Jon Reskind - Sir Launcelot volume 1

"A-All right, Mr. Bovino… I'm here," she said evenly. "And, and I'd like to be moved upstairs in the casino to work."

"Hmmm, I see. In what capacity?"

"Cocktail waitress."

"Why?"

"I need the additional money," Susan replied. "I have to make more than a hundred dollars a week, and that's all I can earn in the dining room."

The big-man nodded his head in supposed understanding. "What do the cocktail-girls make?"

"Sometimes, a hundred-and-fifty."

Max Bovino massaged his square chin with a big hand while Susan struggled to keep her level of vision away from his completely exposed loins. For a moment, she thought she heard Silk sniggering behind her, but she didn't dare to turn and see for certain. Let the foul pervert revel in his obscene world, and this lurid man along with him… if she could gain what she'd come for, that's all she wanted…

"How about three-hundred-and fifty a week for starters, Susan?" Max said suddenly. "Does that sound like a figure that might interest you?"

"Wh-What…? Th-Three hundred and…" Susan repeated, his words making no sense what ever to her. "Y-You mean, three-hundred-and-fifty dollars…? Every week?"

"Just for starters, baby," Max said, grinning. "And as you progress, so does the loot."

Something had to be radically wrong. She was certain that she'd heard him correctly, yet, the figure he'd quoted was absolutely too far-fetched for any cocktail waitress.

"Well?"

"I-I… just don't understand, Mr. Bovino…"

He grinned, but he was looking more over her head than at her. "Tell me, baby," he said, "does my cock scare you?"

He might have had Silk Weaver strike her on the head, or the dog attack her… dear God, she was certain that the shock wouldn't have been greater than his words!

"Well… why the hell don't you answer?" he snapped. "Does my bare cock and balls hanging there before your eyes frighten you? Answer me!"

"M-My God! Y-You're sick!" Susan heard her self exclaim, the sound of the lewd words he had used still racing wildly through her brain. "You have to be! Wh-What do you think I am, any way? Some filthy slut off the street that you can drag in here and subject…"

"I didn't drag anybody in here, baby!" Max growled viciously. "Now, you just get that in your little head, eh? You came to me! You're asking the favors! You need the money! Now… Godamn you… I'm going to see that you get it… but you're going to earn it, every dime of it… right downstairs in the casino dancing bare-assed, sweetheart, for all of my high-paying guests… dancing and fucking yourself with the dildos and anything else I can dream up, while the whole Godamned world watches… otherwise," he leaned forward until Susan could see the flecks of enraged spittle at the corners of his mouth, "other wise… I'm going to hang your actor-lover, Jamey Halo, right up by his prick… then, feed that lush-assed daughter of yours to my lieutenant… Mr. Weaver, here! Now, how does that program strike you, baby?"

Susan nearly fell sideways off the chair from the mental force of his unbelievable word-filth, let alone their horrifying meaning. She tried to get to her feet, but her head was reeling… the room spun before her, and faintly, she heard her self cry out as little animalish whimpers seemed to sweep up from the floor and envelope her into darkness.

She might have remained unconscious for five minutes, Susan wasn't certain. But as her senses reached her, she lay unmoving and listened. It began to return and the voices in the room was easier than acknowledging the nausea that was trying to overpower her. She lay deathly still on the davenport where someone had lifted her… probably Silk, and she shuddered at the thought, her eyes closed, her ears wide-open to every syllable they spoke. Dear God, she thought in mounting terror, somehow, she had placed her self and all of her loved-ones in unbelievable danger. But why? Why…?

"Tell me again what she looks like, Silk," Max Bovino's guttural voice came to her. "And tell me good."

"Hell, Boss, she's absolutely a dream. Of course, I ain't seen her naked yet, but she's got the most beautiful face you ever pictured."

"You said there was some oriental strain there," the big-man put in anxiously. "I always went for them Godamned slant-eyes. They say that they're taught how to please a man from the time they learn to walk. Hurry up, tell me, has she got that look?"

"Yeah… shit, like a Goddess or something. Tiny bones in her face and hands, and great big almond-shaped, dark, slanting eyes… skin like white tissue-paper… you can see the tiny blue veins right through it. And long, shiny black hair that hangs almost to her ass, Boss, only she'd got it all piled up on top for working in the dining-room. Christ! Her tits stick right out straight… firm, full ones, too, and I've never seen such legs in my fucking life… I mean, what I can see of 'em… honest, Boss, never! But I could tell you better if you'd let me strip her…"

"No! I told you no, damnit! She'll take her own clothes off!" Max barked. "She'll take 'em off and be Godamned glad to! She'll fuck and suck me and be Godamned glad to! Because she belongs to me, Silk, you understand? In place of these eyes that husband of hers and his brother took from me that night in Boston! Damn little to pay for a man's eyes, but it's the best I can get… she and her daughter… and I intend to have 'em both!"

"What about Halo?" Susan's whirling brain registered Silk Weaver's question as she tried to control her emotions with the sheer panic that was rapidly building inside her. Mother of God… She had to keep her wits! "You want me to take care of him now, Boss?"

"No… I've changed my mind. First, I want to see how she reacts. If she's agreeable… plays along, then, maybe I'll give Halo a break. Hell, I don't need his eighty-five grand; I just don't like a welsher is all. He'll pay eventually… and come back to gamble some more… those suckers always do. But… if she doesn't play ball, then, you go work the TV genius over, and good, you hear?"

"Yeah, Boss. I hear."

Susan could no longer keep her eyes closed, but the full horrible meaning of their dialogue was yet to be inscribed clearly in her fear-stricken mind. She felt the muscles of her stomach tense and a clamminess creep the length of her spine as the blind, ex-mobster said: "You know something, Silk? This doll moves me. I like her sexy voice… and Lonny took to her right away. If… I say, if… she treats me right, well… hell, I might even set her up here with me. She's got class, all right, I can tell 'em when they got class. But I can't imagine how that punk she married ever reached her… Look, how is she, anyway? She ought to be coming around by now."

Susan might have screamed, but she was too frightened and qualmish of stomach to raise a sound. Instead, she looked in wide-eyed trepidation up at the leering, hawk-like face of Silk Weaver.

"Yeah… the little. bird's woke up, Boss," the thin man advised, his small, lecherous eyes crawling over her once more with lust-filled hunger. "Only, she looks like she might've seen a ghost or something…"

"Shut up," the big-man ordered, getting to his feet and tightening his robe about him.

Without looking directly at him, Susan saw Max take hold of Lonny's harness, the trained animal immediately moving erect to guide its master across the room to where she lay near petrified with ever-growing, dreaded fear.

"Get her a brandy," Max said to his lieutenant, standing a few feet off and looking down in her general direction. "So… how long you been awake?"

It seemed an effort to speak, but finally she managed: "I-I don't know."

"You been listening to us talk?"

"N-No…"

"You're lying… but it doesn't make any difference," Max said, gutturally. "How d'you feel?"