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From: Lynn Kellis <var_kel@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} All the Luck (MF,F Anal Humor) {Varkel}
Date: Wed, 15 Mar 2000 00:10:13 -0500
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Please publish the attached file, "5mero.txt",
which is a simple-text version of the story,
"All the Luck," by Varkel.
Thank you.
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<1st attachment, "5mero.txt" begin>
All the Luck
a Short Story by Varkel
March, 2000
"I can't believe I'm lost already!"
Jack Langston shook his head. The green golf course extended to
the left of his car. He searched for its entrance, proceeding
slowly in the left lane of the busy street. An irate driver
behind him honked persistently at his dawdling pace. He had been
here once before, though not as the driver. On that occasion his
new golfing acquaintance, Vito, who was also the boyfriend of his
wife's sister, had driven him along a circuitous route of back
streets.
Jack saw commercial buildings just ahead, so he made a reckless
left turn into a cul de sac at the edge of the golf course. A
typical apartment building of pastel stucco extended to his right.
He stopped the car to ponder his situation, consciously enjoying
the air conditioning that kept the moist heat of south Florida
outside the car. The palm trees and the warmth in February were a
bit exotic, he thought. He felt uncomfortably out of place and
looked forward to returning to icy Ohio in a few days, after his
wife had visited sufficiently with her sister who lived in a
trailer. Not a trailer, he reminded himself, having been
vigorously upbraided for his use of that term; it was a "double
wide" mobile home.
He was about to turn his car around and continue searching when a
tapping at the passenger window distracted him. A woman stood
just beyond the glass. Her lips moved, but he did not hear a word
because of the hum of the air conditioning and the strains of
Vivaldi on the CD player. Pressing harder on the brake pedal, he
lowered the window to a blast of heat.
"Hi, mister," she said in a little girl voice, although she was
obviously in her mid twenties. "Here I am."
Jack felt a pulse of excitement. He did not pick up strangers as
a rule, but this was a <girl>, non-threatening, slender and almost
pretty. "Here I am," she had said clearly. What could she be but
a whore? -- a young one whom he could not resist, a small one whom
he could not deny. He yearned for youthful flesh, to be young
once again, especially since his wife had given up on sex five
years previously.
The car was well out in the street. No assailant could be hiding
close by. His native caution was overmatched by anticipation.
Would she get in? He motioned inward with his right hand while
his left released the door locks.
"Gee, thanks, mister!" She climbed in and shut the door. "It's
just on the other side of the golf course." She held a large
purse tightly against herself and explained, "You have to look out
for the cops, if you walk across it." She stared straight ahead.
Jack thought that a greater danger would be getting hit by a golf
ball, but he replied, "I haven't seen a cop since I arrived here."
"Oh, they're all over," the young woman said nervously. "Are you
playing tourist?" she added without pausing, staring out the
window. She had not looked him in the face since entering the
car.
"I'm here for a few days," Jack responded, feeling suddenly
younger. He wanted to look at her, to study her young body, but
he dared not. She was clad in jeans that clung to her slender
legs, and his brief glimpse of her upper body had suggested small
breasts. She was darkly blonde.
"I'm Sheila," she said, finally turning to him but not smiling.
"Let's go."
Jack eased the car into the stream of traffic on the crowded
street. The girl seemed to relax as the vehicle gathered speed.
"What's your name?" she asked.
"Jack," he replied tersely, surreptitiously studying her from the
corner of his eye.
Here he was for the first time in countless years alone in a car
with a strange female. But elation see-sawed with apprehension.
Suddenly he was very conscious of being a stranger in town, of the
wife waiting for him back at the "double wide." He was no longer
young and free to explore a girl's intentions. This one seemed to
be somewhat sweaty, in need of a bath, although her odor, a faint
spiciness, was anything but disagreeable.
"I thought you'd be younger," she purred, "but I find older men to
be so <interesting>." She leaned slightly toward him, staring
into his face.
"What do you mean?" Jack asked in a panic. "You could not have
been expecting me."
