The alley was dank and dark, even though it was past noon. It smelled of last week's leftovers and used motor oil. Nearby, an old tomcat with a notched ear rummaged through a heap of spilled trash.

I was about to knock on the door for the third time when a small panel slid open. The eyes framed within the rectangular opening were familiar, not that I recognized them in particular, but I knew eyes like them all too well. They were the eyes of a mob goon, set deep into pockets of the ruddy flesh that was his face. They were eyes that took in everything but revealed nothing, steady, unflinching, uncaring eyes that only sparked as they watched beefy fists pounding some poor schmuck's guts into mush, laughing to see him double over like a sheet on a clothesline, then clouding again behind a veil of vicious indifference.

I watched as the eyes began their second, suspicious tour of my wiry frame. "Phil sent me," I said, hoping I sounded more confident than I felt.

"What happened? Where is he?"

"He's... indisposed."

The panel slid shut and I could hear keys turning inside locks. As the door creaked open a chill ran through me like a sliver of glass. I stepped into the dimly lit, smoke-filled room. A table in the center hadn't been cleared of the previous night's poker game, and half a dozen chairs were scattered around haphazardly. Before I could take in anything else, the goon spun me around and slammed me against the wall. He patted me down and found my .38 Special with no trouble. He snatched my wallet too and studied my driver's license at length, no doubt having trouble sounding out the letters J-O-E.

After slipping my wallet back, he snarled, "Wait here. Mr. Santini don't like no surprises."

I turned and watched as he pocketed my gun and headed for a door on the other side of the room. "Hey! Dreamboat!" I called after him. "When do I get my piece back?"

He stopped and looked at me. "What piece?" He laughed, then left the room.

I wasn't alone for more than a few seconds when the door opened again, and in stepped a dame. No, "stepped" isn't the right word. When this dame walked, her hips had more pitch and yaw than a Stuka on a bombing run. She was strafing me with each step, wounding me, bleeding me, making me weak in the knees, yet I couldn't help but stare down the muzzles of her twin .50 calibers.

She wore a dark suit with a skirt so tight around her shapely calves that she couldn't take a full stride, not that she would want to atop a pair of stiletto heels as tall as railroad spikes. I struggled to maintain my composure as she drew close, but it wasn't easy. Her body had more curves than a pretzel and a blonde mane that cascaded down her back like Niagara. The only part of her that didn't scream seduction were her eyes, which were every bit as steely and cold as Dreamboat's.

"So who are you?" she said in a voice as silky as an alto sax playing Harlem Nocturne.

"Name's Joe. Who are you?"

"Joey, hm? Nice. You're a friend of Phil then?" she asked, ignoring my own question.

"It's Joe. Just Joe."

"Well? Are you?" she persisted.

"Yeah." Not that Phil would think so anymore. "What's it to ya?"

"You got a last name, Joey?"

"Mundy."

"No, tell me today."

"That's my name. Joe Mundy."

"You're kinda cute, Joey."

"You ain't so bad yourself, um, ..."

"Lorraine. Just Lorraine. For now."

By this time, she was mere inches from me. Her bosom seethed beneath her tight silk blouse. My fingers twitched to fondle those curvaceous mounds. I could picture them as clearly as if the material wasn't there, the pale soft flesh, the abrupt deepening in hue near the summits, the dark crimson tautness of the puckered peaks.

Suddenly, her hand flew up from her side. The slap caught me completely off guard and sent me reeling. It stung like a hornet.

"That's for what you were thinking," she hissed.

Instinctively, I reached for my gun. Shit. Without my heat I felt as naked as I wished she was. I steadied my breathing, dabbing at the trickle of blood at the corner of my mouth.

"Why, I oughtta..." I growled as I raised my hand to her.

"What?"

"If you weren't a dame..."

She made as if to slap me again, but this time I caught her by the wrist and twisted her arm. She winced, but her eyes remained steady and sure.

"Let go. You're hurting me."

"That's the idea, Dollface."

"I'm serious, Joey. If Vinny saw you touching me like this he'd--"

"He'd what?"

A cloud passed over her face. "He's killed men for less. And he doesn't make it quick either."

She was right of course. Santini was a ruthless bastard. He'd snap his own mother's neck like a wishbone if she crossed him.

