This story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to real 
persons is unintentional and strictly coincidental.  If you are below 
the age of 18, or 21 depending on your locality, stop reading right 
now. If your government prohibits erotic literature, stop reading 
now and delete this. If you choose to continue, that is your decision 
-- and your responsibility -- not mine.

This is intended solely for adults, and any other rebroadcast, 
retransmission, and account of this game is strictly prohibited by the 
National Hockey League. Wait --The NHL doesn't care --I care. Any 
unauthorized redistribution of this is in violation of copyright. I 
authorize this to be archived in its entirety -- which must include
this disclaimer and the author credit -- on non-profit web sites. I 
expressly prohibit posting of this work on pay-sites, sites with 
advertising, and any type of site where a fee is charged. Any other 
distribution without the author's permission is strictly prohibited.

"Meaner Than a Junkyard Dog" Copyright 1999 by John3365A@aol.com. 
All rights reserved.
---------------------------


I'd love to know what you think. Positive or negative, I'll try to 
respond to everyone (except obnoxious flames). 
Thanks. My e-mail address is John3365A@aol.com.

Author's note: I got the idea for this story one day when the Jim Croce song
"Bad, Bad Leroy Brown" came on the radio. I thought it would be interesting
to see what Leroy's life was like and I wrote this. The story is set in the early
1970's and the characters use language that could be considered offensive by 
several different racial and ethnic groups. My intention is not to offend anyone, 
but to try to portray the characters as accurately as possible.


--------------------------
Meaner than a Junkyard Dog
by John A


The opening of the door cast the bright afternoon light into
the darkened corners of the dimly lit saloon, temporarily
blinding those unfortunate enough to be looking in that
direction. The harsh light, however, was mitigated somewhat
by the six foot four inch frame of the man entering. Wearing
a blue velvet jacket and matching pants, the man seemed much
larger than his actual height, due in part to the two inch
heels of his alligator skin boots and his five-inch Afro and
in part to the presence with which he carried himself.
Almost unnoticed, dwarfed by the large man's form and
trailing just behind, was a pretty, petite, cocoa skinned
woman wearing bell bottoms and a halter top.

"Yo, Leroy. Where the fuck you been keeping yourself at?"
called the bartender, smiling warmly at his friend.

"Eddie, my brother," Leroy flashed a grin at the bartender.
"You know me. I'm a busy man. I gotta go where the games is.
Plus, I got me a boy out at Sportsman's been giving me some
good tips."

"Well, you better get your ass 'round here more, nigger. Or
are you too good fo' us now? The next thing we know, you
gonna be movin' with all them honkeys on Lake Shore Drive."
The large bartender laughed robustly as the two men clasped
hands.

"Fuck you, man." Leroy joined his friend in laughter.

"Say, Monique. You lookin' real fine. What you still doin'
with this chump?" Asked Eddie.

"I must be stupid," sighed Leroy's longtime girlfriend.
"Sometimes, I wonder myself."

"Well, when you get tired of him, you come see a real man."
The older man's huge belly rippled as he laughed. "What you
want to drink, sweetness?"

Monique laughed at his playful flirtation. "I'll have a
seven and seven, Eddie."

Eddie mixed the drink for Monique and handed Leroy a bottle
of his usual, a Colt 45.

"Say baby," Leroy looked at Monique, "why don't you go over
to a table and wait for me. I got some things to talk about
with my man, here."

"Don't you keep me waitin' long, Leroy Brown." Monique
dropped a dime in the jukebox and selected a song by the
Supremes before walking sexily to a booth in the corner of
the dingy, smoke filled tavern.

"Leroy, when you gonna make that girl an honest woman?"
Eddie wondered.

"Eddie, you know me. I got too much lovin' to go around." As
Leroy grabbed the bottle of beer, the two large diamond
rings on his right hand sparkled, even in the dim light of
the bar.

"Leroy, I don't know why, but that girl loves you, and she's
one foxy mama. You keep fucking all of them whores," Eddie
said 'whores' as if it rhymed with 'sewers,' "and you gonna
lose her. That's the biggest mistake you'll make. You listen
to me, now. That's a good girl you got there."

"I know Eddie, you right." Leroy tried to placate his
friend.

"Ok, shut me up. But don't come bitching to me when she gets
tired of your shit."

"Say Eddie, what's up with the game?" Leroy changed the
subject as the strains of 'Baby Love' played over the
jukebox speaker.

"Well, I was talking to Jimmy Jablonski..."

Leroy cut Eddie off, "Jablonski, that fat fuckin' Polack.
What the fuck is he doin' settin' up the crap game? I don't
trust that mother fucker."