She frowned as if surprised but asserted hastily, "Yes, I could!
Just not you specifically."
A glance at her face revealed renewed nervousness. "Wh-what --"
he began, meaning to ask for an explanation, but she looked away
as her eyes widened.
"Oops, turn here, Jack!" Her nervousness vanished in a giggle and
her hand fell upon his thigh. His need for an explanation
subsided.
"Park here, Jack, right in front," she directed, and he promptly
pulled his car to the curb behind a green convertible with the top
down.
She opened the door and climbed out but turned back to say loudly,
"Come on, Jack. I'm what you've been looking for."
"No, no," he stammered, flinching from the sudden blast of heat
but wanting desperately to go with the girl. "I have to get
back."
Her face contorted, this time unquestionably in shocked surprise.
"What?" she demanded.
"I, uh, have an appointment," he explained diffidently.
She looked furtively up and down the street, leaned back into the
car and whispered fiercely, "Goddammit, who changed the plan?"
He matched her whisper. "The ... the <plan>?"
She gestured impatiently with her head. "Come on, you fool. If
we don't go through with this they'll fry us both."
"F-Fry?"
"And the feds are listening. Do you want to ruin everything?
Damned if you will!" She leaned across the seat and snatched his
hand off the gear shift, drawing it powerfully toward her. "Come
<on>, damn you!" she cried, still in a harsh whisper.
After thirty years of marriage Jack had learned the futility of
resistance to that decisive feminine tone. He slid obediently
across the seat, allowing her to tug him out of the car and slam
the door behind him.
He found himself marching up a front walk toward a small recessed
residence, nearly concealed from the street by clusters of
flowering vines thickly entwined on trellises. The sweet odor of
flowers filled the air. The girl walked briskly, retaining his
hand, her purse swinging from the opposite shoulder.
She glared up at him, speaking softly, "Where did Mario find you?
I can't believe he didn't brief you better than that!"
"Brief me?" Jack asked in confusion. "About what?"
"You really don't know, do you?" She sighed audibly. "All right.
You're supposed to make love to me -- at least sound like it."
Her eyes flashed up at him. "Think you can do it?"
"I ... I <what>?" His chin sagged as he stared at her.
"<Fuck> me, Jack! Be an old man with a young girl. Is that so
hard to imagine? Here we are. Now for god's sake, don't let us
down!"
She opened the front door and pulled him into a cool, dim living
room, small and cluttered with newspapers, cast-off clothing and
empty glasses. Sheila held a finger to her lips and nodded
suggestively at various parts of the room.
"Well, mister, it'll cost you two hundred," she said loudly in her
little girl manner. Suddenly he realized that he had misjudged
her. What he had taken as immaturity was in fact the stilted,
stagy manner of an amateur actress, last heard in a high-school
play.
She added, "Would you like to undress me, to open your special
package?"
She scowled at the man and made pulling motions with her hands.
Apparently she was urging him to play a part, too, but he didn't
have a clue. He wanted to leave, but he also desired to fuck this
lovely girl, now that she had made her expectation clear.
"I don't have a condom," he finally said in a flat, dumb voice.
"That's no problem, Jack, sweetie. I'm clean. You can fuck me
wet, if you want, and that would be really nice, don't you think?"
When he only ogled her, she demanded, "Well, wouldn't it?"
"Y-yeah," he admitted, reaching for her blouse.
She shrugged him off, declaring, "First give me your credit card."
His credit card? But his wife paid his accounts! How could he
possibly explain an extra $200? This was too much. He took a
deep breath, preparing to whirl out of the room.
But the girl removed a credit card register from her purse,
saying, "It's already filled out. Only take a moment. There!"
She slammed the slide loudly back and forth -- flick-flack! -- and
added, "Sign right here, Jack."
He knew that his chin was sagging again, but she ignored his
failure to comply.
"Jack Balenti?" she cried as if impressed. "You're really Jack
<Balenti>?"
"I'm Jack --" Langston, he wanted to say, but she interrupted him
in syrupy tones. "<Nothing's> too good for Jack Balenti!"
