Tianjin people will never lose SAN

Chapter 221 Sex is a knife that scrapes bones, beheading you for fun

The reporter followed the Painter's Hat into the club. Although there was a waiter in his forties leading the way, the Painter's Hat walked very fast and was obviously very familiar with the place. He did not look around and went up to the third floor and entered a reception room.

In the corridor, the reporter saw many influential figures of New Newland, including the president of the Freight Shipping Association, a well-known newspaper tycoon, and a retired finance minister. They all had satisfied smiles on their faces, holding wine glasses in one hand and the other hand being held by the beautiful girls beside them.

These beautiful girls are also very different from the girls near the shop windows on the street. They are all dressed in gorgeous attire, wearing complicated and exquisite ball gowns and corsets around their waists, which highlight the charming breasts even more stunningly. The reporter felt as if his eyes were going to sink into them after just one look.

Among the girls, there are not only locals from Mosesad, but many of them also have exotic looks, with dark skin, curly hair, and incredibly long eyelashes. They exude a wild and dangerous aura, but that aura is really fascinating. When passing by her, the reporter couldn't help swallowing.

The other girl was tall and plump, with glowing white skin and long golden hair. The reporter was daydreaming and wondered if Mr. Alva would bring him in today so he could enjoy himself. If he really had to choose later, who would he choose?

But there was no girl in the room where they were staying. The decoration inside the room was elegant and exquisite, without any vulgar and unnecessary decorations of the rich. After Mr. Alva came in, he poured himself a drink, paced back and forth while looking at the oil paintings on the wall, and walked to the piano and pressed it twice.

Soon, the door was pushed open, and a noble lady in a white dress entered the room, fanning herself. She should be quite old, and the reporter guessed that she was at least 50 years old. However, she wore a wig and had makeup on her face, and her graceful and elegant temperament made the reporter feel that even at her age, the lady still possessed a very unique charm.

"Alva, long time no see, how are you? How is your father doing recently?"

"Fortunately."

When Alva heard the lady asking about his father, a hint of barely perceptible disgust appeared on his face. He spoke in a flat tone and stopped talking after saying hello.

"You haven't been here for four or five years, Mosesad, the rising young mechanic and inventor."

"White Hayes, call her in."

"My dear second daughter? Your taste is still so high. Did you know that last weekend a member of the House of Representatives invited her to the theater to watch a play, but I refused?"

The man in the Painter's Hat did not reply. He took out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. He was obviously very confident in himself and believed that the lady in front of him would never disobey his request.

The reporter around him widened his eyes. He could hardly believe that the lady in front of him was the owner of the club, the famous Mrs. Charlotte Hayes.

There are countless legends about her in New Newland. It is said that she was a celebrity in Covent Garden when she was young, and countless celebrities and aristocrats fell in love with her. There are also gossips among the people that a prince of the royal family had an affair with her.

However, in the past ten years or so, her identity has changed to the owner of the "Charlotte Hayes Club". The dinners she hosted were described as magical by the noble young men who attended. It is said that the girls in the club are not only the most beautiful in the entire Western Continent, but also all of them are proficient in drama, piano and dance.

Before the reporter knew it, his breathing had become heavier. It turned out that Mr. Alva and Lady Charlotte had such a close relationship.

The lady poured herself a drink and chatted with the painter in a casual manner, but the painter was still the same, indifferent. He only answered one of the three questions asked by the lady.

Ten minutes later, the lady felt bored and opened the door, called a waiter and whispered a few words to him.

Half an hour later, there was a knock on the door.

"Come in."

The lady raised her head and looked at the painter's hat like a lark showing its feathers, and there was even a hint of pride in her eyes.

The door opened and a girl of about eighteen or nineteen walked into the room.

The reporter looked at her and felt he didn't know where to put his hands. He wanted to pretend to be reserved and put his hands in his trouser pockets, but that felt too stiff. He put his hands on his knees, but that seemed a bit old-fashioned, just like an old man. He crossed his legs with his hands crossed, but that seemed too impolite...

