Biloxi Caper: Rip-Off of the Mississippi Mafia at Their Own Game---Pinball

By Don Ramos

Jamie, nineteen years old, having just enlisted in the Air Force, not wanting to go into the Army, has been assigned to Keesler Air Force Base in Biloxi, Mississippi, to study Electronics. This is his first experience being on his own, with no friends, no girls and no emotional support systems.

While working at the Arthur Murray Studio in Biloxi, where he is very popular, being the only man teacher, he learns that he as an unusual effect on all the ladies.

He meets four guys in the electronic class with him and over the months they are there, they develop a plan, a scam, a caper, a very dangerous adventure, to beat the Biloxi Mafia at their own Game. The game is PINBALL.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Apr 25, 2015
• ISBN: 9781496974556

Don Ramos

Don Ramos is a retired world-class weightlifter, former Olympic coach, and ballroom dance teacher who once performed a notorious side-by-side mambo with Bobbie Madieras and taught Pearl S. Buck, the famous author and Nobel Prize recipient. Don currently resides in Colorado Springs, Colorado. This is his second book.

Book preview

BILOXI

CAPER

Rip-off of the Mississippi Mafia at

their own game–PINBALL

DON RAMOS

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AuthorHouse™

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: [phone]

© 2015 Don Ramos. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse   04/23/2015

ISBN: 978-1-4969-7456-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4969-7455-6 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Also by Don Ramos

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About the Author

Also by Don Ramos

Salsa on Fire

It is September 2001. David Steele is thirty-eight, handsome, and a failure in his personal life. After two unsuccessful marriages and two children, he is still searching for the answer to his perpetual womanizing, with help from a therapist in Venice Beach, California. Now as he arrives in South Beach, Miami, to meet the heads of a large ballroom dancing organization and help organize an hour-long Salsa extravaganza to air on national television, David has one important goal: to be celibate for thirty days. But what he does not realize is that attaining his goal may be more challenging than he ever imagined.

On his first night in South Beach during an impromptu Mambo dance in the hotel bar, David meets Danny, a knockout, who is fifteen years his junior—and married. As he weakly attempts to ward off temptation, a terrorist attack has sent the nation into disarray. While David tries to focus on his work, he soon realizes that beginning a relationship with Danny is not only morally wrong, but incredibly dangerous.

Salsa on Fire is the story of lust, intrigue, and murder as a Salsa dancer makes the unsettling discovery that there may be a price to pay for love.

Silly Sally

Sally lost her father in the Korean War when she was three years old, and having to deal with the unwarranted affection from her grandfather, which began when she was ten years old, she turns to her older brother, Tommy for comfort and attention. She becomes an attorney, specializing in Divorce Law. She has as maniacal hatred toward philandering married men.

Her intimate relationship with her brother, Tommy, has continued into adult life. She still turns to him for love and understanding. Her preference in sexual partners is exclusively women. Sally falls in love with the receptionist in the Law Firm where she works. Gracie, who has never been involved with another woman, is seduced by Sally.

The intimate intrigue with Sally and Gracie, Sally and Tommy and her insatiable desire to even the score with philandering men complicates Sally’s existence.

Silly Sally is a story of lust, intrigue, lesbianism and the struggle with her maniacal desire to even the score, so to speak, with men.

1

I shook my head in dismay. What am I doing in Biloxi?

It was seven o’clock in the evening. I was standing on the dark and strangely quiet and ageing Main Street. The temperature was mild. The humidity was high—very high. In fact, it is uncomfortably damp; my shirt is sticking to my back. I am nineteen years old. I had just arrived at Kessler Air Force Base; the first time, truly, on my own in a strange town.

Main Street was amazingly clean as I walked along from the Base Gate; there was a slight odor of decay. The street was made of brick, which was new to me coming from Phoenix. The buildings on each side of the street were a dull gray; many not having occupants, exhibiting vacant windows from block to block. It looked as if there had been nothing new built on this downtown Main Street for fifty years.

