Railroad Man Read Online Free PDF

hair, natural, curled just so behind a small ear. I motioned to the bartender. “How about some giggle juice for the little kitten?”

    The place was quiet, and the bartender caught my drift. I chose one of the tables on the dark side of the room. She followed, hesitant. Her face was unspoiled and looked out of place in the low-down sleazy joint.

    I leaned forward, up close to her young face. “You got a name, Dollface?”

    She sipped her drink and gave me a sassy look. “The name’s Flo. Don’t like it, but it’s the only one I got.”

    The gamers at the table started shoving and cussing at each other. I looked at them through the smoky haze. “How come a pretty little thing like you keeps time in a place like this?”

    Flo stared through the glass in her hand and pursed her lips defensively. “Bert’s my brother. I help him out, he helps me out, spots me a little green now and then.”

    I leaned away and eyed her as she sipped her drink.

    Her eyes clamped on mine. She said, “How ‘bout you, Hot Shot, what’s your story?”

    I gave her my best side, wanting to impress her. “The name’s Mick. The ladies call me Killer. I work for the railroad.”

    Her innocent voice blew her tough act. “Hmm, you’re a looker, alright! Betcha got some dough being with the railroad and all.”

    I leaned over, kissed her, and felt her body under the thin dress. She reached down and grabbed my crotch. Her lips intoxicated me like the whiskey we sipped. Her capable hands moved over me, smooth as silk. There was no one but her, nothing but her, the loud men behind me forgotten. She pulled away and broke the spell. I knew I was hooked like a fish on the line. I lifted a finger to the bartender for another drink and left a sawbuck on the table.

    I stumbled out into the cold. Snow covered the steps leading from the hidden speakeasy. The rush of pleasure I’d found slumming ignited a small fire in my gut as I made my way back to the YMCA.

    I rose early the next day and drove thirty miles to Lawrenceville where I found comfort in my mother’s warm house and my lonely sisters’ attention. In their eyes, I was always King. They held me in their hearts as their own, but I felt that I had betrayed them. I couldn’t get the little kitten out of my mind. She was a natural beauty, not like the other broads in town. She was young and fresh, and I was keen on her.

    The heat of my desire led me back to the dark alley the following Friday night. I kept a tight grip on my wallet as I hurried down the five steps. A soft red glow framed the unmarked frosted glass. Inside, a low lamp hung over a group of tough guys parked at a game table.

    The hard-scrabble bartender caught my eye and flicked his head for me to come over.

    “ You here to see Flo?” he asked.

    “ Maybe,” I answered.

    He held out his hand and said, “Slip me five, Pally, and call me Bert!”

    I accepted his handshake but wasn’t ready to dance with the likes of him. He penciled a number on a jagged piece of cardboard and said, “She ain’t here tonight, but here’s her number if you want to give her a blow on the horn.”

    I walked until the neighborhood started looking up and dipped into one of my regular haunts to borrow a telephone. She answered on the first ring, “Yeah?”

    “ Hey, Mick MacDonald, here. I picked your number off of Bert, the bartender.”

    She put up a tough front, answered in a deep southern drawl, “I don’t know nobody named Mick.”

    I put on my smooth groove. “Come on, Dollface, sure you remember me from last Friday night.”

    A tart voice clipped back. “Oh yeah, you’re the one with the fancy clothes! You skedaddled pretty fast.”

    I looked around the joint and said, “Hey, how about you come over to the Gold Digger? I’ll buy you a drink. We can talk and visit awhile.”

    “ Uptown, eh? Swell, I’ll be seein’ ya in a few,” she said and cut the line.

    I bought a bottle of bathtub gin and waited. I had