"What the fuck you gonna do? He's bringin' in some real
money. He got a couple of guys from the north side with deep
pockets, a couple of rollers from Dee-troit and Cleveland,
and a few guys from back east with some big-time dago
backing, if you know what I mean. There's even a rumor that
the old Jew from Miami might show up; you know the kind of
scratch he has. There's gonna be a lot of green here next
Friday, Leroy." Eddie hesitated and shook his head at his
friend. "That's real money and Jimmy's bringin' it in.
Unless you just want to play with a bunch of jerkoffs from
Calumet City who might not even be able to scrape up a
Benjamin? Forget about the Polack. Don't be stupid, Leroy.
This is a night that can make a year."

If it had been anybody else but Eddie Jackson who spoke to
him like that, Leroy would have pulled his 'Saturday Night
Special' from his pocket and had it pointed down the man's
throat. But Eddie was like a father to Leroy. After his
mother died when he was 14, Leroy was taken in by Jackson
and his wife and treated like a son. And Leroy never forgot
what Eddie did for him. When Eddie needed some money a
couple of years ago to keep from going out of business,
Leroy stepped forward and paid off all of Eddie's debts in
full and wouldn't hear a word about being repaid. Leroy was
a tough man, but he was fiercely loyal above all, and he
never forgot what Eddie and his wife, Shirley, had done for
him.

But with the rest of the world, Leroy Brown had a ferocious
temper, and was more feared by everyone on the south side
than anyone else -- for good reason, too. Even some of the
cops were afraid of him. Ever since he was a teenager, Leroy
worked the streets; running numbers, making 'deliveries,'
running protection rackets, pimping, and enforcing gambling
debts among other things. Before too long the streets of the
south side of Chicago belonged to him, and Leroy began
moving up in the seamy underbelly of what passed off as
south side society -- although the cops tended to define
that type of 'society' as 'vice, narcotics, and
racketeering.' 

Above all of his other talents, Leroy was a skilled gambler,
and now that was the way he made the bulk of his money. Crap
games, horses, running numbers games, cock fights -- Leroy
had a hand in all of them. He either ran the game and
collected the vig, or was a player and was better than most
around him. He had his 'boys' at Arlington and Sportsman's
Park clocking the horses' morning workouts and hanging
around the stables, finding out information the general
betting public didn't know. Leroy also made it a point of
being very generous with the stableboys and practice riders,
who made very little money and were more than eager to feed
Leroy some bit of info that perhaps not even the trainers
knew. But Leroy's big game, his big score, was Craps. Dice
was where Leroy made his big money. There were more illegal
Crap games floating around the south side than all the legal
ones in Vegas combined, and Leroy had a hand in most of
them.  

Next Friday's game would be one of the biggest games of the
year, with high-rollers coming in from all over, playing in
the back of Eddie's Tavern -- Eddie's private room was
designed for that very activity, hosting a regular game
every Saturday night. Friday's night's game would probably
have a minimum of $1000 hinging in each roll of the dice.
And Eddie was right, there was going to be some huge money
there next Friday. If Leroy wanted to have the chance to
make a serious score, he needed to be there, Jablonski or no
Jablonski.

"All right, Eddie. Fat Jimmy's bringin' in some players. I
still don't trust the prick."

"Me neither, but he's not gonna fuck with *you*, Leroy."
Eddie said with finality.

Leroy took leave of his friend and joined Monique at her
table. Monique DuBois grew up in the same apartment building
as Eddie and Shirley Jackson and had known Leroy since they
were both teenagers. The daughter of the local Baptist
church's deacon, Monique was raised in a very strict home
and wasn't allowed to date until she had been 17-years-old.
But that hadn't stopped her from being good friends with
Leroy, though. And shortly after turning seventeen, against
her parents' better judgment, Monique began dating Leroy.
Whether it was how dangerous it made her feel, the thrill of
being with the 'baddest man in town', as Leroy was known, or
being with someone whom she knew was truly a sweet and
caring man to those he was close to, Monique couldn't
explain it. What she did know now was that after being with
him for almost ten years, off and on, she truly loved Leroy,
and knew that in his own way, he loved her too.

"You all ready for your 'big game,' sugar?" Monique asked.

"Baby, Leroy's gonna be making a big score next Friday."
Brown smiled broadly as he gulped down the remainder of his
malt liquor. "You gonna come and watch?"

Monique snickered. "Wait in the bar from ten at night until
God-knows-when in the morning, getting hit on by every man
who comes in here? No thank you." She smiled broadly, her
chocolate eyes sparkling at her boyfriend. "But you can take
me someplace real nice Saturday night with all your
winnings."

"You're on, baby. We'll have a big night at the Four
Seasons. A fancy dinner, then we'll spend the night in one
of those penthouse suites. We'll show those uptown mother
fuckers that Leroy Brown is a man with class and style."