I relaxed my grip and let her go, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she pressed herself even closer to me. Her lips, as full as Santini's bank account, brushed against mine, and her still-swaying hips grazed the flagpole between my thighs. Dreamboat may have taken my gun, but I was still loaded and cocked, as Lorraine could easily tell.

"I thought Jimmy took your piece," she breathed. Her hands roamed up and down my thighs. She smelled of cigarettes and mints and sweet perfume.

I hesitated. What did she want from me? First the slap, then the come-on. She changed her tune faster than a jukebox. "What's the game, sweetheart?"

She cocked her head. Her icy baby blues warmed up and melted like chocolate on a dashboard in July. Looking into her eyes, I was taken on a whirlwind tour from moll to schoolgirl and back again. She was trying on personas like shoes, seeking just the right match for the occasion. "No game," she said, having decided on innocent sincerity. "I just want out. It's Vinny. He's lost it. I- I'm afraid for my life, Joey, and I think maybe you can help." As she spoke, her lips trembled and her voice wavered.

What an act, I thought. I didn't know whether to give her an academy award or the back of my hand. "Why should I believe you?"

Her answer was simple and direct. She reached up, took my head in her hands, and gave me long, lingering kiss. Those lips tasted as sweet as marshmallow cream, except they werenÕt gooey or sticky.

After treating me to an all too brief glimpse of heaven, she came up for air and whispered, "Like I said... you're kinda cute."

I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. "All right. What do you want me to do?"

"They're planning a double cross. I overheard Vinny. Try to get me involved in the deal. I help you; you help me."

"How?"

Instead of answering, she jerked away from me and started acting nonchalant. She must have heard a floorboard creak or something, because at that exact moment the door opened and Dreamboat poked his ugly mug back in.

"Mr. Santini will see you now."

A Pocketful of Diamonds
Copyright 2001 by Rod Harden
rodharden@yahoo.com
All rights reserved
Do not reproduce without written permission from the author

The talking ape led me down a hallway past several other doors. Lorraine followed close behind. When we came to a door marked "Private," he opened it and ushered me in. Unlike the back room, this one was relatively bright and clean, a regular businessman's office. Santini sat behind a desk. He looked up, peered right past me and frowned at Lorraine. "Go powder your nose, Baby."

"Aw, Vinny-"

"I said powder your fuckin' nose! Don't make me hafta smack ya."

She shrank back and left without another word. The look of fear in her eyes was unmistakable. Maybe she really had been telling the truth.

I must have watched her departure with more interest than I intended, though. As soon as the door closed behind her, Santini growled, "She's a whore, Mundy... And don't give me that Mr. Innocent bullshit. I seen the way you was lookin' at her, and I'm warnin' ya... She's a cheap whore, but she belongs to me. End of discussion. Now where's the money?"

"Where are the rocks?" I countered, glad to have the subject changed.

"Don't fuck with me, Mundy!"

"Look. Just 'cause I'm not Phil don't mean the deal goes down any different. I examine the merchandise. Then we arrange the exchange."

Santini's face turned bright crimson. He smashed his fists against the desk, stood, picked up his chair and hurled it at the wall, screaming obscenities the whole time. When he was done throwing and hitting things, he stood there huffing and glaring at me.

Maybe it was luck. Maybe it was a flash of genius. Whatever it was, something made me start to slowly applaud his little performance. It amused Santini, and apparently spared me an appointment with Cuddles as well.

The goon started toward me. "You want I should teach him some respect, Mr. Santini?"

I started backing away from him. Don't get me wrong. I don't run from a fair fight, but I'd need a cleaver to handle that side of beef.

Santini held up his hand. "No, Jimmy. Not right now."

I glanced at the overeager muscleman as he flexed the pair of sledgehammers that were his fists. I hoped my poker face was holding steady, because my heart was pounding like a bongo.

"I like your style, Mundy," Santini was saying. "You're smooth. Smooth as a- as a- Aw, hell, metaphor ain't never been my strong suit. Anyways, we do it like you says." He reached into one of the desk drawers and pulled out a small black drawstring sack. "Feast your eyes," he said as he emptied the contents onto the desktop.

The diamonds lay there glittering like crystals of hardened carbon. I snatched one at random and fished my loupe out of my pocket. I held the clear sparkling stone up to the light and examined it. Nice. Very nice. It had to be five carats at least, and the clarity and color were remarkable. I set it down and picked up another, smaller one. It had the same flawless quality as the first. If they were all like this, five hundreds Gs would be a bargain for the lot of them.