The register returned to her purse and the purse sank to the
floor. She simpered, "<Now> you can open your package!"
He began to fumble at the buttons on her blouse, nervous, excited
and totally confused.
"Keep talking, damn it," she whispered to him as she shrugged off
her garment.
"You have such slender shoulders," he remarked, not only in
response to her command, as he fondled them. He undid her
brassiere without difficulty and let it drop to the floor. She
had perky breasts, like those of a young teenager.
"Oh, my!" he gasped. He fell to his knees and pressed his mouth
to a small nipple.
"You'll like my legs too, Jack. They're very girlish."
With trembling hands the man undid her jeans and pulled them down
to her ankles.
"Oh, yes, oh, yes," he murmured and rubbed his cheeks against the
girl's soft thighs, sniffing the pungent odor in her thin white
panties.
He untangled the girl's jeans from her socks and shoes and then
pulled off the remaining garment to reveal a lush pubic bush. He
pressed his face against it, taking in a mouthful of brittle hair.
"Oh, Jack, I like that," Sheila exclaimed, perhaps sincerely.
"But let's see what you have to offer."
She tugged on him, bringing him to his feet, then sank to her
knees, undoing his trousers and pulling them down along with his
shorts.
"Jack, baby! This is a nice one! But it's too fat for my mouth.
Come, darling. Lie down here on the day bed and do me properly."
He sagged atop the girl, now on her back with knees raised high
and legs spread wide in invitation. In delirious excitement he
positioned his organ for the ecstatic plunge.
"Don't you dare put it in!" she whispered fiercely into his ear.
"Just make the proper noises."
He raised his head, staring at her at a loss. She began to moan
as if in sexual bliss. He knelt above her and watched her play
the part of a whore being fucked. The sounds were not convincing
to him, but he understood that he was not the one who needed
convincing. He began to masturbate, staring at the naked girl
beneath him, at her pert breasts, at her slender shoulders. "Make
some noise!" she hissed.
Jack complied with a groan, again not only in response to her
command, but in genuine excitement as he brought himself off,
squirting on her small breasts, her neck and her face.
"Oh, goddamn!" she cried with real emotion when a stream of semen
passed coincidentally between her lips. She gritted her teeth and
glowered at the man kneeling above her, his erection quickly
fading into something insubstantial.
"That was just fine, Jackie boy," she said a bit too loudly in a
false voice. "We'll do this again anytime you're ready."
Quietly she spat curdled fluid onto the floor. "Give me a kiss,
sweetheart," she added gaily with a deep frown on her face.
When Jack leaned down, hesitating, not wanting to taste his own
stuff, she whispered to him very softly, "Okay, you son of a
bitch! Pull your pants up and get back to Mario, if you dare!"
"But what --"
"No!" she cried, still in a quiet but fierce whisper. "If you get
out of here right now without saying another word, we might still
pull this off."
Jack rose to his feet. A feeling of elation swelled in him. He
could hardly remember the last time his seminal fluid had passed a
woman's lips. Even if he didn't understand how it had been made
to happen, even if the girl now hated him for it, the fact of it
was undeniable. Standing up, buckling his belt, he grinned at her
in delight.
She took a set of keys from an end table and put them into his
hand. "It's the green convertible with the top down," she
whispered.
"What is it? You want me to put the top up?" he asked, forgetting
to whisper.
"Shut up!" she hissed. "God, you're a dumb ass!" Her lips
clenched in a snarl and she raised her fist toward him, the middle
finger thrusting upward.
He laughed aloud at her expression. "Thank you, honey. I love
you, too."
She made shooing motions, her eyes glaring.
He turned away, exhilarated by his first sexual experience in a
very long time. He didn't get to fuck the girl, but it had still
been marvelous fun.
He saw no vehicle nearby on the street except his rented Taurus
and the green convertible with the top down. The sky was clear,
hardly a cloud in sight. He shrugged and threw Sheila's keys onto
the convertible's front seat.
