only a drunkard would swallow alcohol at nine in the morning!

epub or mobi

Alfred Sauveur, ironmonger, owner of a house at 57, Rue des Carmes, had asked the Court for the eviction of his tenant, Lucienne Girard, as well as a substantial sum for damages and rights, for having used the rooms she occupied for illegal purposes, in this case, unauthorized prostitution.
That time, too, Lhomond had cleared his voice before putting the question:
'Do you admit the facts of which you are accused?'
She replied simply: 'No, Your Honour.'
'The plaintiff states that with the complicity of ...'
This last name he had entirely forgotten. It was that of a young girl who was actually twenty-one, but did not look more than seventeen, she was so frail, and, probably, anaemic. She did not appear. He had an opportunity of seeing her later.
'She is my employee. Your Honour. I keep a glove shop, on the premises which I have rented from this gentleman and for which I regularly pay the rent ... '
She had no lawyer and refused to engage one. On the other hand she had brought in her handbag testimonials from the local police inspector and from two other policemen.
Armemieux was shrugging his shoulders in his scarlet gown. He considered it was a waste of time to try to understand these people. Who was it who said, summing up in one word a good third, if not more, of the world's population: 'Scum!'

“the trouble with you is you’ve got some vicious kink in you!”

epub or mobi, with thanks to the original sharer

Only, from time to time something gnawed at him, from time to time he was assailed by a longing to break out of this harmonious existence, to knock down this scaffolding of respectability. Such ideas, however, were no sooner entertained than they were brushed aside. That he was living his life in the right sort of way was obvious, since everybody else did precisely likewise. 

If he was occasionally tempted to make a pass at Neel, he immediately reproved himself, and was even ready to judge himself very severely …

Then all of a sudden his wife … and Schutter! …

If it had been anyone else, it would have been different. But it had to be Schutter! The one man in Sneek who did not live like Dr. Kuperus and all the others. The one man who lived just as he wanted to, indulging every whim. And far from being punished for it, he was rewarded. He was made president of the Billiard Club! And no woman seemed able to withhold her favors from him.

Not even Alice Kuperus! …

What did it all amount to? That Kuperus was wrong. That he’d been wrong all his life. That he’d been led up the garden path — the straight and narrow path, into the bargain — and been led nowhere.

women brazenly bringing themselves to a climax of excitement

epub or mobi

Gianini accelerated the beat until the music throbbed savagely like a jungle tom-tom. Then she began to dance. Not a trained dance. It was hardly a dance at all, strictly speaking, but the movements, still hesitant, of a being who was slowly coming to life. A deep, long breath. A frightened, anxious look into the dark space around her, and Maud slipped one hand behind her back to unfasten her brassiere. At that instant Celita realized the new girl had just won a victory, that neither she nor any of the other girls had ever been able to hold an audience in such breathless suspense. After another crash on the cymbals, Gianini, with beads of sweat on his forehead, abruptly changed the beat again; the instruments made the music seem to pant, hesitatingly at first, plaintively, then bit by bit almost triumphantly. Unlike Marie-Lou, she did not merely mime the stages of love-making. She was living them, defying the people who were watching her. They could see the tremors run across her skin, and both men and women alike forgot her breasts, her stomach, her buttocks, to stare into the wild light in her eyes. When she fell to her knees, everybody stood up, a few applauding; they were quickly silenced, for, with her eyelids half-closed, her body was sustaining a mysterious struggle until, at last, she fell down backwards, drained of all strength.

Everybody in the street knew that there were rooms in back

a.k.a. Dirty Snow a.k.a. Stain on the Snow

epub or mobi, with thanks to the original sharer

“A snot-nosed little bastard, that’s what you are, a little louse who thinks he can get away with anything because his mother runs a whorehouse! Dirty, filthy things that would make a whore blush … Let me go! Let go of me or I’ll yell loud enough to rouse the whole building! You won’t get rid of them with your gun or your damn papers once they’re after you!”

He let her go. His cheek, where she had scratched him, was bleeding a little.

“Just wait till they get you cornered, that won’t be long. There won’t always be foreign soldiers in the country to protect you, you and everyone like you …”

“Come here, Bertha. I’ll settle up.”

“I’ll come when I’m good and ready! Let’s see what you do tomorrow morning with no one to make your coffee and empty your piss pots! And to think that I even brought you pork from my parents!”

for years you published smut for nasty old men

a couple of 'romans durs' in epub or mobi, with thanks to the original sharers

Belgian writer Georges Simenon was absurdly prolific, having published close to 200 books. While the vast majority were either standard pulp fare or part of the enormous Maigret detective series, Simenon did write a slew of what he called his "psychological novels". While they mine similar territory as the best noir - utter darkness and depravity tempered by the understanding of human nature - they differ from your Jim Thompsons or David Goodis' in class sensibility. Simenon's characters are rarely freaks, drunks, or outcasts. They are quite normal middle class family men and women who end up in whirlpools of crime and paranoia through accidental circumstances. - Brickbat