On the Grift

by Steve Shadow

  ON THE GRIFT

  by

  Steve Shadow

  © Steve Shadow 2012

  Cover design by Barry Graham (www.barrygrahamauthor.com)

  Published by Shadow Press

  DEDICATION

  To Barry Graham and Daishin Stephenson

  For the help, the love, and all those Thursdays

  To William Gresham

  For the inspiration

  And most of all to my wife Angela, a true angel in human form

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Fuck, its cold.” The wind hit me as soon as I stepped out from the lobby door. The sky was gray and sooty snow lay piled to the curb. My pre-war pile of junk was down the block, rusted out with a layer of ice covering the windows. It was another lovely January day in Chicago.

  I slowly inched my way across the sidewalk to the car but my feet flew out from under me and I landed on my ass in a filthy pile of garbage-laden slush. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I mumbled. I gotta get out of this town. I sat there, my ass getting soggy, pounding my thighs in frustration.

  Get up, asshole, I said to myself. And then I started laughing, maybe a little too hysterically, but shit, who cares? 34 years old and my life had been a sick joke. I had screwed up everything I ever touched. Some con man I turned out to be. Not one score since last year and now I had to depend on someone I did not trust to get me out of this frozen town. Louisa; well, she showed me up for what I was, and it was not what I thought.

  I pulled myself up, shook the slush off my wet pants and pigeon-stepped down the street to my car. I got in. It started after 3 tries. While it warmed up I scraped the ice off the windows and got back in. I could see Mobes in the window. She was holding her head and crying. I eased out from the curb and headed west. The knot in my stomach grew as I careened from utter fear to wild hope.

  CHAPTER TWO

  It had all started three months ago. I had been in Chicago for a few weeks scoping out possible scam sites when I spotted Mobes in a dive bar on the North side. She was there with some other skanky-looking broads while I was trying to run my watch grift on the barkeep. I was getting nowhere because he was on to me from the get go. So I figured, fuck, I’ll try my luck with the ugly quartet. Shuffling over in my best Pachuco glide, I said, “What are four big and beautiful dolls like you ladies doing sitting here all alone?” Three of the pigs gave me the fisheye but Mobes’ chubby little cheeks creased into a big smile. She was wearing a too tight dress that shoved her only asset up around her double chin. At about 5 feet and 200 pounds, she looked like a frizzy-headed bowling ball on a stool. I, of course, zeroed in on this vulnerable piece of meat like a hyena after a lame baby buffalo.

  “And what’s your name?” I gave her my best smile and then winked.

  “Ethel” She says. I smiled even more. This shit hole joint had a little area in front of the jukebox, so I says, “How about a little dance?”

  Her girlfriends threw me more dirty looks as Mobes inched her fat, blubbery ass off the stool and followed me to the juke box. I scanned the crap tunes available and punched in G6. Glenn Miller’s “Sentimental Journey” started playing. She fell into my arms, barely coming up to my chest. I took her chubby little mitts in mine and led her around the floor. Her ugly stepsisters shot daggers at us and the lowlifes at the bar giggled and smirked like the assholes they were.

  She smelled of cheap perfume and sweat and her brown curls had a sweet odor of some shampoo.

  “You dance nice,” she squeaked. Her voice sounded like a nervous munchkin and I was having second thoughts. It was getting on to October, however, and the weather was getting too cold at night to sleep in the car.

  Beaming up at me she asked my name.

  “Take a guess, doll.”

  “Well,” she said. “From your looks I would say Kevin?”

  “Bingo.” I said. “How did you know? Have we met before? Nah, I would remember you.”

  “No,” she said. “I’m sure we haven’t met.”

  We twirled around the floor a little more while the gang at the bar kept up the laughter. The record ended, thank God, and her friends started signaling that it was time to go. I held onto her. “Don’t go, let’s have another drink and get to know each other a little.” I gave her my best sincere and innocent look. That usually works on these dumb babes.

  “Well, Greta drove and…”

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll see you get home all right.”

