Chapter 6
Pauline glanced nervously at her watch. Where the hell was Dean? What was keeping him? She dialed his office again.
Dean's male secretary answered. "No, Mr. Crawford hasn't called in, Madame. I'm sure I don't know what's detaining him."
"Thank you," Pauline said, about to hang up the phone.
The male secretary laughed over the receiver.
"Maybe I can help you out, honey." He made a suggestive noise with his mouth.
"What are you talking about, young man?" Pauline said, angrily.
"What am I talking about?" the secretary laughed. "I'm talking about this, mama. Whoosh ... whooseh ... I'm talking about eating pussy. I'd like to suck you right through the telephone. I bet you have a real hot, hairy one. A hot, hairy twat filled with cunt cocktail!"
"You're fresh!" Pauline said. "You have a big mouth!"
"Ha!" he laughed at Pauline's humorous choice of words. "Who did you say has a big mouth?"
"You do, young man," Pauline snorted. "You have a filthy, big mouth."
"You bet your ass I do. And I'd love to stick that filthy big mouth of mine on top of your pussy and suck your sauce."
"You better watch what you say!" Pauline exclaimed. "I have powerful friends. I could have you arrested!"
"I have friends, too, honey. Maybe you could get your friend, and I could get mine, and we could plan a little gang-bang. How would you like that, pussy? Ever had your twat eaten by a whole football team at one time? Does that turn you on, Big Mouth
Baby?"
"You make me sick!"
"And you make me come," the young man laughed. "From what I've heard about you, you have the busiest box in town!"
"I don't know who told you that!" Pauline said.
"It's right there in your voice, honey," laughed Frank, the male secretary.
"What's in my voice?" Pauline asked curiously.
"Baby, you've sucked off so many men in your life, I can hear the come floating around in your big mouth," he laughed.
"Well, little boy," Pauline said sarcastically, "you better ask them what it was like. 'Cause you'll sure as hell never get inside!"
"Don't bet on it!" Frank said, trying to scare her.
Pauline hung up the phone. What a fresh kid! She'd tell Dean to fire him. No one could talk to her like that. She might like sex, that was true. She was a healthy red-blooded, red-cunted American girl. But she was no cheap hooker, to be talked to that way!
Pauline lit a cigarette and poured herself some gin. Where the hell was Dean? She was so bored. So restless.
So hot. That young kid might have been fresh, but he had turned her on. Pauline wanted it again. She wanted to get in some hot licks. "The busiest box in town," he'd called her. Maybe it was true.
It was all her husband's fault. His cheating was driving her to this wanton life. If only he'd come back.
Oh, she thought, how I hate him! I'll fuck his life. I will! She flung her empty glass at the mirror, and watched the splintering crack. That's the way his life will crack up in front of me. I hate him so!
Oooh, but I still would like to suck him one last time, Pauline thought. I hate him, but I love that hard cock. Love and hate. They're so confusing. They get mixed up all over. What the hell, she thought. All that counts in life is to have a good time!
"The busiest box in town" wanted to have a good time for the rest of her life!
But what was a girl supposed to do in an empty house?
Pauline decided to make a phone call to pass the time away. She dialed the office of the Eastport Gazette.
"Gazette," the girl at the switchboard answered. "Can I help you?"
"I have a story for your woman reporter, Muriel Oates."
"I'll buzz Miss Oates," the receptionist replied. "Hold on."
"I'm holding," Pauline said, taking another swig from the glass of gin.
A few moments passed, and then a deep woman's voice got on the phone. "Hello, this is Muriel Oates."
"Hi, toots, I got a hot flash for you," Pauline said.
"Oh," Muriel laughed, "the anonymous phone caller. "What's on your mind today?"
"The Mayor is soon going to make a major move against prostitution. He's going to clean out the South Side and arrest all the whores."
"How do you know?" Muriel Oates asked. "Are you the Mayor's wife?" she asked, jokingly.
"No," Pauline said. "I'm the Mayor's cunt! Don't ask me any questions. You just take my story and do something with it. I'm hanging up now."
