JACK-MORMON
by Linton Lewis



Saturday night on the Las Vegas Strip, Fred Sway dealt twenty-one to fleas on
table twelve at the Sun Casino. He smiled and joked while cringing inside. The
fleas smiled back and kept betting a red check, the five-dollar minimum.
Occasionally a brave soul would double to ten dollars, but rarely. Addicted to
dealing high limit games, Fred craved green or black action. He needed it like
a junky needs smack. Busting out some elite high roller felt sweet. Each loser
acted differently. Some hardened, got hostile, and called him names; others
softened into milk toast and groveled to his superiority, his power.

Vinny Shoaf, Fred's floorperson, was getting even with him for dumping twenty
thousand to a player last night right before the end of the shift and making
the shift a loser. If this happened too often, Shoaf and some of the other
supervisors would be looking for work elsewhere. The nature of the beast
dictated, if you lost too much money, you were out the door.

A player on table seven kicked ass. Shoaf sweated blood all over the pit. Even
Bill Mizner, the pit boss, who hardly ever sweated anything, rubbed his chin
and paced around nervously.

Fred knew they had to call on him. Sure, he lost twenty thou last night, but
he couldn't count the times he'd delivered for the bosses and brought the
shift in a winner?

Many dealers freeze when they deal a big money game. They hate it because of
the heat from the supervisors. All the bosses watch. They glue their eyes to
every move the dealer makes, ready to spring on any mistake.

Fred Sway thrived on it. It gave him a chance to showcase his wares. Everyone
knew his talent as the best dealer on the shift, the dealers, and the
supervisors alike. Not only did he deal the fastest and most technically
correct game, but he also had an uncanny knack of being able to beat the high
rollers. He did nothing purposely to win, it just happened. He reigned as the
shift's ice person. Though lately he had been in somewhat of a slump. Shoaf
put him in purgatory making him pay.

But not for long.

When he went on break, he bumped into a new dealer coming onto a game. He
didn't see her coming and she hit him hard. His body gave way to hers. Her
elbow caught his chin and knocked him dizzy.

"Oh, I'm sorry," said the woman. "I was excited to get on the game and didn't
see you. Are you all right?" She reached for his arm to steady him and looked
into his eyes. They both recognized each other at the same time.

"Beth Ransom."

"Fred Sway."

"I didn't know you dealt twenty-one?"

"Yeah, I've been workin' downtown."

"Well, good luck."

"Thanks, Fred, I'm gonna need it. Vince's sending me into black action."

He watched her approach table seven and tap the dealer out. Beth was two years
behind him in high school. Always a looker, she now oozed beauty from every
pore, and the curves so ...

Stop that. That's no way for a married Mormon man with two children to think.
The church put limits on his fantasies. Piously, he had to think. Worshipping
the female body brought temptation. The deacons let him work in the casinos,
but cautioned abstinence in thought as well as deed.

First night on the job and black action? He almost felt sorry for Beth but
envy swept away any pity. He should be dealing to that black action, not her.
She would blow it; his time would come.

She stayed on the heavy game for the rest of the evening and beat the high
roller's brains out. To say the least Shoaf, Mizner, and Abe Chisolm, the
shift boss, were delirious.

Toward the end of the shift, Beth's and Fred's break coincided and she walked
over to the table in the dealer's room where he sat alone. "Well, if it ain't
Freddie Sway, my old high school stud?"

He looked up and as in high school, Beth's beauty tested his resolve. Always
mysterious, and she still bore a recklessness that made him uneasy. Same
flaming red hair, freckles abounding, blue eyes glowing like a gypsy's crystal
ball, mammary glands constrained by her white dealer's shirt--her first night
on the job and already she dealt to black action. Black action he should have
been dealing to.

He shifted uneasy in his seat. "Hi, Beth. Uh, have a seat."

She studied his face like a roadmap.

"I can't believe it! You ain't changed a lick since high school." She laughed.
"I bet you get carded a lot. What are you doing sitting over here all by
yourself?"

He shrugged. "Don't have much in common with the people who work here."

She grinned. "You're still a Mormon ain't you?"

He nodded.

"Now let's see," rubbing her chin, "Bet you married that high school
sweetheart of yours, little Alice Thompson?"

He nodded. "Right again, Beth. Alice Thompson."

"When did you get married?"

"After my two-year mission?"

"Where did you go?"

"Kansas City."

She laughed and slapped the top of the table. "Boy, I can just see you now,
peddlin' all around Kansas City on one of them bicycles wearing a white shirt
and tie. How many people did you convert?"

He smiled. "None, I'm afraid."

She feigned shock. "After two years of trying?"

He shrugged. "I guess my forte doesn't lie in the missionary field."

"Alice and I were in the same grade. You must have married her right after we
graduated. Got any kids?"

"Two."

"Boy, the old deacons must be delirious with that. Remember, 'Go forth, and
multiply.' What else you been doing?"

