Fred Sway's life is consumed and then destroyed by his female boss
Saturday night at the Sun Casino on the Las Vegas Strip and Fred Sway dealt twenty-one to fleas on table twelve. He smiled and joked while cringing inside. The fleas smiled back and kept betting a red check, the five-dollar minimum. Occasionally a brave soul would double to ten dollars, but rarely. Addicted to dealing high limit games, Fred craved green or black action. He needed it like a junky needs smack. Busting out some elite high roller felt sweet. Each loser acted differently. Some hardened, got hostile, and called him names; others softened into milk toast and groveled to his superiority, his power.
Vinny Shoaf, Fred’s floorperson, was getting even with him for dumping twenty thousand to a player last night right before the end of the shift and making the shift a loser. If this happened too often, Shoaf and some of the other supervisors would be looking for work elsewhere. The nature of the beast dictated, if you lost too much money, you were out the door.
A player on table seven was kicking ass. Shoaf was sweating blood all over the pit. Even Bill Mizner, the pit boss, who hardly ever sweated anything, rubbed his chin and paced around nervously.
Fred knew they had to call on him. Sure, he had lost the twenty thou last night, but he couldn’t count the times he’d delivered for the bosses and brought the shift in a winner?
Most dealers froze when they dealt a big money game. They hated it because of the heat generated from the supervisors. All the bosses watched and glued their eyes on every move the dealer made, ready, even anxious, to jump on any mistake.
Fred Sway thrived on it. It gave him a chance to showcase his wares. Everyone knew he was the best dealer on the shift, the dealers, and the supervisors alike. Not only did he deal the fastest and most technically correct game, but he also had an uncanny knack of being able to beat the high rollers. He did nothing untoward to win, it just happened. He reigned as the shift’s iceperson. Though lately he had been in somewhat of a slump and Shoaf had put him in purgatory making him pay.
But not for long.
When he went on break, a new dealer bumped into him as he left the pit. He didn’t see her coming and she slammed into him hard and his body gave way to hers. In twisting away from him her elbow caught his chin and knocked him dizzy. He staggered and thought he was going to fall.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” said the woman. “I was excited to get on the game and didn’t see you. Are you all right?” She reached for his arm and steadied him, then looked into his eyes. They both recognized each other at the same moment.
“I didn’t know you dealt twenty-one.” said Fred.
“Yeah, I’ve been workin’ downtown.” She looked toward the pit, anxious to go.
“Well, good luck.”
“Thanks, Fred,” she said pulling away from him towards the pit that demanded her appearance, “I’m gonna need it,” she called over her shoulder, “Vince’s sending me into black action.”
He watched her approach table seven and tap the dealer out. Beth was two years behind him in high school. A looker back then, who now was fighting the bulge with limited success. The beauty she once had still emanated from underneath her creeping obesity and gave her an earthy sex appeal. He admired her curves and…
[Stop that.] That’s no way for a married Mormon man with two children to think. The church put limits on his fantasies. Piously, he had to think. Worshipping the female body brought temptation. The deacons let him work in the casinos, but cautioned abstinence in thought as well as deed.
First night on the job and black action? He almost felt sorry for Beth, but envy swept away any pity. He should be dealing to that black action, not her. Patience. She would blow it; his time would come. Fred Sway would save the day. Hadn’t he always?
She stayed on the heavy game for the rest of the evening and beat the high roller’s brains out. To say the least Shoaf, Mizner, and Abe Chisolm, the shift boss, were delirious.
Toward the end of the shift, Beth’s and Fred’s break coincided and she walked over to the table in the dealer’s room where he sat alone. She strode with confidence, cocky with the high of dealing black action and most of all savoring kicking the player’s brains out.
“Well, well, Freddie Sway, my old high school stud, how the hell have you been?” she said as she clapped and shook him on his shoulder.
