"OK. The guy in the blue shirt, white collar and cuff. Braces. Grey slacks. Hitting on the blonde, big tits, blue dress. She goes home with the redhea... and not him."Mitch smiled. "You should drink less Michael. OK. Twenty dollars," he said, putting the note on the bar. Michael took the twenty out of his shirt pocket and put it on top of Mitch's bill and watched Mitch scoop them up and put them in a glass on the top shelf, reserved for that purpose.The door opened and another crowd of rain. How considerate, Vicky was thinking. They are also getting rid of DNA evidence. But they left their saliva in my mouth. The surfer handed her the Coke can. “Rinse,” he ordered, like a dental hygienist. Vicky rinsed – thoroughly, under the surfer’s watchful eye. They are real pros, Vicky thought. Probably go from one house party to another, looking for vulnerable females. It looks like they’re through with me now.Almost. The surfer knelt beside her and, idly massaging her sore breasts, delivered. More

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