I inspected a few more, before nodding to Santini. "Okay," I said. "I'm satisfied. I'll report back to Phil and we'll contact you." I couldn't help feeling a slight twinge as I spoke, picturing Phil unconscious in that old warehouse, handcuffed to a water pipe. It was his own fault, though. If he hadn't been so careless I wouldn't even know about this deal. It was like he'd been asking to get double-crossed. Anyway, someone was bound to find him eventually.

"No dice, Mundy. You tell Phil the stones are good and get the cash. We'll meet up at Luigi's in one hour. Don't be late."

I considered the plan. Maybe this was my opportunity to get Lorraine involved in the deal. "All right," I said. "But the broad delivers the rocks."

Santini's eyes narrowed as his face flushed again. I was afraid I'd gone too far. The left side of his face twitched along the scar on his cheek. After a moment, though, he smiled and nodded. "Ya want one last peek, huh? Okay, but Jimmy goes with her. You don't trust me; I don't trust you neither."

"Fine. One hour." I figured I could handle the gorilla as long as I had my gun and Lorraine was there to back me up. I started to leave. "Oh, wait a minute. Snookums here still has my gun. I want it back."

Santini motioned with his head. "Give the man his piece, Jimmy."

The meat-house escapee sneered, obviously unhappy, then reluctantly held out my pistol. Just as I reached for it, he sucker-punched me in the gut. All the air in my lungs was forced out like a bellows. I folded in half, wheezing, only to have my face make an unscheduled stop against his rapidly ascending knee. The double-whammy left me woozy, but somehow I managed to stay on my feet.

Cuddles and Santini both snickered. "Oops," laughed the goon. "Sorry, I musta slipped or somethin'."

I pulled out my handkerchief to stanch the blood streaming from my nose. I stood up straight, shaking with pain and rage, trying to suck in a full breath. Nothing would have made me happier than to snuff the two of them right then and there, but I could see that they'd emptied all the rounds from the cylinder. I guess I should have expected that. All right for now, I thought. Soon I'd be rich enough to make it all worthwhile.

I staggered down the hall toward the back room, but before I got that far, another door opened. Lorraine held a finger to her lips and motioned for me to join her. Once inside, she threw her arms around me and kissed me like we were old flames.

"Did you do it, lover?" she asked.

"Yeah, I did it. He's gonna have you make the exchange."

"Perfect!"

"But listen, Santini insisted on having Dreamboat tag along."

"That's no problem. I know how to handle Jimmy, believe me."

I had no trouble believing that, judging by the way she was groping my area. It was obvious she knew how to handle anything with a lever.

"I assume you'll want some of the loot so you can get out of town," I said as I felt her lowering herself to her knees.

"Sure. If you can spare a dollar or two."

"Oh, I'll be able to spare it, all right. See, I'm double crossing Phil myself, Dollface. I'll have both the diamonds and the cash when this is all over."

She smiled up at me with twinkling, Shirley Temple eyes as she unzipped my trousers. She was about to board the good ship Lollipop.

I gasped as her tongue darted out and caressed the tip of my rod. Despite my arousal, I couldn't help wondering about Santini and Snookums just down the hall. "Are you sure it's safe here?"

"Mmm," she indicated. That was enough to convince me. She lapped at the head of my cock a few more times before taking me in right down to the hilt. I couldn't believe it. The dame was like a carny act. She kept up the tongue action as she pulled back, gave me a little suck, then plunged down again. I didn't know when she had a chance to breathe, but I was well past caring by that point.

I was on the verge of erupting when she stopped rather abruptly. She stood and backed up toward a table, leading me along, using my tie like a leash. She hiked up her skirt and sat up on the table with her legs spread wide. Apparently, it was a panties-optional day. Tiny drops of honey glistened on her golden thatch like the diamonds I'd just examined.

"Like I said," she breathed, "I help you; you help me."

I was definitely feeling helpful. I guided myself toward her rose, slipped just inside the outer petals and paused. "Maybe we could get out of the country together," I suggested.

"Maybe." I took that to mean yes.

"Ya know, I've never met a dame like you."

"So shut up and prove it."

With that encouragement, I thrust myself inside her, hard and deep. She moaned loudly as I sheathed my blade. I had to clamp my hand over her mouth to keep her quiet. Waiting for another time would have been the smart thing to do, but I just wasn't feeling too smart.

