J
Jones_Tims
Guest
Barbaria: “Thanks for da heads up Joey boy. Let’s make him wait a bit, okay? He ain’t going anywheres soon. Ya did tie him down on a chair, right? And I have some business to attend to down in da “persuasion room.” And, oh, do me a favor and leave da air ducts open. I want our friend to hear dem stupid three bitches scream, holler and beg forgiveness under da bite of da lash.“
An hour later I made my appearance in the room where he sat bound to a chair. Joey had trussed him up well ... a real professional, my Joey. I had come directly from the girls’ flogging, still wearing only garters, hose and heels, my otherwise naked body sheened with sweat from exertion. Wielding a cat and working over, not one but, three misbehaving and not very bright bitches can be hard work. I switched on the lights, startling and temporarily blinding him, then circled slowly around him, my heels clacking on the concrete floor. After several revolutions, I stopped directly in front of him, leaned forward, dangling my bare boobs right in front of his face, and demanded in ominously hissing tones that he come clean and tell me exactly what his game was.
Every man in East Saint Crux had this one fantasy of having his face rubbed against the breasts of one young, blonde whore, in dark red underwear, while another one is rubbing his Johnson and he's tongue kissing a third one... in the meantime a line of four or five other girls waiting for their turn. I swear to God, if the Bible included a chapter mentioning those broads in the afterlife, every man in Saint Crux would give up his vices, his wrongdoings and his sins and go each sunday morning to the mass.
But to have possibly, the most powerful woman in town, wiggling her breasts in front of you... displaying you her sweaty, half-naked body, and all of that for free? No fool could even dream of such a thing. And yet, there he was... Lieutenant Jones, tired, bored of life, nose deep in bureaucracy and murder cases, not dating anyone or spending any dime on them broads in the last two years... with Barbaria sexually teasing him. He may have done some dumb things in the past (that's what got him caught in the first place), but he knew that he was walking on thin ice. If he shows that he's sexually stimulated, Barbaria would stab him between the legs then slit his throat. If he didn't seem impressed, she would remove his eyes and keep them as a trophy. He went for a compromise: he left a small drop of saliva to fall out of his mouth. He then cleared his lips with his tongue and gulped. He inhaled quite a bunch of air... thinking his next move.
He wasn't sure if Joey Tarantello spilled the beans or not. "God damn you Joey... this is the last time I'm dealing with them Guidos" he thought. Did Barbaria know he's a cop? Now, if there's one thing that gets you sent to the bottom of the ocean quicker than admitting that you're an undercover cop, it's probably fucking with Barbaria and thinking you can fool her when she holds you in her clutches. Admitting he's a copper was the only option. But what then? Barbaria slits his throat and that's the end of the story. If he wanted to outsmart a gangster, he had to act like one. A business proposal... that's how you deal with the Mafia.
Lieutenant T. Jones: "Donna Barbaria... before we get started... I hope you weren't too rough with the broads... they didn't have anything to do with..."
Barbaria giggled in delight, slapping his left cheek, then grabbing him by the chin and spitting him between the eyes.
Lieutenant T. Jones: "Alright... Alright... I deserve this one. You're a tough one, I'll give you that. Ok then... I'm a cop... Yeah... I'm a cop... and I know... you're Donna Barbaria... the head of the Barbaria Family. I know what you're dealing with here... the Blue State... it's a brothel, right? A whorehouse with all kinds of dames. I knew about it for some time. I also knew about that little gambling den, on Crucem Street. And guess what? I didn't spill the beans. You wanna know why? Cause I'm not here to rid this city of the Mafia. Some gambling, some broads... everybody needs that from time to time. Not to mention that, back in the 20s... during the Prohibition... the Mob fixed some drinks for the common man. I had a drink or two at Blue State, when it was just a speakeasy, during your father's rule. Don't think for a second that I consider the Mafia to be my enemy. That's the chief's attitude, not mine.
So... I come to you... with a business proposal... Look... I'm not after you... I'm after this scumbag... The Keeper... serial kidnapper, eight victims. You heard about it, I'm sure you did. They were fine broads. Innocents. This scumbag... is bad for business. How long would it take for this asshole to start stalking one of your girls? The Keeper has a thing for unmarried, young broads. I'm doing my best to prevent him from doing that. You know my policy... money on the table, right? Here's what I have to offer. Those files I have on you at the Precint... supposedly... I would kick the bucket tonight... the coppers will check my desk... and find out all the nasty stuff you're pulling off here and on Crucem Street. Not a nice one, right? But... supposedly... I walk outside of this place and I get back to work... I can make a file or two disappear. It's a good offer. I keep the heat down and turn the coppers away from your...respectable businesses... and you give me a lead, a clue, or anything you may have... anything... even a rumor would be helpful... on the Keeper. What do you say?"