by Nancy Adams
By the end of the job, we’d had such laughs that even Stan’s chastisement for taking too long when we got back to the loading bay didn’t seem to bother us. We continued to unload several more trailers and received the jokes of the others—primarily about how much we stunk—with good humor. Then, when I was getting changed to leave, I was rewarded with a piece of good news that raised the bar of my humor even higher.
On opening my locker, I did what I always did straight away. I looked at my phone that had been locked in there all night. Apart from Sarah’s loving messages wishing me a goodnight (it was her habit to send a goodnight kiss even when we were away from each other), I’d received a message from Charlie. Five beautiful words: All set for this Saturday. I could have danced a jig right there, but merely smiled. It would all be easy. We’d already decided which of my father’s casinos we would hit, one that I already knew had had previous problems with its security cameras. In a cost-cutting exercise, the company had taken them away from the lesser tables, replacing them with cheaper fake cameras that fooled the punters enough to make them think twice about cheating. I’d only heard about this in passing one day, but this piece of overheard news had come flooding back to me when we’d been deciding on which of my father's places we’d hit. On top of this, Saturday was perfect. I had no work that day so I could tell Sarah, whom I’d made a conscious decision to keep out of the loop for the sake of her moral convictions, that I was doing some overtime. That gave us all night to ransack the place.
So it was all set, and I drove away from work feeling better than I had since me and Sarah had been sailing around the Caribbean a month ago.
SARAH
I was rudely dragged out of sleep by a pungent aroma attacking my nose. I stirred and began sitting up in bed, unsure of whether some sort of chemical gas attack had struck the apartment, my mind still moiled within its dreamscape. Upon opening my eyes, I found the light on, and, looking to my left, observed a naked Josh standing in the center of the room, quickly surmising that he was the source of the terrible smell.
“I’m sorry,” he said with a sheepish, as well as dirty, face. “I took my clothes off outside, before I came in, and shoved them down the garbage chute, but I guess the smell’s in me, like Leroy said.”
“Who’s Leroy?” I asked in a drowsy voice, instinctively covering my nose and mouth with my arm.
“A nice guy—once you get past all the swearing and grumbling.”
“What’s the smell?”
“Me!”
“I know that; but why?”
“We had a trailer with a broken-down freezer unit. The thing had been cooking for a couple of days and by the time we opened it up, all the fish were badly rotten.”
“Oh, gosh! It’s disgusting. Please don’t touch the furniture—in fact, don’t touch anything!”
“I’ll try not to.”
He then made his way gingerly to the bathroom, the door closed.
“No!” I shouted out as he reached for the handle, his hand stopping in mid-flight. “I’ll open it for you.”
I jumped out of bed and came over to him, noticing for the first time that his whole body was covered in filth, so bad that I felt an instant nausea once I was close. Opening the door, I led him inside the bathroom, where he stepped into the tub. Looking back in the direction he’d come across the lounge from the front door, I was glad to see that he’d had the foresight to put down newspaper.
“No!” I cried out once more when he reached forward and went to turn the shower faucet on. “Touch nothing. I’ll do it all for you. I’m scared that anything you touch might smell as bad as you.”
“It’s real bad, isn’t it?” he boyishly grinned.
It made me smile that he could be so jovial about it all.
“You kinda get used to it,” he added. “Here.”
And with that he reached out his sticky, stinking hand and wiped it across my cheek. A scream burst from my lips and I instantly jumped back against the wall, grabbing my cheek as though it had received a vicious blow.
“You pig!” I shouted, before swiftly reaching across the tub and putting on the cold shower.
“Ah!” he burst out as the cold water struck him like icy needles. “You little…”
And he took ahold of me with that reeking mitt, pulling me into the tub with him, so that the water drenched my nightgown.
“Ahh!” I squealed, my face gleaming a gleeful beam, my hands taking hold of him for support.
He took me up in his arms and held me close to his pungent body, tacky with sweat and God knows what else.
