Mob Movies

Chapter 1 Not the Beginning

 

     “Jesus, who’s she,” I blurted out when Quarles’ men pulled the laundry bag off her head? 

     Morgan’s head snapped around in my direction.  “Shut up, asshole.”

     I’d only opened my mouth because I was surprised.   The other women Quarles’ crew had brought were older, wives and girl friends.  This one was wearing a Purdue sweatshirt and a plaid miniskirt.  I recognized the plaid.  It lined the expensive raincoat Corrine had bought me for Christmas.   

     Corrine started to say something but thought better of it.  She knew Morgan would like nothing better than for one of us to run off at the mouth and give him a reason to do some damage to our physiognomy.  Slapping us around was something he obviously enjoyed. 

     “What’s her name,” I asked.  It was a question I was allowed.  I couldn’t direct her unless I knew her name.

     “Cheryl, she’s a college girl,” said Morgan looking pissed he had to answer. 

     She was still out of it.  They must have drugged her.  That was different.  The others had been awake, tied with duct tape but Cheryl’s arms and legs were free.

     They dropped her on the bed and her skirt flew up.  One of Jerome’s crew must have checked her out because her white cotton panty was pushed to one side.     

     Morgan was on the situation in an instant.  “Any of you fucks do anything with her,” asked Morgan sounding more than pissed?  

     “No, Morgan, we just took a look at her coochie.  We only looked.  She’s got a full bush,” said Jerome the driver of the green panel truck who brought her to my place and the second-in-command of the crew after Morgan.  He lifted her skirt to illustrate his point.

     “That better be all, motherfucker,” said Morgan stepping closer to the girl then reaching down to grab the crotch of her cotton panty and yank it further to one side.  The girl moaned when Morgan touched her.

     Jerome was right about the bush.  In an age when pre-teens to grandmothers shaved their pubic region, Cheryl was an exception.  She had a thick mat of luxuriant black hair that appeared to have never seen a razor.

      She was pretty.  And from what I could tell had a good figure, at least the legs were long and slender.  I would have guessed Mediterranean heritage based on the curly black hair and facial features, maybe Greek or Italian. 

     Morgan parted her labia and felt around then gave up. “She’s dry,” he said as he needlessly wiped his fingers on her skirt. 

     Everyone breathed easier.  If he’d pulled a come soaked finger out of her cunt, one or more of Jerome’s crew would be dead.  What’s worse, Corrine and I would be witnesses.

     “Like Jerome said, Morgan, we only copped a feel, honest, man. We just checked her out,” said Jamal, Jerome’s younger but larger brother.

     “Next time, don’t look and don’t touch,” said Morgan in a tone of pure menace.  Morgan was barely larger than average in size but he was one scary son-of-a-bitch.

     “Right, you got it,” said Jerome.  The blacks behind him all nodded their agreement. 

      There wasn’t a doubt in my mind Jerome and his crew would keep their hands off the merchandise in the future.  Messing with Morgan could lead to a very unpleasant death.

     “We better get started,” I said glancing at my watch.  I should have been tired since I’d already worked a twelve-hour day but having Morgan around was like sucking down a case of Red Bull.  Fear is a hell of energy drink.

     “Before we begin, Corrine needs to make sure she’s still cherry,” said Morgan.

     “I thought you said she went to Purdue,” I said assuming wrongly virgins weren’t accepted at good colleges.

     “She’s supposed to be a cherry.  Make sure, Corrine,” said Morgan.

     “How would I do that,” asked Corrine a slight tone of exasperation creeping into her voice.  “You should have asked her before you knocked her out.”

     “As I recall, the female is born with a cap on her hole,” said Morgan in his typical don’t you dumb ass white people know anything voice.  “Word has it Cheryl here has kept her knees together.”

      “It’s called a hymen and it’s not unusual for girls to tear it in ways other than sexual intercourse.  Gymnasts rip theirs on the balance beam.  I know I did.  Or she may have borrowed her mother’s vibrator and taken her own virginity,” said Corrine in her schoolteacher’s voice she used when she wanted to irritate Morgan.  Corrine had taught middle school before we decided it would be better if she joined my business.

      As for irritating Morgan, I was under the impression our breathing the same air irritated him.   He was black.  We were white.  That was as far as it went where Morgan was concerned.  He got his kicks messing with Corrine while I watched.  Fucking a white man’s wife while the poor bastard stood by, angry and helpless, was undoubtedly a happy moment in Morgan’s life.

     “Check it out, I said,” said Morgan in a tone indicating further argument might result in the loss of her front teeth.

     Corrine shrugged then walked to the bed and sat down by Cheryl.  Then she stood up, reached under the bed for the fisherman’s tackle box where she kept make-up and other things she needed to make adult films.

     “We ain’t got all fucking day, Corrine,” said Morgan.

     My wife didn’t answer just opened the box and took out a tube of a lubricant.  The product was called ‘Wet’.  It was water-based, odorless, and colorless.  And to be honest, my favorite among the lubricants Corrine purchased.  A woman’s sex should smell and taste natural not like raspberry, strawberry or even worse, mango.

     Corrine coated her fingers.  She used one hand to part Cheryl’s labia as she tried to get her finger past the entrance we all know is there but sometimes hard to find especially when it’s concealed in a forest of pubic hair.  Jerome’s team closed in around the bed like black vultures waiting for the lioness to get her fill of the dead wildebeest.  The fact Cheryl was young and attractive had them anxious to get started with her.

     “She’s small and tight,” said Corrine squirting Wet directly on Cheryl’s opening.

     “She’ll be big and lose when we’re done with her,” said Kelso causing the others to laugh.  Kelso was what my parents would have called a mulatto.  A shade lighter and he could pass for white.

    “Spit on it,” suggested Mel, Jerome’s cousin from Back East where as he once mentioned to Corrine, he was wanted on some felony rape bullshit.

     Ignoring Mel, Corrine worked her finger pass the opening.  It disappeared up to the first knuckle and stopped.  Her face got a thoughtful expression as she moved her finger around.

     “She’s still got her hymen,” said Corrine unable to hide the look of surprise on her face.  I suppose the possibility of an active college age female retaining the membrane struck her as remote.  Her remarks about losing hers on the balance beam were consistent with what she told me when we first started getting serious enough to share secrets.

     “I was eleven when my foot missed the beam and down I went like a stone, straddling four inches of solid oak covered with a thin sheet of foam.  I felt something tear inside me.  It hurt so bad I fainted.  It was much worse than when I let Bobbie Edmonds deflower me for real.”

     When I escorted Corrine to her high school reunion, I got to meet the Robert Edmonds who had dated and deflowered my wife.  He’d picked up a few pounds since graduation.  We got along great.  I told Corrine it was because we had something in common.  She was not amused.

     “We got ourselves a genuine white cherry, boys,” said Jerome, a big shit-eating grin on his face.

     I suppose breaking a female’s cap is a rare treat for any male unless you’re an African king or an Arab sheik.  I’ve certainly never done it.  And if she’s white from a well off family and you’re a black man from the ghetto, it must be the nothing short of getting early parole.

     Morgan stepped away, took out his cell and made a call.  I couldn’t hear what he was saying.  My guess is he was reporting to Mr. Quarles Cheryl still had her virtue.

    Nothing happened until Morgan completed his call. 

    “Corrine, shave her cunt while Tom set’s up,” said Morgan flipping the phone closed.