PARKER17.TXT
REPLACEMENT VALUE
By Parker
an210088@anon.penet.fi
WARNING: This story involves a certain amount of sexual
activity in which real consent probably does not exist. If
you are offended by this sort of story, you should stop
reading now. You have been warned.
Copyright 1994 by Parker (me). Feel free to distribute this story
as you wish (unaltered, of course), but be discrete.
=================================================================
Sandra Todd lay back, stretched out on the canvass deck chair, enjoying
the feel of the sun on her skin. She had only been in Mexico for a day now, and
her skin, which had been left pale by the mid-western winter, was only just
beginning to tan. By the time Scott returned, she wanted to be all "golden" for
him. That was his pet name for her: "golden". She wanted to surprise him when
he got back; making the name a reality.
The sun beat down...
The thought of her fiance's absence cast a cloud over her feeling of
well-being. Sandra and Scott had become engaged just over two months ago, and
planned on getting married as soon as he got his business up and running. She
wanted to make it sooner, but he was so busy these days, getting things set up.
He had such big plans... Well, it was difficult, but if everything worked out
for him in Mexico City over the next four or five days, his business would be
off to a flying start. 'You deserve the best,' he always told her, 'and I'm
going to make sure you have it.' Sandra sighed. He was always so worried about
money. Still, if things worked out as he planned, they'd be very wealthy.
Extremely wealthy. Sandra, whose family had died when she was only six and who
had been raised, poor, in an orphanage, couldn't help but look forward to that.
All her life, she had envied people with money. The style... the confidence...
She had always wished that she could be like them one day. And now, with Scott,
that dream was coming true.
"If you don't turn over, you'll burn on the front."
Startled from her thoughts, Sandra shielded her eyes from the sun and
looked upwards from where she lay. The speaker was a woman. She appeared to be
somewhere in her mid-twenties - about the same age as Sandra; slender and
long-legged, with small, firm breasts. Sandra sat up in order to get a better
look at the woman. Without the sun in her eyes, Sandra saw that the other woman
had an attractive, if not beautiful face, with a large, generous mouth and
wide, blue eyes. Her face was nicely set off with short, blonde hair, swept
over her forehead in a boyish wave. She looked vaguely familiar, but Sandra
couldn't place her.
"I'm sorry." The woman smiled. "I didn't mean to embarrass you. You seemed
to be falling asleep in the sun. Getting burned to a crisp is a bad way to
start a vacation."
"Uhmm... it's OK. I, uh..." Sandra immediately felt tongue- tied and shy.
From the expensive cut of her swimsuit and the confident tone of her voice, the
woman was obviously one of those rich, beautiful types Sandra had just been
thinking about. She always felt like such a bumpkin around such people.
The woman just laughed, though, ignoring Sandra's stutter, and held out
her hand. "My name is Theresa," she offered. "'Terry' to my friends."
Sandra blushed. She pushed herself to her feet and took the hand.
"Sandra," she offered, shyly.
The two women shook hands.
"Why don't you join me in the bar," Terry suggested, smiling. "You look
like you've had enough sun for a while."
Sandra couldn't help but return the smile; her face *was* beginning to
feel a bit sore. She wanted to be brown for Scott; not red. "Sure," she
answered. "That sounds great."
Terry nodded at this acceptance. "Shall we invite your fiance to join us?"
Sandra was startled for a moment. "How did you..."
Terry laughed and pointed to Sandra's hand.
Of course.
The ring.
Sandra blushed again. "No," she said, smiling ruefully. "Scott's in Mexico
City for the next few days. Business."
Terry shook her head as she put her hand on her new friend's shoulder to
guide her back into the hotel.
"Men," she chuckled.
*****
Men.
The bar was packed.
Men... mostly, with only the occasional woman, someone's lover, mistress,
tourist women out for a wild time; pretty much what one would expect in a place
like this. Despite the fact that the bar was on the grounds of a fairly popular
beach resort in Mexico, it was a smoky, poorly lit place. Except for the
catwalk, of course, where the dancers bumped and ground their way through a
seemingly endless sequence of cheap strip teases and explicit sexual acts. All
to the drunken jeers of the men.
