Harry and the Bikini Bandits by Basil Heatter - Chapter 14
1971 Genre: Vintage Sleaze / Casino Heist
A wildly erotic novel of intrigue, suspense, and adventure...
There's a lot to be said for my Uncle Harry. Mostly unprintable. All my life I'd heard about him, and from a distance he was a kind of legend. But the moment I signed on as one-man crew to his beat-up old bucket, Jezebel, I found my hero of the sea was really a pirate. Broads and booze kept him afloat between capers—and so far, his luck was holding...
But this new harebrained scheme—to heist the loot from an island gambling casino—was the daffiest—and most dangerous yet.
And there I was. Right in the middle. Up to my virginal ears in naked nymphs and Nitrous oxide—with nothing between me and the future but a leaky getaway and a pot of gold that was fast disappearing behind Harry's private rainbow.
CHAPTER 14
I heard a woman scream. My flesh crawled.
"Lawd! Lawd! Jeezus! Help me Jeezus!"
Rape? Murder? Run away or toward it? Clouds racing across the moon. Trees bending before the wind. Ten o'clock? Eleven? I had been wandering around the island looking for Elvira. No luck. Now this. I waited for someone to do something, but no one did. The scream again. I ran up the path over a little hill. A white church like bone in the moonlight. Screaming, screaming. Who commits murder in a church? Grabbed the shutter bar above the window and chinned myself.
Hellish surprise. Six of them rolling around on the floor with their skirts up, yelling. But nobody laying a hand on them except maybe the devil. And there he was. My darling Miss McGee's senator. White linen suit and eyes like black diamonds. Mustache gleaming. Satan preparing to pitchfork them all into hell. Skirts right up around their hips, bouncing black bottoms. But the senator is not the devil after all, because he is reading from the Bible. Some Sunday school.
"I am coming, Lawd!"
Dropped down. Saw Elvira. Standing in the doorway wearing gray slacks, lime green sweater. Beautiful Watusi. Cool. Smokes a cigarette. Pays no attention to hellish proceedings. Blows a smoke ring in my direction. Grins. Beg her to meet me outside. Shakes her head. Senator beating his meat with Bible. Ladies pounding bottoms.
"Coming Lawd!"
She is walking toward me. Stiff hair in that Afro cut standing out like a thorn tree on the veldt. So long and lean the wind seems to float her along above the ground. My heart floats with her.
"Come for your turtle soup, baby?"
Speechless.
"Kind of past your bedtime, huh, baby?"
The senator's voice rises on the wind. Roebucks and breasts.
Ta-too of hips and naked thighs on dusty board floor. "You kind of dig that Song of Solomon, baby?"
She moves closer. Eyes big and scary in the moonlight. Cat's eyes. Perfume. Sweat. Rum. Voodoo goddess in the Haitian rain forest. I back away. She comes after me. Backs me down toward the beach and puts one long limber leg behind me so that I topple over backward. She is on top of me and all that time her lips have been glued to mine. Helpless as a fly on flypaper. Her fingers at my zipper. Fingertips like chips of ice.
"Relax, baby."
Probably cut my heart out with a stone knife. Drinks chicken blood for breakfast. Sacrificial goat. What a way to go. Despite myself I am beginning to enjoy it.
"Mmm, lovely," said she.
One hand inside the waistband of her slacks and down over her bottom. No panties. Like squeezing two hard beautiful soccer balls. She pulls my hand away. "Uh Uh."
"What's the matter?"
No answer. Instead she slides my pants down over my hips and bends over me. Teeth like a tigress. My God.
"Nice?"
I am unable to speak.
"All systems go. Rocket to the moon, baby."
I return to earth scorched and spent.
"When will I see you again?"
"Quien sabe?"
"We're leaving in the morning."
"Dat's de way wid you sailor cats. Sail away and leave us black gals behind."
"Can't you be serious?"
"Oh man, don't ask me to be serious. That's the worse scene of all."
The screaming and yelling had ended and so had the senator's voice.
"Listen, I love you."
She laughed and kissed me. I felt a little funny about kissing her.
"Go away, sailor boy."
"But I do."
"So you do. Man, it ain't exactly the Hope diamond, is it! Scat now. Momma got to run."
And she did.
Loved her. Hated her. Thought of her in bed with the senator kissing him as she had kissed me and wanted to kill her. Broke into a sweat and ran down the path and out onto the dock and straight into the black water. Wanted to be eaten alive by the biggest fucking barracuda in the world. Was not eaten by anything but scraped the hell out of myself on the pilings. Climbed aboard. All quiet except for Harry snoring. Wished Miss Wong was awake. Wanted to ask her a million questions. Smeared iodine on the gash. Wow! Sat on deck and tried to count stars. Fell asleep at ninety-nine.