It curved to the left, had a freckle on top and smelled like oysters.

Red wiggled it. “Beg, pansy.”

“Um, please?”

“Please, what?”

Jimmy gulped. “Uh, please can I … s-suck it?”

“Say please again — the way I like, goddamn it.”

“Pleeeeeease?”

“Pretty please with sugar on top.”

“Uh, pretty please with, um, sugar on top?”

Red patted the kneeling man’s head. “That’s a good lil pansy. Come and get it.”

As Jimmy scootched forward, Red farted. “There’s a telegram from the King of England,” the old man hooted as his spluttering supplicant scrambled backward across the carpet.

“Gggg!” Jimmy held his hand over his mouth, trying not to puke.

The eccentric multimillionaire let loose a second burst of flatulence that sounded like a sad trombone before leaning down and sniffing the air above his lap. “Aw, come on, pansy, my farts don’t smell so bad. It could be worse — I could’ve had corned beef for breakfast instead of oatmeal.”

Jimmy started to get to his feet with every intention of leaving before Red froze him by mentioning Nicole: “I’m done farting, pansy, I promise. Now come over here and earn that five hundred bucks — unless you want to tell your wife you didn’t feel like making money today.”

Steeling himself and holding his breath, Jimmy inched forward again. Red pulled him along by the ear.

“Come on, get busy,” the crazy furniture baron demanded. “Use that cute little mouth of yours.”

It was only Jimmy’s second time “cleaning Red’s house” and the experience still shocked him to the core. During the inaugural visit, Jimmy had been forced to give Red a two-hour hummer, and when it was finally over the poor wimp’s jaws were sore, he had a pounding headache — and a major soul-ache to go with it.

On the flip side, he’d earned five hundred smackeroos for those two hours, an incredible sum, especially during the tough recession of 1975. Nicole’s smile when he’d handed over the money had made Jimmy forget all about his ordeal at Red’s — for a few minutes, anyway. Sucking the old man’s crusty cock had been beyond disgusting but things immediately got better on the home front because of it, and Jimmy was twisted up in knots as he vacillated between feeling good about what he’d done and hating himself for it.

As the days passed and his memory of the act faded, Jimmy found himself accentuating the positive — and there was plenty to feel good about, too. For starters, Nicole had stopped insulting him at every turn. Within the space of a week, she’d allowed Jimmy to lick her pussy three times — a frequency of intimacy he hadn’t enjoyed in years. On two of those occasions, her vagina had tasted suspiciously gloopy, but with things going so well, he wasn’t about to say anything. One night, Nicole and Marlene had even let Jimmy play a few hands of cards with them, rather than relegating him to his usual task of keeping score.

It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. Even though she’d toned it down, Nicole still bitched at Jimmy a lot, as did Marlene, out of habit more than anything. And two nights during the week Nicole had completely embarrassed him by showing up at the bar with Mike. Each time, she’d disappeared into Mike’s office without so much as a glance Jimmy’s way. On the first occasion, they took Red into the room and when they emerged it was obvious they’d been doing coke again. The second time was even worse, with Mike and Nicole arriving at the Sitting Bull looking like the quintessential power couple. They chatted with the manager DeeDee for a few minutes before heading into the office alone, emerging more than an hour later with their clothes and hair clearly disheveled.

So, as far as Jimmy was concerned, things were still far from perfect — but for the first time in ages, he felt like he was actually pleasing his wife by bringing home the bacon. He actually felt like a man. The obvious affair with Mike seemed unimportant; he was willing to endure the humiliation because of his desperate, neurotic need to be what his father hadn’t been: A reliable breadwinner who made his wife happy. Jimmy’s vindictive, ball-busting mom had drilled into him from the time he was a toddler that it should be his life’s ambition to take care of his wife and keep her happy — no matter what — and that if he failed, he was “a miserable piece of shit.”

Jimmy must’ve heard his mom say ten thousand times: “Your father was a miserable piece of shit. Any man who don’t put his wife first is a miserable piece of shit.”

That’s the last thing Jimmy wanted to be — and with Nicole walking around on a cloud, he thought, he wasn’t a miserable piece of shit at all. Far from it.

“So, what if she’s fucking Mike and flaunting it for everyone to see? Who cares if she treats me like an underling while deferring to that asshole like he’s her goddamn lord and master? Nicole isn’t just happy these days — she’s deliriously happy. She smiles all the time, and I’m the one who’s making that happen, because I’m bringing in lots of money and taking care of her how I’m supposed to. What else matters? How can I be a miserable piece of shit if my wife is deliriously happy because of me and the cash I’m bringing in? I am a man. I am. Mom would be so proud.”

Jimmy was almost looking forward to visiting Red’s spooky old mansion again to earn more money, so his darling wife would have another five hundred reasons to smile.

Almost.

The week went by fast, and come Saturday morning, Jimmy was on Red’s porch knocking on the door at 10 a.m. sharp as required. Not being one for niceties, as soon as Jimmy passed through the threshold, the old man plopped down in his easy chair and flung open his robe. The second blowjob was considerably shorter than the first, with Red pumping his wad in about forty-five minutes. In addition to being grateful for the relatively early climax, Jimmy felt lucky that the old man hadn’t farted in his face again like he had when the knobber had first started.

After Red caught his breath, he rubbed his slimy dick up and down Jimmy’s nose. “That felt good, pansy,” he said with a leer.

“Um, thank you sir.”

“It’s nice to have a little pansy around again,” Red sighed, using the “p” word so often Jimmy figured it must have been part of his weird fetish. “It’s been lonely around here since my lil Poo-Pooh died. I was hoping you’d be my new Poo-Pooh and work for me full-time, but Mike says he’s never had a porter as good as you, and he can’t spare you at the bar.”

