The gambling house was illegal. Maybe the owners paid off the cops or whatever, but every Friday and Saturday night at 1106 Gardner, in a sleepy suburb, it was on. Blackjack and spades for money on the first floor, a roulette wheel in the basement, and Texas hold 'em, a strictly big money game that was for high rollers only in the upstairs bedroom. The host, Randy, was a six foot, three inch black man with a genial manner, always dressed pin-sharp in a black suit with a brightly colored tie and a shirt that looked expensive. A large plain gold band was on his right ring finger, a huge diamond solitaire on his left pinky. He rolled from floor to floor, making sure that folks' drinks were filled, and that they had a snack if they wanted. On his way back to the first floor, he spotted Steve. Steve and his wife Helen were regulars, but Steve had been on a low streak. He was into the house for about $6K, and Randy has word from above that if he got any deeper, Randy would have to start collection proceedings. He didn't want to do that. But, it was his job, and he had to make a living.
Steve looked like he was losing, and his wife looked like she didn't care. Drinking, laughing with the other women at the blackjack table, flirting with some of the men. Helen was about 5"4", with long brunette hair and a wide hipped, big bust, hourglass figure stuffed into a half-hour glass. She was hot, despite her weight. Maybe even because of it. Dressed in a see-through dress with a black underlayer, Randy thought she was the best looking woman in the room, even though there were plenty of leggy blondes, brunettes, black women, and Latinas in the house that night. Most of the other young women in the house that night were working hard on their cold, good luck charm looks, silent and pouty and beautiful, Helen was loud, cheerful, and seemed to be having a great time. Randy liked watching her.
"Blackjack!" the dealer said, and scooped the rest of Steve's chips from him. Steve put his head in his hands and sighed. He said something to his wife, who looked extremely disappointed, and grabbed her wrap in a huff, and pushed her way out the door. Steve followed.
At around 3AM, Randy asked the head dealer/bookkeeper what Steve's total was.
Shanice looked up from her work, and then clicked through a window on her laptop. "Steve Plumb? After tonight, he's into us for an even $10K. He's been flagged. He cannot come back until we receive some payment."
At that moment, Randy's cell phone buzzed. He lifted it, looked at the message, and replaced it in his pocket. "Thanks Shanice. Let me know when you're ready to go to the bank, OK?"
Shanice said "The count is done. I'm just entering figures. 5 minutes."
"Good enough." Randy walked around, making sure that the gaming implements had been put away, and that the house was clean. When he returned to the study, Shanice had a zippered bank bag bulging with cash, and was wearing her coat.
Steve woke up with a pounding hangover, wondering how he had gotten here. The realization that he owed an illegal casino ten thousand dollars didn't set in until he was halfway through his first cup of coffee.
Helen was in the kitchen, wearing a shorty robe and eating toast.
"Make me some breakfast, honey?"
Helen looked at him blankly, long enough to make him swallow.
Steve sat and didn't say anything.
Helen said "What the FUCK are you going to do?"
Steve said "Well, maybe we could ask your dad-"
Helen threw the last piece of buttered toast at him, hitting him square in the forehead. "You fucking IDIOT. My father is not going to pay your gambling debts. And I'm not going to ask him."
"Well, don't you have some-"
Helen tossed what was left of her orange juice at him, soaking his t-shirt and bouncing the glass off of his chest. "I am not going to pay either!!! YOU got yourself into this. I told you we didn't have to gamble. Now, I find out you're into them for ten thousand? How did this happen?"
"I made some sports bets that didn't work out." Steve said limply.
"Steve, who do you think runs that place? The state? No, idiot, gangsters own that joint. And now you owe them money."
Helen's rant was interrupted by the door bell.
"Who the hell is coming by at 10 am on a Saturday morning?" Helen stomped to the door and opened it to reveal Randy, dressed weekend cool in a tight white tank that sharply contrasted his dark brown skin, and cuffed, gray sweats that stretched tight around his firm backside and fit his thighs closely. No jewelry, save a thin gold chain around his neck. Helen could see muscles that she didn't know the name of in his shoulders and chest.
"Good Morning Mrs. Plumb. Mind if I come in?" Randy didn't wait for an answer, and walked on as if Helen couldn't stop him. Which she couldn't.
"H-Hello Mr. Simmons. C-can I offer you some coffee?"
"That would be nice, Mrs. Plumb. I have some things to discuss with you and the mister." Randy stretched his large frame and yawned. Helen couldn't resist noticing the muscles tighten and slacken in his back and ass as he did so. The morning light on his deep brown skin kept Helen's attention. She had noticed him the first time they went to the casino, his broad shoulders and sharp dressed attitude were intoxicating to her.
And the fear...yeah, he scared her.
Everybody knew that Randy, in addition to being the man at the casino, also handled all the collection work. He was always genial, generous, even solicitous. But there were many rumors floating around, about how he held a man's hand over a running garbage disposal, or how he threatened a man with an electric charcoal starter, holding the 600 degree heating element centimeters from the man's face. Helen didn't want to admit it, even to herself, but the thought of him committing these violent acts turned her on.
