Mob Movies

Chapter 3 Mr. Quarles Visits

 

 

     So where did I go wrong you’re asking.  It’s simple, really.  I decided I was much shrewder than the professional gamblers who set the point spread for the Colts and the Pacers.  Owning your own business allows you to write off things like good seats to home games.  I started betting on the games I was attending.  I rationalized having money on the game made sitting there a lot more exciting.

    Over time my bets got larger.  If I lost, I bet twice as much next time hoping to get it all back, a loser’s strategy.  It got out of hand.  One day I realized I owed more than a quarter million dollars and I didn’t have it.

     Owing large sums to bookies AKA criminals is not a recipe for longevity.  That’s how I met Mr. Alfred T. Quarles.

      I was working late and alone.  I was in my office worrying about my gambling debts.  I hadn’t told Corrine.  She’d been talking about getting pregnant, quitting work, and starting a family.  That morning when I told my bookie he would have his money tomorrow, I got the impression he didn’t believe me.  Maybe it had to do with the fact, he heard me say it a dozen times before.  I was trying to face up to the prospect of telling Corrine I was going to have to take out a large loan to pay my debts and motherhood would have to wait.

     I was drinking scotch and feeling sorry for myself when four black men appeared in my office.  I wasn’t sure how they got in.  The front door was supposed to be locked.

     Two were obviously muscle since they looked like they played defensive line for the Colts.  One other reminded me of the black movie star, Wesley Snipes, the one who made all the vampire films. He had an unmistakable aura of menace about him.  His body language yelled I would just as soon kill you as look at you.  As it turned out, Corrine and I would spend a lot of time with him but no matter how many hours we were together, he still scared the shit out of me.

     But it was the oldest of the four who had my attention.

     “I’m Alvin Quarles.  This is my assistant, Morgan.  You owe me money,” said the small black man who unbidden took a seat in front of my desk.  He was obviously someone who paid attention to clothes and for a mobster had expensive taste.  He dressed better than my banker.  He looked positively elegant sitting there with one hand resting on his gold-headed cane.  He was wearing a navy pin stripe suit that fit him perfectly.  His red bow tie was one you actually had to tie.  The only thing flashy was the diamond cuff links that if they were real could be hocked for this year’s Cadillac.

     It took me a second to associate his visit to my gambling.  Abe, the man I placed my bets with was white.

    “I don’t have it but I am going to take out a loan and pay you.  I just need a few more days,” I said.

    He had a strange way of expressing himself, courteous but threatening.  “Mr. Meade in my business, you occasionally have to set an example or people loose respect for you, especially if you’re a black man in a white man’s world.  You understand what I’m saying, Mr. Meade?” said Mr. Quarles.

     “I said you’d get your money in a couple of days,” sounding truculent.  I considered myself a good businessman and hanging tough was part of my shtick.  Plus I was a little drunk.

     “But if I allow you to bring your debts current, others will assume they can also be in arrears for substantial periods.  I will have to devote all my resources to collections.  Do you understand my point, Mr. Meade?”

      “Yes, I’m a college graduate,” I said the booze having made me stupid and sarcastic.

      He ignored my sarcasm.  “Unfortunately my family could not afford to send me to a place of higher education,” said Mr. Quarles in a very quiet polite voice. 

      “Look, I have to get home.  You’ll get your money the day after tomorrow,” I said standing up.

      “Your lovely wife Corrine must be waiting dinner for you,” said Mr. Quarles.

      “My wife is not your concern,” I said getting pissed as I stepped out from behind the desk.  That was when the muscles grabbed me.  The thought things would get violent had not occurred to me.  I was a businessman.  We took each other to court for unpaid debts.  I’d had to call my lawyer more times than I could remember.

      They lifted me off the ground by my armpits and frog marched me into the open area where we filmed commercials.  It was filled with sets used for video taping spots planned or recently finished.  I was yelling for them to let me go or I would call the police.

    The one named Morgan located a rope we used to raise or lower backdrops.  They tied my wrists then tossed it over one of the ceiling beams and hauled me up to where my toes barely touched the floor.  They stood back and watched for a few minutes as I tried to stand on my toes because my arms hurt.  I was cursing them as I danced around.  I was being about as dumb as a human can be.   Then it really got scary.

     Morgan unbuckled my belt and pulled down my pants and boxers.  At first I was screaming my head off for him to stop undressing me then I was screaming because Morgan’s hand was wrapped around my testicles and applying enough pressure to permanently change their shape.