The strippers/waitresses were white girls.
Mostly were fairly young.
All beautiful.
And, what their acts seemed to lack in polish, they made up for with the
half-hidden sense of panic and fear in their eyes. The men sensed it, and it
drove them wild. Even as the bar sluts shook their tits and wiggled their asses
under the hot lights, bright red lips pursed in more-or-less successful
simulations of lust, their eyes would stray over to the corner of the room
where *he* stood. Even as they filtered through the room in whatever skimpy
costume assigned to them that night, gathering drink orders and crude
propositions, their eyes would stray to that corner of the room. And often,
after a brief conversation with a customer, a conversation during which the
girl would smile and do her best to act seductive and eager, the man would
stand and the girl would lead him over to where the man - Pedro - stood.
And, after a certain amount of money had changed hands, the girl would
take the man through a curtained doorway into a back room...
*****
First one drink.
Then two; then three...
Over the course of the afternoon and then into the evening, Sandra and
Terry chatted happily with each other. Sandra eventually got over her shyness,
and, with the aid of a few drinks, was soon telling her new friend her life
story. Sandra was flattered that the other woman was so interested. In fact,
Terry seemed to be hanging on every word, listening intently and always ready
with a question or prompt whenever Sandra began to run down. In a way, it was
this interest that drew Sandra out. The fact that a woman as obviously
experienced - perhaps "worldly" was a better word - as Terry was so interested
in her life gave Sandra the courage to talk freely.
And so, Terry listened patiently while Sandra recounted her upbringing in
the small American town of Easton, Illinois. About how her parents had been
killed in a car accident when she was only six; about how she had no family and
had been raised in an orphanage; about how she had worked her way through
college; and, finally, about how she had met Scott.
Scott.
Her fiance.
About how Scott was now in Mexico City, trying to take advantage of NAFTA
and put together a business deal which, if it closed, would make him a very
rich man. Sandra had wanted to get married before the trip - *she* didn't care
about the money (well, not much anyway) - but Scott was kind of old fashioned.
He wanted to *know* that he would be able to support a family.
If Sandra hadn't been drinking, or if she hadn't been so flattered by all
the attention, she might have noticed that her new friend was as reticent about
her own background as she was forthcoming about her's. She might have noticed
that the few bits of information the other girl did give out - that she was
born in raised in Bakerville, California; that she had come down to Mexico on
vacation and met a handsome, young Mexican with whom she was "unofficially"
engaged - were relatively vague and uninformative. No details; just hints and
shadows.
She didn't notice, though, and the two girls laughed and talked into the
night.
*****
The girl hustled along as best she could in the high-heeled cowboy boots,
her firm, round ass wiggling invitingly beneath the tight, fake-buckskin
mini-skirt. A tiny cowboy hat sat on top of her thick, shoulder length brown
hair, and a pair of pasties shaped like big stars - with the word "Sheriff" on
them - stuck on her nipples completed her costume. Other than the pasties, her
firm breasts hung free, bobbing and swinging as she walked. A wide, inviting
smile creased her pretty face as she took orders, all the time joking and
flirting with the customers. It was extremely busy in the bar, and, having
finished her nightly stint on the catwalk, she was fully occupied taking orders
and serving drinks, all the while trying to avoid the slaps and pinches that
threatened to turn her tits and ass black and blue.
And all the time smiling... joking... flirting...
Twisting away from a particularly vicious grab at her bouncing tits -
careful, as always, to keep a smile on her face; didn't want any complaints
reaching Pedro's ears - she backed into a table. There were three men and two
women sitting there: two couples and a friend. One of the men, the one who was
not part of a couple, snaked a hairy arm around her waist and pulled her close,
while his other hand stroked her ass through the mini- skirt. She tried to
ignore him as she took orders, but he jerked her right up against him, slipped
his hand down the front of her mini-skirt and pushed a finger into her pussy.
It was still wet with the juices of the man she had fucked only fifteen minutes
earlier. The guy commented on this as he fingered her. The rest of the table,
including the two women, watched with amusement as she squirmed in his grip,
still keeping the smile plastered on her face, trying to look like she was
flirting, rather than trying to escape.
Wouldn't do to let any complaints reach...