“Give me a kiss,” he declared while I tried to escape him, pursing his filthy lips.
I stopped struggling within his arms and told him to close his eyes, to which he complied, before taking hold of the sponge that lay at the side and shoving it in his face. He recoiled immediately from it, his eyelids flipping open as the sponge filled his mouth. I then began scrubbing his face.
“Once you’re clean,” I announced, “then you can be kissed. But only once you're a prince and not a toad!”
“But with a kiss, a toad can become a prince.”
“Not this toad!”
“Well then,” he said, lifting his arms up as I stood dripping in front of him, the two of us filling the tub completely, “I’ll have to be scrubbed of my warts.”
Grinning like a cat, I began scrubbing him all-over, turning up the shower so that the water was warm now. Then I began pouring shower gel over him, lathering him up, more for the smell than anything else, the lavenders and apricots of the soap doing their best to cover the rotten fish stench. My soaking nightgown, clamped to my body, began to be peppered with the black, sooty water that spilled off of him, the white porcelain beneath our feet raging with a filthy, inky ravine. I went to work first on his sturdy chest, roughly scouring it, the sponge turning black and having to be rinsed off constantly, and then I flipped him around, Josh surrendering to it all joyfully, my hands upon his body clearly exciting him in a roguish way. As I worked the sponge around his muscular back, feeling the sinuous flesh underneath my be-sponged hand, I felt myself drift off into amorous reverie. Josh too appeared to be drifting away, his flesh trembling under my touches, though this could have been a result of the hard work he’d experienced earlier. When I came to his buttocks, I didn't stop, moving the sponge over the solid mounds, before stooping down his oaken legs, scrubbing down his athletic thighs and calves, the day’s work having stiffened everything. It was when he turned around, however, that I had to stand back up and turn away.
Handing him the sponge over my shoulder, my back to him and blushing all over, I stated, “I think you should do that bit.”
“I thought this was an all-over job?”
“Only a partial, I’m afraid,” I replied, my eyes peeled to the tiles in front of me, but the image of what was behind still imprinted on my mind. As to what it was, I’m sure you can guess!
“But when I take the car into the cleaners,” he said, “they don’t just do most of the bodywork and leave out the hood!”
“Well, this particular cleaning firm do,” was my answer to this, my back still turned, my face still red.
He took the sponge from my hand and in the reflection of the gleaming tiles, I spotted his grin behind me.
“You should take that nightdress off,” he suggested. “It’s covered in filth.”
“Then I’ll change out of it once you’re done. But for now you’ll have to accomplish that on your own!”
I carefully got out of the tub and he continued cleaning himself, his face full of joyful mirth. He knew the effect he had on me and it pleased him; I may not have been giving myself to him in body, but he sure as heck knew that he held me spiritually!
I left him to it, getting out of my sopping wet clothes once I was back in the lounge, dripping all over the carpet as I did. He was in there for quite some time and the aroma of his gross work still hung in the little apartment. So I opened all the wi
ndows, a light breeze entering from outside and flowing through the place, airing it out from its fish-gut stench. Almost an hour after he’d gotten in the tub, and having cleaned it up after him, Josh emerged from the bathroom all sparkling clean. I got up from the bed where I was sitting and approached him cautiously, unsure whether even after all that time spent on scrubbing he’d managed to remove the smell. Within a foot of him, I sniffed the air and it was filled with the fragrances of soap. Feeling safe, I lurched forward into his arms, a towel wrapped around his waist.
“Now you can have a kiss,” I said, shortly before smacking my lips upon his.
His strong arms, still stiff from work, maneuvered around me and we pulled in tight to each other.
“You know,” I began once our lips were free of each other, arms still wrenched around our bodies, “for someone who’s been doing such horrible, filthy work, you seem quite happy about it.”
“I’m just glad to be back here with you,” he said through his pearl-white smile.
Resting my head upon his iron chest, I listened to his heartbeat.