  “Are you sure?” she said, and squeezed my hand.

  “Sure, I’m sure, doll. You’re cute as a button and you dance real swell.”

  I couldn’t believe it but the blimpette began to blush. I got a live one here, I thought. She said goodbye to the three witches and I guided her to a back booth and got two more beers. I slid in real close to her until I could feel the heat from her chubby little thigh against mine. I put my hand on her knee and said, “Sure glad I stopped by tonight. You live around here?”

  “Not too far,” she said. “I have an apartment on Diversey, near the El station. What about you, Kevin? Where do you live?”

  “Oh, I’m up north, Rogers Park, you know it?”

  “Not really. I don’t get around the city too much. I’m from Normal, its downstate.”

  Yeah, wonderful, I thought but smiled and said, “That’s great, where do you work?”

  “At an insurance company but I want to finish college and get into accounting. I have a sick mother and I need more money.”

  “Sure,” I said, “Don’t we all.” This fucking small talk was a real bore. Meanwhile the heat from her body felt like it was going to melt my pants. I put my arm around her, sick of her pathetic chatter, and leaned in real close. “Doll, sitting so close to you is getting me real hot and bothered. What say we get out of here and go to your place?”

  She did not say anything, only shuddered a little. I sweet-talked her a little more while we had some more drinks. The sound of my own voice, coaxing her, was giving me a semi hard-on while I thought of other good-looking babes I could be fucking. I’m very convincing when I want to be and can even con myself. This is probably not a good thing for someone on the make.

  She finally gave me that stupid little grin of hers and nodded her head when I prodded her to leave. We got up and I took a last look at this shabby smoke-filled bar. The only reason I came in was because the barkeep looked like an easy mark. He gave me a nasty smirk and the other shitheads at the bar kept grinning as I led Mobes outside to my car. The wind had picked up and the temperature was dropping. I was thinking I should have gone to Florida for the winter but that place was owned by the big boys.

  “The cold is coming soon,” she mumbled in that high-pitched voice of hers. Yeah, sure, just what I needed. No place to live, a bum heater in the car, and my stake about shot.

  “Let’s go, doll” I said, easing her into the car. “You got anything to drink at your place?”

  “I have some beer and gin. I hope that’s OK. And my place is small, I haven’t cleaned, and, and…”

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “It will be fine.” I can’t stand it when they start in on that middle-class crap. Like I ever lived anywhere that wasn’t a hole. The shit that spills out of these broads’ pie-holes is enough to make me want to just cold-cock the bitches, grab their money and leave. But I guess even a sleazy bum like me has his limits; at least so far.

  CHAPTER THREE

  We drove north on Clark Street and turned west at Diversey. She lived in a 3 story brick building with a ratty courtyard and a few scraggly bushes in front. The entrance was tiled in black and white with a row of mailboxes on the wall. Our footsteps echoed as we crossed the entry and began to climb up two flights of dimly lit stairs. As we neared her apartment the door across the
hall opened and a woman stepped out.

  “Hi, Ethel,” she said. We turned. She was a tall redhead and a real knockout. Even in a long raincoat I could see she had a lush figure.

  Mobes froze like a deer in the headlights. I turned to her and said, “Hey doll, introduce me to your neighbor.”

  She started to stammer. “Uh, this is my, uh, friend Kevin. Kevin, this is Louisa, she and Max live across the hall.”

  “You don’t say.” I gave Louisa the major con job smile. Her eyes bored holes into mine. I could tell this babe had been around. Her mouth got tight as she looked me over like she was sizing me up for something nasty.

  “Sure, a real pleasure to meet you.” Her deep voice dripped with sarcasm. I knew she was on to me, but screw her.

  “See you later, Ethel. I got an appointment I have to get to.” I wondered what kind of deal she was running with appointments at one in the morning.

  I watched her sashay down the stairs and felt a tingling in my balls. I said to myself, “I’d eat a mile of her shit just to see where it came from.” Turning back to Mobes I almost got sick. Amazing what I had to do just to get by.