"Always nice hearing from you," Muriel Oates said, hanging up the phone.
Pauline poured herself another glass of gin. Then she heard a car pull up outside.
She ran to the window. Thank goodness, she thought. It's Dean Crawford.
"Pussy," she said aloud, "we are gonna get eaten up now!"
Dean knocked at her door. "Come in," Pauline called. "As a matter-of-fact, come in my mouth," she laughed shrilly.
Waldo, the houseboy, opened the door. "Would you like me to, Mrs. Parker?"
"You?" Pauline shrieked. "Get your ass out of here! I thought that Dean Crawford..."
Waldo smiled. "He'll be right up." Then he thought to himself, right up your cunt! Waldo closed the door after him.
A few more minutes passed. Then there was another knock on the door.
"Whoever knocks on my door has to knock me up," Pauline laughed. "Come in, come in whoever you are!"
Dean opened the door and smiled. "Hiya, honey."
Pauline threw her arms around him and kissed him with lusty passion.
"Oooh, where you been so long?" Pauline asked him. "You're two hours late. I've been going out of my box waiting for you. Where have you been?"
"I got detained, over near Eastport Avenue and Twelfth Street."
"Oh," Pauline said curiously. "What's over there?"
"The Hotel Stayne," Dean answered.
"Oh, yeah? What's there? A convention?"
"Actually, Pauline," Dean said slowly, weighing the effect of his words, "it's a whorehouse."
"A what?" Pauline said in shock. thought, what would really turn this city off to Chuck Parker?"
"I don't know," Pauline said. "Should I get arrested for something else?"
Dean Crawford smiled. "You know what a hot issue the South Side renewal project is, how everyone is up in arms with the city government to turn the hookers out of those old fleabag hotels down there?"
"Yes," Pauline was beginning to understand what Dean wanted her to do.
"Well, listen, honey. We tapped the Mayor's private office phone. We found out he's gonna authorize the Vice Squad to raid that hotel down there, the one I'm telling you about."
"And, you want me to be one of the whores caught in the raid?" Pauline asked.
Dean looked at her. "Honey, am I asking too much of you?"
Pauline threw her arms around him. "I love it! I'll do it."
Dean hugged her closer to him. "Baby, you're the greatest. You're just the best there is."
Pauline pulled away from him. "Better than the girls at the whorehouse!"
"What do you mean?"
"How do I stack up compared to them?" she asked, running her fingers along the border of his cock.
"Honey, you stack up compared to anyone." Dean squeezed her tits. "Because you're stacked."
"I'm not joking, Dean," Pauline said seriously. "What were the girls like at the Hotel Stayne? What were they into?"
"Mainly, they were into me," Dean laughed. "My cock, my ass, you know."
"What was her name?" Pauline asked. "It turned me on to hear about it."
"One of them was-"
"One of them!" Pauline interrupted. "You mean you fucked two whores over there," she laughed, trying to be a good sport. He wasn't her husband, after all. "Will there be any left for little Pauline?" she asked, feeling his cock through his trousers.
"There's always room for one more," Dean laughed, pressing his hand on top of hers. "Oooh, that feels good, you bad girl, you!"
"Am I as bad as the hookers on Eastport Avenue?" Pauline teased.
"You're even worse," Dean confided. "After all, for them it's a job, for you it's a-"
"Blow-job," Pauline laughed, unzipping Dean's fly. "Come on, baby, let it all hang out while you tell me about what went on at the hotel whorehouse." Pauline held Dean's stiffening cock in her hand. She put her drink down and kissed the head of the pulsing prick.
"Pauline-" Dean groaned.
"Come on, tell me what went on there, while I jerk you off," Pauline invited him. "What's the matter? Can't do two things at once?" she teased, licking his lump.
"I sure can," Dean boasted. "I did two things at the whorehouse I was telling you about. The young one's name was Trixie."
Pauline's hold on his cock tightened. "What did Trixie look like? How old was she?"
"You know, honey, a few years younger than you, hey! Don't squeeze it so hard. Relax a little."
