Page 53 of Back in the Saddle

“I want you all to show me your tits,” he returned.

Harlow gasped as she drew back.

I grabbed Harlow’s sleeve and said, “Byeeeee,” as I dragged her toward the door, Raye and Luna following.

“No! Wait!” he called. We all stopped, turned and looked back. “Mags are good. Films are better.”

“Spanking?” I queried.

He didn’t quite meet my eyes. “Whatever.”

It was spanking.

“You got it,” I agreed.

We then walked out the door.

We’d taken positions, leaning in a line on one side of the Sportage, to wait for Jinx, when Luna decreed, “I’ve decided. Only comic porn for me. Because he’s just…gross.”

“Word on that, sister,” Raye replied.

“Ulk,” Harlow gagged.

I didn’t know if her gag was about porn in general, or the clear evidence we’d just witnessed from Mr. Shithead about how it felt skeevy he got off on it, no matter how consensual it was, and women got paid (hopefully) a fair wage to do it.

I also didn’t ask.

I put the sole of one of my Vans up to the side of the SUV, crossed my arms and aimed my eyes at the top deck of the motel, at room twenty-one.

There was general chitchat that I didn’t participate in, mostly because I had my mind on other things.

Primarily the fact that Eric had said, “Tonight.”

However, it was Raye who told me Homer had shared how he and the General knew where I worked. And as with the rest of the day, outside of him rolling up to The Surf Club to give Homer and the General a ride back to the camp, I’d heard not a thing from him.

Was he playing games?

Or was he busy?

“Heads up,” Raye said low.

I focused and saw a white guy, maybe mid-forties, dressed in nice jeans and still tucking in a button down that he wore under a sweater into his jeans, hustling out of room twenty-one.

He wore glasses and looked like a mild-mannered accountant, and he wasn’t unattractive, so he could totally score and not pay for it.

Unless he was married and getting his kicks elsewhere, but he wasn’t wearing a wedding band.

The world always surprised me, and usually it wasn’t in awesome ways.

By the time he made it to the ground level, he had eyes on us, and he didn’t take them away.

Maybe because we were all staring at him.

He pulled out in a well-maintained BMW (totally an accountant) and was idling at the entrance, his left turn signal on, when Jinx sashayed out in platform heels, a leather jacket she had tugged closed at the front, and a stretch micro-mini covering her ass.

Also, she had sex hair.

Then again, Jinx always had sex hair, both by design…and by profession.

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