The Buy, a short story by starving. Times viewed: 596
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- Intro: Belize 1981 (Part 3 of 3)
It went smoothly. Myrtle and I examined the product and watched them load it. Liam hid two of our guys who could actually shoot an AK 47 in the scrub by the landing strip to guard against surprises. There were none. Old man Dooley and his wife drove the camper north with the stuff, Liam and our hard asses following.
Myrtle and I stayed at Tony's that night and I finally capitulated. I couldn't take it any longer. And she was worth it. Yes indeed! After the first night though she dropped her insistence on being paid and we set up housekeeping in her apartment in New Orleans. I guess it had just been a matter of principle for her as well.
After a month I got us an apartment on East End Avenue and we moved to Manhattan. Manhattan's a lot more interesting than Queens. Also, I wanted to keep her well away from our operation. It was much too dangerous. Too dangerous for me that is. I shuddered when I thought of what might happen if she ever found out how much we were actually getting for the stuff.
Life was good for all of us. In fact it was much too good. Fate has a way of compensating. About a year and a half later everything went to hell all at once.
Wally crashed and burned. A beautiful windless night, a full moon, the lanterns placed where they belonged, and he overshoots the landing strip by 100 yards, crashes and is killed. Go figure.
Just about then Myrtle finds out how much we're getting for the stuff. Well I don't want to discuss that scene, it's was violent and painful. Then she was out of there. It got back to me that she was looking for a hit man.
Meantime one of the periodic scandals erupted at the Police Dept, and in self defense they felt constrained to get off their asses and fight crime. We were picked up in the sweep. They usually don't care much about Marijuana, a Heroin bust is a lot sexier, but what the Hell. You take what you can get.
I wound up in Attica State Prison where I'm writing this from. I should be out in two years. Liam was able to get out of the country and is staying with his people in Donegal. I visited Donegal with him once, and to tell you the truth I think I'd rather be in Attica.
But this was all to happen in the future.
Let me turn this over to Liam. He will have to tell you about his strange experience shortly after the product arrived.XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
A little over a month after receiving the load I worked my way through the dirty slush to the warm confines of Grogan's for an early morning beer. A light snow was falling. Three men were lined up at the bar deep in conversation. Jack Finnerty and Jimmy Coogan were there having come from working the graveyard shift; Frank McCarty had stopped by for a quick one before going to work. It was a gloomy February day and inside was no better.
I joined them. We were deeply involved in bellyaching about the Met's when this dapper guy in his late twenties, wearing a snap brim fedora and sporting pencil moustache no less, walks in the door shaking the snow off his hat. We never saw the likes him in Grogan's before.
"Are any of you Liam O'Malley?"
"Yeah" I said turning on my stool to get a better look. He walked over to me, held out his hand.
"Bob Schaefer. Nice meeting you." I shook his hand.
"Can we talk in private?"He asked.
"Sure, want a beer?"
"No I'm going to have to get going"
We sat in a back booth. He stage whispered "Vinnie call you?" I figured that was it. Vinnie had called, laughing with that fucking irritating cackle of his, and said someone new would be making the pickup. But Christ, this guy? The Mafia must be running out of guineas. I handed him the envelope. It was the fucking Knicks again. I'm going to have to stick to betting the college games. The Knicks were killing me.
I watched as he was leaving, wondering about going for that look myself, when there's a commotion at the door. He stands aside, gallantly holding the door open. Damned if it wasn't Maggie and Penny resplendent in new anoraks, still with their backpacking gear, shaking off the snow, looking around distastefully. I shouted a greeting, leapt up and ran over, hugging them both. They gave me subdued pecks on the cheek.
"Myrtle admitted she exaggerated your position in the crime world, but still!" frowned Maggie.
"Dreadful place" chimed in Penny.
"What a great surprise! It's wonderful to see you again. What are you doing here. I never expected to see you again."
"We're on our way back to England. We stayed with Eddy and Myrtle for a week and she showed us New Orleans. What a marvelous woman. She must know everyone in that city."
I almost said she would since she's probably fucked half the male population. But I held my tongue. "So how long are you here for?"
"We're taking the train to Washington tomorrow, then on to London after a few days. Liam we must speak, privately." Maggie looked very serious. I led them to the back booth.
"There is this problem." Maggie said sharply.
"Yes, a problem." echoed Penny.
"We're pregnant."
"Both of us."
"WHAT!" I said feeling a sudden a flash of terror. I can't possibly be the father. They've been screwing their way through Latin America.
"They are definitely yours!"
"Women know that sort of thing."