"So Trixie's just a kid, huh? What kind of body? Nice, young boobs that hung down like buds on a branch?" Pauline released Dean's throbbing muscle and opened her blouse. "Did Trixie have big, hot, humpy hummocks like these?" she asked, pushing her beautiful tits in Dean's face.
"Hell, Pauline, no one has a pair like you." He lunged over, and took the right one in his mouth.
"Did you suck Trixie's titties, too?" Pauline asked. "Did you milk her little mammaries?"
Dean made some kind of motion with his hand as he sucked hard on Pauline's nipples. Pauline laughed and pulled away.
"You didn't finish telling me your story, Dean," she said to him, wagging her finger.
"Now come on, don't hold back."
Dean groaned. "Let me suck those big tits, let me nibble those knobs."
Pauline swung away from him. She clapped her hands, teasingly, like a little girl. "Pauline wants to hear a story! She wants to hear all about Little Dean Riding Cock and the three whores."
"Who said three?" Dean asked. "There were only two. Trixie and Marsha."
Pauline pointed to herself. "And Baby makes three."
"That's right," Dean laughed. "I didn't count you. Why don't you come over here, Pauline." He patted the bed where he was sitting. "I'll tell you a good bedtime story."
Pauline lay down on the bed next to him. She took his cock in his hands. "Now what did the other hooker look like. What was her name? Martha?"
"Not Martha," Dean corrected her. "Marsha. They call her Marsha the Mouth."
"Marsha the Mouth," Pauline laughed. "Why do they call her that?"
"Because she loves to use her mouth. You know, that big hole that's in the face." Dean ran his fingers along Pauline's lips. "This is what's called the mouth," he said, "and some women like to take cocks up there! Did you ever hear of anything like that!" he said in a teasing voice.
"You mean like this?" Pauline said, playing along with the gag. "Is this what she did to you, Marsha the Mouth?" Pauline went down on Dean's hot meat, going all the way down in one lunging gulp.
"Oh, yeah!" Dean hooted. "You could teach her a few tricks, you pussycat! Suck that dick, lick that stick!" he howled. "You're number three for me, today!"
But Pauline popped his prick out of her mouth. "Number three, am I?"
"No, baby, you're number one! Now do that again, go down on my big dick like you were doing. Suck me off, Pauline. Pauline the Pussy. You're as good as Marsha the Mouth!"
Pauline got up from the bed and stretched. "Want another drink, Dean? You're not hot for your drink the way you were the other day. Lost your taste for scotch?" she teased.
Dean stood up and grabbed her. "That's right. Lately I prefer another drink." With a fierce lunge, he ripped open her skirt. "Pussy juice is my new drink!" he howled, digging into her dugout.
Pauline swung her hips and bumped him off her twat. "The bar's closed," she said sarcastically. "We're not serving anymore."
"What's gotten into you, Pauline?" Dean asked, confused.
"Let's see, I think your tongue just got into me, didn't it?" she laughed, pouring herself another gin.
"Aren't you into having sex?" Dean asked. "Are you made at me, honey?"
"I ain't mad at you, honey," Pauline said. "But look at it this way. I waited for you two hours while you were getting it on. Now it's only fair you wait for me to catch up to you. After all," Pauline smiled, "I'm a girl who-likes to go slow."
Dean burst out laughing. "That's a hoot!"
"But Dean, it's true. Deep down inside me I'm an old-fashioned girl."
"How deep down?" Dean asked, a little heady from the drinks. "This deep?" He plunged his finger into her cunt. "Even deeper than this?"
"Ooooh, that does feel good," Pauline said, lying back on the bed. "You sure know how to finger a girl."
"Don't I, though, you old-fashioned girl, you!" Dean laughed, wriggling his finger around inside her, feeling her tingling clit.
"Is this what you did with those girls at the Hotel Stayne?" Pauline asked. "Did you finger-fuck them, too? Ummm, did they love it the way I love it?" Pauline cooed, resting her own hand on Dean's wrist, guiding it further in to her burning bush.
"Yeah, they liked it fine," Dean said. "And that's the end of Eyewitness News," he laughed, pouncing hungrily upon her lips.