Looking around while returning to his car, he realized that now he
was just across from the entrance to the golf course where he had
been scheduled to meet Vito a half-hour earlier. He started the
car and drove it onto the grounds.
As he pulled into the parking lot, he spied Vito, swarthy face
easily recognized under his typical white-pomponed tam, standing
next to his Cadillac. Jack parked his Taurus beside the other car
and met the man on the hot sidewalk. Jack grinned sheepishly.
"Sorry I'm late, pal. You wouldn't believe what happened to me."
"Just got here myself," Vito admitted. "I had a business meeting
and lost track of the clock. Now we've missed our tee time. I'm
afraid we can't get on this afternoon."
"It's too hot for golf anyway," Jack responded in a good humor,
the memory of squirting on Sheila still fresh in his mind.
"Well, then, let's have some cool drinks up in the club house,"
Vito suggested.
The two of them walked slowly toward the main building. Vito was
obviously relaxing the pace for his older friend.
The chilled atmosphere inside was a palpable relief. They sat at
the bar and ordered drinks, their attention drawn to the
television set which displayed Tiger Woods sinking an impossibly
long shot from a sand trap.
"God!" exclaimed Vito with feeling. "Why do the pros have all the
luck, too?"
"You think it's only luck? He made one just like it the other
day."
"I don't care. Nobody can do that without a generous helping of
luck."
Jack, feeling good, chuckled. "Almost nobody. Reminds me of the
time God and Saint Peter teed off on a Sunday afternoon."
"Reminds you --" Vito choked off with a grin. "Sounds like a
good story."
"Almost as good as what happened to me on the way over here. I'll
concede that was pure luck. I managed to get laid without --"
"Huh! We're talking about golf, Jack."
Jack took a drink and began an apocryphal tale of divine power
converting a bad slice into a hole-in-one. But as he neared the
punch-line, Vito held up a hand.
"Excuse me a moment, Jack." Looking over Jack's shoulder, Vito
raised his voice. "What're you doing here?"
A third man drew close to them, stocky, wearing Bermuda shorts and
a bright shirt. Only his face was gray. Even Jack could see the
fear in his eyes.
The man gulped audibly. "Mario, I had an accident."
"You what?"
"Had a wreck." The man took a nervous breath. "On the way to get
the girl, some drunk ran a stop sign and creamed Balenti's car.
The cops were there before I got away. When I could finally grab
a taxi, I went by the rec house. That federal van, or one like
it, was just pulling in up the street. What the hell we gonna
do?"
"You mean you didn't play your part?"
The man drew back, face even grayer. "I didn't get the chance,
Mario!"
"Jesus Christ!" exclaimed Vito. His eyes narrowed. "Hang on a
sec."
He turned to Jack. "I've got to handle this myself, Jack, and it
might take a while. Wait here in the club, will you? I'll send
Mitzy around."
"That's okay," Jack responded amiably, though the mention of
Balenti's car had set off alarm bells. "I'll just mosey on --"
"No, no, the girls are planning some kind of surprise for us.
Don't be in a rush."
Vito stood up and beckoned urgently to someone across the
horseshoe-shaped bar. A young woman promenaded around the stools
towards them. She was wearing a black "bar dress" spangled with
glittering sequins, cut low and short above sheer black stockings.
The creamy skin of the deep cleavage was displayed almost to her
navel. Jack finally raised his eyes to an oval face with large
brown eyes and pouting red lips, surrounded by thickly curled
black hair. A crescent of diamonds dangled from each ear. She
was beautiful, an example of South Florida perfection -- including
the pinpricks on her inner arms.
"Jack, this is Mitzy," Vito intoned. "Mitzy, Jack. He's a good
friend of mine from out of town. Think you can entertain him for
an hour or so?"
She purred in a low, throaty voice, "I'd love to try."
"Great! Well, Jack, you're in good hands -- and other things!
Now, if you'll excuse me ..."
Vito and the stranger hurried from the room as Mitzy squirmed
herself onto the barstool next to Jack, rubbing her thigh against
his.
