Analysis of John Malloy (20)

             John Malloy (20)
    (The Blackmailed Beauty)

*Night at the Movies*

A sweaty Bill Withers sat on a wood table chair with a pair of his own bracelets locked on his pudgy wrists, which were uncomfortably pulled behind his massive back.

He was staring like a hypnotized dinner show volunteer at a portable movie screen.  He was watching his naked self lying on his back on a motel bed.

A bottomless Mona Lott was on her knees above him, pissing in his face while the excited vice cop was busy stroking a stiff but short schlong. He was opening his mouth so the yellow stream could get into his  thirty gullet.

"Enjoying the show?" I asked him. "It's almost to the exiting conclusion. Would you like to share my popcorn?"

"Fuck YOU!" he muttered. turn it OFF!"

"Sure, pal," I told him. "Don't you want to see the surprised look on your fat pan when you hear me sneeze in the closet?"

"Turn it the fuck OFF!" He shouted  like he was mad at me or something. "Turn it OFF!"

"As you wish, pal," answered, friendly-like. I turned off the projecter and ankled over to fip the light switch by the door of the motel cabin I'd rented for the occasion.

"Whadda  want for the film and negative, shamus?" he grumbled.

I pulled up a chair and set it up backward  and parked it, with my forearms resting on the backrest . I gave him  big smile. "That's what I like to see; a mug who knows how to cut to the chase!"

I looked to the ceiling and pretended to think about it. "Now that you brought it up, there a little matter of some compromising pics you took of my client, Lana Rogers, getting friendly with Katharine Hepburn by the lady's  pool. I want them back, with the negatives, natch. You decided to blackmail Miss Rogers, which seems to be a hobby with your whole corrupt
L. A. vice squad…..Thats very naughty!"

Is that it?" Withers asked.

"That's the whole enchelada," I told him. "You didn't by some chance make copies, did you?"

"I did NOT!" he barked at me. "How do I know you didn't make copies of the film?"

"I don't need to," I grinned at him.

"Wadda ya mean?"

"My daddy told me that in a big game, always have an ace in the hole. My ace is a wire recording I made of the whole ugly scene, which I'm keeping as my insurance policy."

"Thats not FAIR!" he yelled, while trying to wiggle out of his cuffs.

"I got me a blackmailer
griping my cookies over fairness!" I hooted. "That's the deal, or the first mug to get  copy of The Bill Withers Show will be your captain. I'd make another  copy for the L.A.Times before that."

Withers was quiet for a few, then looked up at me. "OK, I'll do the swap, but I want the wire recording too."

"I'm holding  it just to keep you honest in the future," I tell him. "After all….there's no way of knowing if you made copies of those photos. If you don't like the deal, call my bluff. Miss Rogers can recover from a scandel like that. It may turn out to be great P.R. in the long run. But it's all over for your ass if your fellow dirty cops see you drinking piss from a sadist hooker …. Do you really wanna roll those dice?"

"Fuck YOU!" The cuffed copper snorts in disgust.  
OK…..I'll take the deal!  When do we swap?"

"That would be tonight, pal. You don't get a chance to make copies."

"I'll need a ride home to pick up the prints and negatives," he said, gudgingly. "Where's the negative for that damned film?"

I pulled a flat, round tin container out of my big coat pocket. "I was ready for you," I smiled. "When you go in your hovel, I'm your shadow you every step of the way.. You don't get another chance to shoot at me, pal!"