The Curse of the Scots

Preface: This is a long story. I started fiddling with it back in April 2013. It has seven parts. Each one is long, but they are all completed. I'll put one up every day or so. There may be places where my expertise with regard to certain social activities don't match yours. If you find I don't measure up to your better understandings please accept this for what it is; a quasi-fictional story about several people. I hope you enjoy it. However, should you lose interest and stop reading be considerate and eschew scoring it.

The Curse of the Scots

The Curse of the Scots, Part one

Part One: Good Times and a Problem.

I'm a farmer, and a pretty damn successful one. Yep, that's me good old Cayden McLeish; landowner, truck farmer, forester, horse owner, even waterman; any way I can earn a little capital. Oh yeah, I'm ethnically Scottish. So I guess everyone knows what that means. I might be expected to be a little tight fisted; that's not really true, at least not in my case, and I might be a somewhat somber, maybe a little morose by nature; now that regrettably is true. I'm certainly an American, but in all sincerity my Scottish ancestry has prevented me from being too ebullient about anything. A person never knows; the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away.

Once I got started I got my farm going really well. I'll explain how I came to own my farm later on. Anyway I managed to secure some good help. I put in corn and soy beans on most the open land, but I set aside a big chunk for vegetables; strawberries, tomatoes, cantaloupes, beans, and so forth. I don't live far from the ocean. Let me explain more about that.

Years ago the distance between my farm, it was my great-grandmother's farm then, and the beach was pretty intimidating, but when the nearby ocean resorts got really going in the 1980's, actually things started to kick in the 1950's, but that was way before my time, plus the expansion of the Interstates my connection with the beach got a lot easier. I hooked up with some other truck farmers, and some guys who'd set up fruit stands, and the beach became our new goldmine. I've been making money hand over fist during the summer months.

In the winter I started to have a lot more free time. I had horses, and I got involved with the trotters, the sulky races, I even have my own horse. But what I wanted to do was make some real money in some other way.

When I was in the army I had a lot of free time. I'll share some army stories later too. A lot of guys spent their time at the bars, or playing pool. I learned to play poker, and I got good at it. I especially liked Five Card Draw, but most especially I learned to like Texas Hold Em.

All up and down the east coast there have always been games. Players like me have to be careful though; some of these games can get pretty skanky. Don't forget everybody tries to cheat. If you're smart you know to stay away from the really big cities. Don't go near Philadelphia, Baltimore, Washington D.C., or New York, and of course especially stay away from Atlantic City. These are the places where the big timers are found. They'll clean you out, and if they can't they'll have their whores rip you off or their thugs might kill you if you do too well, especially if they don't think you'll be back again or they're afraid you have an edge they don't know about.

Think about gambling as something akin to horse racing. If you go to the big tracks all the horses are so good they're almost impossible to handicap, but at the smaller tracks I've found it much easier to judge which horses have a better chance at winning. Same with cards; the big cities have so many really talented players it's impossible to win, but in the smaller towns the odds aren't so daunting.

I found some of the mid-sized and smaller cities in Maryland, Delaware, and Pennsylvania have pretty good games. There's a problem there though; the good games seldom stay good for long, the cheaters and other frauds always find a way to screw things up. That means of lot of the games are hit or miss; sometimes they're good then sometimes...well... That's where I am now, at a game that's gone bad, and my life is about to change in a most dramatic way.

Cheaters and cheating are pretty commonplace in most of these small town games where outsiders like me show up. Be forewarned, I'm not here to give anyone a lesson on card tricks so don't try to second guess me, it's best to remember someone invents a new way to cheat almost every day. Players, quasi-amateurs like me, just have to be alert and careful.

Of course poker is like a marathon. A game might start in the early evening, and it could run for hours without any breaks or results. I hear they say if after two or three hours a player doesn't know who the fool or the sucker is at the table then it's probably them. One thing I've noticed is, after several hours those who rely on cheating, if I don't spot them right away, get progressively more careless.

There are lots of ways to cheat; palming cards, marking cards, scraping the edges, electronic gimmicks, having a couple players working together to drive up the pots on a target. These are all pretty run of the mill, and with a little experience it's easier to see, but always keep in mind, if you're not comfortable with the game at hand then get out.