"Well, Jack, you must be really important," the gorgeous woman
purred, "even down here in Mario's territory."
"I've always known him as Vito," Jack replied cautiously, trying
to conceal his bafflement.
"Oh, yeah," she responded, clearly impressed. "Only his closest
friends and his family can call him Vito."
Jack smiled at the lovely woman, finally beginning to get an
inkling of the farce of mistaken identity in which he found
himself. He was amidst beautiful whores and high-flying hoods,
accepted by them as a man of some stature, a remarkable
happenstance for a retired CPA who lived with his querulous wife
in the suburbs of Cleveland, Ohio.
"Where you from?" Mitzy asked, leaning forward, genuinely
interested in his answer.
"Cleveland," Jack responded indifferently.
"Really?" Mitzy gasped. "Then you must know Benny the Nose."
"Ya," Jack replied smugly, getting into the mood at last. "Benny
does things for me."
Her face opened in an expression of pure awe. She stared at him
intently. This was a capo, her eyes declared, a really big one,
much bigger than Mario.
"I have a room upstairs," she said demurely, looking down at her
clasped hands.
"It's a bit chilly in here," he said, trying to smirk, sneer or do
something with his mouth that would lend him credibility.
"Oh, it's much nicer upstairs," Mitzy enthused, placing her hand
on his.
Jack laid a twenty on the bar, mindful that he had just two left
in his wallet. He and Mitzy left the room and ascended a wide
staircase outside the restaurant area. Jack could not resist
squeezing the woman's rounded buttock cheeks as she preceded him.
"Jackie, you're such a devil," she giggled, looking back at him
across her shoulder.
"I want to visit you there," he replied with authority, clasping
the woman and pulling her ass against him. He had never enjoyed
anal sex in his entire life, but he was on a roll.
"Sure, sweetie," she agreed readily. "You can put it wherever you
want."
She opened the door to a room that was rather garish in color and
style, although it was antiseptically clean.
"Jack," Mitzy said with an anxious voice, turning to the man once
they were inside the room with the door closed behind them.
"Jack, I need a fix. Could you help me out?"
"Bitch!" he exploded theatrically, enjoying his imposture, "do you
really think I would carry that stuff on me?"
"I'm sorry, Jack," she conceded. "Of course you wouldn't have
any. It's just that I'm a bit fidgety. I can wait."
"I'm sure that Mario's people will have something for you,
darling," he cooed as he unbuttoned her blouse.
They were soon naked. Never in his life had Jack seen any woman
more beautiful than Mitzy, except in porn flicks. And this one is
here for me! he exalted.
"Do you have some grease or something?" he asked solicitously as
he fondled the perky breasts and nuzzled her nose.
"Sure, on the night stand." Holding his erection in her right
hand, she added doubtfully, "Your thing is awfully fat."
"I'm always gentle with pretty girls," he murmured into her ear,
arms around her, hands again squeezing her lower cheeks.
She lay face down on the bed, gorgeous legs spread wide. He knelt
above her, smearing his ugly member with Vaseline as he ogled her
pale, deliciously curved behind. The wrinkled rose was tiny
compared to the huge blunt pad that threatened it.
"It may take me awhile, sweetheart," he whispered as he sagged
upon her. "I've already come off once this afternoon."
Mitzy clutched the pillow, watching fearfully over her shoulder.
Her eyes reminded him of the doe's he had once seen in his
headlights.
Jack spread the woman's soft thighs with his own as he positioned
himself for the plunge. He put the head cautiously in place. At
its touch she reached back with both hands and pulled her cheeks
apart, opening to him. Pressure mounted until suddenly the entire
shaft plunged into her.
"Jesus Christ!" she screamed in obvious distress, trying vainly to
squirm out from under the heavy man.
Jack fucked her remorselessly, although she bawled incessantly.
The feel of her softly rounded cheeks against his belly excited
him, aroused him the more, and he thrust at her with long jabs
until finally his pleasure gathered. Then he slowed the pace and
relished the feel of his organ coming alive within Mitzy's rectal
canal, for him a virginity. He shouted out at each spurt. The
woman beneath him matched his shouts with the cries of a wounded
animal.