He looked up, nervous. Gone was her angst from before. Her black action success brought forth the same brashness he remembered from high school. Back then Beth had always made her attraction to him obvious, along with her availability. Her beauty tested his resolve back then. She still bore this recklessness that made him uneasy. Same flaming red hair, freckles abounding, blue eyes glowing like a gypsy’s crystal ball, mammary glands constrained by her white dealer’s shirt. Her first night on the job, and already she dealt to black action. Black action he should have been dealing to.
He shifted uneasy in his seat. “Hi, Beth. Uh, have a seat.”
She studied his face like a roadmap.
“I can’t believe it! You ain’t changed a fuckin lick since high school.” She laughed. “I bet you get carded a lot. What are you doing sitting over here all by yourself?”
He shrugged. “I don’t have much in common with the people who work here.”
She grinned. “You’re still a Mormon ain’t you?”
“Now let’s see,” rubbing her chin, “Bet you married that high school sweetheart of yours, little Alice Thompson?”
He nodded. “Right again, Beth. Alice Thompson.”
“When did you get married?”
“After my two-year mission?”
“Where did you go?”
She laughed and slapped the top of the table. “Boy, I can just see you now, peddlin all around Kansas City on one of them bicycles wearing a white shirt and tie. How many people did you convert?”
He smiled. “None, I’m afraid.”
She feigned shock. “After two years of trying?”
He shrugged. “I guess my forte doesn’t lie in the missionary field.”
“Alice and I were in the same grade. You must have married her right after we graduated. Got any kids?”
“Boy, the old deacons must be delirious with that. Remember, ‘Go forth, and multiply.’ What else you been doing?”
“We’ve been in school. Alice went to UNLV and is now teaching the third grade. I went to Community College and am now at UNLV taking hotel management. We’re waiting until I make the floor before having any more children. I hope you won’t pass on that little secret to my deacon?”
“That you can make book on. They tell me you’re the iceperson here, or were until I came along. How do you like the way I fleeced that high roller sumbitch? Bet I beat him out of forty thou and he’s up in his room right now heavin his guts out. God, what a high that is, Freddie. You must know what I’m talking about?”
“Yes, I do. I’ve been there Beth, and I have to admit the feeling is indescribable.”
“You know, Fred, ever since high school, I’ve always had this kind of a thing for you. I know this might sound like it’s comin out of leftfield and I guess it is,” she leaned toward him and grabbed him by his collar pulling him closer and said in a half-whisper, “I still have this high from the game burnin inside me. And it’s sexual.” She put her hand over Fred’s and squeezed. Her eyes flashed visions of lust. ”I need somethin, or someone I should say, someone to share this with, to help me extinguish it. You know what I mean?”
She squeezed his hand. He shook his head.
“Sure you do. You’ve been there so many times. Come home with me tonight, Fred? I guaran-goddamn-tee it’ll be a night you won’t forget.” She placed her other hand on his leg under the table and massaged it, moving her hand slowly towards his groin.
What’s going on? She’s crazy. He couldn’t believe it. She was on him. So fast. Of course he wanted her. He had to get out of there. He stood up quickly, scrapping the chair on the floor. He felt his face flush. “Gee, Beth, I, I just couldn’t.” He pleaded into her eyes. “I’m married. I have to go straight home after work. I’ve never cheated on Alice. Never even thought of it.”
Beth stood and got in his face. her face red with anger not embarrassment “You can’t be that wrapped up in mousy little Alice.”
“It’s not just that. Alice’s folks were there for my mother and me when Dad died. I’d be turning against them and the church if I was unfaithful.”
She looked at him long and hard, sizzling. She leaned into him and said very slowly with a menace that scared him, “You’ll be sorry for this, Freddie boy, real sorry. You rebuffed me in high school, and now here. I don’t deal well with rejection.” She slapped his face hard and left.
Bill Mizner quit and took a job at Caesar’s Palace and Fred’s heart beat with anticipation. His time finally had come. Mizner’s pit boss position would be filled by one of the floorpersons, leaving a vacancy on the floor. Mizner had promised him the next slot and even though he had left, Fred was sure he relayed his aspirations to Abe Chisolm, the shift boss. Besides, his being the best dealer on the shift and his schooling in gaming and hotel management made him the most logical choice.