"That sounds great, sugar. I can't wait." Monique cooed.

Leroy smiled and gulped down the remainder of his drink.
"You all set, baby?"

"Yeah, I'm done. Where are we going?" Monique asked.

"I thought we could go back to my place for a while." Leroy
grinned lasciviously.

"Leroy, what kind of a girl you think I am?" Monique said
shrilly. "Why don't we go someplace nice tonight and then
we'll see what happens."

"I'd love to 'nique," Leroy hung his head a bit, "but I got
some business to take care of tonight."

Monique raised her voice. "Yeah, I know what kind of
business you got to take care of. I don't..."

Leroy cut her off, "No baby, it's not like that. I really
have to see some people tonight."

"I don't know why I stay with you Leroy."

"You love me, baby. You love me." He said glibly.

Leroy and Monique said goodbye to Eddie and left the bar.
They walked around the corner and got into Leroy's Eldorado
convertible and drove the four blocks to Leroy's apartment.

Leroy's apartment was the typical single male's apartment.
Spartanly furnished, its main focal point was the enormous
stereo and television in the living room, and the large
collection of albums near the Hi-Fi. Monique began flipping
through the albums, looking for something to play as Leroy
was fixing a couple of drinks for them. She put a Sly and
the Family Stone album on the turntable as Leroy sidled up
behind her. He began nuzzling her neck and squeezed his body
against hers, pressing his hardening penis against his
girlfriend's ass.

"I told you to put your gun away before you walk up to me."
Monique joked.

"This ain't my gun, baby. It's 100 percent Leroy."  Brown
brought his right hand to Monique's braless tits and began
fondling them through her top.

"Mmmm." Monique turned around and kissed Leroy deeply as she
started to stroke his ever-hardening cock through his pants. 

Leroy removed his hands from her breasts and unbuttoned and
unzipped her jeans, letting them slide to the floor. He sank
his hand in the front of her panties, finding her treasure
already wet. 

"Damn, baby, you already hot." Leroy remarked as they groped
each other on the way to the bedroom.

"That's the way you get me, sugar." Monique had removed her
halter and slid her panties down as she plopped on the
middle of Leroy's king size water bed.

Leroy stood by the bed, removing his velvet suit, admiring
the beautiful form of his sexy girlfriend. He sat on the bed
and removed his boots, placing the six inch switchblade
which he always kept in his right boot on the nightstand.

He stood and removed his boxers, freeing his large, thick
cock from its cloth sheath.

"Oooh, baby. You get down here and give me some good
lovin'." Monique purred.

Leroy climbed on the bed and took one of Monique's ample
breasts in his mouth, gnawing on the nipple. She writhed on
the bed as he sucked on her tit and began to finger her
pussy. Not one for tenderness, Leroy probed inside her sex
roughly, making sure she was wet enough to handle his
enormous tool. 

After just a few minutes of foreplay, Leroy was atop her,
beginning his opening thrust.

"Unggh." Monique gasped, in both ecstasy and discomfort as
the forceful intrusion caught her by surprise.

Leroy pressed himself fully inside his girlfriend,
stretching her out to such a degree that would have seemed
impossible because she was a rather small framed girl. His
technique wasn't spectacular; he was the type to thrust in
fully and withdraw and then repeat the process again and
again, forcefully. What was spectacular was Leroy's stamina.
It always amazed Monique that she was able to come so often
through Leroy's simple pounding. Perhaps it was the
ferociousness of his thrusts, or perhaps it was his sheer
size -- Monique didn't understand it, she only knew that it
felt great.

After about twenty minutes, Monique could feel her self
begin to tingle. Indeed, her breathing got ragged and her
cunt muscles started to clamp down in orgasm on Leroy's
prick.

Leroy slowed his pace a little, leaning over to kiss Monique
tenderly. Lightly extending his tongue over her lips, he
waited until her breathing became more settled before he
increased the intensity of his thrusts once again.

Monique's second orgasm was much more forthcoming than the
first, and she was screaming in joy as the waves of pleasure
washed over her. 

"That's the way to take my cock, bitch." Leroy grunted,
almost incoherently. "Leroy's going to fuck your cunt dry,
baby."

"Give me your cock, mother fucker. Fuck my pussy hard, fuck
me, Leroy. Ohhh. Fuck. OHHH!" Monique squealed in orgasm.

Four more times, spanning another hour, Monique achieved
orgasm, each one, seemingly, more powerful than the
previous. For the last of Monique's orgasms, as she was
yelling out with pleasure and scratching deep welts in his
back, Leroy could feel his own boiling sensation deep within
himself. As Monique's vaginal walls were spasming around his
cock, Leroy blasted off in his own intense pleasure,
overflowing her sex with his own fluid, before collapsing
next to her on the bed.

