“I say, hey.” Jorrie smiled his great big chumly warm-hearted smile as he approached this ravishing, brick-shithouse-with-tits-like-ta-knock-your-socks-off blonde. “Me and my buddy here, we’se seen ya pulled over an’ all so we thought we’d stop and give you a hand.”
“Oh, you’re a godsend,” the blonde said, a relieved hand to her chest. “The engine just stopped cold on me. I don’t know what to do.”
Mike-Man played the game, scratching his head as he peered into the little hood. “Lemme see what I can do here, yes sir…”
“I really appreciate this,” she continued to gush. “It’s so cold out tonight. I’d be in a hell of a spot if you two boys hadn’t come by.”
“Now just you don’t worry yourself about that, sweetheart. Mike-Man here, he’s an expert on these kind of problems.”
“And you know what, Jor? I think I done found the problem already.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” the blonde exclaimed.
“Well, not really, at least not for you.” Jorrie chuckled. “The problem, see, is we don’t give a flyin’ feed-bag full of Berkshire hogshit about your busted van, don’t ya know.”
The blonde turned to him. “What do you m—”
“See, the problem is you’re probably the hottest-lookin’ piece of angel food cake to ever cross these here parts, and me an’ Mike-Man here, we’se each got ourselfs a rock-hard dog that I think it would be a real good idea for you to take care of. That, sweetcakes, is the problem.”
The blonde screamed high and hard as Mike-Man got his big meaty arm around her neck and was dragging her back. “Don’t help none to scream,” Jorrie pointed out. “Ain’t no one around to hear ya. So just you go ahead and scream all ya like.”
It wasn’t more than a couple of seconds before Mike-Man had the blonde in the Blazer kicking up a storm across the big bench seat. “Ya hold still now,” he thoughtfully advised. “I’d sure hate to have to kill ya, as fine a set of hooters as you got.’’ She gagged, trying to scratch him, but went rigid when Mike-Man placed the blade of his pearl-handled Buck against that soft, smooth throat of hers.
“There now that’s better, ain’t it, sweetcakes?” Jorrie queried. “Let’s see what we’se can do about gettin’ you out of these here constrictin’ garments, hmm?” He yanked her sassy fancy-labeled jeans right on off and tossed them in the road.
“Check out them purdy panties!” Mike-Man enthused. They were frilly and pink. “Bet she bought ’em at Garfunkel’s!”
“Or maybe even Ward’s,” Jorrie ventured. He peeled them off likewise. Suddenly the cold moonlight reverted his ruddy face to a primordial mask. His glass eye stared. “And a shaved snatch, lookit that, Mike-Man! Don’t that beat all?”
“Sure’s hail does,” Mike-Man was quick to agree. “That’s damn sure the purdiest slab of pie I ever did see.”
The blonde lay shivering. Terror pried her eyes open. Those big firm breasts of hers quivered like turgid Jell-O when Jorrie busted open that nice flannel blouse. “Best pair I’ve seen in quite a spell,” he was cordial enough to compliment, and he didn’t waste no time getting his hands on them. His erotomanic one-eyed gaze reveled in their shape: big as they were they didn’t have no sag to ’em at all, not like a lot of these gals who sport an ample rack and wind up havin’ ’em swinging to their bellybuttons once they get out of the bra. No sir, these didn’t have no flop to ’em whatsoever, and Jorrie really took a fancy to that, just as he took a fancy to that pretty shaved box. He gave her breasts a good, thoughtful kneading, then began to fiddle with her lower. “Ain’t it cute?” he observed. “Bet if I squeeze it, it squeaks!”
Mike-Man chortled his companion on. “Yeah boy! Bet it squeaks like one of them rubber dog toys!”
“Please don’t please don’t please don’t,” the blonde whimpered over and over through gleaming, perfectly straight white teeth.
Jorrie made to unbuckle his pants. “Down boy! Down!” he joked, alluding to his current state of libidinal animation. “First I think I’ll treat this purdy shaved pie to a good ole in and out, then I’ll have me a good creaming on this dandy knockers, huh?”
“Yeah boy!” Mike-Man celebrated, keeping the knife in place.
Jorrie’s good eye roved up and down the blonde’s tremoring flesh. He jacked his trousers down his hips. His glass eye felt cold in his hot skull, and he was tremoring himself quite a bit now, so close to this hot dish. He climbed up between those long, lean, silky legs, but when he looked up again—
“What the—Hey!”
Mike-Man was gone.
Jorrie craned forward, straining his monocular vision past the open driver’s door.
“Where the fuck’s you gone!”
Then he heard a quick, slick, ever faint crunch!
And a groan from way down low in the gut.
Within the block of darkness beyond, Mike-Man fumbled back up into view, teetering and cross-eyed. Jorrie stared.
“Yeah boy,” Mike-Man managed to croak. His eye—, balls seemed to revolve. “I think, I say, I think we done picked the wrong gal to pull a romping on tonight…”
But what was wrong? Mike-Man’s voice sounded really low and shaky like when you’re sure-fire drunk and can’t even say the words proper. Jorrie couldn’t figure it until he took a closer look and realized the cause of his friend’s newfound speech impediment.
“Holy Sheeeee-it!” Jorrie screamed.
Mike-Man’s eyes rolled up, and he sidled over dead in the footwell. A long, shiny knitting needle had been stuck clear through his ears.
The blonde smiled up at him in the moonlight; she began to laugh. A shakedown! Jorrie realized. He flailed to crawl out over the blonde, but a hand reached in and snatched onto his hair. He was dragged out of the Blazer, spun around, and slammed back. “Howdy,” a youthful voice greeted him. Jorrie’s visions swirled—it was some young dude trying to take him down! Where’d he come from? The van! he realized. We done been set up! Jorrie maneuvered to defend himself. His fine, hard-pointed boots had never failed him in the past; he’d taken out a good many fellas a lot bigger than this dude. He reeled back, then lashed out to kick this fucker a good one right in the nut sack.
And missed.
The blonde was still laughing, leaning up on the bench seat to watch. Jorrie’s throat was grabbed, and the back of his skull was slammed once, twice, three times good and hard against the inside edge of the door. On the fourth whack! his glass eye popped out of its socket and shattered on the road.
He collapsed as if crushed.
“Hey, Zy. I’ll bet you thought I’d never get out here. ”
The blonde stepped over Jorrie, retrieved her designer jeans, and stepped back into them. “Actually I wish you would’ve waited a little longer. These two were a riot.”