"Hey..." The man slurred his words. He was obviously drunk, and playing up
to his friends. "Ya know wha' these slu's like?" The man forced a second rough
finger up her sopping pussy.
"What?" giggled one of the girls.
"Yeah," the other girl laughed, putting her arm around her boyfriend.
"Show us."
The cowgirl swallowed uneasily, still smiling as the man; she strained to
pull away, but didn't actively fight.
It wasn't allowed.
"OK." The man leaned forward. "Wash..."
Even drunk, he was much stronger than the cowgirl. Using the two fingers
in her pussy as a handle, he forced the girl to her knees and then pulled her
under the table. Once she was completely under, he slipped his fingers out from
inside her and used them to undo his pants while the other hand kept a firm
grip in her hair.
"C'mon, honey," he slurred. "Give it a li'l suck."
"I... I can't," the girl whined, the smile gone from her pretty face.
"N-not here. Pedro will..."
"Sure y'can," the man told her. "I'll pay."
He gripped his cock and rubbed it against her face and lips. She was
completely under the table now, and the other people had shifted their position
so that she was surrounded. She couldn't be seen from the bar, so no one came
to her aid when the man forced her mouth onto his cock. Helplessly, she began
to suck it, bobbing her lips down on his dripping cock.
"Jimmy," came a female voice from above, "are you sure we won't get
into..."
"Don' worry," the man. "Th' sluts lov't."
The girl felt a foot on her ass. "This *is* kind of fun," came another
female voice from above. The foot ran along her ass and then, twisting
sideways, slid in between her legs. If her mouth hadn't been full of cock, the
cowgirl would have screamed as she felt the toes sliding underneath her
mini-skirt and into her pussy.
She wasn't wearing panties.
Anxious to finish before things got worse, the girl sucked as hard and as
skilfully as she could, slurping and licking at the man's prick while fondling
his balls with her fingers as he kept his hand tightly bunched in her hair. The
toes penetrated deeper and deeper, until it felt as though the woman had
inserted half her foot into the girl's pussy before the man finally came,
spurting jets of hot, sticky cum down her throat. Only after she had swallowed
it all down and then licked his cock clean did the man release his grip on her
hair and allow her to crawl out from under the table. The bar was so crowded
and dark, no one even noticed as she straightened her little cowboy hat, wiped
the cum from her lips, and hurried off to fill the drink orders.
Still smiling...
*****
Sandra and Terry quickly became inseparable. They spent their days
lounging around the pool together, or wandering along the beach into the resort
town. Terry's skin had at first been much darker than her new friend's, but
Sandra tanned quickly and the two girls were soon equally brown. In fact, Terry
had made a contest of it: who could tan the fastest.
Sandra won.
Early evenings were spent in expensive restaurants. Sandra had, at first,
balked at the prices, but Terry had just laughed, telling her friend to "get
used to it". She seemed confident that Scott would succeed. On the first night,
Sandra tried to pay for half the meal, but the other girl quickly pulled out
some sort of Gold Card and sent the suddenly-even-more-obsequious waiter
scurrying away with it to total the bill.
"I can't let you do that," Sandra protested, impressed.
"Oh, don't worry about it," Terry told her. "Once that deal comes through
for Scott, you can take me out."
Sandra smiled. "Deal."
After dinner, Terry usually insisted on going out to some fancy nightclub
for dancing. She seemed to know them all and, more than that, be known at them
all. Once again, Sandra had tried to protest - too expensive; nothing to wear;
don't know anyone - but the other girl brushed off all attempts at refusal. She
just pulled out the Gold Card, and, when clothing became an issue, she loaned
Sandra whatever she needed.
Sandra, overwhelmed by the attention, capitulated, and let the other girl
take the lead. And so, each night was spent at a different resort 'hot spot'.
For Sandra, the nights became a blur of loud music, flashing lights and too
much alcohol. Usually, by the time they got to the clubs, the two girls had
shared a bottle of wine, a cocktail or two and a special coffee. Sandra was
unused to alcohol, and was usually pleasantly buzzed by the time dinner was
over. Hence, she offered little protest when her friend dressed her up in
expensive clothing and pulled her along to whatever club struck her fancy.