"We've been in school. Alice went to UNLV and is now teaching the third grade.
I went to Community College and am now at UNLV taking hotel management. We're
waiting until I make the floor before having any more children. I hope you
won't pass on that little secret to my deacon?"

"That you can make book on. They tell me you're the iceperson here, or were
until I came along. How do you like the way I fleeced that high roller
sumbitch? Bet I beat him out of forty thou and he's up in his room right now
heaving his guts out. God, what a high that is, Freddie. You must know what
I'm talking about?"

"Yes, I do. I've been there Beth, and I have to admit the feeling is
indescribable."

"You know, Fred, ever since high school, I've always had this kind of a thing
for you. Know this might sound like it's comin' out of leftfield and I guess
it is," she leaned toward him, "I still have this high from the game burnin'
inside me. And it's sexual." She put her hand over Fred's and squeezed. Her
eyes flashed visions of lust. "I need somethin', or someone I should say,
someone to share this with, to help me extinguish it. You know what I mean?"
She squeezed his hand.

"Sure you do. You've been there so many times. Come home with me tonight,
Fred? Guarantee it'll be a night you won't forget." She placed her other hand
on his leg under the table and massaged it, moving her hand slowly towards his
groin.

What's going on? She's crazy. So beautiful. So fast. He had to get out of
there. He stood up quickly, scrapping the chair on the floor. He felt his face
flush. "Gee, Beth, I, I just couldn't. I'm married. I have to go straight home
after work. I've never cheated on Alice. Never even thought of it."

"You can't be that wrapped up in mousy little Alice." Beth's face reddened
with anger not embarrassment.

"It's not just that. Alice's folks were there for my mother and me when Dad
died. I'd be turning against them and the church if I was unfaithful."

She looked at him long and hard, sizzling. She said very slowly with a menace
that scared him, "You'll be sorry for this Freddie boy, real sorry. You
rebuffed me in high school and now here. I don't deal well with rejection."
She slapped his face hard and left.

Bill Mizner quit and took a job at Caesar's Palace and Fred's time finally
came. Mizner's pit boss position would be filled by one of the floorpersons,
leaving a vacancy on the floor. Mizner promised him the next slot and even
though he had left, Fred was sure he had relayed his aspirations to Abe
Chisolm, the shift boss. Besides, his being the best dealer on the shift and
his schooling in gaming and hotel management made him the most logical choice.

They promoted Vincent Shoaf to pit boss and Beth Ransom took his floorperson
position. Fred complained to Abe, he said that Mizner's promises went out the
door with him. He had to support his new pit boss's selection.

When he thought about it, Beth and Shoaf became very friendly since she
arrived. He had nothing to attract her but his position. He was short and fat,
35, 5-6, 200lbs, thinning brown hair greased and combed back and wore John
Lennon glasses. His swarthy skin sweated a lot. He couldn't say if anything
for certain went on between them, but they laughed and touched each other a
lot. The only consolation with Beth kicked upstairs, he would at least be
dealing the high action games again. This he found wishful thinking.

Beth Ransom watched him like a hawk. She came up behind him and told him in a
voice only he could hear that she heard about him going to Abe and so had
Shoaf and they didn't think much of dealers sniveling to the shift boss over
their heads. She wrote him up that same evening. It was his first warning slip
since he started dealing.

A player bought in with a hundred-dollar bill and the rule states that the
dealer get the floorperson's okay before giving the player the checks. He
called out twice and knew Beth heard him but she wouldn't acknowledge his
call. He waited as long as he could without antagonizing the player and then
went ahead. When his break came, she stopped him and had him sign the warning
slip.

The next night she wrote him up for instructing a player how to play her
cards. She was only betting five dollars. When he signed the second warning
slip Beth said with fire in her eyes, "This better be your last mistake,
Freddie boy. Company policy states that with three warning slips, you're
fuckin out the door, hotshot. And I can tell you, if you're fired from here,
you'll play hell finding another job on the Strip. You'll be back downtown
dealing to fleas for pennies."

Fear struck his heart. "I'm sorry, Beth. I don't know what it is that has you
mad at me, but whatever it is, I'm sorry. I need this job. I'll do anything to
make amends."

"You know what it is."

"Okay, I'm sorry. What do I have to do?"

"I don't like devout Mormon dealers, Freddie. Do you think you can change
that?"

"What do you mean?"

"I want me a Jack-Mormon."

Good Heavens! What did he get himself in to? Why did she hate him so? All he
wanted was to live peacefully with his wife and children, and his Mormon
brothers and sisters at the church.

He'd sinned with his lewd thoughts and God was punishing him. Why else would
he have this insane hellion on his case. Was God testing him?

Beth's right about his job. Getting a position on the Strip required juice. He
used his getting this job. If he were fired, no doubt about it, he would be
back downtown starting over. He had to placate her somehow. Play along. Maybe
he could get out of this unscathed with his job intact. God willing.

He sighed. "Then Jack-Mormon it will have to be, Beth."