One of the stupider things guys who run these kinds of operations sometimes try to do is find ways to actually see what's in an opponent's hand. There are a lot of ways to do this, but one way that almost never fails to show up is to use whores, hopefully pretty whores who will try to distract or spy out drunk or tired players.

So here I was in a gritty backroom in what was once considered a pretty nice bar. Whores were all over the place, in and out, some trying to work the table, others hoping to score some other way. People would think I'd be talking about some kind of sex; but more than likely its getting some drunk's wallet, and getting his cash and credit cards. I've seen it, and believe me it takes a sorry asshole to get taken, but it happens all the time.

Well I'd been playing this game. We were playing Texas Hold Em, it was close to 3:00 a.m., and I'd been seated uninterrupted for close to five hours. I stopped making piss trips when the pots started getting bigger. I'd stopped drinking or eating anything around midnight, and before that I was only drinking out of bottles I was sure had never been opened or tampered with, but that's another whole game. Sometimes I take condoms and piss in them if I get desperate. I'd just piss in the thing, tie it off, and drop it on the floor, somebody would eventually pick it up.

Anyway there was this whore who'd been surreptitiously hovering around me off and on for the past hour. I could see the 'host' knew who she was. He also knew what she was supposed to be doing. I'm just not supposed to know. How stupid could these people be?

She was trying her damnedest to distract me or to get a peek at my two down cards. She was stupid; it just wasn't going to happen. She looked old for what she was doing; maybe somewhere in her thirties, and she looked pretty shopworn. I'd feel sorry for the bitch if I didn't know what she was trying to do.

I discreetly watched what she'd been up to; that alone could be all her pimp wanted. The first thing I noticed about her was she was basically scared shitless. I wondered; I've won a few big hands, and the 'host' and another guy I see were working in tandem trying to cut me down. Right then, in this pot there was at least $4,000.00, a decent pot.

The dumb bitch has sent her pimp some kind of signal because I could see by his tell that he thought he had me. He dumped another goodly amount of money in the pot. His partner raised it a little more. It was left to me. I knew I had both of them, because I was pretty sure it was the pimp who had the better cards and he wasn't that smart.

I threw in my coin, "I call."

Sitting on the table was a jack, a nine, and a three.

The pimp dropped his two cards. He'd been holding a nine and a jack, "Two pair," he confidently called.

As he reached across for the gold I dropped my two cards, "Three threes I replied."

The son-of-a-bitch didn't even look at me. He looked at the whore, "Fuck," he scowled!

I started to reach across for my money when the prick did something completely unexpected. He called a buddy from behind the bar, "Hey, give me your belt."

I wondered; 'what the fuck is going on?'

He looked at the whore and yelled, "Get your ugly ass over here."

I watched as the whore cringed and sort of pensively walked toward her pimp.

He grabbed her, he threw her on the floor, and he started to beat her with this belt, "You bitch," he yelled, "you fucking bitch!"

I was amazed. I knew she was passing information, but I never dreamed they'd beat her for such a simple fuck up.

The guy with the belt kept beating her. He looked at the guy who came from behind the bar and yelled, "Bring me some rope and a plastic bag."

I watched as the gofer retrieved a piece of rope and a clear plastic bag. The guy with the belt kept beating her.

The whore cried out, "No, please Vince!"

Vince yelled back, "You're dead you worthless bitch." He kept flailing away with this belt.

By now I saw this was no joke. This poor pig was in a real world of shit. Her back, her arms, her thighs, were being ripped to pieces by Vince with this belt; it was one of those old army belts with a metal tip on the end, everywhere the belt landed it left an open cut.

I pushed my chair back. I was about ready to call it a night anyway, and I didn't want to sit in on a murder.

Vince had ripped what little clothing she had on off. All she'd had on had been a tight fitting crop top and a nasty looking thong.

There she was on this dirty floor getting the shit kicked out her. That's when the gofer showed up with the rope and the plastic bag.

Vince got up and started to kick the bitch in the stomach and in the direction of her twat. She was really crying by then; actually it sounded more like a series of low animal moans than real crying. It was easy to see this wasn't some game; they weren't doing this for my benefit, this Vince really wanted to hurt her.