And, of course, there was the dancing.
Terry seemed determined that Sandra was to have a good time at the clubs.
She would make certain that her friend had a new drink in her hand whenever the
old one was finished. As well, she was constantly finding partners for her
friend to dance with. At first, Sandra felt a little guilty; Scott was away
working hard in Mexico City while she was at the resort dancing with strange
men. But, after a while, she began to enjoy it. Even the flirting that
inevitably accompanied the activity on the dance floor.
Nothing ever came of it, though.
Just a lot of fun.
If she had been watching, Sandra might have noticed that Terry never
joined in the dancing.
At the end of each evening, usually the small hours of the morning, Terry
would take her friend back to her hotel. Sandra, exhausted and more than a
little drunk, would collapse giggling into bed and quickly fall asleep.
This pattern continued for the four days that Scott was in Mexico City.
*****
"Hey babe," the man cried, laughing, "have a seat." He grabbed her
shoulder and pulled so that she fell back onto his lap, her cowboy hat sliding
off her head and hanging by the chin strap. A look of panic crossed the girl's
pretty face, but only for a moment. Letting out a loud, high-pitched giggle,
she turned to him and, careful first to shake her star-covered tits in his
face, she brought her lips down to his for a long, passionate kiss. When it
finally broke, their tongues were intimately acquainted, and the man was
breathing heavily.
"Hey," he whispered, looking up at her as she sat on his lap, "what's your
name?"
"Sindy," she purred, shaking her thick, brown hair back on her shoulder,
"with a capital 'S'." Keeping one arm wrapped around his shoulders, she slipped
her hand down under his pants and gave his cock a quick squeeze, careful to
slide her long, slender fingers along the moist tip of his cock. Smiling a
pouty little smile, she brought the hand up to her lips and gave it a long,
slow lick. "Mmmmm..." she moaned, running her tongue along the outside of her
finger. "Tastes yummy."
The man swallowed. "Uhm... is there anywhere we can... can go?" he
stuttered.
"Yes," she told him, still running her tongue along her lips, "but you
have to talk to him first." The girl, Sindy, pointed towards the man standing
in the corner: Pedro. Without another word, the man pushed her off his lap and
began pulling her across the room.
Towards Pedro.
The look of lust on Sindy's face was immediately replaced with a look of
relief. If she earned less than her quota...
*****
Finally, the call came.
It was Scott. The trip was a success. The deal was signed and would close
within the month. He'd be on the next flight back from Mexico City, arriving at
5:00 p.m. that same day.
Sandra was beside herself. Despite the fact that it was only 10:00 in the
morning (the two girls had been out at a club until nearly 4:00 a.m. the night
before), she immediately called Terry. The other girl answered the phone, still
groggy with sleep. She quickly woke up and seemed equally excited when she
heard the news, and suggested that Sandra do something special to welcome her
fiance back. She suggested that Sandra get a full makeover before going to the
airport. Sandra balked, thinking, as always, of the cost, but Terry said that
it would be her treat. Sandra quickly agreed, thinking about how she would like
to greet her fiance looking her best.
About an hour later, Terry picked her up and drove her to a nearby salon.
Terry seemed to know the receptionist, and, to the glares of a number of other
waiting clients, the two girls were immediately ushered into a private room at
the back. Once again, Sandra was impressed by this treatment.
Amazing what money could do.
Under Terry's instructions, they gave Sandra the full treatment: makeup,
hairstyling and colouring (Sandra had protested, but Terry insisted); nails...
the works. It seemed to take hours.
Finally, they were done.
Sandra looked at herself in the mirror and gasped. She looked almost
exactly like...
"It's amazing, isn't it?" Sandra whirled around to see her friend grinning
at her. She was holding what looked to be some sort of a... a wig? "I didn't
really notice it until they cut your hair. That's why I suggested the colour."
Sandra was torn between being anger and laughter. She did not really like
the way the other girl had imposed on her, but... well, she *had* always
admired the other girl's sophisticated look; she just hadn't realized how much
she actually resembled her friend. They could be sisters.
Or twins.
"And look at this," Terry grinned. "I found it next door." She pulled the
brown-haired wig onto her head and adjusted it over her short, blonde hair.