As we writhed together on the edge of the table, I could hear her muffled voice from beneath my palm, urging me on. I watched her eyes as I impaled her again and again. They were happy eyes, smiling, enraptured. It was hard to believe that, in less than an hour, I'd be skipping the country with a dish like Lorraine, along with five hundred Gs in cash and as much again in diamonds. What more could a joe like me wish for?

Soon, I was exploding deep within her. We clutched each other and kissed some more. I didn't want to leave her, but I knew we had an appointment with fortune to keep.

"That was great, lover, but you have to go now," she whispered as though reading my thoughts.

A knock at the door emphasized the point. "Hey, Lorraine!" It was Dreamboat. "Why you got the door locked? You playing with yourself again? Well, quit it and get out here. Mr. Santini's got a little job for ya."

"Just a minute, Jimmy."

We hurriedly put ourselves back together. Silently, she showed me another way out. We kissed one last time, then parted.

I was whistling like a schoolboy as I drove to Phil's place to get the satchel with the money in it. There wasn't much time till the exchange at Luigi's, but every minute seemed to creep along like a slug. Finally, I headed off for our rendezvous.

When I got to Luigi's, I saw the slab of beefsteak waiting outside by the door. "Hey, Cuddles," I said.

He gave me the finger. "Make it quick, Mundy. Mr. Santini don't like bein' kept waitin'."

Inside, Lorraine was seated at a table for two. It was still early afternoon, so she was the only one there. I had to pause when I saw her again. In the short time since I'd seen her, I'd forgotten what a knockout she was. If we didn't have to make a quick getaway, I would have taken her again right there.

"You got the stones?" I asked as I sat down.

"Of course." She held out the familiar drawstring sack.

I took it and peered in. The diamonds sparkled back at me. I slipped the sack into my pocket. "Look," I said in a hushed voice. "Just to be clear, I'm no murderer, and I don't want to have to kill Dreamboat. If you can distract him, I'll pistol-whip him. He'll just wake up with a headache is all."

She grinned and nodded. "That's fine, Joey." She lifted the glass in front of her. "I'm so excited. Let's toast to a new life. I ordered gin for you. I hope that's okay."

"That's fine," I said as we clinked glasses. We downed our drinks, then leaned our heads together and kissed again.

"The money's in the satchel, right?" asked Lorraine.

"Sure is, Dollface."

"Maybe I should hold onto the stones, Joey."

"It's okay. They're safe where they are."

"No, Joey. I mean it. I want to have them with me."

I blinked as she scooted her chair closer and began to reach into my pocket. My eyelids felt terribly heavy all of a sudden. What was she doing? I tried to lift my hand to stop her, but my arm was like lead.

"Wha ya dune?" My words came out slurred. The image of her slipping the diamonds back into her purse became fuzzy. I blinked again. It didn't help.

Suddenly, I realized what was happening. "You... drug... me," I muttered as my head bobbed relentlessly down toward the table top.

"Yes, Joey," I heard her say. "I slipped you a little mickey. When you wake up, you'll have a little headache, that's all." She chuckled. "It's for the best, though, lover. Like I said, you're kinda cute. But Jimmy... well, Jimmy's a real hunk."

"Wha? Ji- Jimmy?"

"That's right, chump." In my delirium, Lorraine began to sound like Dreamboat. I forced myself to turn my head. It WAS Dreamboat. In the flesh. Every massive inch of him. He was standing next to the table. I could barely make out his blurred form as Lorraine handed him the sack and he slipped it into his pocket. Then he grabbed the satchel in one hand and Lorraine's waist in the other. "Come on," he said to her. "We gotta get out of here before Santini realizes we're gone."

As blackness engulfed me, I thought about what Lorraine had said. She was wrong, though. I'd have more than a headache when I woke up. I'd have the memory of a stack of cash, a pocketful of diamonds, and the hottest dish I'd ever tasted. And I'd always know that for one sliver of eternity I'd been the richest man in the world.

Copyright 2001 by rodharden@yahoo.com All rights reserved. Reproduction in any form prohibited without written consent of the author.

==========

A Pocketful of Diamonds
Copyright 2001 by Rod Harden
All rights reserved
Do not reproduce without written permission from the author
==========

rodharden@yahoo.com