I was a long way from the roach-infested tenement back in the Big Apple, sitting on my thirty-something ass in an always open waffle house just off the Las Vegas Strip. I was looking for the lo-cal blueberry syrup because my selection of well-pressed trousers was getting a mite tight around the waistline and I was starting to feel sluggish and slow in the early morning hours.
Of course, nobody that lived in Vegas, including yours truly, ever thought of silly concepts like the time of day or night because the place was never really a morning, noon or nighttime thing. I could be eating waffles at six AM or at midnight and never know the difference. I had started keeping Ramon, my combination driver and bodyguard close to me at all times except when I was screwing one of the bimbos that impressed me as getting younger every day. In the back of my mind, I accepted the fact that it was probably me that was getting older rather than the pretty young things getting younger. In my case, it didn’t really matter because I was at that stage in my life when I was obsessively attracted to older women and found the younger generation to be a bunch of strange thinking alien lifeforms from another planet.
Ramon was really on the payroll of Don Leone and the boys back on the lower East Side, but he was comped to me for the duration of my Las Vegas chores getting the escort business back on track and out of the headlines. It was one of the most lucrative areas of the Leone Empire and normally flourished in any big urban area, especially places like Las Vegas or Miami Beach.
Earlier that morning, I had looked in the mirror on the twenty-ninth floor of the Majestic Hotel and Casino complex and had to admit I didn’t like what I saw. I still had the unmistakable traces of a black eye from the altercation out at the airport when Ramon and I got tangled up with the security guards for Lady Glamour and her entourage from Hell. I was only doing my job of keeping the sensation seeking immature bitch from making more problems for the organization with her constant drug-addled scrapes with the law or rival competition.
I suspected the vinyl sheathed piece of ass from good old Brooklyn, USA and now labeled Lady Glamour was fully aware that she was messing with Tony Sorrentino. She certainly knew that I represented the interests of our mutual boss, Don Leone and the rest of the connected New York family that had boosted her into fame and fortune. I figured it was likely she remembered that I had taken advantage of her indebtedness to the family and had pooched her pretty ass in the back seat of an armor-plated limo taking us to a concert over in New Jersey. I didn’t regret giving it to her back there in tight quarters, because I liked doing that to any female that knew what side her bread was buttered on.
In all honesty, I have to admit it made me feel like I was in control of the situation.
I knew right away that she was surrendering her sweet rear-door hole to me because of my role as her mentor in the current campaign to put her in the spotlight and not because she had a yen for my out-of-shape body that was in dire need of a personal trainer with a no-nonsense approach to fitness.
Ramon and I were outnumbered by the half-dozen or so young lions from the shake-your-booty brigade and we retreated quickly to retain what little dignity we still held, despite our pathetic losing efforts. I saw Lady Glamour’s sleek cheeks all gussied up in the black vinyl swishing into a town-car with Nevada plates and remembered again the last time I had her in the back seat of a limo; I had shamefully yanked down her French undies and reminded her that she was still Connie Malloy to me. We had grown up in the same neighborhood and I had dated a couple of her older sisters before they passed me on to the youngest one in the brood and told her to keep her eye on me because I liked all girl’s asses far too much for decent dating. I knew my Connie was a depraved anal bitch. I was just proving that the upscale Lady Glamour was just the same as her before-she-was-famous original edition. The whole anal thing was a weakness with me and I knew it was time for me to grow up and get away from the fetish-related fun and games that only robbed me of my self-respect. Besides, my obsession with stretching girl’s tight little sphincters might be interpreted by some quarters as an unnatural hobby for my macho image.
To make matters worse, my old pal Lenny Mazurka was headlining at the Luxor and my hours were filled with keeping him out of trouble related to teenaged girls, overdoses and excess gambling at the tables down in the Casino. I told the manager that anything he won would be reimbursed by Don Leone and anything he lost would be best written off as a cost of doing business.
That all seemed to be kosher from their point of view.
At least, it worked as a makeshift plan, until he gave the daughter of the Casino manager a hit on some potent Colombian snow that rendered her resistance-free for the remainder of the evening.
Lenny had introduced the nineteen-year-old University student to some rarely attempted erotic positions and taken photos of her being taken from the rear by most of his male entourage. His album of her around the world videos in full naked splendor was the kiss of death as far as her father was concerned. She was a sweet kid and I thought it was low even for the depraved Lenny with his take no prisoner’s attitude when it came to finding pussy.
I knew when I saw Lenny and Lady Glamour together at the Luxor Casino bar that things were about to get a lot hotter and I put the Casino manager’s daughter thing on a back burner to make certain the pair of them would not be starting any fires I couldn’t put out. I see now that was a big mistake, but sometimes it is hard to think straight when Lady Glamour’s vinyl-coated backside was perched up high and tight and within reach of Lenny’s inquisitive hands at two AM in the morning and me with no back-up except Ramon to give me juice.
I must hasten to add that Ramon was a tough piece of work, but he was a sort of toothless tiger, never gaining any skills with the use of firearms or blades to make a point that was impossible to ignore. I really kept him close because he was quick to agree with me even when I knew I was wrong and that fed my ego in a way that helped boost my confidence in a losing situation.