"Oh my god." Once again, Sandra was stunned. The wig looked almost exactly
like her own hair before it was cut. With the wig on, Terry now resembled
Sandra, just as Sandra now looked like Terry. The two girls stared at their
reflections for a few moments and then burst into a fit of giggles as they
tried to imitate each other's expressions and mannerisms.
It was Terry who suggested that she accompany Sandra to the airport in the
wig and in Sandra's clothes while Sandra was to dress like Terry. Sandra
agreed, laughing. It would be a great joke to play on Scott. The thought of her
fiance arriving at the airport to be confronted with the two identical women
dressed as each other was impossible to resist. Besides, she was curious to see
if Scott would recognize her.
Terry arranged to pick Sandra up from her hotel later that afternoon and
drive her out to the airport.
*****
Ted Trumble sighed happily, looking around the crowded bar. It was always
good to take some time off, particulary after a long circuit through mid-west.
The way things were with farms these days, a guy couldn't sell a shovel, much
less the John Deere tractors and other machinery that were Trumble's stock in
trade. Still, the sales trip hadn't been a complete failure, and Trumble had
decided to reward himself with a quick vacation at Pedro's.
Now, which slut did he...
His eye landed almost immediately upon the girl dressed as a cowgirl. She
was hustling across the room with a 'client', shaking her tight ass in the
sexy, exaggerated manner common to all of Pedro's girls. He had seen her on
stage earlier in the evening, and had felt a strong attraction. It was not that
she was more beautiful than the other girls - quite the contrary; there were a
number of available girls who were much better looking than she was. It was
just the sense of... well, newness.
And fear.
Almost innocence.
She was clearly new to Pedro's establishment.
And Trumble wanted her.
He watched as she said goodbye to the other man with a long kiss, and,
when she turned in his direction, he waved her over. He watched cynically as
she arranged her face in a welcoming smile and then walked over, hips swinging
and breasts bobbing.
"Hi there," she purred. "What can I do for you?"
Trumble smirked. Almost convincing... but he didn't have time for the
foreplay. He didn't want to talk to these girls; he wanted to fuck them.
"Well," he drawled, "for starters, you can take my fat cock up your slut
ass. How does that sound?"
The girl's smile slipped for a second, but was quickly replaced by a look
of lust. Not bad, Trumble admitted; she was learning fast. He hoped he wasn't
too late.
"That sounds gooood," she purred, "but first we have to..."
"I know all about Pedro, slut. Let's go."
He turned and walked across the room towards the corner where Pedro sat
waiting. Trumble didn't turn around. He knew the girl would follow...
*****
Terry's Mercedes sped across the long, level stretch of open land that
separated the airport from the resort, powerful and silent. As they had
planned, Terry was wearing Sandra's clothing - a pair of jeans and a tee-shirt
- while Sandra had chosen some items from Terry's closet - an elegant, knee
length skirt and white blouse. Sandra grinned happily as they drove; she
couldn't wait to see Scott's reaction.
They approached and then passed a car stopped at the side of the road. The
hood was open and two men were peering inside. One of them looked up and waved
as the Mercedes approached. Terry immediately applied the brakes.
Sandra looked around, worried. "I don't think this is a good idea." There
were no other cars in sight.
"Oh, it's OK," Terry answered, dismissing her fears. "I know them." She
pulled her Mercedes onto the shoulder just behind the other car. "Let's just
see if they need a ride, or something."
Reassured, Sandra got out of the car and followed her friend. She came
around behind the other vehicle and was just about to speak when she felt an
arm encircle her neck from behind. Trembling, she opened her mouth to call for
Terry, but a thick wad of cloth was placed over her face. It smelled funny. She
tried to hold her breath, but it was no use; she felt herself getting weaker
and weaker.
As her senses faded, she heard:
"...and do it right." It was Terry.
"Are you certain... real damage... might..."
"I know what..."
Everything went black.
*****
Trumble wasn't subtle.
As soon as the cowgirl entered his hotel room, he grabbed her arm and spun
her around, sending her tumbling onto the bed. She fell heavily, knocking his
jacket and overnight bag onto the floor.
