the road from the beach boardwalk--a smoking hottie by the name of Kirsten was-- it did certainly appear-- more than willing--
But Eddie, well, he just went too far.
"C'mon, you little tease, don't --"
And then, well...
...he just went too far.
~ ~ ~
Kirsten kicked-- hard --placing the thick heel of her hot real leather boot securely and precisely in the meaty softness of Eddie's crotch.
The familiar bugging, bulging, surprised betrayed man-eyes ... the hopeless feeble whooosh of air pushing through limp, defeated lips... the utter and total deboning, muscle-crimping, stance-melting slump of the body...the wobbling of knees --
Uh oh.
She realized.
Now it was she who'd gone a little too far.
Oh well, too late to turn back now--
So Kirsten pile-drived her other boot right next to the first...
Eddie's rag-doll body tumbled clumsily to the left, against the car horn, blasting into the night--
"Why you--gasp!--stupid--choke--!--little--!"
Kirsten sat up, intending to --
The car door was locked.
She reached--
Eddie threw a wild punch--!
Oh, man, now I know you didn't do that, mister--!
A shock of light behind her eyes -- it was as if a fuse in her brain blew --
~ ~ ~
Her next semi-conscious thought was that she was running.
Pain seemed to be coming at her from every direction, making nothing but direct hits. Her hand was a crumpled mess; her back seemed to be harboring a living, growing burr, a sawblade of sparking, electric spasms ... her feet felt like rubber, thumping with fishy flatness against the uneven ground ... her eyes vibrated with fierce harshness....her throat tore, ripped with each roaring, hoary breath.....even her gums throbbed...
Well now, I just don't feel good at all.
The landscape waved, weaved and wobbled...she had no idea where she was, and less where she was going...
She was topless.
It took a moment--or several moments, who keeps track under such conditions?-- but --eventually-- she realized--
She was topless.
This , she thought vaguely, is probably not good.
But she had bigger problems than that right now. Noises from the night wind merged with the surprisingly diminished huffs and coughs coming from between her chapped, lipstick-smeared lips ... I got drunk, he got me drunk ... tomato, to-mah-to ... somebody got somebody drunk ...airy sounds whirled in her skull, seeming to tickle the back of her eyes... suffocating... disoriented... and, yet, strangely focused as she plowed on through the pain, the night, the--
(no idea where she was going, no idea where she was going)
I'm topless.
That is probably not good.
The only fixed point on her careening, gyroscoping compass was: behind you. The Great Back There. Lover's Peak, Makeout Lane, Boner's Point, whatever that horrible nookie nook was called... I suggested the beach, but noooo ...
Did you--really?
Did you have all your clothes on then?
(because you sure don't now--)
She hoped, she desperately wished beyond wishes ... was falling further and further behind...
(no idea)
She was afraid to look, afraid to see that makeout parking spot, the car, all was just a few feet behind her... and that instead of running she was just staggering around lamely, making no ground ...
(no idea at all)
That would probably not be good either, huh?
But what was worse, what was a hundred times scarier, was the idea that she would see, just inches behind her, Eddie, running with those demon-wild eyes, that Exorcist-face grimace, gripping his crotch with one hand, and waving who-knows-what in his other --
Exorcist!
He looked totally like that! Except being a man! And drunk!
I hate that movie!
"No!" she gulped, in a spectacular burst of phlegm and spit, as she lowered her head, and kept barreling through the night.
Don't think about it, Kirsten, she commanded herself, and narrowed her eyes to razor slits, looking everywhere but (behind, never behind), searching for escape, or a place to hide, so she could just grab a few moments to
But Eddie, well, he just went too far.
"C'mon, you little tease, don't --"
And then, well...
...he just went too far.
~ ~ ~
Kirsten kicked-- hard --placing the thick heel of her hot real leather boot securely and precisely in the meaty softness of Eddie's crotch.
The familiar bugging, bulging, surprised betrayed man-eyes ... the hopeless feeble whooosh of air pushing through limp, defeated lips... the utter and total deboning, muscle-crimping, stance-melting slump of the body...the wobbling of knees --
Uh oh.
She realized.
Now it was she who'd gone a little too far.
Oh well, too late to turn back now--
So Kirsten pile-drived her other boot right next to the first...
Eddie's rag-doll body tumbled clumsily to the left, against the car horn, blasting into the night--
"Why you--gasp!--stupid--choke--!--little--!"
Kirsten sat up, intending to --
The car door was locked.
She reached--
Eddie threw a wild punch--!
Oh, man, now I know you didn't do that, mister--!
A shock of light behind her eyes -- it was as if a fuse in her brain blew --
~ ~ ~
Her next semi-conscious thought was that she was running.
Pain seemed to be coming at her from every direction, making nothing but direct hits. Her hand was a crumpled mess; her back seemed to be harboring a living, growing burr, a sawblade of sparking, electric spasms ... her feet felt like rubber, thumping with fishy flatness against the uneven ground ... her eyes vibrated with fierce harshness....her throat tore, ripped with each roaring, hoary breath.....even her gums throbbed...
Well now, I just don't feel good at all.
The landscape waved, weaved and wobbled...she had no idea where she was, and less where she was going...
She was topless.
It took a moment--or several moments, who keeps track under such conditions?-- but --eventually-- she realized--
She was topless.
This , she thought vaguely, is probably not good.
But she had bigger problems than that right now. Noises from the night wind merged with the surprisingly diminished huffs and coughs coming from between her chapped, lipstick-smeared lips ... I got drunk, he got me drunk ... tomato, to-mah-to ... somebody got somebody drunk ...airy sounds whirled in her skull, seeming to tickle the back of her eyes... suffocating... disoriented... and, yet, strangely focused as she plowed on through the pain, the night, the--
(no idea where she was going, no idea where she was going)
I'm topless.
That is probably not good.
The only fixed point on her careening, gyroscoping compass was: behind you. The Great Back There. Lover's Peak, Makeout Lane, Boner's Point, whatever that horrible nookie nook was called... I suggested the beach, but noooo ...
Did you--really?
Did you have all your clothes on then?
(because you sure don't now--)
She hoped, she desperately wished beyond wishes ... was falling further and further behind...
(no idea)
She was afraid to look, afraid to see that makeout parking spot, the car, all was just a few feet behind her... and that instead of running she was just staggering around lamely, making no ground ...
(no idea at all)
That would probably not be good either, huh?
But what was worse, what was a hundred times scarier, was the idea that she would see, just inches behind her, Eddie, running with those demon-wild eyes, that Exorcist-face grimace, gripping his crotch with one hand, and waving who-knows-what in his other --
Exorcist!
He looked totally like that! Except being a man! And drunk!
I hate that movie!
"No!" she gulped, in a spectacular burst of phlegm and spit, as she lowered her head, and kept barreling through the night.
Don't think about it, Kirsten, she commanded herself, and narrowed her eyes to razor slits, looking everywhere but (behind, never behind), searching for escape, or a place to hide, so she could just grab a few moments to
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