Pauline let his tongue bore into her mouth in a sizzling kiss. Then she squirmed out of his embrace, forcing him to remove his lips from hers, and his probe from out of her pussy.
"It's so hot in here, isn't it, Dean," she said, getting up and walking towards the window.
"Not as hot as it is in here!" Dean said, pointing to his raging ramrod. "Pauline, go down on me. I'm burning with come, I swear it. Eat me like you did the other day," he begged.
"Aren't you thirsty?" Pauline asked him, ignoring his Other requests.
"Dammit, I'm not fucking thirsty. You know what I want. I'm hungry for you, damn you!"
"Hungry?" Pauline asked innocently. "I could see what we have in the ice box."
Dean ran over to her. "This is the only box I care about!" he exclaimed, once again feeling with his fingers the beauty of Pauline's burning bush. "Oh, baby, I'd love to stuff my stick up there."
"My, Dean, you are quite a man. Two whores, and there's still more of you to go around," Pauline laughed.
Dean wondered. Was she just teasing or was she really mad about his having spent an afternoon with two hookers. She was a woman, after all. You could never tell when their feelings would get hurt.
But what the hell, they weren't married. They weren't even in love. They were just two conspirators with a common interest. He wanted to be Mayor, and she wanted to see her husband humiliated. That's all it was between them.
like the old saying goes, politics makes strange bedfellows.
So why the hell was she acting so damn funny now? Was she for real? Or was she teasing. He knew how to find out. Two could play the game of tease!
"You know, Pauline," Dean began. "I think I will have that drink now."
Pauline got up from the bed and walked toward the door. She was a little disappointed actually. She was starting to get hot for him.
"Scotch and soda?" she called from the bar.
"That'll be fine," he said.
Pauline mixed the drink, all the time watching Dean who had his back to her. What had he done with those whores? He was quite a man! Three a day! The only man she knew who used to get it up that often was her ever-loving hubby.
"Here's the drink, honey," she said, handing it to Dean. "Mind if I sit next to you," she said, sliding down on the bed. "My, my," she laughed. "Who's been sleeping in my bed?"
Pauline reached out and stroked Dean's curly brown hair, weaving her fingers through the dense curls.
"Don't do that, honey."
"What?" Pauline asked.
"I said don't play around with my hair like that," Dean said, taking her hand from off his head. "I'm drinking now."
Pauline was perplexed. "What does one thing have to do with the other?"
"Well, honey, you may get some hairs in my drink. That's not very sanitary."
Not sanitary, Pauline thought to herself. That's a funny thing come from a man who spent an afternoon in a whorehouse.
"I'm sorry, Dean," Pauline said. Then she reached out and put her arm around his waist. "Umm," she cooed, "this feels so nice and cozy."
"Sure does," Dean agreed.
Pauline held him close to her, and slid her arm down his trouser leg, seeking his cock.
Hell, Dean thought, here's where I discover if I have enough will-power to play this game.
Pauline opened his fly. "Poor little dick, it must be so lonely all locked up inside there," she laughed. "Why don't we set him free?"
Dean tried to concentrate on not getting hard. I will not get hard, he repeated to himself. I will not get hard. I will not get hard.
"That's funny," Pauline said, "you don't have a hard-on. You had one all the time back there. What happened?"
Dean smiled innocently, his face sweating. "Gee, honey, I don't know." He extended his empty tumbler. "I'm ready for seconds," he announced.
Pauline took his glass, all the time staring at his limp tool. "Maybe you drink too much," she said, in a bitchy voice, getting up and walking across the room towards the bar.
Whew, Dean thought, I don't know how long I can keep this up. I'm dying to let that thing get into her hot cunt. But maybe...
"Here you go." Pauline handed him the glass. "It's heavier on the soda this time. You know, too much alcohol isn't good for your liver."
"Is that a fact?" Dean said, making room for her on the bed.
"No. All the doctors agree. Too much alcohol is bad for your liver. And," she said, reaching out to grab his limp meat, "too much alcohol is also bad for your lover. Get it? Your liver, your lover. It's a joke."