"Slut," he sneered, "You like it up the ass, don't you?"
He watched as the girl fought to maintain her smile. This was what he
loved; taking the new ones and fucking their hot little asses off.
And watching them pretend to like it.
"Oh yes," she breathed, voice trembling slightly. "Please fuck me in the
ass."
"Whore." He grabbed a fistful of hair, knocking her ridiculous cowboy hat
to the floor, and jammed her face up against his crotch. "You've got about
thirty seconds to get it wet before I shove it up your shithole."
Moaning, the girl reached up and fumbled with his zipper. Thirty seconds;
she was new, but she knew what it felt like to be dry-fucked up the ass. After
a few moments of frantic effort, she got his zipper down and slid his cock free
of his pants. It was already hard. Panting with fear or lust, she slipped her
lips over his cock and began sucking at it, trying desperately to get it as wet
as possible. Trumble smiled as he looked down at her face, almost entirely
covered with a curtain of thick, brown hair. Even now, even in her near panic,
she was moaning as she sucked, trying to make it sound like she was horny -
like she was enjoying herself.
Poor bitch.
"That's enough." He shoved her back onto the bed. Her lips made a soft
popping sound as they slid free of his now glistening cock. "Roll over." The
girl, turned over onto her stomach. "Up you go," he ordered, deliberately
phrasing his orders to sound as though he was addressing a dog. "C'mon... on
all fours. That's right... wiggle your ass... good girl..."
He climbed on the bed behind her where she was crouched on all fours, legs
splayed and asshole completely exposed. Just at the perfect height for him
to... shove... his... cock... into...
"Ahhhh...."
Despite her training - despite her dire fear of Pedro - the girl couldn't
help but let out a cry of absolute horror and pain as Trumble buried his cock
deep in her tight ass with one brutal shove. Completely encased in her tight,
quivering shithole, the salesman leaned forward and held his position, giving
her time adjust. Not much fun if she fainted...
After a few moments, her breathing steadied. He leaned back and slapped
her on the side of her ass. "Slut," he growled. "You love it, don't you?"
"Yesssss," she panted, trying to sound sexy, "I love it."
"Just an ass slut, aren't you?"
"Yes," she groaned. "I'm an ass slut. Please fuck me."
Trumble grinned.
Whatever the little lady wanted.
With another slap on her thigh, he began plowing his big cock in and out
of her ass. Trying to lessen the pain, the girl widened her legs, and was soon
pressing back against him. Her breath came in short bursts as she grunted in
time with his thrusts.
Simulated passion: "Uh... Uh... Uh..."
"Fuckin' bitch," he groaned, picking up the pace, "gonna ream you out.
Gonna fuck you so bad..." He thrust harder and harder, slapping his thighs
against her upturned rear, lurching back and forth as he sawed his cock in and
out of her stretched asshole. The girl groaned and panted for breath, still
trying to sound excited as the salesman steadily increased the tempo.
Gradually, her grunts became higher and higher, eventually resembling the
squealing of a pig more than groans of lust: "Eee... Eeee... Eeeeee...".
Finally...
"Take it, bitch!" He stiffened, leaning forward and clutching hard at her
tits, as he came, groaning in pleasure as he shot rope after rope of jism up
her abused asshole. In response, the girl wiggled her ass and gave out a loud
wail: faking an orgasm as best she could under the conditions. Eventually, he
eased up, sighing. Giving her ass a final slap, he slipped his rapidly
deflating cock from her shithole. A thin trail of sperm joined his cock to the
hole in which it had recently been buried, but fell away down her thigh as he
got up off the bed. Spent, he had no more use for the bitch.
"I'm goin' to the can," he told her as she panted and groaned on the bed.
"When I come out, I want you gone. Got that, cumbag?"
"Yes sir." No longer even trying to be sexy, her voice sounded small and
frightened.
Defeated.
Grinning to himself, Trumble ambled into the washroom and closed the
door...
*****
When she awoke, her hands were bound tightly behind her back with rope and
her mouth was stuffed with a foul smelling rag. Coughing, Sandra tried to spit
it out, but it seemed to be tied in place. She twisted her wrists, trying to
pull them free, but they were held fast. A sob of fear racked her body as she
struggled to sit up. She was lying on a hard pallet in some sort of wood hut.