How curious it was for a Monday evening. I looked up and down Main Street which consisted of six or seven blocks of these old two story buildings. The north end of the street was situated near the entrance gate to Kessler AFB; the south end terminated at the Gulf of Mexico. I hadn’t been to the Gulf yet, but I had been told the beaches were beautiful.

Downtown Biloxi was not impressive. The only thing that seemed to be active were the pinball parlors that were abundant on both sides of the street and were full of guys, probably Airmen from the Base. How strange that such a small town would have so many pinball joints, but I guess each town has its own recreation.

I stood about half way down between the Base and the Gulf, quietly, getting acquainted with the neighborhood. Across the street was an old restaurant serving, as they had written on their windows: Creole Cooking, Chowder, Jumbo Prawns, and Gumbo. It was all strange to me. I had no idea what Creole Cooking was, nor was I about to try it. The restaurant seemed to have quite a few patrons, so it must be alright.

In front of me were two drinking fountains attached to the wall of the building. They were five feet apart; one was labeled, Whites Only, the other, Coloreds Only. This is the strangest thing I had ever seen. Is this what they call segregation?

I had stopped in front of these drinking fountains, having seen a sign that said—Arthur Murray’s Dance Studio. My purpose in coming into town this evening was to meet a female to keep me company while in Biloxi for my six months stay, and I felt a dance studio would be a good source. They will have females upstairs. Maybe I could get a job.

The Studio was on the second floor. I anxiously ran up the stairs, taking two at a time. I loved to dance and had taught ballroom dancing for three months in Phoenix before getting drafted and joining the Air Force. I took a deep breath, checked out how I looked in the reflection of the glass in the upper half of the door. I had made a special effort to look good wearing dark slacks, a white shirt and tie. Of course my shoes were polished perfectly—military black. They were my Air Force dress uniform shoes. I stepped into the Studio and was greeted by a charming young lady, perhaps eighteen years old, sitting at a desk at the front of a small ballroom where there were four couples dancing foxtrot.

On the left was a waiting area with four arm chairs and a small couch. A coffee table was in front of the couch. Across this small alcove was an angled door that had written on the upper opaque glass, MANAGER. The ballroom was very small. They would have a problem with many more couples on the floor. This looked like it had been, at one time, an apartment and the ballroom was in the living room. The girl teachers all looked over at me, probably curious to see if I was a new prospective student. The students were all airmen it appeared; you could tell by their haircuts and clothing.

The receptionist asked, How may I help you? She was a charming brunette, and had an infectious smile, bright eyes and a nice personality.

I returned her smile and said, Hi. I just arrived here in Biloxi, and I was wondering if you needed another man teacher? I have taught for some time in Phoenix, and would love to have an evening job while going to school at Keesler.

Her reply was too quick. I don’t think we need another teacher, but why don’t you talk to Mickey our Manager. She picked up the phone and, I assumed, spoke to the Manager. She smiled sweetly, having made very direct eye contact with me, and then pointed to the door on the left. Mickey said to send you in. Just knock.

Walking to the door, I rapped my knuckles on the opaque glass. Come in, a voice said. It was a woman’s voice. I stepped inside. The manager was stunning; perhaps twenty-five years old. She stood and put out her hand, which I took. Hi, I’m Mickey Storm, the manager of the Studio. How may I help you? She pointed to a chair across the desk.

Jamie James here. Her eyes were so fixed on mine, it was truly disturbing, but she seemed pleasant and open to talking with me.

Mickey was a gorgeous strawberry blond. Even though she was thin, she was voluptuous in her off the shoulder, white peasant blouse. She had bright, wide-set eyes and cheeks with light freckles. She was adorable! I found her a bit disarming as her gaze held mine. I suddenly realized I was still holding her hand. She motioned to a chair across from her desk. I sat down. I had never met or seen a girl with such unusual hair, being almost pink and blond.