Dean laughed heartily, sliding out of Pauline's reach, and walking towards the standing up.
"Thanks, honey." Dean bolted out the door.
Pauline poured herself a new glass of gin. Maybe she should have offered to take his piss, like the kids do at the Lavendar Lick. Anything. She would have done anything, she was so horny. Pauline downed the last of the bottle of gin and staggered out of the room.
"I'm in here," Dean called back to whoever was knocking at the bathroom door.
"Open up," Pauline shrieked, shrill from the bottle of gin she'd polished off. "It's me, honey, Pauline the Pussy."
Dean laughed. "I'll be right out, honey."
"I said open up, didn't I? This is my house, not yours. What the hell are you doing in there?"
"What the hell do you think I'm doing in here?" Dean bellowed. "I'm taking a shit down your toilet, dammit. I'll be all right when I'm done."
Pauline banged at the door with her fists. "Open up or I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow the house down. Open up, I say!"
What the hell had gotten into this broad, Dean wondered. Was she drunk or just plain crazy?
Pauline redoubled her banging at the door. She even hit the door with the empty gin bottle. "Open up or you'll be sorry. You got another broad in there? Is that why you won't let me in? You got Trixie in there? Or Marsha the Mouth? Or my husband, Chuck? Why won't you let me in?" Pauline smiled, drunk and horny-a woman possessed.
Dean opened the door for her and Pauline stumbled in.
"Whatsa matter with you, honey? You see there's no one in here. What gave you a crazy thought like that? See, I was taking a shit."
Pauline pushed aside the bathtub curtains. "Who's in there?"
"Honey," Dean said, trying to lift his trousers up, "you've been drinking. There's no one in there. Just me and my shit!" He laughed lewdly.
Pauline turned and saw him trying to pull up his trousers. "Why are you trying to get rid of me?"
"I'm not trying to get rid of you, Pauline. I'm just finished in here. I want to leave."
"You don't like this room?" Pauline asked.
"Yeah, you have a great interior decorator. I love it. Just get the air freshener and I'll move in here," Dean said sarcastically.
Pauline reached behind the door. "Here's the air freshener." She sprayed the room inside and out, to Dean's astonishment. "There," she smiled, "how does it smell now?"
"Oh, fine," Dean joked, "it smells like someone took a shit in a flower garden. Let's go back to the bedroom."
Pauline pulled his trousers back down. "I want to stay here. And you're going to stay with me," she commanded, pulling him towards the bathtub. "We'll have a good time right here!"
"You must be kidding!" Dean exclaimed. "In the bathroom! That's ridiculous. Let's go lie down on your nice soft bed, Pauline. No one makes it in the bathroom," Dean insisted.
"Mona does," the drunken Pauline laughed, pulling him down on top of her, into the bathtub.
"Who the fuck is Mona?" Dean asked suspiciously.
"Someone I made it with at the Lavendar Lick," Pauline replied, tugging at Dean's trousers.
"Mona," Dean mused. "That's a funny name for a guy."
"I'll tell her you said so," Pauline laughed, taking Dean's surging sex in her hands.
Dean closed his eyes and tried to arrange himself comfortably in the cold tile bathtub. Pauline was too much, he thought. A real sex machine. So she had been into chicks, also, he thought. Never leave any stone unturned, like they say.
"Take your clothes off, honey," Pauline said. "Take that big dick out. Oooh, baby," Pauline moaned, "take your clothes off. I can't get it on unless you take them off!"
"Sure," Dean said, shucking off his trousers and shirt. Then he reached over and undid the buttons on Pauline's night dress.
"Strip me, Dean," Pauline encouraged him. "Take it off. Take it all off," she laughed.
Dean pulled the night dress from her shoulders. Hell, he thought, her tits just kept getting bigger every time he saw them. Was she taking silicone? Or was she just a growing girl?
Pauline pressed closer to him, moaning with pleasure. "I'll teach you tricks that even Trixie doesn't know," she promised. Then she reached over and turned the water faucet on. "Let's fuck like fish!"
"What?" Dean laughed, feeling the warm water filling the bathtub.