I stared at them wide eyed. They looked sadly at the ground. We sat there quietly for what seemed like an eternity. They continued to avoid eye contact, staring morosely down.
"Oh Bullshit!" I burst out laughing.
"I told you it was useless" Penny responded "the louse is trying to wriggle out of it."
"We'll send you pictures."
"We're naming them Liam 1 and Liam 2"
"Who's going to be who?"
"Penny's will be Liam 1 since for some inexplicable reason you chose to have her first."
"We'll be expecting child support. Significant child support."
"We'll be living with Ramon. He's doesn't believe in work. Capitalist exploitation and all that rot."
"Ramon refuses to be exploited."
I was not taking them seriously "Liam obviously lacks any sense of decency. It does seem as though he should offer us lunch while we work out the settlement terms."
"Yes, of course! Let's all get some lunch."I enthused.
I took them to the local Greek diner. This was a working class neighborhood and other than the bars there wasn't much going on.Although the girls appeared happy, I sensed a nervousness about something, an underlying tension. Finally Maggie broke in, deadpan "Liam, Penny and I discussed it. We've decided it would not be cricket to leave without giving you another opportunity to earn the coveted White Banner."
"Not sporting at all." Penny interjected. "You do have somewhere we could give it another try?" Light hearted, but again they projected that feeling of nervousness that didn't make sense.
I don't have the usual bachelor pad. Mine is a large, rent controlled one bedroom on the top floor of a six story apartment house. I have a housekeeper, Mrs. Gallagher, who comes in once a week and keeps it in reasonable shape. That's where I took them
We no sooner got through the door than we began to frenetically kiss, moving gradually into the bedroom and onto the bed, where we clawed clumsily at each other's clothes while we continued to kiss and caress. They finally disentangled themselves, stood and took off their remaining clothing. They then bent over there rucksacks "We have a surprise for you" said Penny.
"Decided we should do the thing right this time." Added Maggie. The strain in their voices was intensifying.
They stood holding up two good quality leather dog collars and leashes.
Good God I thought as I got off the bed and took the leashes they offered me.
They put the collars around their necks, and stood smiling tentatively at me, shifting uncertainly.
God they were striking. The sensual pale rounded bodies. The full breasts, the nipples already standing at attention. All highlighted by the neat, dark patches of hair.
I had folded the leashes in half, and stood there tapping them absentmindedly against the side of my leg as I admired them.
We remained staring at each other quietly and the tension increased. A darkness started to envelop us. They had stopped smiling now but stood with their mouths partially opened, their tongues tentatively touching their upper lips, their eyes wild and frightened. They reached out and gripped each other's hands tightly then moved to the bed, lay their bodies across it, their backs to me. Still holding each other's hands tightly, they waited.
I moved to the bed, raised the leashes and I whipped them. I whipped them and got hard as I watched them writhe. They would cry out; whimper and moan as the red welts appeared.It lasted two days.
When we fucked they had screaming orgasms that wracked their bodies.
They would work together sucking me and the one who received the prize would kiss the other lovingly sharing my semen.
I brutally fucked their asses.
They would crawl naked to me on their bellies. Lick my feet, kiss my feet, suck my toes.
And there were the whippings. Always the whippings.
After two days we lay dazed, exhausted; emotionally and physically drained.
Silently they rose, took off their collars, dressed, gathered their belongings and left without saying a word.
I dragged myself out of bed and into the kitchen, threw the collars and leashes in the trash, and poured myself a tumbler of whiskey. I sat at the kitchen table staring vacantly into space, feeling the liquid burn. Slowly I began to emerge from the madness.XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
This is a good gig, but it was strange the way I got it. I'm a retired Cop from Boston, a Southie, and here I was the Chauffer and half assed body guard for the British Ambassador in DC. You have to realize that in the demonology of south Boston the English are right down there with Beelzebub.
I got the job through my cousin who was on the staff of our local Congressman: the most virulent anti British/ pro IRA voice in the nation. Occasionally, just occasionally mind you, I get the feeling these politicians may not mean what they say.
The Ambassador was a good man though, and his wife an absolute sweetheart. I'd do anything for her. And to my amazement the British staff was actually human. Good and bad but a regular sort over all.
That's why I was so surprised and, to be honest, disgusted to see them obsequiously bowing and scraping when they had these visitors. Obscenely fawning while those haughty twits, with their absurd airs, disdainfully looked down their noses at them. Treating them like so much dirt.
Even I was firmly admonished to behave respectfully, like I don't always, and that I MUST ALWAYS, ALWAYS address them as Lady Margaret and Lady Penelope. I mean, Shit!
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