"Take it bitch," he yelled.

The gofer took the plastic bag he brought, and he slipped it over her head. Then he took the rope and knotted it off real tight around her neck.

I watched; she was already starting to suffocate. I could hear her sobbing through the bag. I could see she was pretty pathetic. I looked at her asshole; it was redder than the bloody shit that was coming out of it. I'd noticed earlier they'd been slamming in and out of her probably half the night. It looked like there were cigarette burns on her ass cheeks. In my humble opinion it takes a sorry bastard to put his butts out on a woman.

Vince kept yelling and cussing and flailing away with this fucking belt. All the other players were watching; I could see they were as dumbfounded as I was.

The poor dumb cow was in bad shape; another minute or two and I could see she'd be dead. I didn't want to watch this, but I couldn't just up and leave. Fuck, if I left, they might kill her and try to find a way to blame me! Christ I had to do something!

I calmly leaned back in my chair and asked, "How much do you want for her?"

Vince kept hitting her. Then he stopped, he looked up, and asked, "What?"

I said, "What's she worth?"

He asked, "You want her?"

I looked at her. In another few seconds it wouldn't matter, I said, "Yeah I want her. I'll buy her from you"

Vince was surprised, he looked numb, he asked, "Why would you want this? He pointed to the nearly passed out whore with near complete incredulity.

I laughed, "Love at first sight I guess?"

Everyone else laughed too.

The bag was still wrapped around her head and she was almost unconscious. Vince said, "What are you willing to pay?"

I reached inside my coat and pulled out an extra wad of cash, it was another $1,000.00. I threw it on the pile I'd just won, "How's that?

Vince sat back. He looked at the cash. He looked back at the gofer, "Let the fucking bitch loose."

The gofer tore the bag off her head. The whore slumped down on the floor. I saw where she'd pissed herself.

Vince looked at me, "You want her; you got her."

I stared back at him, "I want a bill of sale."

Vince blinked, "You want a what?"

The whore was lying on the floor in her own piss; she'd started to cough and wheeze so I knew she wasn't dead, at least not yet. I answered Vince, "I want proof before I leave that everyone knows she's bought and paid for."

Vince looked at the gofer, "Go get me a sheet of paper and a pen."

I sat back and waited while the gofer got the pen and paper. I didn't dare look at the whore; Vince might want to raise the price, and he was already getting at least twice what she was worth.

The gofer came back. Vince wrote out a bill of sale. He just wrote '$5,000.00 for Caprice'. He put the date and signed it. He handed me the paper, "She's yours."

I knew I was done playing poker, but I felt like I needed to continue for a few more hands. My guess was I ought to try to lose a little more money; it might make it a little safer when I tried to leave. I looked at the whore and pointed to the floor beside my chair, "Here," I said this in a flat unemotional voice. She crawled over to the spot I indicated. I took the piece of rope still around her neck. I tied it a little tighter. She choked and coughed some more. Then I tied the other end of the rope to one of the legs of my chair. I looked around, "Whose deal is it?"

They all laughed while I got out another envelope full of money.

++++++++++

The game goes on:

It took me another two hours before that was cleaned out. The whole time we were playing, Vince, the other guys at the table and maybe half dozen other assholes were watching me and this whore on the floor beside me. I was real careful not to pay any attention to the bitch; any show of concern might backfire, but I could see her out of the corner of my eye. She was cold and shivering. The floor was old tile, and I figured it was probably pretty cold. My guess was she was sick before any of this happened; what was going on now would only make her worse, but I knew there wasn't a God damned thing I could do.

I checked my watch; it was nearly 6:00 a.m., probably close to sunrise outside. I'd been at it for more than ten hours, and I'd lost a shit pot of money. The crowd that hovered around the table looked to be a lot worse than the group that had started the game the previous evening. This was a skanky bunch; I figured they were mostly the dregs of the town and Vince's little private army. I didn't feel real safe. I hoped the morning sun might give me an added advantage when I tried to leave.

I looked down at the whore at my feet; she was pathetic. I read the bill of sale so I knew what name she'd been given. I said, "Well Caprice; time to go home."