Helen went to the kitchen and told her husband, "Get your ass out there. Randy is here."
Steve paled, and ran to the first floor bathroom, where she could hear him retching.
Helen poured coffee, and grabbed the creamer out of the fridge, and balanced the sugar bowl on top of it, and served Randy. "He'll be out in a minute." She said, as if you couldn't hear the sounds of sickness throughout the first floor.
Randy prepared his coffee, cream and three spoonfuls of sugar, and kept looking at Helen, who shifted slightly under his gaze. Her shorty robe had ridden up so he could see her round ass in the thong panties she wore. Helen slept in a tank and panties. Not anticipating company, she just had the robe on over them, and was acutely aware of it now, the curve of her cheeks fully visible to Randy's eye. Helen returned briefly to the kitchen to rearrange herself, a moistness on her brow that she hadn't noticed before, and a tingling in between her legs.
When she returned to the living room, Steve was sitting on the couch as far away from Randy as possible. Randy was saying "We can work a payment plan, Steve. But I'll tell you, there is no grace period. And payments are due biweekly, on your payday. My tech guy is good enough that he can garnish your wages. Makes it look like a credit thing. But that's the easy way. I like this kind of work, and I prefer to see my clients up close, and see if there is anything I can do to help. Which would mean that you and I would see each other every other Friday until the debt is paid."
"Can we just do the payroll thing? I'll sign whatever you want me to sign." Steve grabbed at the only straw offered.
"No, I don't think so. The amount is too great, and my superiors have dictated that I handle your account personally. So, I'll just come by here, every other Friday at 5, on my way to the house. Be here, and have the money, in cash. If you are strapped, you will get one extra day. But if I don't get a payment on Saturday, I'm going to have to enact some consequences." Randy stood up, and crossed the room quickly, sat right next to Steve, and tried to look him in the eye. Steve didn't raise his head. Randy put a hand on the back of his neck and squeezed lightly. "Steve, look at me. I don't want to hurt you. But you will pay me. Understood? Say yes. I had to interrupt my morning workout to come see you. I'd like to get back to it."
Steve couldn't breathe, he was so scared. Helen was scared, too, but the moisture between her legs confused her. She was horny at a time like this? She tried to put it out of her mind, but while Steve nodded and a tear slipped down his face, she could feel her own juices dampening her underwear. When he gave Steve a final squeeze on the back of his neck, Randy's shoulders bunched and Helen felt her pussy clench in response.
Randy stood, drained his coffee cup, and nodded to Helen. "Mrs. Plumb, thanks for a fine cup of coffee. It was so good that I might have to come back for another cup. You know I usually need a pick-me-up when I head into work. Can you have a cup ready for me when I come back next Friday? It would be a big help."
Helen's nipples were about to poke through her robe. And, she was going to have to change her panties before her arousal became obvious. "Sure, Randy..I..I can do that."
"Mrs. Plumb, I prefer that you call me Mr. Simmons. This is still business."
Helen's nipples were scraping against her tank top. She wanted to throw herself at him. She was repulsed and wanted to run. She couldn't process this feeling. The confusion added to her arousal. "Y-Yes, Mr. Simmons." She stammered. "If you'll excuse me, I-"
"You'll see me out? Of course, it's your home." He stood, expectantly. She crossed the room and opened the door for him. He stood so close to her that she could feel the heat from the morning on his skin. She could smell it. He looked at her, perhaps a bit more lightly than he had at her husband, and said "Goodbye Mrs. Plumb. I'll see you in a couple of weeks." He took her hand gracefully, but didn't kiss it. Too hackneyed. The warmth of his touch was almost more than Helen could handle. She was vibrating, wasn't she? She felt as if there were rubber balls bouncing around under her skin. Hot ones that reddened her face. She merely nodded, as Randy stepped out the door.
Steve sat on the couch, his face in his hands.
The first payment Friday came around, and Steve had gone to the bank to withdraw the first $1,500 to give to Randy. He was home. Helen has been acting funny. Cleaning the entire house top to bottom, and when he got home, she was wearing makeup, earrings, and black cotton leggings under a Jimi Hendrix tee she liked. Steve thought she looked good and told her so. She thanked him, brusquely, as the doorbell rang. Helen fairly glided over to the door to answer it. Randy came in in his trademark black suit, a red tie and shirt, jewelry in place. Steve handed him the money, and he sat down to count it. Helen came back into the living room with coffee on their good silver tray. Randy took it, prepared it, and said "Mrs. Plumb, you look absolutely lovely today."
Helen blushed. She had dressed for him and didn't even know it. "Thank you. I just threw this on. But I was cleaning all day, so..."
"Well, the place looks marvelous. Steve, it's all here." He drank his coffee down. " I will see you all again. Thanks, Mrs. Plumb."
"Anytime, Mr. Simmons." Helen bounced herself to the door to open it for him. She was eager to help him out. On his way out the door, he gave her a brotherly peck on the cheek. Her cheek became hot and she blushed deeper. "That was my payment for the coffee. Have a good evening."