“You might wanna take a shower yourself,” he commented as I listened to the beats. “Your hair smells a bit fishy.”
We kissed once again and I went off to get cleaned, while he cleared up the newspaper from the lounge. As I washed myself, images of his naked body struck me like tingly arrows, sensually illuminating my flesh, my mind and body merging as one while I recalled how he had felt under the sponge. I shook myself off, trying to force my mind into other thoughts that didn’t electrify my desire so much.
Coming out of the bathroom, I found that Josh had tidied everything away and was now curled up in the fetal position on the bed, fast asleep. I watched his torso pulsate rhythmically, his face so peaceful and sweet as he snoozed. I found myself consumed by the purest love for him, a love that wanted to protect him, to look after him and be his companion. It was so much more virtuous than the feelings I’d experienced a moment ago in the shower. There was nothing selfishly carnal about this, nothing that needed anything from him. This sensation was more about giving than receiving, and, with it still glowering in my heart, I approached him and pulled the quilt over his exposed body.
Having kissed him on the forehead, I dried myself off and got changed, before turning the light off and sliding into bed next to him, happy that he was mine and I was his.
JOSH
Saturday arrived and how glad I was to see it. Having informed Sarah—or having deceived Sarah—that I was working that day, I was allowed to skip the food bank. Before she was due back, I was supposed to be going to work, so the moment I awoke, my creaking muscles tender from the week’s toil, I got washed, changed and then headed over to Charlie’s by bus, Sarah having the car. Mrs. H was visiting her husband down in Texas, meaning that we had the place all to ourselves, so we spent the time wisely, going through how we were to pull off the night’s scam.
I played hand after hand with him, letting him know when to let a hand go, fold when necessary, and the two of us came up with a good pattern that would swindle them good, without them knowing that they’d been swindled good. Charlie was brilliant, as always. Within a few hands, he almost knew the whole deck, and, if he had wanted to, he could’ve played the big tables and walked out of that place a multi-millionaire. But I was sure that if this happened, we would most certainly be met by security the moment we went to cash in our chips. No. Greed was our enemy. Thirty-three thousand was all that was required, and, to make sure that we weren't caught, it needed to be done slowly.
I brought along the suit that Sarah had bought me from the thrift store. We needed to look half decent in order to enter. I could no longer wear designer labels myself, so was never going to be able to supply Charlie with anything, but this was when the kid surprised me. That week he’d been out and hired a very fine black Armani suit with white shirt. I hate to admit it, but the little shit looked better than me.
We walked out of his apartment with our heads held high, strolling out to the bus stop with a confident step, two fellas against the whole world. Charlie was no longer using his crutches and had surprised me for a second time that day, when he’d shown me the cane that he’d had made: slender black staff with a silver skull upon its top.
“It’s so cool, don't you think?” he’d asked when he’d first shown me it.
“It looks like the cane of a comic book super-villain!” I’d remarked.
After an hour’s bus journey, getting the odd look from our fellow passengers due to our neat attire, we were walking through the doors to Kelly Tower Casino, one of the lesser casinos in my father’s huge collection. Disregarding this last fact, it was still a rather sumptuous place; huge creamy marble columns mottled with dashes of chocolate color; gold statues of Greek and Roman Gods; gladiators in the midst of wrathful battle poses; Zeus holding aloft a bolt of lightning; Jupiter holding a golden shield in the shape of the sun, a bow held to the sky in his other hand. Gaudy bullshit was what I called it.
We walked past a statue of Poseidon or Neptune, I wasn’t sure which one, and made it to the counter. Charlie had five hundred dollars in his savings account and this would be our in. We shared the chips out, fifty dollars worth to me and the rest to him. I, of course, required very little and would be playing the part of losing friend, as well as general loudmouth. I’d come up with the idea that I should bullshit all the way through the game, chew everyone’s ear off with anecdotes so that their attention would be suitably spent on listening to me, while the laconic Charlie would slowly eek their chips into his pocket.