They promoted Vincent Shoaf to pit boss and Beth Ransom took his floorperson position. Fred was in shock when he found out and complained to Abe. Abe said Mizner’s promises went out the door with him. He had to support his new pit boss’s selection.
When he thought about it, Beth and Shoaf had become very friendly since she arrived. He had nothing to attract her but his position. He was short and fat, 35, 5-6, 200lbs, thinning brown hair greased and combed back and wore John Lennon glasses. His swarthy skin sweated a lot. He couldn’t say if anything for certain went on between them, but they laughed and touched each other a lot. The only consolation with Beth kicked upstairs, he would at least be dealing the high action games again. This he found wishful thinking.
Beth Ransom watched him like a hawk. She came up behind him and told him in a voice only he could hear that she heard about him going to Abe and so had Shoaf, and they didn’t think much of dealers sniveling to the shift boss over their heads. She wrote him up that same evening. It was his first warning slip since he started dealing.
A player bought in with a hundred-dollar bill and the rule states that the dealer get the floorperson’s okay before giving the player the checks. He called out twice and knew Beth heard him but she wouldn’t acknowledge his call. He waited as long as he could without antagonizing the player and then went ahead. When his break came, she stopped him at the podium and had him sign the warning slip.
The next night she wrote him up for instructing a player how to play her cards. She was only betting five dollars. When he signed the second warning slip Beth said with fire in her eyes, “This better be your last mistake, Freddie boy. Company policy states that with three warning slips, you’re fuckin out the door, hotshot. And I can tell you, if you’re fired from here, you’ll play hell finding another job on the Strip. You’ll be back downtown dealing to fleas for pennies.”
Fear struck his heart. He knew he was under her power and there was nothing he could do about it. “I’m sorry, Beth. I don’t know what it was that made you so mad at me, but whatever it was, I’m sorry. I need this job.” He felt tears in his eyes. “I’ll do anything to make amends.”
“You know what it is.”
“Okay, I’m sorry. What do I have to do?”
She pinched his collar and brought him into her face. “I don’t like devout Mormon dealers, Freddie. Do you think you can change that?”
“What do you mean?”
“I want me a Jack-Mormon, boy.”
Good Heavens! What did he get himself in to? Why did she hate him so? All he wanted was to live peacefully with his wife and children, and his Mormon brothers and sisters at the church. He’d sinned with his lewd thoughts and God was punishing him. Why else would he have this insane hellion on his case. Was God testing him? Beth was right about his job. Getting a position on the Strip required juice. He used his getting this job. If he were fired, no doubt about it, he would be back downtown starting over. He had to placate her somehow. Play along. Maybe he could get out of this unscathed with his job intact. God willing.
He sighed looking at her with submission. “Then Jack-Mormon it will have to be, Beth. You’re the boss.” Her eyes glowed with power.
When he came back from his break Beth sent him to table seven where he beat three high rollers out of forty-five thousand dollars.
The supervisors’ shift ended thirty minutes before the dealers. Beth said nothing to him since sending him to table seven. Still wired about the game, he had halfway forgotten her. He looked up and was startled as he caught the glow still in her eyes. She waited for him in her red Mustang convertible just inside the gate leading into the employee’s parking lot. “Get your car and follow me,” she said, boring into him with her intimidating gaze.
He followed her to a house not far from the casino. In the living room, he sat on the couch, and tried to figure out what to say to stop this madness. He wanted to go home. She grabbed his arm and marched him into her bedroom.
“Okay, Freddie boy, let’s get a look at what we have to work with.”
With a wicked smile and a gleam, she unbuckled Fred’s belt, zipped down his zipper, and pulled trousers and underwear down to his knees in one yank. Fred couldn’t believe how stiff his member jutted. Beth flicked down on it with the back of her fingernails. The pain shocked him, then strange spasms of pleasure pulsated from the pain.
