He killed the engine, cut the lights and gave himself a minute. No sounds interrupted the stillness. No movement violated the dark, but he knew she was there somewhere-he could feel her. It appeared he wasn’t going to get any information after all.
Nice move, rookie. May as well get it over with now. He grabbed his gun off the seat and opened the door slowly, crouching behind it as he crept out of the car. He scanned back and forth over the shrouded terrain and picked up more details as his eyes adjusted to the dark.
***
Perched behind a pile of rocks, Pen watched the lights brighten the closer Jason’s car came to the ravine. Just before the beams crested the hill, she put her back against the rocks and closed her eyes to prevent blinding. She heard the tires slide, crunching down the gravel on the bank of the riverbed. The undercarriage scraped against the rocks at the bottom.
The car stopped and the engine cut out. She checked her weapon with her fingertips; safety off, round chambered, two handed grip. She drew a breath and waited for the sound…and there it was. Just the slightest tick, as the headlights were switched off.
Pen rose to her full height, propped her elbows on the rock in front of her and sighted in on Jason’s forehead. He squinted into the darkness, partially shielded behind the open driver’s side door. Perhaps he heard her, or felt her, because he ducked down and to the left. But he didn’t duck far enough.
Fish in a barrel, Pen. Duck on a pond. Her hesitance bothered her.
Unacceptable.
She squeezed the trigger gently, depositing a bullet just left of center, leaving a black dot on Jason’s forehead, visible only for a second before he slumped backward and fell to the ground. She released her breath and relaxed her arms, waiting for the echoes of the gunshot to fade.
Not foolish enough to take her eyes off him, she crept down from her shelter, eased over to crouch at the front fender of his car, and watched him closely for signs of life.
The sight and smell held a sure sign of death-he’d released his bowels.
Pen made a quick sweep of his car, gathering any items she deemed useful before she tore off in the Duster. She performed a mental inventory of the contents of the bag she’d left at the apartment complex. There wouldn’t be anything with which to identify her, but she knew better than to leave equipment by choice. She bumped her car back onto the highway and headed to town, stopping only to fill her tank at the first available opportunity, an unmanned pay-at-the-pump station. She paid in cash.
Flashing lights surrounded the complex. Apparently they were on to Jason and/or his disappearance. She continued driving, careful not to speed up. Leaving her gear behind grated on her, but she didn’t really have a choice.
The second she hit the state highway, the heebie-jeebies set in. She couldn’t control it. She just kept watching the mirrors and urging the car home faster.
***
Even after the review, Pen couldn’t think of anything she could or would have done differently. Should have been a clean shot at the apartment, but his reflexes had been too damn quick. It ate at her a little, but she was Platinum now.
She leaned her head back against the seat and smiled. Platinum! Triple figures.
She stopped at her brother’s place, chucked some beef jerky at the boys, and switched cars while they munched away happily. Back in her garage, she let out a huge sigh and sunk into the car upholstery for a few minutes.
The heavy door rolled shut behind her, and she eased out of the car, took her shoes off in the entry and crept into the house. She padded up the stairs, stripping off her clothes as she went.
The shower was incredible, and Pen allowed herself some time to think. A few tears stung the backs of her eyes, but she pinched them off by squeezing her eyes shut, and scrubbed away the crazy day.
Clean and dry, she padded naked to the bedroom and slid under the covers. Her hands traveled up the muscled thighs beside her until she reached the prize. Brian stretched and gave her a sleepy smile.
“Now then. Where were we?” Pen grinned and slurped his stirring cock into her mouth.
Playing with Dolls
Joey and Tash are friends and roommates. But there’s more beneath the surface.
More than Joey’s ready to deal with.
She was a doll of a woman, four-foot-eleven, blonde, long lashes, evening gown sparkling in the neon bar signs, tiny feet strapped into impossibly high heels. Absolutely beautiful.
Small though she was, on stage she was larger than life, strutting to the beat and swaying her hips, as strong in body as she was in charisma. When she flipped into handstands against the pole, or did inverted push-ups, men threw money onto the stage.
When she was on, she was on, and nothing could stop her. She was the star attraction in that small town strip joint. We ran the club, she and I. Well, not officially, but we had our influence, she being the top drawing dancer, and me being the waitress with the nice rack and special smile for each and every patron.
Anastasia, she called herself, onstage and off. Her real name became a shadow that faded completely. I called her ‘Tash’, and she called me Joey, and we shared a house in the west end of town; more out of convenience at first-both working at the bar and her needing a roommate-but we immediately fell into familiarity. The kind of friendship that burns fierce and hard, destined to burn itself out.
Together, we were a ‘good time’. Everyone knew they’d be entertained, just being near us. She’d set ’em up, and I’d knock ’em down. The employees became a swirl of faces around our fire, feeding off our heat and intensity, living vicariously.
We kept the customers entertained, and bolstered the morale of the staff, keeping that wall against society strong and vivid. There were always those who would make a point of justifying their patronage, and spit at the service we provided.
“When you gonna get up there and take your clothes off, sweet thang?” All lecherous hands and filthy sneers.
I would smile that smile, wink and say, “Never,” squelching the tingling at the base of my skull.
I’d been offered upwards of five hundred dollars, cash on the table, and still hadn’t succumbed to temptation. I felt the wind whistling through the chasm I would have leaped, and it was a leap down, in my opinion.
“Ya fuckin’ hypocrite!” Tash snorted after work one night, when I told her about it over videos and wine.
“What?”
“All that shit you spew about admiring my self esteem and being able to get up there on stage every night? And you know what it takes for me to do it, Joey!”
“Oh.” It had been a long night, and my fuzzy brain wouldn’t fire on the first couple turns of the key, but once it sparked, it went straight into high gear.
“Oh! No, Tash, no! That’s not what I meant!” I moved to the couch and snuggled in next to her, shoving her bag of sweaty costumes to the floor. “You know I could never do what you do, Tash. I don’t have the balls. For me to do it, well, it would mean something totally different if I did it. You know?”
Tash remained stiff for a minute, then melted against me. “Yeah, Jo, I know.” We watched the movie in silence for a few minutes, my mind whirling over what I’d said.
“You know what I could do, though? When it’s slow, or the guys are being tight with their money, I could do the backwards tip thing.” Tash pulled away and raised an eyebrow at me. “You could, huh? You’d bend over the rail and let me take a dollar off your face?”