They laughed uproariously at his nerve, crowding eagerly forward to look at the line of girls. They were all young, pretty, and exotic in tight satin cheongsams slit to the waist. Their smooth hair was long and black and silky, their almond eyes sly and inviting, and their lips painted a seductive scarlet. They