"Rub-a-dub, let's fuck in the tub!" Pauline laughed.
"You're crazy," Dean said. "You're just crazy!"
"Crazy for your cock!" Pauline explained, reaching below the water to grab Dean's throbbing member. She held it in her hand, applying subtle pressure, as the water level rose around them.
"Oh, baby, take it in your mouth. Take my wet, hairy hard-on in your mouth and suck me off!" Dean commanded her.
Pauline bent down and took Dean's surging sex in her mouth. Her long red hair spread out in the water that had risen to their shoulders.
Dean closed his eyes and imagined he was getting eaten by a glistening, red-haired mermaid. He rocked back and forth, thrusting his lusty long rod deeper into her compliant mouth. He lifted his legs in the water, so that Pauline could suck him all the way down to the nitty-gritty.
Pauline responded to this move by taking his balls in her hand. With her other hand she picked up a bar of soap and began to work up a thick lather. Then she covered Dean with the lubricating white lather as she goosed his balls in the warm water.
"Oh, Mama," Dean said, "that lather reminds me of something. You know what it reminds me of? It reminds me of the hot white come that's up my cock, the hot white come I want to shoot down your deep throat!"
Pauline pointed with her hand to her throat, as if to say, if you can dish it out, I can take it!
Dean reached out and felt Pauline's breasts glistening in the water, firm and juicy. He squeezed them in his hands, slipping off a little because of the wetness. He pushed them close together, and watched them form a new cunt up there on her chest. How he'd love to slide his tool through the cleavage of her chest, come right in between her two mammoth mammaries.
Dean reached over and turned the faucet off. The water had gotten high enough. Besides, he couldn't hear anything with the water on.
Now he heard something.
He heard voices talking downstairs!
"Pauline," he whispered, pointing down below, "there's someone down there!"
Pauline took his dick out of her mouth and listened.
"Impossible," she said, shaking her head. "Chuck's not due back till late tonight. And I sent Waldo the houseboy out on errands. There's no one down there, silly," she laughed.
"Pauline," Dean said, seriously, "you're drunk! There are voices down there. It's your husband! I swear! Listen," he whispered urgently.
Pauline made a motion with her hand, as if Dean were the crazy one. Then she lowered her head into the water to take his dick back into her lusting mouth.
"Oh, shit," Dean moaned, caught between desire and fear. "Pauline, baby, pull yourself together. What the hell are we going to do?"
Pauline sucked impatiently on his dick, feeling it shriveling up before her. She took it in her hand and started to jerk him off into her mouth, oblivious to her husband's voice on the main floor.
"I'll be right back down," Chuck Parker was saying to Waldo. "I just want to check on Pauline."
Dean froze with fear. Chuck Parker was coming upstairs. He'd catch them and then, that was the end of all of Dean's plans. He was finished! He was ruined!
And it was all Pauline's fault! Pauline, she who was supposed to be shooting down her husband! Now she was ruining him, Dean Crawford!
"Pauline," Chuck was calling, just down the hallway from where his wife was sucking off his arch rival! "Pauline, where are you?" Chuck called again.
Pauline, still reeling drunk from the gin, responded to the man's voice. "Who's calling me?" she asked Dean. "Did you just call me?"
"Hell, no," Dean croaked, stuffing his fist over her mouth. "Keep that big mouth shut, dammit!"
"Pauline!" her husband called again, from the bedroom. "Did she go out, Waldo?" he called downstairs.
"I don't know, Mr. Parker. Maybe she did," the houseboy replied. "She's not down here, either."
"Well, hell knows where she is," Chuck said, walking towards the steps. "I'll have that cup of coffee now, Waldo."
"Fine, sir, I'll put it up."
Dean breathed a sigh of relief. Chuck Parker was walking downstairs. They were saved, at least for the time being. Now what to do? He'd have to sneak out to the...
"I'll be right down, Waldo," Chuck called, turning at the steps.
What the hell was happening, Dean gasped. Chuck seemed to be heading back upstairs. He was. The footsteps were getting closer.
The knob turned and the bathroom door opened.
