Chapter 4

LUIS SCALICI:

"Kipper and I made a pretty good team. The mob paid me fifty dollars a week and that was enough salary to do anything on. I could take Elinor to the best spots. And I got little extras too, because they knew I was in the mob.

I was a bag man. For the houses. The mob had a string of houses up and down the town. Kipper and I collected the loot and brought it in. I held the bag and he was the muscle. We hardly ever had any trouble. The mob had the cops paid off, so no one bothered us.

Of course I met a lot of broads that way. And I got a lot of free stuff. I never told Elinor about it, because she was playing it straight with me. She never did put out to other guys.

I was wise that a lot of dames were putting out to punks like old man Dunker, but not Elinor.

"I can't stand him, honey," she told me. "Jeez, I'm not a dame to go cheating on you, you oughta know that."

Then we'd roll in the hay and I'd stab her. She loved getting it in the old pusseroo. The only trouble with Elinor was, I got the feeling sometimes that she didn't give a shit. She'd just lay there and let me make it. She didn't push back much, like some of the other broads. She might have been eating peanuts while I'm killing myself on her.

But otherwise she was a lot of fun. A lot of laughs.

The mob was always looking for broads. There was a big turn-over. They sent the dames around, a regular schedule, two weeks here, on to the next spot. So the Johns didn't get tired of the same old slit.

Kipper was always looking for broads too. He always could spot 'em. "There's one," he'd say, "Lookit that dish in the green dress-she'll fuck." He was always right-whenever we followed it up.

"It's a knack," he would say. "I can tell, and I dunno how exactly. Some broads will do it and some won't-not right off the bat anyway."

I never did get that knack, not like Kipper. But the mob heard about it, and put it to work. Kipper went around looking at dames. Then it was my job to pick them up and get them into the life.

One of the first broads he pointed out really jolted me. Kipper and I were sitting in a bar and he looked over my shoulder and says to me, "See that broad in the booth, the one with the fur piece? She'll do it like a hot fox."

I looked at the dizzy. She was a dame with a face like Mrs. Astor's sainted aunt. I knew this dame wouldn't even screw her husband on their wedding night. She just didn't look the type. She had like a smooth kiss-me-Jesus look. I doubted if she knew what her pussy was for.

"Forget it," I told him. "Not that one."

"Forget nothing," he said, "That dame is so hot she's sizzling. I can smell her gash from here." He pushed me. "Go on over and ask her. I bet she falls over and yanks up her skirt."

"Come on," I said. "You make a fool outa me. Not that one."

"Shit," he snuffed out his cigarette. "I gotta do everything for you, Boodle?" He got up and went over to the booth.

There was a guy with this dame. But Kipper didn't bat an eye. He went over and in a second he was talking to them, and pretty soon he hands the dame out and they go over to the postage stamp dance floor. It is pretty gloomy in that club, but I can see that she is the best looking broad this side of Miss America. She is wearing a silky gown that shows off her round ass and I have to gulp down a Scotch because it makes me horny just to look at it.

At the same time, I know that Kipper is lucky to get this far. The guy in the booth isn't happy at all. He's looking at his watch and staring around at them. He sure looks like a husband.

Then Kipper and the dame disappear.

I had another drink and watched the guy. Finally, when the dance ended, he got up and wondered around looking for them. But they weren't in the club at all. He came over to me.

"That man," he said, "the one who was with you-"

"He wasn't with me," I said. "I never saw 'im before I came in here."

He frowned at me. "That's funny, he told my wife and me that the two of you were partners in a taxicab firm-"

I shook my head wonderingly. "Boy, he sure told you a whopper, mister. I work in a bank."

He stood there for a full minute, staring at me. He didn't want to believe that. I said I sure was sorry, but the guy was just plain lying. He was a puffy-faced type and he was puzzled. He left, finally, and wandered around the room, still looking for them.

I slid out. Because I knew where they'd be. In the car which was parked in an alley a half block away.

They were there all right. And Kipper was ramming her like it was Bride's Week. She had both naked legs up in the air and he was driving his pole up the old gulch. I could hear her giggle forty feet away.

Kipper was never wrong. Never.

But I still couldn't believe it. And yet it was true. It was the doll with the silky dress and the saintly look. Only now she was grinning and bucking and wriggling under him like the wildest floozie in town. She saw me leaning on the car and it didn't faze her for a second.