When he came back from his break Beth sent him to table seven where he beat
three high rollers out of forty-five thousand dollars.

The supervisors' shift ended thirty minutes before the dealers. Beth said
nothing to him since sending him to table seven. Still wired about the game,
he had halfway forgotten her. He startled caught in the glow of her eyes. She
waited for him in her red Mustang convertible just inside the gate leading
into the employee's parking lot. "Get your car and follow me," she said,
boring into him with her intimidating gaze.

He followed her to a house not far from the casino. In the living room, he sat
on the couch, and tried to figure out what to say to stop this madness. He
wanted to go home. She grabbed his arm and took him into her bedroom.

"Okay, Freddie boy, let's get a look at what we have to work with."

With a wicked smile and a gleam, she unbuckled Fred's belt, zipped down his
zipper, and pulled trousers and underwear down to his knees in one yank. Fred
couldn't believe how stiff his member jutted. Beth flicked down on it with the
back of her fingernails. The pain shocked him, then strange spasms of pleasure
pulsated from the pain.

She took him in her arms and penetrated his mouth deep with her tongue. He
moaned in slight pain when she tightened her grip into a bear hug, lifted him
from the floor and flung him into the waterbed on his back. Moments later the
thud of her body landed on top of him. She straddled him, her knees digging
hard into his ribs. He moaned again from the pain.

Lord in heaven what is happening? He didn't want this. "Oh God!" he cried as
she impaled herself on him and viciously took her pleasure. In the coupling
she wielded complete control of both bodies. The greatest moment of his life
came when he climaxed. He never dreamed an orgasm could be like that

The next night back on table seven Fred kicked high-roller-ass and later, in
her waterbed he serviced her obsession or spell or whatever that burned inside
her. He scratched the itch that she demanded. One night instead of going to
her home, they stopped off at a dance club on Paradise. He didn't drink but
she made him drink two beers that made him sick. The next night the beers
stayed down. Then every night, beers and dancing before going to her place.
Eventually they worked into drugs, mostly marijuana and cocaine.

This only happened when Fred won. If he lost, straight home to Alice and the
kids.

Alice started questioning him about staying out all night. He told her he
didn't come home because the pressure from the game made him high and he
needed time to unwind. He woke up one morning with Alice and the kids gone. In
the corner of the bedroom lay his underwear with Beth's lipstick all over it.
He stopped in front of the long mirror on the door and found his underwear
wasn't all Beth had colored with her lipstick. Her lip prints showed all over
my penis.

Oh, God! What's happened to me? He couldn't believe his feelings. Here it
looked like he'd lost his wife and kids and he couldn't even remember what
happened. And that really agitated him? Not losing his family, but losing
memory of what Beth had done to him. Beth, the evil witch, had consumed him,
but he loved it, thinking of her on top of him pounding away. He wanted more
and more. But that was all right. All he had to do was win tonight and they
could do it all over again.

That night he didn't win. He lost. He lost big-time. Over seventy-five
thousand dollars. The next night she treated him with contempt and sent him
back to table twelve and a new dealer by the name of Mario dealt on table
seven and kicked ass. He waited for a chance to redeem myself but Beth and
Shoaf wouldn't give it to him. He continued to drink and take dope and hang
out at the clubs frequented by Beth and her new ice person, Mario. It frosted
his balls that Mario was getting everything he had.

She danced with Mario. Fred came up to her. "Please, Beth, you've got to give
me another chance?"

"No can do, kiddo. Mario's my ice person now. You're out." She flipped her
thumb towards the door.

His eyes moisted. "But, Beth, Alice left me and took the children."

"Hey, Freddie-boy, shit happens."

He grabbed her arm and she pushed him away.

"Let me take care of this, Beth," said Mario. He stepped between them and Beth
pulled him back.

"No, Mario, this turkey's mine. I've been waiting a long time for this." She
swung and knocked Fred silly. He staggered away on the dance floor, she ran
after him, grabbed him by the hair with both hands, and kneed him savagely in
the balls. Pain, so fierce he'd never imagine existed shot up and all through
him He dropped to the floor in complete agony, covering his injured area with
his hands. She stood over him in her tight miniskirt, flaunting power and
control with her magnificent legs.

"Owe!" Tears flowed. Wretched sobs consumed him curled at her feet in total
agony and misery. "I'm sorry, Beth, please take me back? I promise I'll win."

"I don't want you back Mormon boy. You're right where you belong groveling at
my feet. I planned this from the start. I've always hated you, Fred, you and
the rest of your Mormon cocksuckers, ever since you snubbed me in high
school." She kicked him hard in the ribs and he crawled away from her in pain.
She ran towards him again and he was able to pull myself up and made his way
out the front door to his car with her berating socking and kicking at him all
the way.

Fred drank all day and was late and drunk when he reported for his shift that
night. Vincent Shoaf fired him and had two security guards escort him out of
the casino. He looked back as a last resort and saw Beth and Shoaf gloating at
him.

End

All rights reserved 16 December 2003