     He had hold of my cock in one hand and my balls in the other.  It felt like he was trying to separate the two.    

     It hurt so bad I wanted to faint or vomit.  Just when I thought the pain couldn’t get any greater, Morgan switched to where he was holding one nut in each hand.  He’d alternated between crushing one then the other.  Mr. Quarles had taken a seat in a nearby rocking chair, another Earl Buncombe special.  He sat quietly rocking as his man put me through several of the most painful minutes of my life.

     “That’s enough for now, Morgan,” said Mr. Quarles rocking back and forth.

     Morgan gave my left nut a final flattening.  It was several minutes before I recovered enough to beg them to stop.  “As God is my witness, Mr. Quarles you will get your money.”

     “You a church going man, Mr. Meade,” asked Mr. Quarles?

     “No, but I mean what I say.  I’ll go to Third National tomorrow and borrow the money.  I promise I will.”

     “I’m a deacon at Third Avenue A.M.E Zion, haven’t missed a Sunday service in over ten years,” said Mr. Quarles.  “We have a wonderful new minister, Reverend Cochran.  He likes to preach about being true to one’s self.”

     Pain can sober you up and smarten you up all at once.  “He’s right. I shouldn’t have gambled more than I could pay.  I’ve learned my lesson.  If you’ll just let me go this one time, I will pay you what I owe tomorrow.”  I intended to go down to Third National and get down on my hands and knees and beg for a loan if that was what it took.

     “You are patronizing me, Mr. Meade.  You looking at this old nigger thinking you can fool his dumb ass by acting sorry.  What do you think, Morgan?”

     “I think we should cut his nuts off and make him swallow them,” said Morgan reaching into a pocket of his leather jacket for a switchblade. 

     When he pushed the button causing the blade to appear with a loud click, it was my signal to start to blubber.  “God, no, please,” or something like that was all I could manage as Morgan knelt down in front of me and took hold of my right testicle.

     “When respectable folks like you open their copy of the Star and see where a white man was found castrated in his place of business, they’ll make a note to call their bookie and make sure they don’t owe anything,” said Mr. Quarles.

     I was muttering, “Oh God, oh Jesus,” as Morgan prepared to separate me from my balls.  I could feel the blade against my scrotum.

     “Or perhaps we can make some another arrangement.  I just had a thought.  Hold up, Morgan,” said Mr. Quarles delaying my emasculation.  Maybe it was a last minute thought on his part or it was all planned out beforehand.  I never found out.

     Mr. Quarles thought for a moment before he spoke.  “Are you open to other possibilities, Mr. Meade?”

     I spoke with all the sincerity I could muster, “Anything, just name it.”

     “I may be getting soft.  However, violence of this sort strikes me as so antiquated.  You agree, Mr. Meade?”

     I would have agreed the world is flat and the sun revolves around the earth.  “Yes, Mr. Quarles.”

     “It attracts attention.  And to be frank it’s become dated and a little boring.  I’ve always prided myself on being modern.  While I don’t have a fine college education like you, Mr. Meade, you would be impressed if you saw my operation.  I have the latest in computers, servers, even a satellite connection to the sports book in Las Vegas and Atlantic City.  A passel of clever black youths spend all their time making it work.  They’re college graduates like you, Mr. Meade,” said Mr. Quarles.

     All I could manage was a lame, “Technology is very important.”  Morgan had relaxed his grip on my nuts but he hadn’t let go.

     “I just linked up with an operation in Rio de Janeiro so I could take bets on soccer.  Soccer’s the coming thing.  Maybe one day, Indianapolis will have a professional soccer team.  I might even invest in it when it happens.”

     In spite of the throbbing pain from my swollen nuts I was paying attention.  I wasn’t sure where he was going but if it meant I got to keep my balls I was going too.  Mr. Quarles then took a different tack and threw me a curve.  He had a way of keeping you off balance.

     “Are you a racist, Mr. Meade?”

     “No, I have three black employees. We don’t discriminate.  We pay them the same as everyone else.  Ask them about me.  I treat them fairly.”

     “I’m a racist.  I don’t like white people.”

     All I could manage was, “Oh.”

     “White people shit on me all my life.  I paid them back by taking their money and when they didn’t pay what they owe, taking their balls.  But, being here in your place of business, I see an opportunity to make them pay in a way that will attract less attention and be more personally satisfying.  You understand what I’m saying, Mr. Meade?”