I was a confidant guy, and girls seemed to be attracted to me. I had thick brown hair, cut short for the service. I had a wonderful, athletic body. Well that was my opinion, of course. I was five-ten and weighed about one hundred-sixty pounds. My body had been built over five years of intense weight training. I wasn’t a body builder. I was an athlete, competing in weightlifting competitions, and had won the Arizona State Olympic Lifting Championship the year before as a senior in High School. My broad, muscular shoulders and arms were set off by a very thin, muscular, six-pack abdomen and powerful legs.

I smiled warmly, hoping she would have a job for me. This would be fantastic if I could make some extra money and have the option of what appeared to be, six cute females to dance with and date, especially Mickey.

Mickey, I taught ballroom in Phoenix for some time before joining the Air Force, and I would love to teach while I’m here; however, the receptionist didn’t sound too encouraging, but maybe I could work myself into your staff. My wording wasn’t good, realizing I had made a double entendre, quite by accident.

Mickey caught it as well. She smiled broadly before saying, Jamie. We don’t have any woman student. All of our students are from the Base, all men, just like you. I’m not sure if it’s because we don’t have a man teacher, but our entire student body … all males. I’m sorry. You don’t look the type to want to teach men.

That was very disappointing. She could have at least said she’d think about it, or something. I was so excited and then … shot down.

We both sat quietly for a moment appraising each other. Her gaze was locked on mine as we sat not sure what to say next. I saw a change in her expression as her eyes began to smile. She then became her original, enthusiastic self and said, Jamie … how about our having a dance before you leave. Could we do that?

I felt bad with her dismissal, being so quick, but maybe I could change her mind with a dance. Of course. I’d love to dance with you. We stood, and she led me across the little ballroom to a very small dance studio that faced the street from which I had come. There were two windows that looked down on the restaurant I had seen before. I thought this room must have been originally a small bedroom in the apartment.

She shut the door behind us and asked, What would you like to dance. Jamie, I love the tango. Do you dance the tango?

I love the tango, as well. Sure, let’s do a little tango.

I stood in the middle of the floor admiring her legs that showed beautifully as she bent over a stack of records that were on the table next to the phonograph. Mickey had thin ankles and gorgeous, muscular calves, probably from dancing. She was wearing a full, multicolored skirt, belted tightly on a small waist, with the white, peasant top. I had never been intimate with a woman as old as Mickey. It intrigued me greatly.

Mickey was diligent as she looked through the records. At that time, there were only 78 RPM records; 45’s were just becoming popular, but only with new releases, and primarily aimed at teens.

Ah-ha. Here it is. Jamie, this is my favorite tango. It’s called Cristal and is a very beautiful, typical Argentine Tango. She looked at me from head to toe and said, I want to compliment you on how you dressed to come in. You look very smart with the white French cuff dress shirt, tie, and dark slacks. Oh, by the way, your black shoes are excellent. I wish we did have a need for you." At that instant, I felt I saw her thinking about maybe hiring me. Her eyes remained on mine for a few moments, ruminating, considering … I wasn’t sure what.

She turned, set the record on the turntable and picked up the arm, placing the needle onto the outside of the record where the grooves began. The sound came from a needle running through the grooves, into some electronics and out a speaker. The sound was very good. Looking back, it was very primitive.

I stood there, anxiously awaiting her to come to me. She had a nice smile that was infectious. She walked up to me, her eyes bright with anticipation, and said, Jamie darling, you are the first professional that I have danced with since I have been here in Biloxi. This will be a pleasure. Now, are you ready for a little Tango? I was very ready, maybe too ready, and anxious to feel her in my arms.

She put her body against mine, wriggling into the Tango position, knees bent slightly, pelvic tucked under and against my right thigh. I was immediately lost in the moment as I took her into my hands and arms.

