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Sheila
grimaced at the battered jeep. Somehow, someway, Carl had swiped the thing and
brought it all the home from America del Sud.
It
spoke of masculine pride, smelled of hard work and sweat, of harder men and
leather and auto grease. Like a man.
She
lay a sheet over the seat, touched up her hair, and crept in. Sheila plucked at
the top of her skin tight blousa where silicone augmented breasts threatened to
spill their tanned beauty out onto her lap.
“Where
to?”
Sheila
smiled prettily at Carl and lowered her pale blond lashes. She touched her pale
blond curls. “Anyway you guys want. ‘Specially you, Carl.”
Carl
removed her hand from his groin and gently placed it in her lap.
“Where
to, Shi'?”
Annoyed,
Sheila snorted at Carl. “Take me up to Orange. Then I'll have to call for
directions, OK?”
“Orange?”
Benny's
eyes widened. He tried to swallow a lump the size of a chunk of anthracite coal.
The collar in his mind constricted in a tight band around his throat.
Carl
eased into the late evening traffic. He took the road out of Scranton, crossing
up into the hills to Orange. At a pay phone he rolled the jeep to a stop and
waited, fingers drumming on the steering wheel, left leg moving in a rapid
nervous jog on the floor boards.
More
out of habit than desire for the prostitute, Benny and Carl scrutinized
Sheila's firm rump.
Feeling
their eyes on her, she wiggled to the phone and used her call-card. She trotted
back to the jeep, slithered in, and snapped, “That way, up North Street.”
The woman slouched in the seat and glared hungrily at Carl. Opening the tiny
purse she carried, Sheila slipped her hand in and smiled to herself.
Benny
squelched a hiccup. He stared at the back of her head, then at Carl. Both were
acting weirder as the miles passed. Something kept hissing in his mind to get
out, and like now, you idiot.
“Now
where?” Carl said as they reached the end of the street. He clenched the
steering wheel in a death gripe and blinked away the cold sweat pouring into his
eyes despite the cool drafts blowing in through the cracks around the door and
wind shield.
“Make
a left.”
Carl
glanced in the mirror. Benny stared at him, his face covered with sweat.
Benny
clutched the seat. He leaned far enough forward to see the directions on the
slip of paper in Sheila's hands.
“Geezis,”
he whispered. His gaze darted to Carl. “Man, do you know-”
Carl
snatched at the paper. He read it and his lips drew back from his teeth.
“I
ain't taking nobody there, Shi'. Leda knows better ‘n that.” Balling the
wad of paper, he tossed it out the window and jammed on the brakes.
“Get
the fuck out, Shi'. And I mean now, you bitch.”
Careful
of her make-up, Sheila smirked. She snarled a happy smile. “Now, stud.
You don't and they'll come lookin' for me. Understand?” Her hand slipped
into Carl's groin and stroked lightly. “Do me tonight, baby?” This is what
had made Leda wealthy, this treasure that lay under her hand. All of those rich
old bitches loved a warriors touch, a wild man like Ivanovitch.
He
slapped her hand away. Sheila growled low in her throat and jerked out a remote.
Carl's eyes widened. She smiled with her cold eyes. Sheila snapped, “You
both know what it is and what I can do with it. Do me nice, big man, and take
the next street. You know where it is. You been there enough times with the
bitch-witch.” Sheila's eyes narrowed and went hot. “Leda never deserved
you, baby. You could a had these any time you wanted.” She raised her hand to
stroke her breasts. “Now you got nothing.”
Holding
the remote, her thumb light on the control, Sheila crooned a love song through
the few miles it took to get to Ryan's home.
She
did it. Leda had sold them to the Project. Benny sagged in his seat, his eyes
blank with fear and shame.
Taking
a deep breath, he closed his eyes and whispered a plea for help.
Benny
reached into his back pocket and pulled out a worn pouch of cigarette tobacco.
“Better
enjoy it now, kid.” Sheila's grin was sly. “I hear it makes the sperm
count go down.”
Tall
and black, the ornate wrought iron gates came into the view of the head lights.
Carl groaned and the jeep slowed. His hands tightened on the wheel.
“Stop
the jeep. And no funny stuff.” Sheila held up the remote. A camera winked
doubtfully at them. Carl's mind screamed at him, Don't. For Benny's sake, don't do it.
©2002 StoriesByEmail.com
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