The dame had trouble running through her veins like petrol through a
clapped
out Chevy. She hung around the bars downtown, looking for anyone
who'd buy
her a drink. Her eyes promised paradise, but Micky made sure the
closest you
to Heaven on Earth was a quick feel before he sapped you. Pretty soon
the
word was out- drink with Dahlia and wake up with a cracked skull and
an
empty wallet. She and Micky drifted around from spot to spot, never
quite
moving on quick enough. Micky made friends, useful friends. Dahlia got
them
hot under the collar, led them on and they had to move again. Only this
time
they really didn't move quick enough. Dahlia flirted with this trick,
didn't
seem like much special. The trick heated up, like steam was about to
blow
from his funnel. Old Micky stepped up to give the trick the bad news,
pulled
the sap. Only Charlie the Knife doesn't let a little thing like a raging
hard-on stop him doing his job. Micky and Dahlia had messed around
one too
many mobster in the last spot they played. Tonight, Charlie the Knife
was
here to educate them.
Charlie took out Micky like he was standing still. Blood everywhere, but
he'd live. Probably. The real argument was with the Dame. Micky was
just the
muscle. Dahlia did the damage.
Dahlia had had men fight over her before, and Micky was a loser. This
new
trick, he had a pole in his pants that stuck out a Georgia mile. A raging
cock doesn't think so good. She was confident that she's twist him,
like
she'd twisted Micky. The knife vanished, and out came the ropes. So
he liked
to play games, games Dahlia knew how to win. She didn't struggle too
much
when he tied her up. Better to play along and go for the throat later,
when
he was really fit to burst a vein from the throbbing.
The barhounds cheered as Charlie strung her up and started to whip
her. A
bit of public humiliation, no great deal. When he was done he promised
her
he'd see her later... and walked out.
Dahlia was intrigued, I guess, by the way Charlie the Knife just left.
Guys
didn't usually leave Dahlia hanging like that. When she got free of the
ropes, she walked out the bar and headed for her hotel room. She
wasn't
expecting Charlie to be there waiting for her. He jumped her as she
flicked
on the light switch, bound her to a chair.
"You got off lightly, bitch. Don't go crossing no mobsters, it isn't good
for your health."
He brought out the spiked paddle. That was going to make a mess. He
decided
not to spoil her face... this time. But it would be a week before she
could
walk without wincing at every step.
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