Search Results for: joe little
Roadhouse Wanton
Men Stood In Line For This — Roadhouse Wanton
From the back
JOYLAND…
it looked like a quiet little roadhouse, but underneath the deceptive exterior lurked all the shame that could be assembled under one roof of degradation. Nick, the heartless task-master, saw to it that every waitress worked double duty… at the tables and in the upstairs shame rooms. And Ruth wasn’t spared this sinful fate, until Joel rescued her. Only that didn’t suit Pete, Joel’s sin brother, who was bound to break them up, even if it meant selling Ruth to the wolfing line of—
…$5.00 LUST!
Million Dollar Tramp (1960)
The Barbary Love Thieves
![44835406-8026788524_ab60457055_o[1]](https://pulpcovers.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/10/44835406-8026788524_ab60457055_o1.jpg)
Hotel Waitress (Original Title: Pick-Up at Midnight)
A beautiful young girl, eager for love, finds herself plunged into a whirlpool of demanding men
From the back:
There Are Things A Girl Has To Do… and whether she liked them or not, Gracie knew that she would do them.
There was the shabby Marine Inn, with its run-down bar and dance floor, its dark little rooms upstairs. But the place needed a waitress… so Gracie took the job, because…
There was Joe Bent, the bartender, crafty-faced, leering, his eyes on her young beauty unmistakable in their demands. He needed a partner in evil… so Gracie became it, because…
There was Nick Panos, the boss, tired and drunken, sloppy in his handling of his money. He was just asking to be cheated… so Gracie cheated him, because…
There was Dirk Halsey, the young stranger, wise and kind, demanding in his own breathtaking masculine way. He was there to be loved… so Gracie fell madly in love with him, because…
Because Of A Burning Need, A Ruthless Demand In Herself That Could Not Be Denied, Even Though It Meant Ruin For A … HOTEL WAITRESS
The Trojan Hearse
From the back:
Sure there was a national election going on, but I wasn’t running for any office. Still, if it hadn’t been for me the other candidate, who was a shoo-in, might have won. But there were a lot of other things going on, too.
Like Polly Plonk, whom I first encountered all dressed up in her birthday suit in her psychiatrist’s office. Or Johnny Troy, America’s golden-voiced gift to females of all ages, who might have polled more votes than both presidential candidates if he hadn’t fetched up dead. And, lastly, Ulysses Sebastian, whose talent agency was the biggest in the world until it started to “represent” some mighty peculiar clients. Such as Joe Rice, top man in the west coast Mafia, whose delightful little hirelings kept trying to kill me for reasons that were not at all clear to anyone, least of all me, Shell Scott.
