Sam Jasper was into everybody's business. He owned the most successful Ford dealership in the area and every cop, revenue agent and booze runner knew that nothing could outrun a Flathead V-8. Sam got all the business because he looked the other way whenever good or evil wanted something special to keep a level playing field.
While Sam's dealership prospered, his personal life had taken a turn for the worst. His wife Edith had passed on a year before; her body had given in to rheumatic fever. First she's felt aches and pains in the joints. Before Sam and the docs knew it, her heart had collapsed; she couldn't take anymore. Sam was devastated; he had been completed devoted to her. He'd always had a thing for a full-figured gal, and Edith was pleasingly plump, sexy, and smart. They'd been great lovers, but they had also looked out for each other.
Sam had many chances to meet women after Edith passed away. Short, sandy-haired, with a full head of hair that made him look younger than his 38 years, he was considered quite a catch. But he had rejected overtures of some of the wealthiest ladies in town. He'd found them too stodgy and boring, and they didn't attract him as Edith had.
Sam's friend, Joey, owned the Peacock Club, a hot night spot not far from his dealership. Unlike Sam, Joey had stayed single. Night after night, he'd walk into his club with a different girl around each arm: blondes, brunettes and redheads, and they were all tall, thin and long legged beauties. After six months of mourning Edith's death, Sam had made the Peacock Club his home after-hours. Anyone who was anyone frequented the Peacock Club, and there were always deals to be done. And of course, there were Joey's women. They were all beautiful, true, and they were nice, but he felt none of them could carry a candle to Edith.
"What's wrong with you?" Joey finally asked one night, frustrated that Sam had been only polite to one of his favorite femmes. Joey had constantly tried to fix Sam up with his girls, but Sam barely budged. "I mean, these ladies are smokin'. You know what most guys would give just to say 'hello' to these broads?"
Sam shrugged. "Yeah, I know, but they don't do it for me."
"Your wife, you know that girl had some ass, but I always liked her, even when she broke my balls."
They laughed together. Joey had gotten along well with Edith, though she'd found his business offensive. But she was never nasty, only teasing. Joey and Sam had been friends a long time, and they'd steered business each other's way. But Joey also did some strange deals behind the scenes and kept his pal out to protect him. He hired much burlier men for protection.
Sam slapped Joey's shoulder. "Yeah, she did, but I liked her ass." Sam winked then Joey stepped away to meet and greet other customers, while Sam remained at the bar sipping his Jack Daniels on the rocks. The bar was smoky, and a band had gotten practically everyone, except the wallflowers at the bar, up to dance.
And then a new woman walked in, and she's come alone. She was tall and blonde, like most of Joey's ladies, but she looked stronger and more confident--those girls were usually frail and willowy—but her ass, covered under a skirt tighter and shorter than most, reminded him of Edith. He took another sip of whisky to be sure, or was it for courage. The lump between his legs throbbed for the first time in two years.
The woman grew larger as she approached the bar; she appeared as tall as any man in the place. Her face was beautiful; perfectly round red cheeks and big aquamarine eyes. Her breasts reminded Sam of headlights turned backwards on the convertible that was in the center of his showroom. Her lips were redder than the taillights on that car. For a couple of seconds, Sam imagined himself in the front seat of the convertible with this woman, her blonde hair flying in the breeze.
She stopped next to Sam, who hadn't stopped throbbing, and had started shaking, and withdrew a cigarette and holder from her purse. She asked Pete, the bartender, for a light, and he obliged.