     He had me confused but I was in survival mode and smartening up.  “Not fully, but if you explain it further, I will.”

     Mr. Quarles took a look around at my equipment that was still set up from the day’s filming.  “Do you have the latest technology here, Mr. Meade?”

     “Yes, we’re on our third generation of digital video.  Those Sony cameras are the highest resolution commercially available.  They’re the same model used to make Hollywood movies.  I just installed a new editing system to combine CGI with real images.  All the lighting is polarized to support digital photography.”  I was talking fast desperate to save my manhood.

     “Calm down, Mr. Meade,” said Mr. Quarles.

     I said, “Yes, sir,” and shut up.  I was becoming a quick leaner.

     “I am going to make you a proposition.  I will allow you to pay your debt as soon as you can arrange a loan as long as it is no later than the day after tomorrow.”

     I spoke without hesitating, “Agreed.”  Meade Media was not leveraged and could serve as collateral.   But all the profits for the next few years would have to go to re-paying the loan.  Corrine would be justified to look for a divorce lawyer.

     “Wait until I finish, please,” said Mr. Quarles.

     “Sorry.”

     “For being so generous in your case, I expect you to help me with others like you who believe they can gamble and lose but not pay.”

     I spoke up, “I’m not a violent person.”

     “You keep interrupting.”

     I decided to keep my big mouth shut.  “Terribly sorry, won’t happen again, Mr. Quarles.”

     “From time to time, you and your wife will do a job for me.  Morgan and one of my crews will bring a white woman here. Possibly, a white man, there are instances where the wife is the one who likes to gamble.  They’ll perform with her or him sexually.  Using your expertise and equipment, you’ll create a pornographic video of their performance and give me the only copy.  They will be the stars of an adult film.  With me so far, Mr. Meade?”

     “Yes, I’m with you, Mr. Quarles, but Corrine doesn’t need to be involved and I’ve never made porn.  But that doesn’t mean I can’t learn.”  I’d been approached several times by sleazy types who wanted to use my facilities to make adult films.  I threw them out of my office as soon as I found out what they wanted.

     “Corrine will be involved because I say so.  I understand she is a vital part of what you do here so you need her.  She can be your fluffer.  You can’t make an adult film without a fluffer.  As for making porn, I’m sure you can master any difficulties associated with adult films.  I’ve heard you tell your customers you like a challenge.”

     “Suppose they go to the police, Corrine and I could be arrested.”

     “I’ve been in business here over thirty years.  I’ve gotten to know many of Indianapolis’ finest, especially the higher ups.  I’ve helped them financially, not easy to get by on a policeman’s salary.  I wouldn’t worry about the police but I would be concerned because if you fail me, you and your cock and balls will be in different parts of the city along with your wife’s tits.  What say you, Mr. Meade?”

     I didn’t have a choice, “I’ll do it.”

     “You mean we’ll do it.  After all, marriage is a partnership.”

     I said, “Right, we’ll do it.  Corrine will be there.”  Although I had almost no hope she would agree to help me.

     When Morgan untied the rope, I dropped to the floor and curled up in the fetal position, weeping.  I half expected them to leave but everyone stood quietly as I slowly got myself together. 

     “There’s one more, small thing you can do for me, Mr. Meade,” said Mr. Quarles when I had gotten to my feet.

     “Anything, Mr. Quarles, anything,” I said desperate to get them gone.

     “Alex and Sidney have taken a fancy to you, Mr. Meade.  They’re good boys and I occasionally like to give them a little perk.  Are you up for that?” asked Mr. Quarles.

     He had lost me other than I now knew the names of the two large well built men who were standing near by.  It wasn’t my smartest performance not that my answer really mattered.  “I will do anything I can.”

     “Excellent, Mr. Meade,” said Mr. Quarles before announcing to the two, “He’s all yours.”

     A minute later, I was sandwiched between the two.  They were kissing me as they undressed me.  Outside of once in middle school, I had never had a homosexual encounter.  Neither had I ever had the urge to have sex with a man.  But after everything I experienced in the last half hour, I wasn’t about to scream, “Get your fucking faggot hands off me.”  Terrified I cooperated as best as I could.

      Mr. Quarles and Morgan had taken a seat on a modular Italian leather sofa that was featured in an upcoming commercial.  I had a sense it was some kind of test.

     The idea that the two body builder types were gay hadn’t crossed my mind.  They undressed themselves as they undressed me. 

