Well, yes and no. He put his arm around her, supporting her head, but he just talked for a while. Then he paused and told her how beautiful she looked...in that dress, wearing that big white hat. She wanted to compliment him too, but the words would not come. She was not used to being told a thing like that when it not only was appropriate but might even be sincere. She just stared into his eyes, he stopped speaking and looked to her face. He kissed her, but after she had expected it and indeed. The only women who looked and dressed like me and came here must have been reporters covering some story or seeking “human condition” stories.“I need to speak with the chief person here.” I said.“Oh, you want to talk to the Begum?” he said. “Newspaper story? Interview?”“Begum is it? Can I meet her please?”Five minutes later, I was sitting on a cheap imitation velvet couch in a clean, but garishly decorated room, waiting for the Begum, i.e. The Madam of the brothel. Finally she walked in, and I. More

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