After about ten minutes of silence, Leroy spoke, "Damn
woman, you're going to kill me."

"I'm going to kill you?" Monique, still breathing heavily,
raised her eyebrows. "I'm not the one with the nine-inch
weapon between my legs. I thought I was going to pass out
that last time I came."

He chuckled. "Well, you sure do make me feel good, baby."

"You make me feel good too but you know what would make me
feel really good?" Monique said hopefully.

"Woman, are we going to have this talk again?" Leroy said
with more than a little exasperation in his voice.

"Don't give me that 'woman' crap, Leroy." Monique's voice
was raised. "You know what I'd like you to do."

"A real man don't need to do that shit. The only reason guys
suck on their woman's twat is 'cause they can't please her
the regular way. What do you think I am, one of those white
pussies from Lincoln Park who don't know how to make his
woman feel good with his dick?" 

"That's not my point, Leroy." Monique sighed, knowing that
she wasn't getting anywhere with this discussion once again.

"Listen to me, baby. When we in bed, do I make you feel
good?"

"You know you do." Monique agreed emphatically.

"So, what else do you want? Leroy Brown don't do that, you
know that baby."

Monique started with a fury in her voice. "Well, one of
these days, you're not going to have me around if you don't
start treating me better. One of these days you gonna
realize what you're giving up. You go around fucking all
your hoes, but they just want you for your money. You know
I'll always be there for you. You're just too stupid to see
it for yourself." 

Monique jumped up from bed and stormed to the bathroom as
Leroy closed his eyes and sighed. He was firmly convinced
that 'real men' didn't need to perform oral sex on their
women to satisfy them but he also knew that she was right
about one thing -- he needed to be a man and take their
relationship more seriously. He also was honest enough with
himself to know that perhaps he was a little too afraid to
settle down, feeling the need to keep up his 'reputation.'
He knew that he loved Monique, but while there weren't many
things that frightened him, marriage was certainly chief
among them. He admitted to himself that he wanted to spend
the rest of his life with her, he just didn't know if he was
ready to begin the rest of his life quite so soon. 'I'm a
young man,' he thought, 'it'll be a while before I get that
wake up call. But someday it'll happen. Eddie's right. That
sure is one fine woman I got.' Leroy tried to dwell on it a
bit more but his thoughts were getting ragged, his eyes got
heavy and he just rolled over and fell asleep.

---------

Over the next week and a half, Leroy spent his time going to
the track, overseeing his various 'business' ventures, and
collecting various debts owed to him to raise as much money
as he could for the big crap game. In fact, the 'business
meeting' Leroy had to leave Monique to attend actually
entailed going down to Archer Avenue to collect money from a
couple of the prostitutes for whom he pimped. He would just
as soon have not continued pimping, but the four girls he
protected had been with Leroy for three years and had always
been good to him. So, out of loyalty to them, he continued.

By the time Friday night came, Leroy had accumulated over
$27,000 cash in preparation for the game. That was about
half of what Leroy called his 'working' capital. It was more
than enough money to stake the game, but not so much that
he'd endanger his ability to adequately stake himself in
future games, such as the big one in Milwaukee in about a
month.




He walked into Eddie's saloon shortly after nine, and wound
his way through the busy Friday night crowd, greeting his
old friend at the bar.

"Eddie, my man. What's up?" asked Leroy.

"Leroy!" Eddie smiled broadly at the appearance of the man
whom he considered his son. "Fat Jimmy just got here a
little while ago; he's setting things up in the back. The
game's going to start at ten. See those guys over there?"
Eddie tilted his head toward the end of the bar. "Those are
two of the dagos from back east. One's from New York and the
other's from Philly."

"You keep 'em filled with drinks, I'll cover it later."
Leroy chuckled. "Anyone else here?"

"A couple of other guys are here. Don't worry, I've been
liquoring them up. The old Jew, Heillman, from Miami is here
but he don't drink nothing stronger than Ginger Ale."

"That's ok. The booze ain't going to change the way any of
these guys play, anyway. I'll catch you later, I'm going
back and seeing what that fat Polack bastard is up to."
Leroy walked past the bouncer into the private back room.

"Leroy, how's it going?" The obese Pole forced a smile as he
was arranging things around the large crap table. Leroy
noticed that Jablonski was sweating profusely, despite the
cool temperatures of the room.

"Not bad," Brown responded coldly. "Everything all set?"

"Pretty much. Most of the guys are here already. We're just
waiting for a couple more. We should have about fifteen
guys."

"Good. I'll be out at the bar."

The back room was for players only, and it was just shortly
after ten that Fat Jimmy was passing around the dice for 
their inspections. Each of the men, in turn, took out their
various dice testing devices to make sure that they weren't
playing with unevenly weighted, or loaded, dice.

