Lonesome Dove, Volume 2: Comanche Moon by Larry McMurtry

MAGGIE COULD TELL by the footsteps that the man outside her door was drunk. The footsteps were unsteady and the man had just lurched into the wall, though it was early morning. A man so drunk at that hour of the morning that he could not walk steadily might have been drinking all night. The thought made her very apprehensive, so apprehensive that she considered not opening her door. A man that drunk might well be violent-he might beat her or tear her clothes. Maybe he would be quick and pass out-that sometimes happened with men who were very drunk-but that was about the best that she could expect, if she opened her door to a drunk. Some drunks merely wallowed on her, unable to finish; or the exertion might agitate the man's stomach-more than once men had thrown up on her or fouled her bed with vomit.

For Maggie, it had never been easy, opening her door to a man. Once the door was open she was caught; if a bad man or a cruel man was standing there, then she was in for a bad time. Sometimes, of course, the customer outside her door would just be some unhappy man whose wife had passed away. Those men, who were just looking for a little pleasure or comfort, were not a problem. The men she feared were the men who wanted to punish women-that was the chief peril of her profession; Maggie had endured many sweaty, desperate times, dealing with such men.