The silence dangled there for a second. Red picked his nose, wiped a booger on the underside of his chair and continued:

“Mike says you’re a hard little worker who does what he’s told. See, pansy, you’re meant to be somebody’s little bitch. I could tell the first time I met you. I see how you are with that pretty little wife of yours — she’s got you wrapped around her finger. She’s fucking Mike right under your nose and you ain’t doing shit about it. Are you?”

“Aw, come on, Red—”

“Call me ‘sir,’ goddamn it, or you don’t get a dime.”

“Okay, sir … that’s um between Nicole and me.”

Red chuckled. “Whatever, pansy. Some people are just born to be little bitches, and you’re one of ‘em. It’s how Mother Nature intended it. Little pansies. That’s what you are — a pansy. Do you accept who you are, pansy?”

Jimmy shrugged. “I-I don’t know, sir. I’m just trying to get everything together, sir.”

“There’s nothing to get together, pansy. Your problems come when you try to fight who you are. Who are you?”

“I … I don’t know. A pansy?”

“Say it like you mean it.”

“I’m a pansy.”

“Yes, you are. You do realize that wife of yours is gonna fuck Mike whether you want her to or not, right? If you want to stick around, you’ll just have to learn to accept it — or she’ll leave your skinny little ass so fast, it’ll make your head swim.” Red stared down at Jimmy. “You know I’m right. Right?”

“I-I don’t know, sir.”

“Well, are you a pansy or not? And here, I thought you were starting to accept who you are. Now, say ‘I’m a pansy’ again — but convince me you mean it, or you ain’t getting paid.”

“I’M A PANSY, SIR.”

“See? If you accept that, all your troubles will go away. My Poo-Pooh was the happiest little pansy you ever seen, because he embraced being a bitch. He was a defective like you. Unlike you, he didn’t run from who he was.”

The door creaked open and an emaciated woman in a raggedy frock poked her tangle-topped head through the entranceway. “Um, sorry to bother you, sir, I didn’t know you had company. Lunch is ready.”

“Get the fuck out of here, you ugly whore — don’t ever interrupt me again!” Red screamed, sending the woman scurrying away.

Jimmy cocked his head. “Who was that?”

“None of your fucking business, pansy. And don’t you ever talk about what goes on in this house to anyone, or your money-train is cut off — you hear me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I got a lot of money, pansy, more than you could ever dream of, and I don’t mind spending it, either — but you’re gonna do what I want, goddamn it, and how I want it done. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

Red sat on his chair scratching his balls, and for several minutes the only sound was the grandfather clock’s ticking.

Finally, Jimmy cleared his throat. “Um, is there anything else you need, sir? Or can I go now?”

Red closed one eye. “Hey, you know what might feel good?”

“Um … sir?”

“I said do you know what might feel good for me?”

Jimmy gulped. “Um, no s-sir?”

“If you put your tongue up my ass.”

“I … uh, sir, but, um, I-I don’t ... I—”

“Oh, what are you babbling about, pansy? Just do it. I used to love when Poo-Pooh did that for me.”

“But … but, sir, I—”

Red waved his hand. “Tell you what: I’ll double the five hundred. A thousand bucks. We’ll call it a tip for good service.”

“Sir, I really don’t … I mean, it’s just—”

Red shrugged. “That’s okay, pansy. I’ll just tell that little wife of yours that you turned down a chance to double your money and make a thousand bucks for a few minutes’ work. I’m sure she’ll like that.”

Jimmy’s shoulders slumped. “O-okay,” he said in a small voice.

“Well, hot dog!” Red rose from his chair and slipped out of his robe. Bending over and grabbing the chair’s arm, he winked at Jimmy over his shoulder. “Ready to get your nose dirty, pansy?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

“Then, what are we waiting for?” Red shook his ass back and forth, making the cheek-flab jiggle. “Do it like you mean it.”

Jimmy did it. As disgusting as it was, he did it. He occupied his mind by going through the lineup of his favorite team: Rose. Morgan. Bench. Perez …

Somehow, the little wimp got through it. When Red was satisfied, Jimmy excused himself and made a beeline for the bathroom to gargle with water and toothpaste, since he couldn’t find mouthwash.

Jimmy had to sit through another half-hour of Red’s discombobulated, insane rambling before the old man finally released him from his mansion. Jimmy sprinted to his Gremlin before peeling out of the long circular driveway. He made it about a quarter-mile before pulling over and spending the next twenty minutes parked on the side of the road, sobbing and cussing at himself in the rearview mirror.

After a good cry, Jimmy wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve, squared his shoulders, slammed the car into drive and headed homeward. As he drove, he thought of how happy his wife was going to be when she found out he’d made a thousand bucks — but then it dawned on him that she’d want to know why. He hoped he could get away with a vague explanation that Red had wanted some “extra stuff” done, although he knew Nicole — and Marlene — would press for more details. They’d certainly grilled him after his first Saturday afternoon at Red’s.

As he nosed the Gremlin onto the freeway, Jimmy’s mind drifted to the raggedy woman he’d seen at Red’s place earlier. Jimmy had only caught a quick glimpse of her face, but something had seemed profoundly sad about the waifish, mousy lass in the tattered dress. He couldn’t stop thinking about her — and why Red had seemed so rattled when she’d stuck her head through the doorway. Why had he insisted that Jimmy never repeat what went on inside the creepy old place that looked like Dracula’s castle?

All those questions were instantly rendered moot when Jimmy pulled onto Marlene’s street and saw Mike’s Corvette parked in her driveway.