Leroy looked around the table, examining his competition. In
addition to Fat Jimmy Jablonski, there were the two well
dressed men from back east with the mob backing, Paulie
Benedetto from Brooklyn, and Anthony 'Tony Balls' Bellotti
from Philadelphia. Next to them were three semi-regulars to
the Chicago games. Leroy thought that they were all from the
north side, although they could be from the suburbs, too.
Though they weren't dressed particularly well, Leroy knew
from past experience that they had a lot of money to bet and
they didn't particularly care whether or not they won, they
were just there for the action. Leroy guessed that they
probably spent much of the evening prior to the game getting
coked up; their judgement would certainly be impaired, at
best. Those are the best players to have at a game, Leroy
thought.

Next to them were several people Leroy didn't recognize, but
by the look of their finely tailored suits, they looked to
have money to burn. Leo Heillman, from Miami, was next to
them. He was the player to be most feared in the game. He
had the deepest pockets of any of the players, and the most
experience. It was rumored that Heillman had been shooting
craps since he was a kid on the lower east side of
Manhattan. Between running games for the mob and playing in
a fair amount himself he was able to afford a major interest
in one of the fancy Havana casinos before Castro came to
power and closed them all down. Despite that setback, he
still had a hand in most of the illegal games in south
Florida that fled north after Batista's fall and was
probably worth more than everyone else at the table,
combined.

Next to Heillman was an enormous, severe looking man, who
perhaps rivaled Leroy in size and never cracked a smile. He
was an unknown to the game, in fact all they knew of him was
that his name was Luther, he was from Detroit, and had some
previous business dealings with Fat Jimmy. An unknown
player, thought Leroy, was dangerous.

The remaining players were familiar to Leroy, and posed no
threat at all. They were generally under funded for a game
of this size and that, more than luck or play style, is
often the death knell for a craps shooter. A large enough
bankroll is absolutely necessary to ride the losses when the
dice are running cold so there will be enough in reserve
when the dice start to heat up. And despite whatever the
study of statistics says, dice, much like women, run hot and
cold from one moment to the next. The key is knowing how to
handle them when they're cold so you'll still be around when
they warm up again. At a thousand dollars a roll, minimum,
unless these guys got hot in a hurry, they were going to be
out fast.

After the dice had been thoroughly inspected to everyone's
satisfaction, the game began. Out of respect, it was agreed
that Leo Heillman would come out first. Setting the tone for
the night, he laid $1500 down on the line and waited as the
others dropped their cash on the table and covered his bet.
After the last of the $1500 was matched, Leo sent the dice
bobbing over the baize surface of the table, making them
rattle off the far rubber wall. Six showed up on the dice
and became the point. 

"I've got five small to make the point." Leo said, now
offering to place an additional $500 down on whether he
could make a six before a seven came up.

"I'll lay the full five, at even money." Leroy covered the
bet, knowing full well that the shooter had five chances out
of eleven to make six before a seven was rolled and should
be getting 6-5 odds, instead of the even money he was
offering.

"On." agreed Leo as he prepared to roll the dice again.

Private craps, as they were playing tonight, was a much
different game than Casino, or Bank, craps as was played in
the hotels of Nevada. In Casino craps, each player plays
against the house, which accepts all bets. The odds the
players receive give a slight advantage to the Casino, and
this 'vig' is what allows the casinos to make money. Over
time, the one to two percentage point advantage that they
have translates into tremendous profits for the casinos.

In private craps, there was no 'house'. The other players
covered the bets of the shooter, and each time he
sevened-out, the roll would be passed to the player to his
left. Although the Vegas Strip hotels would comp -- that is
offer free -- high rollers like these flights to and from
Vegas, rooms, meals, and even female companionship, most of
the big players preferred the huge private games such as
this one tonight. The stakes were generally higher, but more
importantly, these games were under the table and the IRS
would not find out how much money was bet -- and won.

Heillman shook the two dice in his hand, needing to roll a
six, his 'point', before he rolled a seven. He threw the
dice several more times, none of which got his needed six,
or the desired result of the players covering his bets, a
seven. With each successive roll the table became more
animated, the players shouting out their encouragement for
one result or another.

"Seven!" The shouts arose from around the table. Heillman's
money was divided up among the players who covered it, and
the $500 'odds' bet was pushed toward Leroy. 

Luther was the next shooter, and he laid $1000 on the table,
which was covered by the players. He established a point of
nine and dropped another $1000 on the table. Leroy
immediately yelled, "Covered for $1200."

"Fuck you man," was Luther's curt reply. "Those odds suck."

"$1300." Leroy simply replied.

"On."

