Game Dump

Lucky Strike Lobby N Score: 0

* Moves: 1

[ For information about this game, type ABOUT. First time players of this game are strongly urged to do this right away. ]

"Men!" you snap at no one in particular as you hurry down the sidewalk. Up ahead you see Mrs. Jenkins take one look at you and head to the opposite side of the street, while Mr. Tutman and Mr. Lester look up from their checker game in front of the barber's shop and chuckle.

"Poor Sean..." you hear one of them say as you hurry on by. Poor Sean, indeed. They have no idea.

In your mind, you can still hear the investor's patronizing voices. "While we are sure you are quite capable, Miss Kelley," one had chuckled, "we really must speak with your uncle about financial matters such as these. You do understand."

Understand? Oh yes, you understand all too well. Never mind that it's your money, that you're the one who's really in charge of the business, handling the ordering, the hiring, keeping things running as smoothly as when your father held the reins. No, none of that matters. When it comes to talking money, a woman's place is... elsewhere. Men.

You stomp up the stairs of your uncle's favorite club, thrust open the outer door and step inside, already rehearsing today's lecture on promptness. The way things are shaping up, you can tell it's going to be a good one.

Release 4 / Serial number 010122 / Inform v6.21 Library 6/10

Dark stained oak paneling with well-polished brass knobs and rails attempt to give this smoky room a dignity it doesn't deserve. Rich detailing aside, this is the doorstep to depravity, and the less time you spend here, the better. For those who think otherwise, there is a plush red sofa against the far wall, positioned directly under a life sized painting of Ulysses S. Grant. To the south is an oak door leading outside. To the north is a glass door leading to the main room.

Good, the lobby is empty. Moving quickly, you cross the polished oak floor toward the inner sanctum door, praying that this time you can extract your uncle without making a scene.

"May I help you?" comes Simon's voice from the shadows. Rats. Just once today, couldn't something go your way? The doorman tosses a hat and coat on the sofa then hurries over, stationing himself in front of the glass door. "I'm sorry Miss Amelia, but you know the rules. Gentlemen only."