In A Bind by Gardner Francis Fox

Author:Gardner Francis Fox [Fox, Gardner Francis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Action Adventure, Erotica, mafia, Secret agent, sexecutioner, Vintage Sleaze
Publisher: Gardner Francis Fox Library
Published: 2019-10-18T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

I knew damn well Salami Sam wasn’t going to let me out of his sight long enough to call the Marines. In this case, Willie and his mobsters. I could hardly go to the potty again. Or could I? I rather fancied that Sam would want to go with me, just to make sure I was all I was cracked up to be. No pun intended.

Oh, well. I’d handled tougher situations than this without help.

We had fruit and nuts, and cups of strong espresso.

Then Sam started to get fidgety. “You ain’t got nothin’ on for tonight, sister, why not come over to my place and listen to some records?”

I nudged him as though I were slightly under the effect of the wine. “Oh, you. If I did come over to your pad, it sure wouldn’t be long before I didn’t have anything on.”

He guffawed. It was the kind of humor he relished.

“You’re my kinda dame,” he informed me. “You and me, we could go places together.”

“Like your pad.”

“How about it?”

I shrugged. “Why not? I’ve been on my uppers for such a long time, not being able to afford a meal like this, being unemployed, I feel I owe you something.”

“I know what that something is, too,” he leered.

My hand reached for my bag. “You’re the boss, Sam. You just say the word.”

He expanded a bit more. These little men like to throw their weight around, I have discovered. They like the feeling of power. Probably as a compensation for their lack of height. I was going to play up to this facet of Salami Sam’s character, at least until I had him where I wanted him.

We went down the back way, which was a private entrance to the club, just as the curtain swished back on a naked woman who advanced to the footlights where she was in full view, and began to recite a dirty limerick.

I teased Sam as he practically pushed me down the stairs. “You’re going to miss a lot of fun, Sam, not staying at the club. That seems to be quite a show that just started.”

“Ah, I’ve seen it before.”

I giggled, “I’ll have to make it up to you then. I don’t want you to miss out on any fun on account of me. I’ll have to be real special—just for you.”

His hand patted my buttocks in appreciation.

He had a car parked not far away, a Jaguar. It glistened and shone like new, and I gathered, as I slid the bod into the bucket seat, that it was one of Salami Sam’s prize possessions. I complimented him on it, and he visibly swelled with pride.

He was a good driver, moving in and out of traffic with sure hands on the wheel. Sam didn’t live in Little Italy, he just came down here for fun and games and, I suppose, a bit of nostalgia. He had been born and raised within five blocks of The Pizza Tree, he informed me.

Actually, he had his pad in a fancy apartment on East Eightieth Street.

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