She put her left arm onto my right arm and shoulder, her hand onto the back of my neck, her fingers into my hair. My right arm was completely around her very small waist. We fit perfectly. The proximity of our bodies, the odor of her perfume and her body, and my need for a woman was such, I was immediately aroused—a bit embarrassed. If she was aware, and I‘m sure she was, she made no notice of it in any way.

I was ready: I took a big breath; my gaze caught hers. I began to move slowly with her, holding her firmly against my body. We swayed left, swayed right, then into some long, sweeping steps, as you do with the Tango. The movement was almost cat-like, stalking its prey. As we moved, my right thigh went between her legs each time that leg went forward. I used to think the movement was slightly crab-like, as we moved diagonally, my right side always moving forward leading with my right hip. It was quite sensual. At that moment, everything about her was sexual. I became more aroused. I pulled her more tightly to me.

Her off-the-shoulder peasant blouse, the way she was pressed against me, pushed her beautiful bust up, showing the fullness of them. The closeness of her body against mine, and her fingers in my hair, was exceedingly provocative. She felt my passion, and yet her only response was her sensual gaze that was holding mine. She touched her upper lip with the tip of her tongue, then put her cheek against mine. It was quite romantic, which is what Tango is supposed to be. I wasn’t sure if she was just dancing. Could she be caught in the mood as well? I know. I had never danced a tango quite like this. I loved the intensity—the passion potential.

I was relatively limited in the number of steps that I was conversant with in Tango, but I used them all, and she seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the dance. I led her into many different moves: fans, pivots and dips.

I sensed the record was coming to an end. I did a couple of quick pivots and a very deep dip, stopping abruptly, stepping back with my left leg, bending it, my right leg straight out in front, that foot on the floor. My abrupt stop and dip had thrown her left thigh over and up my right leg, which was a part of that step. Her knee was almost at my waist, her foot and leg against my thigh, her pelvic hard against my right thigh.

Mickey’s body was lying there, pressed firmly against me. Her head was back. Her gaze seeking mine. With a wry smile, she slid her pelvic slowly up my thigh and to my shock, brought her soft, sensual, full lips to mine. In that deep dip position, locked together, my now swollen cock was caught between us. She was unyielding. She pressed her pelvic even harder into me. Mickey is obviously teasing me.

Our kiss was quickly finished. She smiled and said as she remained in that sensual position, pressed against me, I like you, Jamie. Maybe I can use you. Come into my office and let’s talk a minute.

I’ll never forget how her saying maybe I can use you, caught my attention. I think I’d like being used.

At that point, I felt like a puppy dog, as I followed her to her office, my tail between my legs. My heart pounding rapidly in my chest, my shirt stuck to my back from the heat of the situation. As we walked across the little ballroom floor, the other teachers watched. I wondered if they could tell how aroused I was.

We sat down and she told me, Jamie, at this time, as I said, we have no ladies for you to teach; however … Her lips were pressed tightly together as she considered what she was about to say. Her head cocked to the side cutely. She continued, It might be good to have you here just in case we need you. Her gaze met mine. I wondered if there was a sexual meaning to her remark. I’d also like you to be here for my girls. I’d like that! They need a man in the house to practice with, and as you could tell, they are all very interested in dancing with you. I’m sure.

Mickey, it sounds great to me. I’m not sure what my schedule will be, but I will try to get in as soon as I can every day. Was I becoming the house stud?

Do you know most of the Arthur Murray steps? At least, the Bronze level?

I probably do, but not by the same names. I was so excited, knowing I was going to be here, even if I won’t be teaching anyone. The atmosphere was exciting and the girl teachers—I guess they are the atmosphere.

Mickey took out a red, manila covered manual and handed it to me. Here, this is the Bronze and Silver Syllabus. Learn the names of the Bronze and of course, the steps. When you have them all, you will know more than my four girls. They don’t need to know any more. The students never get beyond the first six or seven step in the Bronze.

I opened the manual and perused the steps. It looked very simple to me. I asked Mickey, How much will I get paid if and when I get to teach?