The room was dark, but she could just make out the shape of a cheap wooden
table and a heavy chest set back against the wall.
Groaning behind the gag, she tried to swing her legs off the pallet. Maybe
she could...
The door banged open.
Sandra gasped and cringed back. Squinting against the light, she watched
as a small man walked slowly into the room. He appeared to be Mexican, with
dark hair and skin, but she didn't recognize him. It was hard to make out the
details in the darkened room. The man walked up to the pallet and stared down
in silence, a dark, menacing shape in the shadowed room. Then, without warning,
he bent down and struck her hard across the face.
Sandra squealed, more in shock than in pain, and tried to roll away.
"Bitch," the man spat, straightening. He spoke with a heavily accented
english. This confused Sandra even further; she didn't know any Mexican men.
"You think you can leave me just like that?" The man turned and began to pace
angrily in the small room. "I told you; I warned you... yet you disobeyed me;
laughed in my face. I come back from business to find that you've been whoring
yourself at half the meatmarkets in town while I've been away. And putting it
on my card!" He tore a piece of paper from a pocket. "And then this! Do you
think you can say goodbye like this? Tell me that I'm a..." He glanced at the
paper for a moment and then looked up. "...a 'lousy lover.'" The last two words
were spat out like poison. The man tore the piece of paper in two and tossed it
away. He fell silent for a moment while Sandra quietly sobbed on the pallet.
She didn't understand what was going on here; all she knew was that she was
frightened and wanted to go home. Where was Scott? Why didn't he...
"OK." The man spoke again. His voice was calmer, but he was tightly wound.
"Alright. You don't want me. Fine. You say you want to see other men. That's
fine too. That can be arranged." The man strode over to the side of the pallet,
gripped Sandra's face in his hand and shook it. "I'll see you get all the men
you can handle," he whispered.
Abruptly, he let go and straightened up. With a sigh, he walked back to
the door. He stood for a moment, framed in the opening, and then turned back.
"I... I..." He muttered something in Spanish and then turned away. "Theresa,"
he whispered, closing the door. "Theresa."
Theresa!
"Mmmmm." Sandra sat up on the bed, trying desperately to say something, to
protest, but it was too late. The door closed, leaving her in darkness...
*****
Ahhh...
That was better.
Trumble eased himself off the toilet and flushed.
All in all, it had been a great evening. Almost enough to make up for the
last few weeks spent driving across the mid-west trying to sell...
The big man froze as he walked out of the washroom.
The girl was still there! She was lying, half-dressed on the bed, staring
at the front page of some sort of newspaper.
"What the fuck are you..."
The girl looked up. Tears streamed down her face and the newspaper
trembled in her hand. She seemed to be trying to say something, but nothing
came out.
Caught off guard, Trumble almost felt sorry for her.
Almost.
"I told you to get the fuck out of here, bitch," he yelled, striding
forward and grabbing the paper from her trembling hand. "Now get!" He grabbed
her by the hair, dragged her to the door, and shoved her, still half dressed,
out into the hallway. "I'll be talking to Pedro in the morning," he promised
her, and slammed the door.
Shaking with anger, the salesman walked over the bed and sat down heavily.
What the fuck was the little cum sack reading about anyway? Curious, he picked
up the paper she had been holding. It was some two-bit weekly rag from one of
the numerous hick towns he had been hitting the last few weeks: place by the
name of Easton.
He looked at the front page and grunted.
Nothing much there.
Just some hokey story about a local wedding; about how a hometown boy - a
self-made millionaire from the story - was marrying a girl he'd met at college:
Sandra something-or-other. There was a short bit about their recent vacation in
Mexico that Trumble thought might point to some connection - something about
the girl being mugged and suffering temporary amnesia; and about how the guy
had stood by her - but that was it.
Trumble shrugged his shoulders and tossed the paper into the bin. It was a
mystery to him.
Stupid bitch.
Ah well... not that it mattered. He'd talk to Pedro in the morning. Pedro
was always extremely concerned with the comfort of his guests.
Extremely concerned.
Pedro would remind her who she was...
THE END
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