Chuck Parker was in the bathroom!
Dean felt icy fear grip his neck. Everything was lost! It was only a matter of seconds. He'd pull aside the bathtub curtain, and then, the sight of his depraved wife sucking off his rival. Maybe he'd shoot him right on the spot.
Oh, shit, Dean thought to himself, what a way to go! Sucked off in a bathtub! What an undignified death.
Chuck Parker was humming a song. He was in good spirits. The last poll taken had shown the two rivals to be almost neck in neck in this heated election. It had restored his faith in himself. If only he could keep his loony, big-mouthed wife out of the papers till election day, he might earn another stay in the Mayor's Mansion.
He might. But Pauline Parker would be out on her ass.
"Waldo!" Chuck called, "I can't find the mouthwash."
"I'll come up, Sir," the houseboy called back.
Oh, hell, Dean thought, now they'll both be in here. They're bound to hear the noise and pull aside the curtain. And that would mean curtains for him. And for Pauline.
Pauline, Dean thought, looking down at her. She didn't know what the hell was going on, did she? She seemed to have fallen asleep with Dean's dick up her drunken mouth. But she was sucking him, or maybe it was just a heavy breathing. Fuck it, Dean thought, just let this torture be over.
Waldo came in the bathroom. "Here it is, Sir," he said, handing his boss the mouthwash.
"Thanks, son," Chuck said. Then, as he gargled with the mouthwash, he talked of his plans for the election. "We're going to win this one, Waldo."
"You're positive, Sir?"
"I am indeed." Chuck spit the mouthwash down the sink. "You know, we tapped Dean Crawford's telephone line. We found out that his family owns some old fleabag hotels on the South Side. You know the area?"
"Where all the hookers hang out?" Waldo asked. "Right off Eastport Avenue?"
"Yeah, that's the place," Chuck laughed. "So, here's my plan. I get the vice squad to raid the hotels. Then the story breaks in all the papers that Dean Crawford, candidate for Mayor, owns whorehouses on the South Side. I don't think the good citizens of this fair city would elect a whoremonger to the Mayor's Mansion," Chuck laughed heartily, slamming Waldo on the back.
"I guess you're still Mister Mayor," Waldo beamed. "And I still have a job."
"Sure, kid, sure," Chuck assured him.
"By the way," Waldo asked him, "when will the raid take place?"
'Tonight at eight o'clock sharp. So don't get caught up by cunts on Eastport Avenue!" Chuck laughed.
"Thanks for warning me, Sir," Waldo said.
"Say, we better be going. You'll drive me back downtown, Waldo. Then you can finish those errands for Pauline. We'll leave a note for her."
"Right on, Chief," Waldo agreed. The two men left the bathroom. Dean listened, with his heart in his hands as the front door closed. Then the garage door.
"Gimme that cock back," Pauline laughed, squirming in his arms as Dean carried her to the bedroom.
Dean dropped her on the bed. "Pull yourself together, you twat! You've got a job to do!"
But the only type of job Pauline wanted to do was a job on Dean's dork.
"Cut that out, Pauline!" Dean shook her violently in her arms. "Listen to me and listen real good! In four hours you've got to be arrested in a hotel down on Eastport Avenue. Remember our plan? Think, Pauline, think."
Pauline tried to think. She had a very serious expression on her face, Dean noticed. That was a good sign. She was starting to sober up. She closed her eyes as if to concentrate harder on what Dean was talking about.
She rolled over on the bed, sound asleep.
"Oh, baby," Dean moaned, "don't let me down. Please don't let me down," he cried out.
But it was no use. Pauline was sleeping soundly. She was dead to the world.
Dean got up and lit a cigarette. Get ahold of yourself, he thought. Pull yourself together.
They still had four hours. That was plenty of time to sober up this sow, he thought. He shook her again with his arms.
Pauline smiled blissfully in her sleep.
Four hours, Dean thought, running to get some cold water to wake her up. Four hours, and then one man will be assured of being Mayor of Eastport. And this drunken woman held the key to the city up her cunt. May the best man win, Dean thought.