Having picked up some drinks from the bar, we sauntered casually over to the second-lowest table and took our seats opposite the dealer. Next to us sat two fat middle-aged men and a rather inebriated twenty-something who swayed in his chair, occasionally hiccupping. The reason we didn't start on the lowest table was because that one was for old ladies and first-time gamblers, and we didn’t want to give the impression that we were either.
As Charlie played away, I got to know our fellow gamblers, as well as Suzanne, our rather-cheery dealer, much less scary than Dolly. The middle-aged men were both in the city for a conference and worked for the same company, of which I forget almost every detail. They’d both won some sort of award and were celebrating with some good old gambling. Their names were Ray and Joe, but I kept getting them mixed up on account of them both looking almost exactly the same, even though they swore they weren’t brothers. They were both rotund, with balding, sweaty hair combed over their pink, sunburned scalps. Both wore gray suits. Both had pendulum jowls dangling from their faces, and both appeared to melt into sweat under the electric light of the casino. As for the drunk younger guy, he informed me, in between hiccups, that he was down here with some old college buddies of his. It appeared one of them was getting married and this was the bachelor party. But where his fellow bachelors were was anyone’s guess, and he never appeared to be able to give a clear answer to this. “I lost Larry,” he’d slurred, “at the blackjack table. And then Paul…Well, I forget about Paul…I guess…Well…” And here he’d throw up his arms in exasperation, occasionally knocking over his drink in the process.
Having turned the pot from five hundred to seven thousand in two hours, I gave Charlie the prearranged signal that it was time to leave that particular table. I emptied my drink and loudly crunched up the ice in my mouth. All other drinks I would leave the ice behind. It was definitely time to go. Even I was winning, and already I could see that the two older guys were getting restless as we began taking most of their money, the young drunk just happy for the company, having been abandoned by his friends. We moved first to another second-tier table, this time joined by an elderly couple, who were very sweet, and I was almost ashamed to be taking their money from them. Almost. Because every gambler enters the fire risking a burn. This table we stayed at for another hour and left it with twenty thousand dollars, more than half of what we needed. We hadn’t calculated that we’d win so m
uch so quickly and I felt a little nervous as we moved to our third table of the night, going up to a third-tier table. I, myself, with my limited abilities, based more on bluff than skill, had turned my fifty dollars into three thousand and I was a little alarmed at how easy the tables had been.
On our way to the next one, I caught hold of Charlie’s shoulder and pulled him to the side.
“This is happening a little too quickly,” I whispered into his ear.
“Yeah, I feel bad about taking money off of that old couple.”
“Hey, they seemed happy enough. But, still, we should slow it down.”
“I agree, we’ll take it real slow on this next table.”
“I think we shouldn’t go as high as a fourth tier.”
There were six tiers in total, as well as private games that were invitation only and happened in paneled rooms with decorative furniture and waiter service. While planning this escapade, we’d concurred that we’d go no higher than fourth, where there were still no cameras, but three seemed enough for us.
“I’m with you there,” Charlie replied. “I don't think we’ll need to.”
“Just nice and slow, Charlie boy. Nice and slow.”
On the next table, we found it not much harder than the rest. In truth, it was easier because the stake money was much higher and the gamblers more loose with their chips. The cards were dealt at a faster pace and I could see from the look in his eyes that Charlie found it hard to fold so many times in order to keep it looking like he was just some regular card player, not a savant with a photographic memory. We’d decided that if it came to this, with so much money being thrown around, he’d merely clean up on the bigger bets and let the little ones go. We had another three hours and only needed another seven grand, so we just played the game slowly. The guys around this one were more your serious gamblers than what we’d found on the other tables and weren’t so chatty, more interested in the game than some story I’d tell about a ‘buddy of mine.’ So I did as required and shut my mouth. Within an hour and a half, we were thirty grand up, so we left the table, much to the delight, I’m sure, of our taciturn fellow gamblers.
