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A New Start
May Brubaker walked backwards across the sidewalk, the summer sun making her squint as she watched the sign to her shop going up. This was a new venture for the ex-cop and she wanted so much to make it work. Having left the police, May was unsure what she wanted to do, but certain leaving the LAPD was the right move. The death of Gary Mitchell had hit her hard and this was a way to put her previous life well and truly behind her.
Nothing had prepared her for the death of Gary and the aftermath had been an awful journey through sleepless nights and guilt at not being able to do anything to save Gary.
Now, as she watched the sign going up, she had the chance to start over and at thirty, she was still young enough to make a real go at this new venture.
Brubaker’s Bits ‘n’ Pieces
The sign was in red, white and blue and that had been at Phil’s insistence. Phil Campbell was an out and out patriot and his desire to expound on the good things in America never ceased to amaze May. But the fact was that this shop and its online equivalent sold computer bits and pieces and, as everyone knew these days, it was all made in China. Patriotism didn’t seem to matter when it came to business and Phil had ignored May’s comment when she had pointed this fact out.
“Looking good, May.” Phil’s smooth salesman’s voice made May jump.
“I’ve told you before, don’t sneak up on me like that, I’m liable to knock you down.”
“May, I work out, so I’m pretty fit you know.”
“Phil, I was a cop and I work out too. Believe me; you wouldn’t know what hit you.”
This type of banal banter was a regular feature of their relationship and May was getting a little tired of it. Phil was the type of guy who always talked about himself and always talked himself up, especially to women. His idea of a good night out was to have dinner with a good looking woman and talk about himself and all the things he had achieved in life, embellishing the tale with a fair dollop of bullshit. But he was May’s partner, albeit her junior partner. May had the money and he had the expertise. It should work, but May was slightly uneasy about it.
As the two of them looking at their creation, the early morning sunshine promising another glorious day, May felt a wave of nausea and fear sweep over her and she grabbed Phil’s arm.
“You okay, May?” Phil asked, a startled expression on his face. “You look sick.”
“Yeah, yeah I’m fine… just thinking on you know… It’ll pass.”
Phil nodded, his concern short-lived as he turned back to look at the shop.
May passed a trembling hand over her forehead. “Listen; I have to shoot off home and get on with my decorating. Jimmy’s coming over later so I need to have everything straight before I meet Dan at the airport tomorrow.”
Phil sighed and brushed a flop of his long blond hair from his brow. “May, why are you bothering with a loser like him?”
It was a sigh that May had heard before and it was another little something about Phil that also annoyed May.
“Dan? You’ve never even met him!”
“No, Jimmy, not Dan. Get a pro in to do your chores; Jimmy’s not going to be able to do some of the specialised stuff you need with that house of yours; like security. I know people who will do it for you and do it professionally.”
May gave Phil a disparaging look and turned to leave. “Jimmy’s good at just about everything,” she called over her shoulder. “If you know what I mean,” she added, looking over her shoulder and winking at Phil.
Let him put that in his pipe and smoke it.
The young man slid into the bar stool and waited for the bartender to walk over. He looked around at the half-empty bar and noticed the shabby seating and knew why the place was empty. Nobody came here voluntarily and he was no exception to the rule. He didn’t usually respond to anonymous text messages but this one said it had news about his mother. A mother who had abandoned him at birth but had made contact when he was a teenager. Then came back into his life on an irregular basis, depending on when she needed money. Sure, he gave her money, but out of sympathy, not loyalty. This text message was probably her and he knew he would be a few hundred bucks lighter at the end of a brief visit.
The hand on his shoulder made him jump in his seat and he quickly turned. It was a woman, but not his mother.
“Hi,” she said. A simple word accompanied by a flash of her dark eyes and at the same time, just for effect, she ran her left hand through her short, peroxide hair.
The young man felt the physical stirring in his loins and was shockingly aware of the movement in his jeans. His right hand automatically dropped to his lap in an embarrassed attempt to conceal his now rampant penis. “Oh err, oh.” It was all he could say as she slid, no, oozed onto the stool beside him. Her black leather crop top and black leather mini-skirt shimmering red under the shabby bars dim red lights.
“What’ll it be,” a man said.
“Whisky,” the women said, looking at the squirming man on the stool beside her. “Him too, he’s gonna need it.” She winked at the barman and turned her attention to her new companion, pulling herself to her full height on the stool, her breasts straining to leave the confines of her top. She pulled the crop top down slowly and the man beside her watched, beguiled by her. Then she squeezed her breasts, forming them into shape. “I hate bras,” she said in a deep and more than husky voice, “no need when you have breasts like mine, don’t you think?”
The man whimpered.
“So, how about a couple of drinks and then you can take me to a cheap hotel and fuck me until I squeal?” She licked her red lipped mouth once for effect and flashed brilliant white molars. To finish off, she slid her right hand across and fondled the bulge in the man’s jeans, giving it a hard squeeze. He was hers and she knew it.
Time passed in a blur for the man and he suddenly realised he was in the aforementioned cheap hotel and he and the blond were naked in bed, him on his back and she riding him like a bucking bronco. He had never had it so good and his manhood felt firm and hard. The women, he knew, was using and abusing him but he didn’t care. No more than he cared for his girl whom he was supposed to be visiting tomorrow.
The flash of the blade was fast and sure and the man gurgled briefly, his throat convulsing, but his penis remained gorged and the woman continued to ride him as he writhed under her, his blood splattering her breasts and then running in rivulets down to mingle with his semen and sweat in her shocking blond pubic hair, making it pink and sticky.
“Thoughts like that are gonna get you dead, buster,” she said to him as her final thrust brought her to climax.
She slumped forward, gazing into the man’s dead eyes. “Fuck! I’m so dead,” she muttered as blood seeped onto her lips. Lips that suddenly turned to a broad smile as she chuckled to herself.
“What a bad girl I am,” she sighed, dismounting from the corpse and heading for the shower.
Copyright © Tom Kane 2020