She cooed in his ear. Kipper didn't spare the horses. He was booting her with all he had, his pants off his ass and his mouth around one silky breast.

I got in the car and leaned over the front seat and watched them convulsing. She was a wildcat. And she didn't mince words, like a hooker from over on the docks. "Gimme that thing, gimme that pecker-Jesus, I'm gonna come-!"

She made me hard as iron. Old Kipper really slapped it to her. He must have had that one-eyed snake a yard up her gash. The two of them fornicated like a couple of mad monkeys for a few minutes, then her eyes opened and she looked at me. Kipper was still thrusting into her when she reached out her hand and pulled me.

She wanted me to boot her too. I slid over the back seat and told Kip to move aside.

His eyes were glazed. He was panting like a miler at the ribbon. He rolled off her and I could smell the perfume of their lechery. She said: "Hurry up."

I was into her like a spear into jelly. Nice, warm jelly. Only when I skewered her she grabbed with her throbbing vagina and squeezed. She was great! Kip could pick 'em. I never questioned him after that.

She pulled me close and I battered her velvet gorge. The silky dress was all dark and wet where Kipper had mouthed her titty. She slid her hands about me and we were kissing, and she almost pulled me off with that amazing undulation.

"You do it great, honey," she breathed in my ear.

No kidding, I was sure astonished. I thought I knew a lot about broads, but I didn't know hardly anything. She said her name was Stephanie Warwick, and Kipper told me later that he had seen her picture in the papers in the society section. And it was true. She was one of them society dolls. The guy in the bar was her husband, alright, only he was ten or fifteen years older than she, and she told me he couldn't get it up but about twice a week.

"I like you," she said, kissing me. "Let's go someplace and have a drink to celebrate."

We took her to the Pickering Hotel. And you know, she loved it. She thought it was great, the shitty old run-down hotel with rats and bugs and whores from the Civil War. You should hear her giggle.

We got a room, the best room in the joint, and a couple bottles. Kipper borrowed a radio and we danced around, hugging and kissing.

Kipper could pick the broads alright, but this one sure homed in on me. She kept grabbing my cock all night. Lucky for me, Kipper didn't mind. "She likes you, pal. Live it up."

But he got his chunks too. He got her down on the couch when I went to the bathroom. I could hear her giggling, and when I went back she was spread wide and taking it like a bimbo in the back seat.

I thought me and him, Kipper, were just making a lucky boot. I figured this dame was high on something and we just got our cocks in the way and she climbed on. What I didn't realize was that she knew we were in the mob and she was getting her kicks letting low-lifes screw her. The best thing we could have done was to bring her to the Pickering Hotel. The more low-down the joint the better she would have liked it. She would probably have got real crazy wild if we had brought in a couple of the knocked-out whores to play with in front of her.

But we didn't think of that.

The more we danced, the drunker we all got. Pretty soon we were shedding clothes, and dancing half naked. She had the nicest tits I had seen since Veda's. And the more we hung on them the better she liked it. It was sure a kick to see that saintly face giving one of us a blow.

She liked to sing too. While we danced, she would sing. I finally got her all naked. Then she sang and danced for us, and she was the screwiest, bawdiest dizzy I ever saw. None of them whores in the houses could hold a candle to her. Maybe because she was doing it for kicks and not dough.

We got her between us, me and Kipper, both of us stripped, and she sang and wriggled and we rammed her. We had a hellova wild party.

We wrecked the room too. Jesus, it was a mess in the morning. And when I woke up she was gone.

But there was a note in my pocket. "Call me," it said, and she had written her phone number. I didn't find the note till me and Kipper had got dressed and had some coffee and breakfast. My mouth felt like a moose had been tracking in a swamp.

I was still a kid. Like I said, Kipper was a lot older, a few years, but that was a big party to me. Elinor gave me hell because I had stayed out all night. We weren't living together, but she knew I had been out. I tried to tell her I had been on business, but she took one look at my red-rimmed eyes and she knew I had been holding corks with a bottle somewhere. And probably a broad.

We had a good fight. After that it got easier to spat with her.

Kipper was acting funny too. I told him about my trouble with Elinor and he wasn't much help. Usually he gave me a lot of advice, whether I took it or not. Not this time.

"What the hell's the matter with you?"

"Nothin', kid."

