Bertha grabbed Sheree by the back of her pants and pulled her out of the car.
Roberta Jean rolled Harvey over onto his back in the dirt and began to punch his face mercilessly. Roberta Jean Richardson broke Harvey's nose with the first punch, and blood began to spill from both of his nostrils.
The buxom and long-legged blonde bombshell blackened both of Harvey's eyes with a right and left combination. Harvey tried like hell to wriggle free, but it was no use. Harvey knew that Roberta Jean Richardson was tough, but he had never suspected that she was this tough. Harvey realized that there was a hell of a lot of truth in the old axiom: "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned!"
The redheaded and large-breasted bar brawler punched Harvey right in the mouth. She split his lower lip.
The evil and thoroughly sadistic blonde woman punched Harvey in the mouth once again. Harvey felt something in his mouth rattling around, feeling like a piece of hambone.
Harvey realized that this was one of his teeth he was feeling.
The heavily-muscled and mean-tempered female continued to punch her ex-boyfriend in the face until his kisser was a bloody pulp.
Harvey was unconscious.
Barely breathing.
Bertha grabbed the front of Sheree's shirt and pulled as hard as she could. The buttons popped off.
Bertha then grabbed each of Sheree's nipples between her thumbs and forefingers and twisted as hard as she could.
Tears began to stream down the little girl's face.
Sheree's face was soon stained by the tracks of her tears.
Then Bertha began to beat Sheree's face just as Roberta Jean had beaten Harvey's face a few seconds before.
Harvey's gurgled a little.
Roberta Jean Richardson punched him again and he stopped gurgling.
Harvey's face looked like a thoroughly blood-soaked sponge.
It wasn't going to be long, Roberta Jean Richardson could tell with delight, before Sheree's face was in the same condition. Bertha was doing a fine job punching out the diminutive brunette, as far as Roberta Jean Richardson was concerned.
Sheree's nose was smashed. Her lips were swollen and already starting to turn an ugly purple color. Her eyes were blackened.
The little girl's front teeth had been pushed inward by one of the ham-fisted lesbian's savage blows.
Sheree's screams stopped. She passed out from the pain.
Bertha stood.
Blood dripped from Bertha's knuckles. Bertha wiped her knuckles on the seat of her own pants, just to make sure that the blood was Sheree's and not her own.
Bertha would have been ashamed of herself if she had busted up one of her hands punching out a little pipsqueak like Sheree Messmer.
"Well done!" Roberta Jean Richardson said with a smile.
The buxom and long-legged blonde bombshell kicked her ex-boyfriend in the side hard, and both Roberta Jean and Bertha could hear a snapping sound. Roberta Jean Richardson correctly assumed that this sound was the snapping of one of Harvey's ribs.
"I think we had better get the hell out of here," Bertha said.
"Right. What's the best way out of town?" Roberta Jean asked.
"To avoid the cops?"
"Yeah."
"Take South Road east to the end and then take Bowerman Road as far as Garbut. We can get on Interstate 17 there and be home free."
CHAPTER SEVEN
On the road.
Free.
For Bertha this was like a dream come true. For years and years Bertha had been dreaming about being out of Painted Post, Pennsylvania, alone with Roberta Jean. You see, Bertha was madly in love with Roberta Jean. It was something that the blonde had always suspected, but the two had never discussed the subject.
Not till now.
"Roberta Jean?"
"Yeah?"
The blonde was behind the wheel.
"I have a confession to make."
"What?"
"I'm a lesbian."
"I know."
"You do?"
"Sure! How could I not know. I see you checking out women. I sat with you when you got all those tattoos. I see the way you walk. I hear the way you talk. How could I now know?"
"I guess you're right. Did you ever see me checking you out?" Bertha asked. It took all of the woman's courage to ask that question.
"Sure, but you have been cool about it," Roberta Jean said.
"I think I am in love with you, Roberta Jean," Bertha said.
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"That I didn't know."
"It's true."
"Forget I said anything," Bertha said, feeling her face turn hot.
"No, no, no, no, let's talk about it. We are going to be alone with one another a lot from now on, we should talk about these things," Roberta Jean said.
"I want to make it with you," Bertha Klemmer said. The short-haired and somewhat stocky lesbian had to concentrate to keep herself from stuttering. The short-haired and somewhat stocky lesbian could feel some sweat forming across her upper lip.
"Okay."
"What?"
"I said okay."
"You mean you want to make it with me too?" Bertha said.
"Look, Bertha, you are my best friend. The idea doesn't repulse me. I'm always going to be straight. I am always going to want to be fucked," Roberta Jean said.
"But you are willing to let me caress you?" Bertha asked.
"Sure, I think it's a good idea, you eating me out and stuff."
"Are you willing to eat me out too?" Bertha Klemmer asked.
"Gee, I'm going to have to think about that one."
"You don't have to if you don't want to," Bertha said.
"It doesn't seem fair unless I pleasure you too."
"Falling in mother-fucking love isn't fair," Bertha said.
"I suppose."
"Okay, I'll do it. I think giving you pleasure will be fun."
"WOW!" The short-haired and somewhat stocky lesbian was really on top of the world now. Life couldn't be better.
"What the hell!" Roberta Jean Richardson said. They were driving west at ninety-five miles per hour. They didn't know where they were going and they didn't know that they were going to do when they got there.
"I have an idea," Bertha said. The heavily-tattooed and nail-tough bulldyke's eyes were dancing.
"What?"
"In case you have trouble finding guys to fuck, you know, when we are traveling and all, I could buy one of those strap on dildos and fuck you with it. I could pretend that I am your man," Bertha Klemmer said.
"Do you wish that you had been born a man?" Roberta Jean asked.
"I have always felt like a man trapped in a woman's body."
"Poor baby. I'll be your girl, for awhile anyway."
"I don't know how I could possibly thank you, Roberta Jean."
"Shit, you'll think of something," Roberta Jean said.
Roberta Jean and Bertha were in the middle of Ohio when they decided to take a break. They had been sharing the driving, but neither of them were good at sleeping in a moving automobile and they were bushed.
It was dawn.
That had enough money to last them a couple of weeks.
When that ran out they were going to have to get jobs.
Doing what?
They had no idea.
Bertha was driving, her chin getting closer and closer to the steering wheel. Their paranoia was beginning to wear of. They were pretty sure that there were no longer any cops looking for them. It was a local matter. As long as they stayed out of Painted Post, Pennsylvania for the rest of their lives there would be no problem.
"Let's stop at the next motel we come to," Roberta Jean said.
"Right. One room, for us," Bertha said. She was in dream-land.
"You know what, Bertha, baby?" Roberta Jean said.
"What?"
"I'm getting pretty horny thinking about getting it on with you."