Category: Dastardly Deeds

Have you ever noticed the titles of pulp fiction novels? They’re lurid and usually descriptive of a woman, what she does, how she acts, her evil ways, lol, Awhile ago, I put together titles from tons of pulp fiction novels from the 40s, 50s 60s, and made a little story out of them. I’ve expanded it. It’s bizarre how easily it can be done–although it does eat up time, finding and inserting just the right titles in the perfect spots. Here’s the end result. Hopefully it makes sense. The real titles are in green. Enjoy!

She was a swell looking babe, generally acknowledged by others as divorce bait. As the housekeeper’s daughter from Cabbagetown, she was considered a trailer-camp girl, a spiked heeled girl in a small town. She was voted most likely to love, in high school. She definitely was the prettiest girl in town, too. And that made her jailbait!  She felt she was the only tortured virgin in what she thought of as Sexurbia County. By the age of consent, she’d earned her diploma of passion. When a story of her being a sweet slut got all over town,  she demanded of her boyfriend, stay away, Joe, but he countered with, you have to give me what a man wants! She told him she was off limits from now on, and  that winter,  a stranger in town convinced her that ’tonight is forever’, and they would be always be a loving couple.  He asked her to run away to the city with him, and she said, count me in. She bought a one way ticket and told herself she had the world in her pocket. He took her to a boarding house, on vice row, in Hell’s Kitchen. Then he disappeared, leaving her to climb a stairway to an empty room. The night has a thousand eyes, and one set decided she was a party girl. The boarding house owner, the bawdy Mrs. Grey, accepted the stranger’s cash, saying, the price is right. He thought the woman upstairs would  be brutal, wanton, lusty, and he couldn’t wait. But instead of a midnight orgy, he encountered a bitch on wheels, who ran out of the place, yelling good luck, sucker, thinking, I’ve been used by the flesh peddlers I was warned about back home! The chiselers tried to make me a wayward girl-one of the ladies of the evening! That damn stranger was a man on the make–that’s all he was! Luckily a vice cop realized she was a girl in a jam and helped her relocate.

Finding a job was tough, so she did a stint as a topless waitress. The old goat owner of the diner, proclaimed she had soft shoulders one night, hoping she was the sex tiger he took her for. After being manhandled, she was fired, the reason given–she was a brazen seductress. Her next profession as a leg artist  segued into a legit artist’s model for a one man show, which led to a lot of love in Greenwich Village.  She claimed it was better than being an office tramp or an wannabe actress–only an understudy for love. After the waitress job, she wasn’t interested in the private life of a strip tease artist either!  No G-string girl for her! She tried  attending some college classes, but because she was the teacher’s pet,  which the other girls considered a sorority sin, they turned her experience into a blackboard jungle, and she quit. During her stint as a french maid in a hotel,  the body in the bed she was supposed to change, was found naked and dead. The night clerk denied everything, but finally admitted the dead girl had started out as forbidden nectar then miraculously became  his bedtime angel. She had the lust of a wanton, with dangerous curves. He was driven to her room each night, a black desire for her. But she had pulled a fast one on him. Turns out she was a sex goddess, with many sin mates, she belonged to a virtual lust empire!  When he confronted her, she cried, don’t touch me! It was then he realized he was one of the damned, and his obsession was turning him into a shadow of a killer. He explained to the cops that at the time he was in his own slice of hell, and even now, his blood runs cold each time he thinks of her bartered sin. He explained as day into night passed,  he took her deadly, to bed, picked up her red stiletto, and before the final deed told her–you’ve got it coming. Afterwards, on the edge of panic, he tried lifting the body, but it was dead weight. Terrified of that journey for life, he beseeched the gods, what mad universe is this? He reluctantly realized there is no place on earth he could hide, so late last night, he turned himself in. He still blames the ice cold nude for being the root of his evil. He sobs, death is a lovely lady!  He’s convinced in his madness she, the wanton by night, had the last laugh.