I prodded him all day long before he would open up at all. We got along pretty good, me and Kipper. I could see finally that he had something he didn't want me to get sore about. I egged him to tell me.

"Elinor," he said. "It's about her."

At that second I knew what he was going to say. But I let him say it. Kip was never wrong.

"She's layin' guys," he said. "I'm sorry kid."

"How d'you know? You seen her at it?"

He shook his head. "Hell no. I just looked at her. She can't help it."

What he meant was that Elinor was a round-heels. I said, "Why didn't you tell me a long time ago?"

"I figured you knew about her. Hell, I didn't know you'd get serious. You going to marry her?"

"

I said no. I was curious as hell about who she was taking on. So I hung around a few nights and watched one certain citizen slide in. I didn't know this guy. He was a chunky clown with a battered Ford; he looked like a stevedore, and I was a little disappointed in Elinor.

I fingered the guy for Kipper and he had a couple of the boys push him around. It didn't help. I didn't feel no better about it. And it didn't cure Elinor. I didn't think it would have.

In the meantime, I called Stephanie. She purred over the phone at me for about a week before she let me up to her castle. She lived in a house about the size of Maryland, with another house in the back for servants. And another house for cars. She had five cars. Who the hell needs five cars?

The butler looked at me like I was a pot of kreplach, and guided me to a den room where there was a bar and a hell of a lot of cut glass. And Stephanie.

When the butler eased out she came into my arms. She pushed her dingus at me and kissed me and wrapped herself around me like a python. Her motor was running. "God! you excite me," she whispered.

She excited me too. I had never been in such a layout, or even dreamed of it-outside the movies. But the movies were lagging along behind that house. A guy could get lost Especially with her. She sort of attacked me, like a hungry animal. We were down on the couch with her on top, and she was a wild goddam dame.

I would come up for air every now and then and she would drag me under again. She was all ready for me too; she had hardly anything on under the dress, and she wriggled out of it very fast. I had a crazy naked female on my hands, and I was still kid enough to have it shock me a little. Despite what I had seen in the whorehouses. I guess I just wasn't ready for Stephanie. But that didn't stop me from screwing her.

Nothing could have stopped her. She demanded it. She scissored me and impaled herself on it, sticking out of my pants. With me still underneath, she bounced me damn near silly. What a woman!

When I finally rolled her over and got on top, I asked her why I hadn't been able to see her for a week.

She giggled up at me. "Because I've been in Europe, darling."

I wasn't used to broads who flew back and forth to Europe like it was between towns. "Why Europe?"

"We had a party," she said. "It just happened to go that way." She wound herself around me. "Don't talk, just frolic."

I frolicked her, alright. Then we had a drink, with her stark naked, sitting on my lap.

"Do you shoot a lot of people, dear?" she asked me.

"Well, not a lot," I said, "only once in a while." I had never shot anybody. I didn't even own a gun. But I wasn't going to tell her that. She thought I was a big tough gangster.

"When was the last time?"

I thought very fast, remembering what one of the guys had told me about a rub-out a few months past. "Oh, we took a guy for a ride," I said, trying to sound like the newspapers. "It wasn't much."

She wanted to know all about it. "Did you shoot him?"

"Sure."

"What did you feel-I mean when you fired the shot? Did it bother you?"

I said I was used to it. I didn't dare say anything else. She expected it. And she kept rubbing her naked breasts across my face while I told her. She wanted to know what the bullet-hole looked like and if he bled much, and how he looked afterward-and she got pretty goddam hot over it.

I laid her on the couch again and gave her another working over. She was crazy mad with lust. And while I pronged her I looked at the damn saintly face on her, wondering how come.

I also wondered about her husband. Did he know what a crazy package he had? Maybe not.

"Damn," she said, "don't hold back-make me come-pound me-"

I pumped her like a machine and she screamed when she let go. I hoped the damn butler wouldn't show up. He didn't, so I guessed he was used to her. She was one wicked little donkey. She couldn't get enough.

She got all she could though-all I was capable of putting out. And then, when I went permanently limp for the day, she threw me out.

"My husband will be home soon, dear," she kissed me and helped me on with my pants. When I left her she was still stark naked.

The butler showed me out, and never cracked an expression. He was wooden as a barrel stave. There were a lot of questions I'd like to have asked him, but I saved my breath.

I was pooped.