The Art of the Skim Part 1
Nola kept her formal attitude for the remainder of the shift. We passed one another silently, unless it was work related. She traded lunches with another floorman so she wouldn’t have to go with us. Bob noticed immediately and pulled me into the breakroom /slot office. He closed the door behind us and locked it, then slowly turned to face me.
“Sit the fuck down! Geez Barron, ya banging blondie too? Are you nutso or what? I dunno what! You think ya can keep it in your pants for a MINUTE! I mean whatta I’m gonna do wit youse?” By now he was in constant motion with his hands and arms and began pacing back and forth. His face was turning red, and he didn’t look too good.
“Bob, you, ok? Here, sit down and let me get some water.” I led him to the couch and drew a cup of water from the cooler. Bob had pulled out his ever-present hankie and alternated between wiping his forehead and blowing his nose. He started coughing, he chain-smoked and walked around with either a toothpick or wooden match in his mouth. Looking at the Brooks Brother’s jacket he was wearing, I could only imagine Bob’s closets. He dressed in a different suit or jacket every day and his shirts were freshly laundered. He wore expensive rings and carried a gold pocket watch attached to a gold chain. His white gold money clip was always stuffed with bills, which required him to flip through 100’s, 50’s, and 20’s before reaching smaller bills. No way he was getting paid that much from his job. He was the poster boy for the Italian mobster, and he frequently met with others in the same mold, who were frequent visitors, but not employees of the Dunes. That frightened me more than his being my immediate supervisor.
“Whatsa matter with you? You deaf as well as stupid? You don’t shit where you eat. With all the broads in this town….. Look if this shit continues to happen, I got no choice but to split you guys up. Now go fix it. Fix it tonight, right now!”
I couldn’t help but smile as his New York accent faded as he calmed down.
“So now it’s funny? Bob was getting riled again. He got up and stormed out the door before I could say a word. I followed him and found Nola at one of the change booths.
“I’m sorry, everything happened so fast, I thought she was just being nice and………. I should have waited.”
“Oh, stop it. I shouldn’t have flirted with you and led you on, especially when Mike was still coming around. I put you in an awkward position. But I like you and I want to be friends.”
“Deal!”, I said.” We’ll talk after work.” A few hours later, I noticed Maggie and Nola talking and laughing together. It looked encouraging enough for me to find Bob and convince him that everything was under control. That night after work, Maggie and I picked up two six packs of Budweiser and a fifth of tequila and went to Nola’s. Her kids were with their dad and grandparents enjoying the last days of summer vacation, so we had the place to ourselves. I passed out beers and Nola rounded up three shot glasses and we sat on the sofa, with me in the middle.
For the next hour we drank and explained the skim operation to Maggie. She was a willing recruit and gave us three more candidates, one floorman. They wanted to invite them over, but I wanted to observe them and talk to them in person before inviting them to join us. We had finished most of the beer and put a dent in Mr. Cuervo. Both girls were feeling the effects of the alcohol and began to flirt openly. Nola pulled Maggie up to dance with her. Aerosmith was rocking ‘Dude’, on the radio and the two were trying to outdo each other as they gyrated to the music. The girls were dancing with their bottles in hand and accidentally crashed together, spilling beer and broken glass over the linoleum floor. They continued to dance as I cleaned up the mess and replaced their beers. I didn’t mind, because the show was getting better. Gloria Estefan and the Miami Sound Machine replaced Aerosmith and the girls broke into a salsa with Conga blasting in the background. I joined the women in a Conga line with me in the middle. I held Nola’s waist while Maggie practically had me in a bear hug, bringing in the rear. We stopped after the song finished. The small apartment had heated up and we were all sweating pretty good. Nola brought towels and we rested as the music slowed down and Nola lit scented candles. We were out of beer and Maggie surprisingly volunteered to go on a beer run. Whitney Houston’s, ‘You Give Good Love’ began playing on the radio before anyone could answer.
“Oh, this is my favorite song. Can we go after it plays? Barron, dance with me.”, Nola finished.
I looked at Maggie, who was grabbing her purse and keys and heading towards the door.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be right back.” She grabbed my hand and placed it in Nola’s as she walked out the door. I pulled Nola to me, and we began to sway to the sultry beat. I could feel her body trembling as my hands moved slowly over her shoulders and traced down her back to her waist. She was wearing a sheer white blouse that was translucent enough to expose her breasts, and shorts which would allow me to caress her cheeks, if I made it that far.
Nola became aggressive and thrust her hips against me. She grabbed my head and pulled me down to nibble on my ears and neck. I pushed her down onto the couch and grabbed her cheeks. Nola screamed and ripped the front of my shirt open. Kissing my forehead, her lips trailed down my eyelids, and continued across my cheeks before exploding in my mouth. Time disappeared as we ground our bodies together. I was nearing the point of no return, my mind fighting to tell my body yes or no. Was Maggie trying to quickly start a threesome or was this a test the two had designed to torture me. Our relationship was undefined and there were no rules or regulations guiding us. Nola felt my firmness and began to kiss and lick my chest as she worked towards my waist. I was trying to remove her shorts at the same time.
The flash of headlights and the sound of her horn alerted us to Maggie’s return. We disengaged and put our clothing together before she came through the door. It was obvious that we had been fooling around but Maggie just handed us each a beer and sat down. Whatever magical moment I was expecting, or we were expecting, died on the spot. The rest of the evening was spent on drinking and talking about everything in the world, except sex. I drove us home when the sun came up. Nola had passed out on the couch and Maggie helped her to bed earlier. The trip home was made in silence, and we crashed out as soon as we hit the bed.
Maggie had strong coffee, homemade tortillas, chorizo/eggs, and bacon, when I woke up shortly after 1pm.
“What did you guys do when I left to get the beer?”
“Good afternoon to you too.”, I replied. “We danced. “
“Liar, you don’t have to lie.” Maggie rolled the food on her plate into a burrito and took a large bite.
“Well, we did snuggle and rub each other while dancing. And I might have given her a little kiss at the end.”
“So, you want her?”
“Yes, no I mean no, I don’t know. Honestly, I hardly expected to be sitting here with you, when Nola and I got close.
“So, you want her.?”
“If I did, would I be sitting here? I could have let you bring the car home and just stayed there.”
I tried to put my burrito together, but it kept falling apart before I could get it to my mouth.
“Do you have a fork?”, I asked sheepishly.
“No, no forks.” She grabbed my plate and tortilla and expertly folded the burrito together, tucking the bottom fold in securely, and handed it to me.
“I’m going to get ready for work. If you want more, it’s on the stove.”
She left me sitting on the living room floor. She was expecting her brother to bring some furniture as soon as she could send him money for gas. I looked out at the skyline of the Las Vergas Strip, visible 1 ½ blocks away from the small apartment complex, usually cast in the shadows of the resorts that surrounded it. I could hear the shower and took breakfast into the room so I could start ironing my clothes for work.
Maggie came out of the shower wearing two towels. One around her head and the other strategically wrapped over breasts and covering her bottom.
“I want to start skimming today.” She spoke.
“We can start with a couple of jackpot slips for $300.00”. I replied
“Good, let’s go early.”
“No problem, I’ll jump in the shower right now.”
Her calmness was unnerving because I knew she was upset. Going in early was a good idea, I had to deal with how Nola was going to be tonight.
To be continued………………………….
Barron Broomfield