     “Looks like an Oreo,” commented Mr. Quarles from his position on the couch.

     He was right.  I’m not muscular and the three of us must have resembled the sandwich cookie.  In spite of Corrine’s entreaties, I don’t go to the gym.  But I’m not fat either.  At an even six foot and one hundred fifty pounds with fair skin thanks to my Nordic heritage, I was a sharp contrast to Alex and Sidney.  They positioned me between them as their lips and hands roamed.  I was a skinny ass white boy pinned between two ebony body builders each of whom has at least a hundred pounds on me.

     Their tongues were busy and I was too scared shitless to do anything other than act like I was into it just as much as they were.  Alex sucked my nipples and fondled my cock as Sidney poked his cock in my butt crack while turning my head to kiss my mouth and ears.

      Morgan felt the need to break his usual silence and comment.  “It makes you wonder how a faggot like that kept that good looking wife of his happy.”

     “Perhaps, Mr. Meade is bisexual,” said Mr. Quarles.

     When the three of us were naked, they led me over to a sectional sofa.  For the second time in my life and the first time in adulthood, I put a cock in my mouth.  I blew Alex while Sidney returned the favor.

     Looking back on the experience I admit it could have been a hell of a lot worse.  Honestly, a brutal homosexual rape would have seemed more likely.  But the pair took it easy and I went along, not even protesting when they positioned me on all fours with my butt hanging off the edge for sodomy

    From somewhere, Alex produced a tube of lubricant he applied to my anus before placing his finger aside.  A second finger followed.  I was lucky Corrine took a positive attitude to my liking of anal play.  Her fingers and strap on dildo prepared me for what happened next.

     I reached between my legs and jerked my cock as Alex’s cock head applied pressure to my sphincter. Two callused weight lifter hand gripped my flanks as he drove himself inside me.

     It was a deep breath moment as pain momentarily gripped my rectum. 

     “Have you ever been cornholed by a nigger, Mr. Meade?” asked Mr. Quarles.

     Talking while your bowel is trying to get used to a large object is not easy but I managed somehow.  “No, this is a first for me by anyone, Mr. Quarles.”  In my one previous gay moment, it was my cock in his ass.

     “Lying motherfucker, that white boy’s ass is getting fucked regularly,” said Morgan. 

     Alex went inside until I felt his ball sack slap against mine.  He pulled back then began a regular rhythm.

     “Mr. Morgan here has a point.  The last white boy about died when Alex cornholed him.  You could here him scream all the way to downtown Indianapolis.  Are you lying, Mr. Meade?  Or do you have another explanation.”

     “My wife uses a strap on dildo to fuck me in the ass,” was all I could manage between grunts.  Sidney had gotten underneath the two of us and was sucking my cock while Alex fucked me.  After a few minutes they stopped and switched positions.

     “You white folks are one sick race,” said Mr. Quarles leaning back in the chair.

     Mr. Quarles stayed quiet as his two henchmen fucked me in a half dozen positions.  I won’t go into what it is like to suck a cock that five seconds before was buried deep in your asshole.  It doesn’t taste great and it smells worse.

     Sidney was the first to come in my ass.  I sucked and licked his dick clean while Alex added his semen to my bowels.  After Alex had deposited his load, I felt something warm and wet filling my gut.  Christ, I realized, he’s pissing in my asshole.

     “Give him the full treatment, Sid,” said Morgan.  “Do the thing they do at the club.”

     I had no idea what Morgan meant or what club he was talking about.  Exhausted, sore, and still frightened out of my skull, I lay still as Sidney placed his mouth on my sphincter and sucked out the contents.

     Moments later, his lips were glued to mine and his tongue forced it way inside my mouth along with a quantity of anal slime.  There was nothing to do but swallow it as I felt Sidney’s lips surround my sphincter and extract a second mouthful.

      After we repeated the kiss and swallow act, I was left to collapse.  I lay immobile as I heard the two dressing behind me.  I prayed it was over.

      A cane poked me in the ribs.  Mr. Quarles was standing by me.      “Life isn’t ever going to be the same for you. Mr. Meade.  You’ve been fucked by two niggers and that’s a big deal for a white man.  You’ll be hearing from Morgan when we need you and your wife.”

     They left leaving me to my misery.  Thank God I made it to the toilet before the urine and semen enema caused me to empty my bowels with explosive force.

     In spite of my condition, I managed to clean up the place before climbing into my car for the drive home where I had to face Corrine.