"Are you all right, baby?" he inquired moments later as he lay
beside Mitzy, now turned on her back, still sobbing from the
trauma. He asked only from the habit of politeness; he didn't
really care about the woman or what she felt. To him she was a
marble statue, albeit moist, soft and warm. He stroked her pale
skin, underlain by its blue network of veins. It was flawless
without pimple or mole.
"How old are you?"
"T-twenty-two," she snuffled.
Young flesh indeed! He was on top of the world; he had conquered
as never before in his life. But he hurried to put on his
underpants, when his once dramatic penis slackened into an
unheroic nub.
He played with the young woman for some time, exploring her
marvelous body with his hands, sucking on her responsive nipples,
but not daring to go down on her, because he feared that she was
laden with unspeakable diseases.
A sudden knock on the door brought him out of a near doze, his
face snuggled in Mitzy's neck, a hand on a soft breast.
"I don't want to be seen here," he mumbled in apprehension,
jumping from the bed and snatching up his clothes.
"I understand, Jack," she assured him. "Just go into the bathroom
and shut the door."
He retreated to the toilet, remembering at the last minute to grab
his shoes and socks.
He recognized Sheila's voice. "Mary! The shit has hit the fan."
"What's wrong, Shelley?" Mitzy asked in real concern. Jack
wondered if everyone in this crowd had two names. He began
hurriedly to don all his clothing.
Sheila explained, "I might've blown the alibi thing."
"Alibi?"
"What's the matter with you? You know, for Balenti."
"Oh. Oh, yeah. Excuse me."
"You've been crying?"
"Not really. Jack from Cleveland -- a top capo but, god, what a
dick! -- just reamed me. You know how much a few tears help. The
real trouble is I'm getting late for my fix. What'cha mean, you
might've blown it?"
Sheila sighed. "I did the wrong guy, wouldn't you know! -- some
snow bird, thinking he was Mario's patsy. This old guy stopped in
a burgundy car at the time and place I was told to expect. Now I
don't know how the plan stands. I only hope the feds are as
confused as I am."
"Slow down, girl," Mitzy admonished. "I thought Mario had some
geek from Biloxi named Kelly for the job. You mean you didn't
make Balenti's alibi?"
"I really don't know, Mary. We pretty much went according to
script, this old guy and me. It might've worked. Kelly saw the
feds arrive at the rec house, so the microphones must've heard me
holler Balenti's name. They sure wouldn't come just for me! Of
course we didn't use Balenti's car -- Kelly had wrecked that -- so
the feds didn't hear the pickup part. Still, it ought to be
enough. Guess we'll know pretty soon.
"But now the old guy is running around loose. He might rat on us,
and that would hurt, because Balenti made the payoff on schedule,
right under the feds' noses."
"Sounds like a mess," was Mitzy's opinion. "Mario is really going
to be pissed, Shelley. You might think about visiting your aunt
in Idaho. How could you get involved with the wrong guy? Just
who was he anyhow? What did he look like?"
Jack realized it was time for the conqueror to go home to mommy,
to retreat to the double wide and perhaps all the way back to
Ohio. He glared at the window, judging it large enough for him to
get through. Without pausing to tie his shoes he unlocked it and
strained to lift -- but the damned sash was painted shut! In this
air-conditioned building it probably had never been opened before.
While he struggled he heard Sheila provide an accurate description
of her deceiver. Sighing, he turned away from the window just as
the door flew wide. A naked Mitzy, her perfect beauty still a
blow in the groin, stood holding it open. Sheila, clothed as he
had first seen her, stared over the other's shoulder. "Good god,"
she cried, "it's him!"
Mitzy's eyes had rounded again. "J-Jack from Cleveland, meet
Sheila."
Jack straightened his shoulders despite his thrill of fear. He
took a deep breath. "We've met." To his amazement he heard his
mouth add, "Got the taste off your tongue yet?"