We start everyone at the base hourly rate, which is ninety cents an hour for all hours you teach.

My mouth fell agape. I wouldn’t work for ninety cents. I made a buck-fifty in Phoenix. I said, Mickey, I can’t work for so little. What is the top rate you pay?

The top rate is a dollar thirty-five an hour. None of my girls make that. She sat for a moment, considering. I’ll tell you what I’ll do, when you can show me you can do the entire Bronze, I’ll start you at one thirty-five.

That’s a deal. My gaze caught hers. "Mickey, I loved dancing with you. We seemed to have something special together." We sat for a moment, silently, as I held her gaze, hoping, wondering.

She stood, put her hand out, and with a wry smile said, You are something else, Mr. James. Patience my boy.

I took her hand, holding it again a moment too long—our gaze was very communicative. We both began to smile slightly; she came around her desk and walked me to the front door. I turned and waved to the girl teachers, as well as the receptionist, and left. I was almost skipping as I went down the dark, quiet cobblestone street. I looked across into the Gumbo joint; to my surprise, it was very busy. One of these days I’ll try it.

It had cooled off while I was upstairs. I was unusually warm though, perspiring under my arms. I couldn’t get Mickey off my mind. My few months at the dance studio in Phoenix had never been so intimately intense. Mickey was special: I decided I needed to get together with her, but had to be cautious and not overstep the line. I also had to be very careful not wanting to impede my getting to know all the girls, as well as Mickey, the lady of the house. The reference to the house made me realize why I had gone in there to begin with. I did love beautiful ladies, and the beautiful ladies seemed to love me as well.

In my short life, I had limited experience with ladies, having been intimate with only … perhaps … ten or so. I was especially attracted to thin girls, with athletic bodies. There’s nothing like a very hard, athletic derrière, which was much more important to me than large breasts.

My father admired ladies in general … well, perhaps the young ladies more that older ladies. Now I find I’m attracted to Mickey, and she’s probably more than five years older than I am. I wonder if I’m going to be more successful with the ladies at this age than my father was. That took me back a moment. Why should that be important?

Half way back to the Base I decided to go into one of the pinball places. The next one I came to seemed like a good choice; they were all pretty much the same. You’d think that one would try to be more appealing than the others, but they were all cut out by same cookie cutter. Stepping inside I noticed how antiseptic it was: white walls, no pictures, really nothing other than what looked like about thirty machines. Most were busy and it was amazing to me to see the activity that these pinball parlors generated.

The cacophony was shocking with most of the machines being played. The ringing of the bells and the games running up on the board made for a very exciting atmosphere.

At the back was a counter with a sigh over it that said, CHANGE. I handed the guy there a dollar and he gave me twenty nickels. I chose a machine to play. I dropped the other coins on the glass top and inserted one and pushed up a ball. The game was on. The first game I bumped the machine too forcefully with my hips and the game went TILT. I lost that game from over exuberance. I had to put in another coin. Now, with more reserve, I pushed up another ball and pulling back the plunger I let another ball fly. This time I was more successful.

I lost track of time and I thought I’d better get back to the Base. I picked up the coins I had remaining and started to leave when the guy next to me said, Hey. Don’t walk out without collecting your money. He looked at the games I had won and said, You have over a dollar coming.

What do you mean I have over a dollar coming?

They pay off for games won. Look, you have enough points to get back over a buck. Go to the back and tell them you have money coming.

Well thanks. If you hadn’t said anything you could have taken over my machine and gotten the payback instead of me. You are an honest guy. Thank you.

After collecting my dollar ten, I walked back toward the Base. It was getting late. I thought, No wonder the guys play it all night. It’s like a little Las Vegas near the Base.