Leroy once again was getting the best of the percentages
with the shooter. By offering $1300 to cover a $1000 bet,
his percentage advantage was enormous. Since there are four
ways in which a nine can be rolled, compared to the six ways
which total a seven, true odds should be 3 to 2. For the
odds on Luther's bet to be true, Leroy should have covered
with $1500; by only covering with $1300, Leroy was giving
himself a huge advantage. 

Luther rolled several numbers, none of which were nine or
seven. Some of the other players were throwing down money on
the side numbers. That is they were betting that other point
numbers, 4, 5, 6, 8, and 10 -- it generally is considered
bad form to place side money on the shooter's point -- would
be rolled before the shooter rolled a seven. Most players
don't like to take these bets, and in many games go
uncovered. But these were the bets that Leroy thrived on.
Offering such unfavorable odds that would often result in a
30 or 40 percent advantage, Leroy used these side bets to
clean up.

All the side bets were laid and covered, most by Leroy, and
although he had to pay off on two sixes and a ten, when
Luther sevened out, Leroy had netted himself $5600 and was
well on his way to a big night.

Several other shooters began rolling, none with too much
success. The dice were very cold, which was frustrating to
most players, but a boon to Leroy. Covering many of the
bets, Leroy had found himself up over $12000 without the
dice having made a full circle of the table. Then the dice
were placed in front for Leroy.

Leroy always passed on the roll. In most games, that's the
type of thing that will create enemies real quick. But Leroy
had always told the story of a small game he was playing in
when he was a teenager and was shooting when he learned the
tragic news that his parents had been killed in an auto
accident. Ever since then, he would relate, he could never
bring himself to shoot the dice himself.

It was, of course, all a lie. Leroy had never actually known
his father; Thomas Brown was the innocent victim of a
crossfire on the El when Leroy was just a baby. And Leroy
had been at his mother's bedside when she died from cancer
thirteen years ago. Still, it was a nice excuse not to roll
the dice and take the worst of the odds. Leroy didn't become
who he was by being a fool. 'Let all of those others shoot
the dice,' he thought. 'I'll take the odds and over time all
their money too.'

Over the next two and a half hours the dice were in various
stages of warmth, as the players would say. A couple of
shooters got hot on their rolls -- namely Heillman and Tony
Balls -- but for most of them, the dice were pretty cold. By
12:30, the three north side 'coke heads' as Leroy had
categorized them had lost a combined $65000 and were out of
the game. Also gone were four of the underfunded players,
and $36000 with them. Paulie from Brooklyn and the $40000 of
mob money he brought with him had also departed. Most of the
remaining players were either down or up no more than a
couple of thousand. Heillman, whom it was later learned had
staked himself with $75000, was up about $28000; Tony Balls,
through a couple of hot rolls of his own and some judicious
coverage of bets, had added $37000 to the $25000 he showed
up with. Leroy, however, was the big winner on the evening
thus far having added over $70000 to the $27000 he staked
himself to.

"I got to go take a piss and get something to drink. I'll be
back in about a half hour." Leroy picked up his money off
the table and headed back into the main bar.

Fridays at Eddie's was always hopping and tonight was no
exception. Eddie had two other bartenders and two waitresses
working to keep up with the crowd, but when he saw Leroy
emerge from the men's room, he called over his old friend.

"Don't tell me you out already man?" Eddie furrowed his brow
in concern.

Leroy laughed heartily. "I'm just taking a break, give me a
.45, Eddie, while I hit the can."

"So, are you gonna tell me how the fuck you doin', or do I
get to play 20 questions?" Eddie asked as Leroy returned
from the bathroom.

"I haven't counted it yet. But I guess I'm up pretty close
to 60, 70 large."

"No shit?"

"No shit, man. I'm fuckin' on fire. Those dice are so
fucking cold. But I think the game might not last too late,
players are dropping like flies. We won't have enough for a
good game before too long." Leroy took a long swig from his
drink, and as he tilted his head back, he noticed a
beautiful woman sitting alone at the other end of the bar.

"Say, Eddie. Who the fuck's that bitch? She working?"

"I don't think so. She been in for a couple of hours. A
bunch of guys went up to her, but she shot 'em all down. Not
any kind of pro I ever seen turn down that many guys. Plus,
she's been checking her watch every few minutes; like she's
waiting for somebody." Eddie observed.

"She's one foxy lady. I think Leroy needs to introduce
himself." 

"Hey, Leroy, what about Monique?"

"What Monique don't know won't hurt her." Leroy chuckled as
he headed down to the other end of the bar.

"I think it's a crime that such a pretty lady should be
alone." Leroy took the seat next to her.

"And who are you, the date police?"

"No, my name is Leroy Brown, and I hate to see such a foxy
mama all by herself."

"So what do you think you're going to do about it?" She
asked haughtily.