She took him in her arms and penetrated his mouth deep with her tongue. He moaned in slight pain when she tightened her grip into a bear hug, lifted him from the floor, and flung him into the waterbed on his back. Moments later the thud of her body landed on top of him. She straddled him, her knees digging hard into his ribs. He moaned again from the pain.
Lord in heaven what is happening? He didn’t want this. “Oh God!” he cried as she impaled herself on him and viciously took her pleasure. In the coupling she wielded complete control of both bodies. The greatest moment of his life came when he climaxed. He never dreamed an orgasm could be like that.
The next night back on table seven Fred kicked high-roller-ass and later, in her waterbed he serviced her obsession, or spell, or whatever it was that burned inside her. He scratched the itch that she demanded scratching. One night instead of going to her home, they stopped off at a dance club on Paradise. He didn’t drink, but she made him drink two beers that made him sick. The next night the beers stayed down. Then every night, beers and dancing before going to her place. Eventually they worked into drugs, mostly marijuana and cocaine.
This only happened when Fred won. If he lost, straight home to Alice and the kids.
Alice started questioning him about staying out all night. He told her he didn’t come home because the pressure from the game made him high and he needed time to unwind. He woke up one morning with Alice and the kids gone. In the corner of the bedroom lay his underwear with Beth’s lipstick all over it. He stopped in front of the long mirror on the door and found his underwear wasn’t all Beth had colored with her lipstick. Her lip prints were all over his penis.
Oh, God! What’s happened to me? He couldn’t believe his feelings. Here it looked like he’d lost his wife and kids and he couldn’t even remember what happened. And what really agitated him? Not losing his family, but losing memory of what Beth had done to him. Beth, the evil witch, had consumed him, but he loved it. He thought of her on top of him pounding away, absorbing every drop of his come within her. He wanted more and more. But that was all right. All he had to do was win tonight, and they would do it all over again.
That night he didn’t win. He lost. He lost big-time. Over seventy-five thousand dollars. The next night she treated him with contempt and sent him back to table twelve and a new dealer by the name of Mario dealt on table seven and kicked ass. He waited for a chance to redeem himself but Beth and Shoaf wouldn’t give it to him. He continued to drink and take dope and hang out at the clubs frequented by Beth and her new iceperson, Mario. It frosted his balls that Mario was getting everything he had.
He was out of his mind with despair. She danced with Mario. Fred came up to her. “Please, Beth, you’ve got to give me another chance?”
“No can do, kiddo. Mario’s my iceperson now. You’re out.” She flipped her thumb towards the door. “Get out of my sight.”
Tears invaded his eyes. ”But, Beth, Alice left me and took the children.”
“Hey, Freddie-boy, shit happens.”
He grabbed her arm and she pushed him away.
“Let me take care of this, Beth,” said Mario. He stepped between them and Beth pulled him back.
“No, Mario, this turkey’s mine. I’ve been waiting a long time for this.” She swung and knocked Fred silly. He staggered away on the dance floor, she ran after him, grabbed him by the hair with both hands, and kneed him savagely in the balls. Pain, so fierce he’d never imagine existed shot up and all through him He dropped to the floor in complete agony, covering his injured area with his hands. She stood over him in her tight miniskirt, flaunting power and control with her magnificent legs.
“Owe!” Tears flowed. Wretched sobs consumed him as he curled at her feet in total agony and misery. “I’m sorry, Beth, please take me back? I promise I’ll win.”
“I don’t want you back Mormon boy. You’re right where you belong groveling at my feet. I planned this from the start. I’ve always hated you, Fred, you and the rest of your Mormon cocksuckers, ever since you snubbed me in high school.” She kicked him hard in the ribs and he crawled away from her in pain. She ran towards him again and he was able to pull myself up and made his way off the dance floor and out the front door to his car with her berating, socking, and kicking at him all the way.
Fred drank all day and was late and drunk when he reported for his shift that night. Vincent Shoaf fired him and had two security guards escort him out of the casino. He looked back as a last resort and saw Beth and Shoaf gloating at him.
All rights reserved 26 April 2011