Sheila, eyes flashing, lips parted as if to storm at him, visibly
hesitated. She looked at Mitzy. "Wh-what's he doing here?"
"I told you that," snapped the naked woman.
"You mean Mario said for you ..."
"To show him a good time. Which is just what I did." Mitzy
rubbed her buttocks. "Didn't I, Jackie?"
"You sure did," he admitted, forcing an expansive smile. "You've
got a tight little ass on you, Mitzy, baby."
Sheila demanded, "What's going on here?"
"He's Mario's pal," Mitzy explained, "and Benny the Nose's capo."
"Then why is Mario so --" Sheila shook her head, snarling, "This
place gets a little more fucked up every day!" She turned on her
heel and swept out into the hall.
He called after her, "We all have to do our part," just before the
door slammed.
The real Jack Langston, accountant, cowering in the deeper
recesses of his own mind, expecting the sky to fall on him soon as
Vito heard Sheila's news, could only watch in awe as a new and
heedless Jack, momentarily in control, had the time of his life.
He raised his foot to Mitzy's night stand and tied the shoe,
grinning up at her. "Hope I didn't make your tight little ass too
sore."
"A little," she admitted, "but it won't matter if Vito remembers
me. You'll tell him, won't you?"
"You sure you want me to?"
"Huh?"
He shrugged. "Got the impression you don't butt fuck that often."
"I don't. But that's not what I'm talking about. I mean, will
you remind Vito I'm overdue for what I need?"
"Oh, sure. It's the least I can do." He straightened up, having
finished the second shoe. "Come here."
She came to him with a smile, watching smugly as he caressed her
shapely body. One hand parted the trimmed pubes, slipping between
her legs under the curve of her belly. Reaching farther back, he
found her still wet. Two fingers slid into her easily.
"Sore?" he asked when she twitched.
Her eyes regarded him thoughtfully. "Fingers aren't so bad." She
took a breath and asked, "You only like that?"
"This, too." His thumb parted the plump lips and buried itself in
hot moisture.
"That's the right place for your fat thing," she advised. Her
eyes unfocussed and hips rolled forward, rubbing her clitoris
against the base of his thumb.
He squeezed thumb and fingers together, compressing her flesh. He
chuckled with pleasure. "What a sweet bowling ball!"
"It's whatever you want," she agreed. Her arms went around him
and she laid her head on his shoulder. His penis stirred
painfully. He was conscious of irony: here he stood in the arms
of the most beautiful woman he had ever touched, a woman eager to
obey his least command, while his overworked manhood ached worse
at every twitch of growth. With a sigh he released her, raised
her chin to his and kissed her lips chastely.
"You're the greatest, Mitzy."
"Thanks," she breathed. "Want to get back in the bed?"
"Not now. Maybe I ought to remind Vito you're overdue."
"Oh, would you?" Her glowing eyes opened wide.
Over her shoulder he saw the knob turn. The hall door opened to
reveal Vito on the threshold. Jack froze. Mitzy turned
curiously, hands reaching to cover breasts and pubes but relaxing
when she saw the newcomer.
"Did Mitzy fix you up?" Vito asked.
"Sure did," answered Jack despite his stiff lips.
Vito motioned with his head. "Come on. Let's talk."
"Till later, honey?" suggested Mitzy, standing aside.
"You bet."
Expecting the worst, Jack followed the other man out the door and
down the hall to another room, wondering where Vito might possibly
carry a pistol in a short-sleeved shirt, Bermuda shorts and golf
stockings. Vito stood aside at the door, letting Jack precede him
into the room. Jack paused in passing to say quietly, "Mitzy
wants me to remind you she's overdue."
Vito nodded. He left the door open behind them and called to a
third man already in the room, "Take Mitzy her fix, will you?"
"Okay." The man glanced curiously at Jack as he departed, closing
the door behind him.
"Sit down," said Vito, tilting his head toward the couch. "Want
anything to drink?"
"I could use a drink," Jack admitted, taking a seat.
Vito shook a metal pitcher beaded in condensation. Ice tinkled.