Caprice looked up at me with dead eyes. I knew I had a real piece of shit here, but I was also pretty sure, considering the shape she was in, they'd most likely finish her off and dump her somewhere if I didn't take her.

I stood up; untied the rope from the chair I'd been sitting on for nearly ten hours. I spied out the bathroom and looked down at the whore. Using the rope I yanked her up. I did it kind of roughly so no one would think I felt any compassion for her, "Come on." I started off for the single bathroom at the end of the room.

I figured I had to get her into the bathroom and at least see what the damage was before we left. I also wanted to get some clothes on her just in case there was a cop outside. I didn't trust these bastards. I knew just before midnight this wasn't my kind of game, and I knew I'd certainly never be back.

I walked to the bathroom. Caprice, if that was her name, followed. We walked inside. I found the shitter and opened the door, "Sit down," I said.

She sat down and typical of a whore she started to reach for the fly of my pants. I swiped her hand away, "Don't move," I said.

She sat there on the toilet while I took off my sport coat and the blue shirt I'd worn that night. It was a good shirt, cotton, a button down. I hung the shirt on the hook. I undid my belt and fly and let my pants drop to the floor.

The whore reached for the slit in my boxers. She still thought I wanted a blow job. Well I thought the bitch knew her trade. I swatted her hand away again and said, "No!"

She sat back. I saw she was real scared. She had this beaten dog look, and she was covered in this cheap makeup. My bet was she'd probably spent a lot of time around this place just being afraid.

I dropped my boxers and handed them to her. They were white and considering how long I'd been in them they still looked pretty clean. I mean there were no shit or piss stains. I pulled my pants back up and re-hitched my belt. I told her, "Stand up and put your hands on my shoulders."

She figured out what I was doing. She did as she was told. I leaned down and pushed one then the other of her feet into the legs of my white boxers. I pulled the boxers up so her pussy was covered by my pants. Already my clean white boxers were smudged by her blood. I couldn't tell how much of it was from the beating or how much of it was from her ravaged ass. I told her, "Hold out your arms."

She held out her arms, and I slipped my shirt on her. I buttoned all but the top three buttons up. She still had the rope around her neck. If I didn't look too close, I figured she didn't look half bad. The shirt looked good on her. Her tits weren't real big; for an older broad they still looked pretty firm. The fabric of my shirt rubbed across her nipples and they started to stick out. I said to her, "Sit down."

She sat back down on the toilet seat.

I looked at her, "I just bought you. You know that?"

She nodded.

I went on, "I can leave you here. If I leave you I figure they'll probably kill you. If you go with me I can't guarantee it, but I think things will be a lot different for you. What do you want?"

She looked at me like I was from some other planet. I didn't think she fully understood. At last she said, "I'd like to go with you."

I pulled on the rope and I said, "When we leave the bathroom follow close behind. Keep both hands on the rope. Don't look at anybody. Just look at my back. You're mine now. If you make any false moves someone will probably try to kill us both. Get it?"

She kind of numbly nodded.

I knew the bill of sale I got meant nothing in the real world, but in the world where this woman lived it meant her life and mine. I had to get her and me out of this place quickly but not too hurriedly. Haste makes waste they say.

We walked out of the bathroom to silence. The game had ended, and there were only a few people milling about or cleaning up. I went straight for the stairs that lead to the back of the building.

I heard her as she stumbled along behind me. I counted thirteen steps. I heard her as she made each one. Finally we were at the door.

I pushed the door open and we walked outside.

There were like nine guys waiting for us. I walked straight ahead with the whore right behind me. I'd brought my old Chevy Suburban pick-up with the extended cab, but regular bed. The bed was covered. Inside the bed were two extra tires. One never knew. I got her to the passenger's side. I had discreetly checked around. I didn't see anything that would've caused a puncture to any of the tires. I saw Vince was outside watching me. I unlocked the passenger door, and I helped her get in. I used the lever and lowered her seat so she could lay back. I closed her door. I walked around to my side, opened the door, and climbed in. I inserted the key, turned on the ignition and slowly, I mean very slowly pulled away. At the time I had no idea how much my life was about to change.