The girl was wearing a pale pink lace dress with a square neckline, soft-soled pink ballet slippers tied with beige ribbons, and holding a lace-trimmed silk fan in her hand.

If other girls were dressed like this, the reporter would definitely think it was out of place, like an eight or nine-year-old child, because it was too childish and complicated, but this outfit was just right for the girl in front of him. Her figure made the reporter feel dry in the mouth. Even a blind person could see that she was definitely not a girl, but a complete woman. She had fair skin, a long neck, and a pair of pure big eyes under the most fashionable court eyebrows. The reporter was also a member of a poetry club when he was in school, but now he was sitting on the chair and couldn't find the right words to describe the girl's beautiful eyes.

Even the painter in the painter's hat next to the reporter stood up suddenly. He stretched out his hand and stroked the girl's long hair all the way down from the neck to the collarbone. The girl turned her head slightly with a shy look, but she was looking at Lady Charlotte, as if asking for her opinion.

Lady Charlotte folded her arms and looked at her "daughter" proudly. She didn't say much and seemed to have acquiesced to the rudeness of the painter's hat.

It was a waterfall of silver hair. The reporter also guessed that Lady Charlotte's so-called "second daughter" was just a pseudonym, and the peerless girl named White in front of her was her most satisfying work.

"White, play a song of Sarchun."

Lady Charlotte clapped her hands and turned her head to look at the painter's hat as if to protest, "See, this is my second daughter."

Next to the piano, White's ten green fingers flew up and down. It seemed as if all things came back to life in the melody. All the beautiful, vibrant life was blooming in the house. Looking at White playing the piano, the reporter was completely stunned.

He might be willing to spend all his money for the woman in the Covent Garden window, he might be willing to spend his entire fortune for the girl in the club, but he would be willing to give his life for White at the piano.

"Lady Charlotte, I'm going to take her away today."

The piano stopped abruptly, the last syllable sounded a little flustered, and White looked at Lady Charlotte in surprise, like a frightened deer.

And Lady Charlotte just looked calmly at the painter's hat:
"Are you sure you want to use up all the lump sum I owe you?"

The painter's hat didn't say anything but nodded. Charlotte turned her head back:
"Daughter, you will leave with Mr. Alva later. I will ask old Boulanger to prepare your luggage."

"Yes, Mother, it's my pleasure."

White had adjusted herself. Her voice was unusually gentle, without any negative emotion. When she looked at Painter's Hat, her eyes were tender, as if he was her lover who she secretly dated day and night.

Wearing a reporter's painter's hat, he didn't stop for long. He let White get on the carriage first, and then the two of them got on.

Sitting opposite White, the reporter felt uneasy. He wanted to look away, but this was obviously an unreasonable request. How could he ignore such a fascinating girl?

"Don't think too much, kid."

The painter also noticed his embarrassment. He sneered and patted the reporter on the shoulder:

"I prepared White specially for Dou Niwar."

Happy long vacation everyone. I find that I can’t think about the plot before going to bed, and I’m prone to insomnia. I didn’t fall asleep until 4 o’clock yesterday. Haha, I’d better listen to crosstalk. The main reason is that I sleep with my child now, and it’s too uncomfortable to sleep with headphones on and listening to crosstalk.

Oh, by the way, let me tell you something important! That...

Haha, I plan to combine the three chapters that are updated every day into two chapters. Old book friends who have read my books know that I started out writing long chapters, and later changed them into 3 small chapters in order to meet certain requirements of the platform.

But the word count is still the same as before, don’t worry about that. I actually like to write long chapters, it’s more comfortable to tie buttons, and it also reduces the number of chapter titles (not)

It’s time to test the cadres again. I’m really worried about Liu Baibai (dog head)

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(End of this chapter)