"Well, first I need to find out your name and find out why
you're alone?"

"My name's Doris and I'm waiting for my man."

"Well Doris, I don't know what kind of man would make such a
sexy woman wait in a bar for him all night."

Doris stared deeply into Leroy's eyes, becoming instantly
attracted to this man whom she only had known for a few
minutes. "I think you're right. What do you plan on doing
about it." She wet her lips sexily with her tongue and
started running her index finger along Leroy's forearm.

"Well, I happen to have access to a room upstairs. I'll make
you forget all of your worries." Leroy then turned to Eddie,
"Say, my man, throw me the key. And take this green and
throw it in your safe." Leroy handed more than $97000 to his
friend.

Eddie sighed in resignation and tossed Leroy the key to the
small apartment above the bar after dropping the cash into
the large grey safe. Leroy led Doris up the back stairs and
into the second floor apartment.

They threw themselves at each other, savagely mashing their
lips together. Leroy parted her lips with his tongue and she
eagerly sucked it into her own. They moved to the bedroom,
where Leroy fell back on the bed and Doris straddled him,
furiously unfastening his pants.

"You think you're pretty slick with women don't you?" Doris
said as she was yanking down his boxers.

"Well, they do call me the 'treetop lover'." Leroy boasted.

Doris gasped as she removed his nine inch cock from his
pants. "Leroy, they might call you the 'treetop lover', but
right now I'm interested in that tree trunk." With that,
Doris opened her mouth widely and engulfed his huge member,
getting about half of it in. With one hand she violently
pumped his shaft while timing her hand strokes with the
bobbing of her head on his cock.

Leroy lifted Doris off of his cock and finished taking his
clothes off while her dress slid off of her sexy body,
revealing enormous tits with jet black areolas topped by
three-quarter inch nipples. 

Leroy licked his lips as he pulled Doris down on the bed.
She climbed on top of him and gingerly lowered herself on
Leroy's prick. She grunted in a combination of pain and
pleasure as Leroy bottomed out. Riding him like a cowboy,
her breasts jiggled obscenely as Leroy tried to corral them
in his large hands.

He grabbed them roughly in his hands and lowered a nipple to
his mouth, nibbling on its stony peak. Doris moaned her
pleasure and bucked her pussy harder on Leroy's cock. Her
movements became more clumsy and Leroy had to grab her by
the hips to steady her. She grunted and squealed in orgasm
as she collapsed on Leroy's chest. They lay like that for a
couple of minutes, Leroy's cock resting just inside Doris's
sex. He flipped her over, entered her quickly, and began
pounding her pussy without remorse. She came shortly and
came again, and then three more times, yelling loudly with
each orgasm. Leroy sped his movements, knowing he needed to
get back to the game, and his cock erupted, releasing a
torrent of semen into her well fucked cunt.

They dressed quickly and silently, sharing a light kiss
before leaving the apartment to head back to the bar. As
they emerged from the back stairway Doris turned white as
she looked in the direction of the bar. The object of her
attention was an enormous man who had just emerged from the
back room.

"Where the fuck you been, Doris?" Luther boomed from across
the bar.

"Now settle down Luther." Doris replied meekly.

"Don't give me that 'settle down' shit," Luther bristled.
"What the fuck you doing with this chump?"

"Who the fuck you callin' 'chump', nigger?" Leroy responded
angrily.

"I'm callin' you chump, mother fucker." 

Leroy was not a man accustomed to being yelled at in a
hostile fashion and in Eddie's place, which he considered
part of his 'turf', this was an affront that he could not
let go unchallenged. 

With a mighty grunt, Leroy sprang from his feet like a puma
and retrieved his switchblade from his boot all in one
motion. His lunge landed him to within two feet of Luther,
and Leroy depressed the catch on the blade, releasing it
from its sheath, and stabbed it deeply into his adversary's
abdomen. But the other man reacted quicker to the attack
than Leroy expected and was able to turn himself slightly.
Instead of entering the center of the stomach the knife
ended plunging into the side muscles near his belly; it was
certainly bloody and messy, but didn't do any serious
damage.

"Arrgh." Luther screamed out in pain and reflexively drove
his heel into Leroy's groin, causing him to stumble backward
in pain. Blood was oozing out of Luther's side but he took
advantage of  Leroy being in a supine position and pounced
on him with his own knife. He managed to plunge it into
Leroy's arm several times before Leroy was able to gain some
leverage and throw him off. 

The back room had cleared of all the craps players, most
having run out the rear exit with the first sounds of
commotion. All of the bar occupants had fled, were hiding
under the table, or were inching closer to get a better
view. All except Doris, who was screeching for Luther and
Leroy to stop, and Eddie, who was searching behind the bar
for his sawed off shotgun. 

