Elvis has a story about the “Four Floors Of Whores”.
It was catchy and perfectly descriptive. It was the type of name that filled the young sailor with anticipation and the seasoned traveler with something to look forward to at the end of a long journey. It was a slightly rundown building on the corner of Alfred Street and Tom Hawk Avenue. Strange names for an Eastern city but nobody thought about things like that. Everybody had already heard the stories. They were all well informed by a legend, equal parts hyperbole and truth, about what went on within the four walls of Madam Poon’s Exotic World of Pleasure. Guys who had frequented the establishment a few times liked to agree that Four Floors of Whores was more appropriate.
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