"I always keep a bunch of Collinses on hand. That good enough?"
"Sounds great."
Vito poured for both and settled himself in a nearby overstuffed
chair after delivering Jack's drink. He raised his own glass
toward Jack. "Here's to my mystery guest."
Jack sipped in accord with his host but was hardly conscious of
the taste. He forced a smile. "<Mystery>, Vito? Nothing
mysterious about an accountant from Cleveland."
Vito nodded. "Who happens to be married to my girl's sister. I
know. Or at least I thought I did. But who are you really,
Jack?"
Ignoring his butterflies, Jack maintained a smile. "Mitzy thinks
I'm Cleveland Jack, who gives orders to somebody called Benny the
Nose."
Vito's eyebrows rose. "Did you ever actually meet Benny?"
"Never laid eyes on him, so far as I know. Mitzy asked me about
him. I figured it wouldn't hurt, at least not with her, if I let
her believe he worked for me."
Vito grinned. "No, I suppose it didn't hurt. What happened
between you and Mitzy only matters to you and Mitzy. What
concerns <me> is what you did with Sheila. Tell me about that,
Jack."
"I was starting to tell you in the bar --"
"Instead you told about God and Saint Peter. I'd heard that one
before, Jack."
"You should've stopped me."
"Kelly stopped you. Are you aware that you took his place?"
"His place?"
Vito put his drink down on the coffee table, got to his feet and
commenced pacing the length of the room. "Jack, I'm beginning to
understand what happened here. Talk about wild luck! Tell me one
thing: do you know anybody in the family in Cleveland? Anybody
at all?"
"What family?"
Vito nodded. "That's answer enough." He shook his head. "God, I
can't believe it!"
Jack took a breath as his bravado deserted him. "Vito, I didn't
really fuck her. We just pretended. She made some kind of play
about credit cards and then carried on --"
Vito raised his hand. "Just pretended? What are you talking
about?"
"It was all an <act>, I tell you! I didn't really do anything to
her, except --"
Vito shook his head as if dislodging a fly. "Didn't she mention
Balenti's name?"
"Oh, yeah, when she pretended to read the credit card. Mention?
I'd say she shouted it out. But I swear we never --" Jack's
voice trailed off. He stared at the swarthy man's bulging eyes.
Vito smashed a fist into the opposite palm. "And it worked, Jack!
By god, it worked! Balenti's driver called me from the airport
ten minutes ago. His plane just took off for Nassau. The feds
let him go, even though he made that payoff right under their
noses." The dark face lit in a huge smile. Jack began to breath
a little easier. Clearly the man was not displeased.
Vito continued, "You drive a burgundy car, too. And when Sheila
saw you alone in it, she assumed -- But what were you doing on
that side of the golf course?"
"I got lost," Jack admitted sheepishly.
Vito laughed. "Lost! By god, when she asked for a ride, you
thought only of fucking her brains out, didn't you, Jack! So you
let her in, she gave you directions according to the script, and
the rest, as they say, is history." Suddenly he frowned. "What
do you mean, you only <pretended>?"
Jack sighed, admitting, "We made the sounds, but she wouldn't let
me put it in."
"By god, she took a chance!" The suddenly harsh voice mellowed as
he added, "Okay, she owes you a fuck. She owes you <ten> fucks!
Jack Balenti owes you his freedom. And <I> owe you plenty!"
He stared at Jack, who affected a shrug. "It was nothing, Vito.
Mitzy covered it, if you think I deserve something."
"Mitzy! Hell, Jack, she's just the start!" He gestured with his
head. "Come on. Better go get our surprise. Gotta keep the main
squeezes happy, you know." He pointed to the bathroom when Jack
rose to his feet. "But go wash your hands and face first. You
smell like pussy."
Walking to the parking lot, Vito remarked thoughtfully, "God, we
were lucky today! Like I told you, the pros have all the luck."
Jack knew better than to disagree again, but his step was very
light.
END
Copyright (C) 2000, Varkel
varkel@my-deja.com
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