1. Where's Jimmy?


    Date: 5/14/2018, Categories: Fiction, Consensual Sex, Death, Hardcore, Job / Office Sex, Straight Sex, Murder, Oral Sex / Blowjob, Violence, Author: wantsomefun, Source: sexstories.com

    “What the hell are you saying?” “Boss, it was him!” The man behind the desk blew perfect rings of cigar smoke. “You been drinking? You high again? Don’t think I won’t make you piss in a cup.” “It’s the truth!” The man glared at his younger associate. “Everyone knows he’s fucking dead, Joey! A friend of ours did federal time with a guy who knew a guy who said he was there when they popped him.” “Uncle Frank, they did a shitty job, because he didn’t stay dead. That was Jimmy Hoffa.” “Impossible. He’d be ancient.” “Looked like it. He was in one of them motorized wheelchairs propped up with a pillow, kinda like maybe he had a stroke or something. I swear it’s him. I seen him clear with my binoculars. Look at that photo on the wall behind you. Add forty years, and it’s him.” “You saw him at the drop point?” “He made the fuckin’ drop himself! Morelli’s boys was waiting where my guy said. This high-top van drove up with a ramp thing on the back. Hoffa rolled out and went over to Morelli’s crew with a briefcase on his lap. His face was lit up pretty good when he drove out of the van and on the whole ride back to it.” “Huh,” Frank grunted. “Yeah. That’s why I’m sure it was him. None of Morelli’s guys acted surprised, like maybe they expected an old guy. Maybe they even knew who he was.” “That makes no damn sense, Joey. What was in the case?” “Looked like documents, reports with covers or some such shit. Couldn’t see real clear ‘cuz Hoffa was facing away from me. All I know is ...
    Morellli’s one guy opened the case and flipped through it. He showed Hoffa another case that looked like it was stuffed with bundled cash, a shitload of it. That’s what he took with him to the van. He rode in the back. Limo tint on the windows. Couldn’t see who was with him.” “If that was Hoffa, is he working for the Parnelli brothers?” Frank asked. “Nah. I hear they’re pissed off because their deal got blown. Word on the street is they were supposed to be doin’ the sale for someone else.” “So whoever Hoffa works for cut them out and contacted Morelli,” Frank mused. “Assuming Hoffa ain’t self-employed, yeah. My source called me and told me the drop would be early. You know where I had to hide, boss. I can find Morelli’s boys, so I tried going after Hoffa. By the time I got to my car, the van was gone. It was him, dammit. Sorry I lost him, Frank.” “It was a surveillance mission, so I forgive you this time.” “Boss, I swear on my grandmother’s eyes it was Hoffa. I bet if we had one of them face-aging programs like the cops use, we could turn that pic into the guy in the wheelchair.” Frank took the framed image down to study it. “I don’t understand. I don’t understand how he can be alive, and I sure as hell don’t understand why he’s here, screwing the Parnellis on a deal. I hate not knowing what the fuck is going on. Ignorance is weakness.” “Whadya want me to do, boss?” “I know someone who might be able to learn things about the Parnellis, so don’t worry about them now. Work the streets. ...
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