2

I got to the base and went to the barracks that I had been assigned until I got into School. It was almost ten o’clock when I retired for the night. This was my second night on the Base. The bunks weren’t all that bad, but this wasn’t permanent. The latrine was in the back and was very basic: a line of sinks, six toilets, which stood in the open (no stalls) around the corner of two walls, and a gang shower with eight shower heads. Yes, very basic! I was anxious to move into my permanent lodging.

I quickly fell asleep with beautiful dancing girls on my mind. Six lovely girls, all seemed interested in me. I had put the Dance Syllabus under the bed until tomorrow. I would learn as much as I could tomorrow morning before going back to the Studio.

At about midnight, I woke up by a raucous couple of guys who came into the barracks. One was especially obnoxious. His voice was loud, laughing and carrying on like he owned the place. He had a very distinct New York accent. He had no consideration for those of us sleeping.

I put my pillow over my head tightly, trying to block out the noise. Finally, I had had it. I yelled out, Hey, were sleeping in here.

That did nothing. He and the other guy continued talking and laughing. I was fed up and yelled out more loudly, Hey, shut your mouths before I come there and shut’m for you.

Well, that did it. I smiled and thought, what would I do if I did go down there? I was all of about one hundred and sixty pounds. I guess I had a big mouth, or I sounded as if I was a bad guy. The barracks became quiet. We all slept soundly.

We woke at five-thirty and were told to fall in by the Office in thirty. I grabbed a towel and went to the open showers. I shaved and after brushing my teeth, dressed in my fatigues, boots and got out of there. I was one of the first out; I stood in the semi-dark morning. A Sergeant, showing four Chevrons, was standing there in the dawn light. It was still a bit dark, the sun wouldn’t to be up for another thirty minutes or more. He was in his day uniform, which consisted of a tie, with his tan pants and shirt. He, of course, was wearing a cunt cap, as they called it.

When we were all there, there looked to be over forty guys standing quietly. He called out, Is Jamie James here? He perused a sheet, with a little light in his hands.

I yelled out, Here, sergeant.

PFC James, come down here in front. I stepped out and went down to where he was standing. He looked at me with concern, then nodding his head, asked incredulously, You are PFC James?

Yes sir. What do you need? Am I already in trouble?

He looked me in the eyes, kind of appraising me, and then said quietly, "I want you to take over this work detail. You will assign airman to each of the tasks and tell them they have until noon to finish. I expect you to follow up and make sure everything is accomplished properly. When their job is complete, to your satisfaction, dismiss them for the day. You will be in command every day—he emphasized the in command—until you all are assigned to your permanent barracks and start school. Any questions?"

Absolutely no questions. No problem. I’ll bring them to attention and then assign them to their respective tasks.

"James, I’ll bring them to attention this morning and tell them you will be in command from this day forward. You will then take over."

Got it, Sergeant.

I looked at the group of Airmen. I assume this is the new class that will start school together. I observed the lightening sky and the pine trees that surrounded the area. It was nice and cool here in Biloxi in the early morning. I didn’t feel the humidity quite as much as last night. At the moment, there were no clouds. There was a lovely pine smell as a slight breeze was wafting through the tall trees.

The Sergeant called them to attention, having them line up properly, and then welcomed them and told them I’d be in command, assigning each of them to their morning tasks. Men, this will be every morning. So, I expect you to be here at seven sharp so PFC James can get you to work. It will be about a week before you are assigned to your new living quarters, and you will then start school. Now, get to the Mess Hall and return in forty minutes and fall in for your assignments.

He handed me the list of tasks and the list of men. They were on a clipboard that had a pen attached to it. He walked away. This is interesting, my being responsible.

After eating, I quickly returned to the Office for the assignments for the men. They had begun to get into their original formation. Within the first few minutes, I had every one of the men working on one of the jobs that had to be done. They all were pretty basic, just something to keep all of us occupied for a week or so before school starts.

I then realized I had nothing to do. I decided to find the Gym on the Base. After questioning an Airman or two on the streets, as I wandered around, I was directed to the main Gym. I wanted to continue