  We got inside her dingy place and took our coats off. She had a small living room, Pullman kitchen, bath and a bedroom. The carpeting was threadbare and the place reeked of desperation and need. At least it was warm and sure beat a cold car.

  Mobes seemed a little wobbly from all the drinks so we sat down on her couch. I poured a few more drinks down her fat gullet till she was feeling no pain. She was really getting glassy-eyed by now and kept sliding closer to me. All I could think of was the redhead from next door. That kept me from gagging as she started breathing heavily on me with her booze-filled breath wrapped in that rancid perfume. Christ, how am I ever going to fuck this tub of guts?

  She had the lights turned low and it was real dim. I stuck my tongue in her ear and started squeezing her mushy melons.

  “Oh, Kevin, can’t we slow down. I’m a little nervous. You know we just really met and…” I hushed her with a long deep kiss.

  “Come on, doll, you know this train has left the station. I got it bad for you.” I took her hand and put it on my cock. She was trembling but did not try and stop me. As long as I could hold the image of that redhead’s flaming wet bush in my head I could at least get half a hard-on.

  I figured it was time to get down to business. She had been rattling on about her home town and family and the usual crap. I was tuned out and trying to keep my mind on other hot dames I’d seen just to keep in the mood for the coming performance.

  I stood up and said, “Let’s go to bed, doll. It’s late and you got me all lathered up.”

  “Gee, I don’t know, I’m, uh, uh, not too experienced at, uh, and we hardly, uh, and I don’t want you to think I’m, you know.”

  I put my finger to her small mouth. “Shush, doll, don’t you like me?”

  “Well, yes, but, uh, I’m a little scared, and, uh, I know I don’t look so good. I know I’m fat and, uh….”

  Again I hushed her and said, “Don’t be hard on yourself, babe, you look fine. I’ll take good care of you.”

  “Well, I guess so, but I’m shy and not sure what to do. My girlfriends told me I have to start sometime. I’m 26, Kevin, and I know there ain’t any Mr. Right for someone like me, I always hoped, but you’re the first fella that even looked at me since I moved here.”

  I held her tight and thought, “Fuck me, she must be a virgin.” Well this could work out well; pop her cherry and she’ll be mine. That is if I can find her cunt under all that flab.

  I led her into the bedroom and turned on a lamp. “No,” she shrieked. “Leave it dark, please, please?”

  “OK, sure, whatever you want. Take it easy, nothing to get all worked up about.” It was probably better with the lights off because I was afraid the sight of that naked body was something I could live without.

  “Let me help you with your clothes,” I whispered to her as I pulled the zipper down the back of her dress. Even in the dim light I could see the massive bra she was wearing. As her dress slid further down her thick body a girdle appeared with snaps holding up her hose.

  She rushed out of my reach and headed for the bathroom, nearly falling flat on her sizable ass as she hopped out of her dress. “I’ll be right back,” she warbled. She slammed the door to the bathroom. I sat on the edge of the bed.

  It was at times like this that I wondered if a regular job wasn’t such a bad idea. A life on the grift sure hadn’t gotten me much. But what the hell else could I do? I had gone from the orphanage to a series of bad foster homes and had no real education except in the streets. I’d been fucked, fucked-up, and knocked around since I hit the streets when I was 12 years old. Hell, I knew I was bad but even a scumbag like me had to eat. Over the years I had learned the basics of long cons, short cons, picking pockets, and other scams but I always managed to screw things up. So, here I was; no place to flop, no money, and stuck having to get it up for some fat little pig so I could try and get over on her and stay warm. I wondered if I could sink any lower.

  Well, no use crying over my screwed-up life. I just had to focus on the job at hand and see what developed in the morning. I took my clothes off and primed myself for the coming ordeal by stroking my cock and dreaming about the redhead next door. I could just imagine bending her over a couch with that wet rosy bush gleaming with spit and pussy juice. I could see my fingers spreading her butt cheeks and burying my face in her brown little rosebud of an asshole. I slowed down before I shot my wad all over the place.