One lonely night,  the small town girl decided to become a nurse. Here would be plenty of male specimens to choose from. As a student nurse, she thought she found the promise of love, until the doctor’s wife showed up. Dr. Parrish, resident, looked to be a possible mate, but she caught him with an amorous dietitian. She was chosen as a special nurse by the chief of staff. However,  it turned out he was the woman chaser he was rumored to be, with a naked nurse on the operating table. Trying once more for love, she agreed to a date.  At dinner, after listening, bored, to the confessions of a psychiatrist, she gave up the entire idea of medicine, and half seriously decided satan was a man.

As time passed, she found herself a kept woman, deciding marriage can wait. It was either finally acknowledge the furies in her body and give up playing the hard-boiled virgin, or go home. As the mistress, she played all sorts of games. Love twist, passion limbo being but two. And the fact became, she had to take it and like it, or find herself on the street again. It got so she was known as the madison ave. nympho, which was going too far! She was no prude by any stretch of the imagination, but it was a matter of morals, and she still had some. When she came home once, what she found made her she scream at her lover–there’s a dame in my bed! And that was it–two-timing had cured her of her wild oats. As she packed her things, her benefactor admitted, so I’m a heel!

She wasn’t a jealous woman, but she wasn’t from the dames don’t care school either. Because of her past, some claim she’s a shady lady, but she vehemently denies being one of the ladies of the night, or having no bed of her own. She may again reside on Sin Street, but as a maid, she’d witnessed the murder of a wanton, and vowed never to become one of the world’s worst women. Spurned men have thrown insults at her claiming Satan was a woman, she retorts that she’s more like a dame called murder, and warns don’t ever love me!  When men become aggressive she tells them heatedly, don’t push me around, and that she wasn’t any damn pickup! But, rumors have it that she often asks a guy to ‘make me an offer‘.  But only after she demands to know, ‘what’s in it for me’? As a come on, a man once suavely answered , a ticket to passion–which led her to experience intense emotions of fire.

Unfortunately the afterglow was spoiled when they realized that bedrooms have eyes. His wife had seen them at her place, and he admitted that it was just a ‘quickie‘ anyway. She was furious for being used as a plaything and vowed she would send some girls out of hell to settle the score.  Just call me Deadly,  echoed down the stairs as he hurriedly departed, and as he slammed the door, she threatened, you better run for your life--don’t forget, you can’t live forever! She thought of revenge but decided it would be murder with love, because she was still red hot for him, and this dark threat could send her down nightmare alley, with terror in the streets of her soul, and ultimately finish with her in the shadow of madness, off the deep end.

After that fiasco she tried to be a virtuous girl, but a woman must love, and after all, was it that awful to be fast, loose and lovely? Despite herself, her bedroom eyes kept calling out to guys, come sin with me, even though by now, she was almost a woman of forty. Her friend, bouncing Betty, the mattress tester, tried persuading her to relax,  telling her that passion is a woman, so why not enjoy the carnival of love if you could? April Evil, another friend added, everybody loves a looker and she should be glad to be bad.  She retorted, when she was bad--her candle burned at both ends and then her entire body felt like a dagger of flesh which led her to think–how cheap can you get?

She added, sure she wanted to be a woman in love,–like crazy, man, but it’s better to act hard to get. She pointed out how the sorority sluts usually ended up receiving a D for delinquent.  And then there were the warped women who keep giving her the come on, and sinful sisters make it clear they’re interested. She states–she’s never getting involved with a strange sister, even if there are plenty of willing women out there.

She emphatically tells her friends she’ll settle only for a lover boy and a really sincere guy,  so long as he isn’t a call boy, and doesn’t want something for nothing. If so she’d tell him to drop dead. And no half-caste or wet-back will do. It doesn’t matter if he’s handsome, just so long as he turns up her body heat, and sticks to their agreement to love.   She boasts that after one night with Diane, she’ll  prove to her chosen one that  passion has red lips,  and her reputation for being a hard-boiled blonde will be gone. She’ll escape the neon jungle and yeah, probably end up an inconvenient bride, but boy, what a shameless honeymoon there’d be!

Oh sure, don’t come crying to me when your plans fall apart,  her friends chimed in together. Under their breath, they agreed–she’ll get hers.