The next few minutes were a blur of knives, blood, and two
large bodies flailing around on the floor. Out of the mass
of confusion two gunshots were heard and as the bar silenced
en masse the next sound was the click of Eddie's shotgun
being pointed at Luther's head.

"Now unless you don't want to be pickin' up your fucking
brains with a straw, you'll drop that gun and get the fuck
out of here." Eddie said emphatically as blood was gushing
from Luther in several places. 

When it was finished, Leroy was sliced in over a dozen
places and had bullet holes in his leg and stomach. He was
unconscious and blood was seeping from him at an alarming
rate. An ambulance rushed him to the hospital, where he
underwent emergency surgery and remained unconscious in
intensive care for three days.

Monique, Eddie, and Eddie's wife, Shirley, all took turns
sitting in vigil for those three days as Leroy barely clung
to life. They paced and swore, and tried to lay blame for
Leroy's resultant condition. But when all the recrimination
was over, they all came to the same conclusion: it was
simply Leroy's time. He had been in too many of these
scrapes to escape the odds forever. He lived life by the
street's rules and now he was paying the consequences for
it. 

Tuesday he woke up in the hospital with the three of them
waiting near his bed. His head throbbed and he was shocked
to see all of the stitches and IV tubes now decorating his
body. He looked haggard -- near death would be as apt a way
of describing it as possible -- but brightened as he saw his
friends surrounding the bed.

"What day is it?" Leroy asked in a rasping, barely audible
voice.

"Tuesday, baby." Monique reached out and lightly grasped his
hand and Leroy tried to muster up strength to squeeze back.

"What happened?"

"That big mother fucker kicked your ass. I never thought I'd
see that day." Eddie replied then tempered the harsh nature
of his comments. "I found out that he fought golden gloves a
couple of years ago, then he turned pro. Now he's moving up
the ranks in the Light Heavyweight division. But he looked
real shitty when he left too."

Leroy could feel some strength return and he struggled to
pull himself to a sitting position. He drank a cup of water
and some of the life seemed to return to his face.

"Eddie, man, I'm sorry about the bar."Leroy said. "What kind
of shape is it in?"

"It's not too bad, a few broken tables and stools. That's
all."

"Well, whatever the damage comes to, let me know. I'll cover
it." Leroy tried to summon a smile.

"No need. With the money I made from holding the crap game
in my place I got more than enough to..."

Leroy cut off Eddie, "Fuck that shit, Eddie. I'm responsible
for that mess, I'm going to pay for it. Besides, I walked
out of that game with over 70 large more than I started
with."

Monique asked if she could have a few minutes alone with
Leroy. Shirley leaned over and kissed him on the cheek and
Eddie patted his non injured shoulder before they left the
room.

"Oh, sugar I was so scared that I was going to lose you."
Monique said.

"I'm sorry for puttin' you through all this baby." Leroy
apologized.

"Well, if you could manage to keep your dick in your pants
you wouldn't have been in this position, would you?"

"Baby, I don't know what to s..."

"I don't want to hear any of this 'baby' shit." Monique
scolded. "I can't live this way anymore. I love you but I'm
not going to spend my life waiting on you to go fuck all
your whores and then come back to me. You're going to have
to choose between me and them. I'm not going to spend my
life sharing you." Tears started rolling down her cheeks and
she tried to hide them.

Leroy closed his eyes in reflection. The pain of his wounds
were nothing compared to the pain he knew he had inflicted
on his girlfriend. He knew Monique was serious; she had
never spoken to him about this with such feeling and
intensity. He also knew he couldn't live his life without
her. They had been together for over a decade, and although
he didn't think of his future often, whenever he did Monique
was always a large part of it. 

He felt fairly confident that he could give up the other
women; he usually only picked up other women because he
could. He liked all the sex, but Monique was always more
than enough woman for him. The big question he had to ask
himself was could he make a commitment of this magnitude and
honor it.

As he thought more about it, he realized that for the first
time he could ever remember, he was thinking about his own
mortality. The fight and loss to Luther had been the first
defeat of any note that Leroy had ever suffered, and it
scared the shit out of him. He realized, perhaps for the
first time in his entire life, that he wasn't invincible and
that certainly made him think about things in a much
different light. Perhaps settling down wasn't such a bad
thing, after all. He loved Monique with all his heart and
maybe it was time to step up to the plate and be a man about
things.

"Monique, baby," Leroy looked up at her and started to
remove one of the large diamond rings from his right hand.
"This might not be real proper doing it this way, but I love
you."

Leroy took Monique's hand and began to slip the oversized
ring over her thin finger. Tears began to well up in
Monique's eyes as he brought her hand to his lips.

"What I'm trying to say is..." Leroy hesitated, clearing his
throat. "Monique, baby, will you be my wife?"