  The door to the bathroom opened and out walked Porky Pig in a sheer pink peignoir down to her chubby knees. Sweet Jesus, I thought, what a sight. I almost broke out laughing. I could smell her across the room; talcum powder and more of that crappy perfume she wore. I almost gagged but took a deep breath through my mouth.

  “Hey, you look real nice,” I managed to croak.

  “Do you like it? I’ve been saving it for the right moment, and I guess this must be it.”

  Even for a cheap grifter like me, this was so pathetic I almost felt sorry for her; almost, but not enough to stop.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  I could see she was still nervous. “Let’s have another gin, what do you say?” I got up and padded over to the kitchen. I could use more booze. She stood there and watched my ass and cock with wide eyes.

  I poured a healthy measure of gin into two glasses, squeezed in some lemon over ice, and added a spritz of seltzer. At least she had a decent bar set up.

  She sat on the edge of the bed, almost demurely, if one could call a pink-sheathed hippo demure.

  “Drink up,” I said. She kept avoiding looking at my nude body now that I was next to her but I stepped right in front of her so that my cock was almost touching her nose. Her eyes came up and she gasped.

  “What are all those bruises? Do they hurt?”

  “No,” I said. “Just a little fall I took. They look worse than they are,” I assured her. I was still banged up from letting a car hit me, hoping for a quick payoff but I only ended up being hassled by the cops and finding out that the driver had stolen the car. This was just another in a long line of screwed deals that could only happen to me.

  “Come on, doll, down the hatch,” I said as I drained my glass and felt the gin hit my empty stomach. God, I hoped she had some food in this dump.

  I sat down next to her and put my arm around her. “Relax, no rush. I know this is your first time with a man. It is, isn’t it?”

  “Well, I guess so,” she said.

  “What’s that mean? You screwed around some?” She blushed and looked down at what would have been her lap if her gut wasn’t in the way. “Don’t be afraid, we got to be open with each other. Tell me all about it.”

  “Well,” she stammered, “In high school and even after I was not very popular and the only way I got any dates was to give the boys, you know, uh, blow jobs.” I thought she was going to start bawling any minute. �
��Really it started in grade school. Hand jobs, blow jobs. I didn’t like it but… but...” Now she did begin to sob. Shit, this was pitiful. “They called me Eat me Ethel. All the other girls hated me; I hated myself.”

  She turned to me with those teary little eyes embedded in that face, looking like a lost puppy. Sweet Jesus, what a farce.

  “After awhile I just gave up. And here I am. Are you sure you want to do this?” Her words were getting slurred and I knew she was really drunk. Well, fuck; I might as well get it done.

  “Sure, sure, lay down on the bed.” I eased the pink thing over her head and slowly got her on her back. Her floppy tits hung over to each side and her gut practically covered her cunt. It had fine wispy hair covering what I could see of it. I picked up one of her tiny feet and began to rub it. She moaned and started breathing harder. “Will you do as I say?” I asked. She nodded her head and whispered something I could not make out.

  “I want you to reach down and rub your pussy. You know what makes you feel good. I want you to get yourself nice and wet.”

  She moved her hand slowly to her cunt, and with her eyes tightly shut, began to finger herself. I took her foot and began to nibble on her stubby little toes while massaging her calf. Soon she began to moan. Her moaning became louder and her breathing quickened. The smell of her wet pussy reached my nose and despite her looks, it began to get to me. I felt my cock swell as I reached behind her knees and raised her legs. I spit in my hand and rubbed it on my now hard dick. I took her hand away and replaced it with mine. I slid my finger up and down her cunt, opening the lips slowly and slipping a couple of fingers partway into her sopping wet hole. She was writhing around now in a state of total drunken lust. I guess I would be just as anxious if I had waited so long for this. Well, at least she was gonna get it from someone who knew what to do. By now I had pussy fever and my cock was bouncing around like a puppet on a string. I eased myself between her legs and put the head of my cock on her pussy lips.