Chapter 7

Madame Hilda’s eyes searched Amos’s, a silent question in them. He nodded, confirming that he had indeed come for Bertie. She nodded in return, a knowing look passing between them. “Bertie’s been worried about you,” she said, her smile fading a fraction. “I’ll send for her.”

As they waited, Jerry leaned back in his chair, his eyes scanning the room with the hunger of a man who hadn’t seen luxury in a long while. The velvet cushions and silk drapes were a stark contrast to the rough fabric of his own clothes, the gold-framed mirrors reflecting a world that was as foreign to him as the stars above.

Finally, Bertie appeared, her eyes wide with concern. She rushed to Amos, her hands on his chest, checking for injuries. “Are you alright?” she breathed, her voice shaky.

Amos caught her hands and squeezed them reassuringly. “Better than ever, darlin’. Thanks to you and the others.” He turned to Jerry. “This is the man who got us out of that mess, Bertie. If it weren’t for him, we’d still be in Hotel El Dorado, or worse.”

Her eyes searched Jerry’s, then softened in gratitude. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Jerry coughed and averted his gaze, a bashful grin playing at his lips. “It was nothin’, really,” he said.

Madame Hilda cleared her throat, bringing their attention back to the task at hand. “Now,” she said, her business sense sharpening, “about the girls. You want the best, and the best don’t come cheap.”

Amos slammed a gold nugget onto the table, the sound echoing through the tense silence. “This is just a down payment,” he said, his voice firm. “You’ll get the rest once we’ve got ‘em back to the camp.”

Madame Hilda’s eyes gleamed, appraising the gold before her. She picked it up, feeling the weight and heft of it, her smile growing more genuine by the second. “Very well,” she said. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Jerry leaned forward, curiosity piquing his interest. “How do we know these gals are the finest in town, Madame?” he asked, his voice rasping with a lifetime of dust and smoke. “Don’t wanna get cheated now, do we?”

Madame Hilda’s smile never wavered as she leaned back in her chair, the plush fabric of her dress whispering against the velvet upholstery. “Ah, Mr. Jerry,” she said, her voice a sweet drawl that could charm the birds from the trees, “my reputation is my bond. I’ve got the cream of the crop here, girls who can make a saint forget his prayers and a sinner feel like he’s found salvation.”

Her eyes took on a shrewd gleam. “But if you need proof, I can offer you a preview,” she suggested, snapping her fingers. From the shadows of the hallway, a line of women emerged, each one more stunning than the last. They paraded before them, their expressions a mix of hope and resignation, their bodies a testament to the rigors of the life they’d been dealt.

The first to step forward was a young blonde, her skin pale and flawless as fresh milk. She dropped her chemise to her waist, revealing the tight pink bud of her nipple and the plump curve of her breast. Her hand drifted down to her petticoats, where she parted the fabric to expose a neatly trimmed mound of soft curls. Her pussy was pink and wet, glistening in the candlelight.

Next was a fiery redhead, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She bent over the arm of a chair, her skirts pooling around her ankles as she revealed the tight pink rose of her sex. Her nipples were hard and dark, like berries against the alabaster of her breasts. She winked at the men, a knowing smile playing on her lips as she wiggled her backside enticingly.

The third girl was a brunette, her skin a warm caramel color. She stepped closer to the table, her hips swaying like a serpent as she removed her top, revealing the lush curves of her breasts. Her areolae were a deep brown, the tight buds of her nipples standing at attention. She placed a hand on her hip and cupped her sex, her fingers teasing the slick folds of her pussy.

A fourth woman emerged, a raven-haired beauty with a figure that could make a man forget his own name. She approached the table with the grace of a panther, her dark eyes never leaving Amos’s as she slowly lifted her skirts to show the shaved mound of her sex. Her pussy was a glistening pink, her labia swollen and inviting.

The fifth was a busty blonde, her hair piled high in an elaborate updo that made her look like a queen. She sailed over to the men, her breasts bobbing with each step. With a flourish, she dropped her chemise to the floor, revealing her generous breasts with their large, dark areolae and erect nipples. Her pussy was a trimmed hedge of blonde curls, framing a pink, wet slit.

“It’s enough, madame,” Amos said, his voice hoarse with desire. “We’ll take ‘em all.”

Madame Hilda’s smile grew wider, her eyes glinting with satisfaction. “Very well,” she said. “But I must ask, Mr. McIntyre, what about Bertie? She’s not one of the usual girls I send out to the camp. She’s ... special.”

Amos felt a jolt of protectiveness surge through him. “Bertie comes with us,” he said, his voice firm. “But she’s not for the miners.”

Madame Hilda raised an eyebrow, the candlelight playing across her sharp features. “As you wish,” she said, her voice a seductive purr. “But she’ll be missed around here.”

With a wave of her hand, she summoned twelve of her most beautiful women. They giggled and whispered among themselves as they were instructed to prepare for the journey to the miners’ camp. The men’s eyes followed them as they swayed out of the room, their hips rolling in a way that promised a night of unbridled passion.